2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
H er heart thundering in her chest at the bravado, Rissa pulled open the glass doors of the little store and staggered in. Elio was leaning heavily on her shoulder, struggling to walk in a straight line and occasionally completely zoning out in a way that frightened her as much as the fact that he still seemed to have no idea who she was and didn’t remember anything that just happened.
She looked up at him again, noting the way his gaze wandered without apparent destination along the cluttered aisles surrounding them. Then, she looked toward the front desk where a round-faced young man was watching them with his mouth slightly open, wearing a look of consternation.
“Oh, hi, sorry,” she said quickly, trying to make her voice as light and unintimidating as possible. “My boyfriend is drunk, and he took a spill coming home from dinner. Could you point me to the bathroom so I can get him fixed up?”
Speechlessly, the guy hesitated for half a second before pointing a finger toward the back of the store.
“Thanks so much!” Rissa said brightly. She shifted so that she was more directly bearing Elio’s weight and turned him in the direction the clerk had pointed. On the way, she took a detour down an aisle of basic first aid supplies, grabbing bandages, antibacterial ointment, and a bottle of generic analgesic.
At the end of the aisle, just steps from the door labeled “Restroom,” Elio suddenly halted, his weight pulling her to a stop as well. She looked up to see him swaying slightly.
“I think—I'm gonna pass out,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Here, sit down,” Rissa said quickly. She helped him to the floor, suppressing a shudder at the gray layer of grime she glimpsed just under the shelf.
“Put your head between your knees,” she added, keeping one hand firmly on the shirt over the wound behind his ear. Elio obeyed, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.
Rissa took the chance to slowly remove the shirt and check the gash on his head. The bleeding had definitely slowed if not entirely stopped. That was going to have to be good enough.
From the way the clerk had been watching them, she suspected he had already called the cops by now. Even if he had no idea who they were, no one wanted to be caught alone in an all-night convenience store with a couple of off-balance weirdos. She would likely have barely any time to get Elio patched up before they had to head back out.
Her hands moved as if they were separate from her brain: smooth and steady, unhindered by the tornado of thoughts and emotions that was making her tremble deep within. She ripped open the bandages and applied ointment along the length of the wound before gently but firmly pressing them into place. Elio grunted.
“You okay?” she asked. “Still with me?”
“Hurts,” he said, and she felt the unexpected sting of tears in her eyes once more. They took her by surprise when they leaped to her eyes the moment she realized Elio didn’t know who she was. Despite her medical training, despite everything, nothing had prepared her for the sense of loss and grief she felt. It was as if a part of him suddenly wasn’t there—the part that held them together, the part they shared—and a chasm opened between them.
“I’m almost done,” she said, plastering one more bandage in place. Then, she paused, her hand stilling on the bottle of painkillers she was about to crack open.
Why am I in such a hurry? she thought. Before this happened—back at the gas station—I was about to call Reagan and turn myself in. I was ready to go to the authorities and be done with all of this. Now, it makes even more sense to do that. All I have to do is wait. They’ll show up.
She could tell them about the group that was following them and apparently trying to kill them, and they would surely give both her and Elio protection.
Elio would be arrested.
Her stomach lurched at the thought. Would all that happened with the people who were after them and the info Reagan found be enough to convince the police that he wasn’t the sole suspect when it came to the bombing? Surely it was at least enough for the police to be forced into continuing to look into it. Maybe he would be cleared.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. She still had no idea how tangled up in all of this he was—or how honest the cops on the case were.
Mysterious gunmen or crooked cops?
She gazed down at Elio’s bent head and dark, rumpled hair, wishing the decision hadn’t suddenly been left entirely on her shoulders. This was not her area of expertise. And whatever she decided, they were both at risk.
As she hovered, torn with doubt, Elio slowly straightened up, apparently having won his battle with unconsciousness. He leaned back against the shelving unit. His hazel eyes landed on her face, and he frowned slightly. Through the cloud of confusion, she saw them sharpen for the first time since the wreck as he studied her.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a second. “You seem. . .upset.”
A sob caught in Rissa’s throat as she shook her head. The fact that he had noticed through his pain and bewilderment—and despite the fact she was currently a stranger to him—somehow melted her heart.
“I’m just trying to decide what to do,” she gulped. “We are in a fix, Elio, and I don’t know if I can get us out of it.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped furiously at the tears that finally broke free to run down her cheeks.
Slowly, Elio reached out. His warm, calloused hand cupped her chin, his fingers brushing the tears from her cheek as they had before. Rissa leaned into his touch, taking what comfort she could from it. His thumb brushed her lips, and her eyes shot to his face.
He wanted to kiss her. She could see it plain as day on his face. It momentarily took her breath away, halting her sobs. Did he remember his feelings for her, despite his amnesia? Or was he simply attracted to her all over again? Either way, it sent her heart skittering, causing her uncertainty to momentarily fade to the back of her mind.
Elio leaned forward, his gaze intent, his other hand moving hesitantly to her hip. She was on her knees to one side of him, her dress crumpled around her, both legs exposed through the long, torn slit. Elio was sitting up straighter now, his white T-shirt bloodstained, his lean jaw set with tension.
Rissa remembered the way he had looked at her across the table as they enjoyed their dinner at the resort restaurant just a short while ago. Even as they had planned their escapade for the next morning, she did not doubt in her mind that their first order of business after finishing their meal would be to hurry back to their cabin and hop straight into bed—not to sleep.
Her breath quickened as she embraced the anticipation of the pure delight that intimacy with Elio formed. The physical pleasure he gave was better than she had ever experienced. Not only did she thrill in the sheer, overwhelming beauty of him, every inch a man in his prime, but she also experienced an intense swell of emotion that made it feel like so much more than a physical act. This both terrified her and made her feel complete in such a way she’d never dreamed a relationship could.
Elio remembered none of it, she thought. But the hunger in his eyes at that moment—on the floor of an all-night convenience store—was the same hunger she had seen in his eyes over the dinner table and so many times before. As he leaned closer still, his hand moved from her waist to her neck, his fingers curling around it with ease. Rissa wondered if he could feel the racing of her pulse against his palm as her lips parted, ready for his kiss.
But it never came. The wail of sirens pierced the air, and both of them jerked upright, abruptly reawakened to their compromised circumstances.
This was it.
Rissa had to decide.
Would they stay put and let the law take over or would they keep running and trying to figure out and handle everything themselves?
Her eyes met Elio’s, which darted toward the door, growing blank with dread. He looked back at her, the lostness in his gaze cutting her to the heart. As he sat right there before her, she somehow suddenly missed him intensely.
Elio with his memories would already be on the move, ushering her toward the door, stealing a car, and fleeing with an ease that both frightened her and gave her confidence.
Now, everything was entirely up to her. And if they fled, it would continue to be entirely up to her for as long as his amnesia lasted. She wasn’t sure that was something she was ready to handle.