19. Valentina
VALENTINA
“Can I get you anything?” The waitress stands before us with a pleasant smile, tired eyes, and a small pad clutched in her hand while she pulls a pen from the chest pocket of her uniform. “Coffee’s fresh and the grill’s clean, so we can cook you up anythin’ you’re in the mood for.”
“Coffee would be great,” Diego replies with a tired smile. “Could I get some bacon and eggs? And pancakes.” His eyes slide to me. “Do you want pancakes?”
I nod, more distracted by him than the concept of food, even as hunger tightens in my stomach.
So much has happened since we ran into each other, or rather since I forced myself into his life, yet not once has he hesitated to take care of me.
Even when it came to my fear of the cops and the hospital, he didn’t question it. He just helped.
Mindy carries a lot of pain, but the man I know is a far cry from the man she knew.
He continues his conversation with the waitress and rubs at his chin while he talks.
His stubble’s grown darker over the last few days, and shadows cling under his eyes, but the striking green remains as vibrant as ever.
Watching him brings me peace. Being with him brings me peace.
Our night in that motel sleeping together was the most peaceful sleep I’ve had since waking up in this empty life.
I think… I think I’m falling in love with him.
The revelation comes as he turns and locks eyes with me, then smiles in such a charming, boyish way that my heart flips over itself and warmth rushes to my cheeks.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly. “If you want something else, I can call her back.”
I didn’t even notice the waitress leave, but she’s across the cafe and deep in conversation with the chef through the back.
“No, I think bacon and pancakes sound good.”
“Do you ever wonder if that’s wrong?” Diego asks, reaching for the salt shaker in the middle of the table and fiddling with it. “What if you were vegan or on some special diet before you lost your memory?”
“I think I’d forgive myself,” I reply with a smile. “Can’t hold blame for things I can’t remember, right?”
“Makes sense.” He sighs suddenly, as if something impossibly heavy has settled across his shoulders. “It’s all kind of fucked, isn’t it?”
“Us?”
He glances up. “Everything.”
I nod slowly, stretching my legs out under the table until our ankles touch. “I feel… really guilty.”
“Why?” Concern floods his eyes as he looks up at me. “What do you have to feel guilty about?”
“Messing up your life, for one. You haven’t been back to your bar. People are after you. We’re running and hiding across the city. I’ve completely destroyed your life and I don’t even know why. I remember nothing because— Oh, no.”
“What’s up?”
“I grabbed the card when we left the motel, but I forgot about the rings.”
“I’ve got them.” Diego leans back and pats his thigh under the table. “I’ve been holding on to them in case I saw something or found someone who could help track down the owners.”
“Wedding rings are weird, right? Did I attack a happy couple and steal them?”
Diego snorts. “Given how you attacked that cop, it’s a possibility. But they looked really new so either you attacked newlyweds or you were holding onto them for some reason. Family or friends or… or they’re connected to something you thought you’d remember with just those rings.”
“Maybe…” Nodding slowly, we’re briefly interrupted by the smiling waitress bringing us coffee. It’s my first hot drink in too long and the liquid burns its way down my throat, spreading a welcoming warmth through my gut.
“Good?” Diego murmurs over the lip of his cup.
“So good.” Another few sips and my racing heart, something that’s become so common, I barely feel it, starts to slow. “If you had to think about everything honestly… do you think I’ve done something bad?”
Diego’s mouth twists to the side as he thinks, then he shakes his head.
“No. Well… I think I’m biased because I don’t know if you can tell, but I kind of have a huge crush on you.
But I don’t think you’re a bad person. The wedding rings, your injuries, that weird car, the cop that came to the bar, and those black cars all following us around…
if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d stolen state secrets or something. ”
“Would justify why I didn’t want to go to the cops.”
“True.” He smiles lightly and battles a yawn. “I think you got messed up in something. Something bad. And someone clearly hurt you over a long period of time, so maybe… maybe you know something that someone else wants.”
“I can’t think what would be so important to go to these lengths to get me back.”
Diego’s brow dips and he shakes his head.
“Me neither. But you remembered your name. Pieces of the night we were run off the road. Hopefully with these meds, you’ll heal faster and everything will start to come back.
Just…” He pauses and winks at me. “Remember I did all of this for you if you do get your memory back and turn out to be some terrorist or something.”
Laughter bubbles in my chest and I reach across the table, taking his hand. “I’ll never forget this, no matter how much I remember. You’ve risked your life for me and you don’t even know me. You have a big heart, Diego.”
He grimaces slightly but turns his palm into mine. “Not everyone would agree.”
Mindy. The thought of her brings a bloom of sympathy through my chest. “She really hates you, doesn’t she?”
“She blames me. And I think she’s right, mostly.”
“I don’t see how. She made her own choices.”
“That’s true,” Diego replies with a wince. “But the situation… that was me.”
“Is what she said about your brother true?”
He meets my eyes and nods. “Yeah. Uhm… long story short, my brother was killed. Hit and run. He was all I had left and I took it pretty hard. Drugs became my lifeline and my life melted into one big disaster until I nearly overdosed. I recovered, though, and it was a pretty decent wake-up call. Been clean for five years now. I tried, for a long time, to get Mindy clean as well, but she…” He lets out a dry laugh. “She’s stubborn.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Diego pauses, as if my words are some kind of shock to him, then he nods just once and starts sliding out of the booth. “I’m gonna call the bar just to check in, make sure everyone’s alright.”
“Okay.”
While he’s gone, the waitress brings our food and talks me through a couple of different syrups for the pancakes.
I request them all rather than making a choice Diego won’t like.
She brings them all, as well as some fresh coffee, and then leaves me to enjoy the aroma of the food and the quiet nightlife outside.
No wonder Diego has such a big heart. Given everything he’s been through, he throws himself into helping people, likely because of what he lost. His determination to help and save himself the pain of another loss is admirable, but how far will he go? Helping people isn’t worth losing oneself.
Then again, without him, I’d be dead. Or worse.
Three mouthfuls of thick, fluffy pancake later and Diego’s back with me looking somewhat relieved.
“Everyone’s okay. Work is going smoothly and the cop hasn’t been back. The owner’s pretty pissed at my absence, though, so I might be out of a job. Luckily, I’m good at selling drugs.”
My eyes widen and Diego laughs.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”
“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me. Don’t you love that place?” Why else would he call up to make sure everyone is alright?
“I do,” Diego admits. “But that’s not my pressing concern right now. Staying alive with you is.” He picks up some bacon and moans slightly when it snaps against his teeth. “Mmm, so good.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I say between mouthfuls. “What if we stop running?”
He pauses tearing into his pancakes and stares at me. “What?”
“Not in a way that puts us in danger,” I clarify quickly. “But I was thinking about what triggered my memory. Being at the scene of the crash helped. Seeing my name on that card helped as well. Maybe… maybe if we can talk to someone and find out why they’re after me, it might unlock something.”
Diego scoffs. “They don’t strike me as the kind of people who’d want to have a conversation. Did you forget that they tried to kill us?”
“I know. I’m not saying we just go up to them and ask, but surely, there's a way we can make contact that keeps us in control and safe. Maybe…” I sigh, struggling to untangle any sort of plan in my mind. “Okay, I haven’t thought that far, but it’s got to be worth a try, right?”
He eats slowly as if mulling over all my words, then he finally nods after finishing his last piece of bacon.
“You… have a point. Especially with how your previous memories triggered. I…” He rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together over his plate, then rests his chin atop his fingers. “I have the cop's number.”
My brows lift. “What?”
“He called me. Left a weakly threatening voicemail.” Diego snorts. “We could use that, though. He might know nothing, but he’s the only contact we’ve got. I could call him and pretend I’ve turned on you, set up a meeting to discuss a handover or something.”
“That could work.” I nod eagerly.
“But that would rely on you.” He points at me. “And however you trigger those cool moves you make, because subduing him isn’t something I can do.”
I smirk around my mouthful. “Put yourself in danger like last time and I’m sure it’ll trigger my reflexes.”
“Risk my life to see you kicking ass,” Diego hums. “That’s a little insane.”
“But hot,” I remind him. “Isn’t that what you said last time?”
He rolls his eyes with a cheeky smile and leans back in the booth. “I never should have told you that.”
“I’m glad you did.” Warmth blooms in my chest once more. “It felt good. Before that, I just sort of felt… sickly and pathetic.”
“Recovering from what you’ve been through doesn’t make you either of those things.”
“I know but…” I cut myself off as a pulse of tension rocks me to my core.
Behind Diego’s head, the door to the cafe swings open and two burly men clad in leather jackets walk inside.
They’re both so large that the air suddenly feels thin.
One’s as bald as the eggs cracked to make the pancakes, while the other has greasy, dark hair scraped back into a bun.
They glance around and then lock eyes with me.
“Diego…” I murmur.
He turns in his seat and tenses like the snap of a board, but before he can stand, the two men are at our booth. One of them brandishes a thick shotgun, immediately pressing the barrel to Diego’s chest.
“Gentlemen,” Diego says, unable to fully mask the tremor in his voice. “Can I help you?”
“They match?” The bald, shotgun-wielding man glances at his partner, who stares down at his phone, then back up at both of us.
“Yup. He matches the photo,” he replies.
“Photo?” I choke out as pressure tingles at my fingertips. “What photo?”
The greasy-haired man flashes his phone at me while the bald man grabs Diego by the front of his shirt and hauls him out of the booth.
“Hey, easy!” Diego barks out.
On the screen is a picture of Diego, snapped from a distance when he wasn’t looking. “Bounty,” the greasy man declares. “For him. And a bonus for you, pretty lady.” He motions at me with one thick finger. “Up.”