Chapter 40
LAUREL
A glacier moved across my body, weighing me down. Ryan had said it with certainty. I wanted to ask more, but the words couldn’t escape and my head pounded, beating away thought.
“No more questions for right now.” It came off light but felt like an order. “The doctor said not to give you too much, too soon. Okay?”
I nodded slightly, unable to move much for fear it would cause sharper pain. He took a deep breath and blew it out, resetting himself.
“I thought we could go to the market and pick up some things for dinner. But we can head home if you’re not up for that.”
I wanted more answers, but it wasn’t possible, and I wasn’t ready for another queasy ride back up the cliff.
Ryan parked the Mercedes and ushered me down a cobblestone street. The path took us in front of cozy storefronts until we rounded a corner and stepped into the quaint square.
It was crowded with booths, some covered with red shade umbrellas, and smoke wafted from grills in others.
An older woman with a handkerchief on her head and a blanket thrown over her shoulders tried to interest me in a variety of fabric bolts on her table, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the rows of stalls.
It was aisle after aisle of produce, bags, jewelry.
One of the booths played Russian rap music from a radio and earned an annoyed look from the older man in the next stand over.
We paused at a table where Ryan examined some mushrooms, but my gaze drifted away while he chatted with the vendor in Croatian.
Halfway across the square, a young guy in dark clothes waved in my direction. I looked behind me, but no one seemed to be waving back to this man. When I turned to face him, I pointed to myself, “Me?”
He nodded aggressively. Then raised a camera with a large lens to snap pictures.
“Do I know that man with the camera?” I asked.
Ryan’s head snapped up, his face instantly angry.
“Plavko,” he yelled, but this wasn’t to the cameraman. It was to a tall, serious-looking man lurking near us whom I hadn’t noticed before. Everything about this intense man, including his furious eyes, screamed he was someone you did not want to mess with. He barreled through the crowd.
The cameraman took one look at the tall man charging toward him and fled.
“What was that?” I got it out just as Ryan took off and dragged me the opposite direction.
The woman at the stand yelled for us to come back, but there was no chance of that. I stumbled over the uneven cobblestones, trying to keep up. We bumped into people as we went, and I kept apologizing, unsure if they understood my English.
“Ryan.” My head pounded and the pain quickly became excruciating. “Slow down.”
We turned a corner, disappearing from the square, and he pushed me down a quiet alley. I leaned against the brick to catch my breath, and he threw his arms up around me, closing me in. My head hurt so badly I could barely stand.
“Are you all right?” His dark eyes were full of panic as he searched mine.
“Why are we running? Who was that man?”
He considered if he should answer then hung his head. His chest rose and fell quickly, and I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine. “He’s most likely an investigator. If Plavko doesn’t catch him, those pictures go out and they’ll know we’re here.”
Dread slipped inside me. “They?”
“Your ex had some powerful friends, and they’re looking for us.”
I took a slow, deliberate breath to try to reduce the ache in my head, and I was too concerned with that to stop him. Ryan leaned in and captured my lips with his.
His kiss was desperate. It burned in an unsettling way, and there was so much intensity behind it, it gave me the feeling he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment. When I tried to turn my head, he grasped my chin and prevented it.
His tongue was invasive, and I moaned with discomfort, which he must have misinterpreted as pleasure because he tried to deepen the kiss.
Even though it was agonizing to move, I shifted my entire body away and was able to break free.
I glared at him with disbelief, panting through the pain throbbing in my head.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, although he didn’t look sorry. “I couldn’t help myself. And I figured it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
I pressed my lips together, leashing my irritation. He raised an eyebrow as he studied my face and considered something.
“Am I allowed to do that again?” he asked.
I wanted to say no, but the word wouldn’t form, and there was a voice in my head, whispering something I couldn’t make out. He waited expectantly for my answer, and I had no choice but to choke it out. “I . . . guess.”
His smile was devilish.
“Maybe,” I added between labored breaths, “warn me next time.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
One breath at a time, my heart rate began to slow, and the pain lessened until I could focus. The ground felt more stable beneath my feet.
He could tell, because he straightened, glanced around the alley, and gave me another evaluating look. “Can you walk? We need to get out of here.”
Once we were seated in the car, his phone rang and he spoke in Croatian to whom I assumed was Plavko. He was more focused on the conversation than navigating the narrow streets, but he managed to get us out of the city in one piece.
“He smashed the camera, but the guy may have uploaded the pictures already.”
“What does that mean?” I wasn’t sure what level of fear I should be feeling.
“Hopefully nothing. Maybe they won’t be stupid enough to come here.”
I watched the distance between houses increase as we sped up the winding road to his home.
Our home, a voice reminded.
The nausea returned, and I sank down in the seat, miserable enough to think I might never be able to leave the house again.
I was desperate to distract myself. “Who’s Plavko?”
“Security. I hired him the day I came home from the hospital without you.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel like he hated the memory. “I know you don’t feel comfortable with him around, but it’s the only way I feel safe.”
Ryan trusted him; shouldn’t that be good enough for me? Why wasn’t it?
When we reached the house and the SUV was parked in the garage, I eased myself out of the passenger seat with his help.
“Do you want to lie down for a while?” he asked. “Your appointment with Dr. Vorbusch isn’t until three.”
I paused. “Who?”
“She’s your hypnotherapist.”
I glanced over my shoulder to glare at the Mercedes. How in the world would I survive another trip? “I don’t think I can—”
“She comes to the house.”
He gave me a glass of water in the kitchen and led me back to my room since I couldn’t remember how to get there.
I didn’t like being so dependent on him, but I was too tired to do anything about it.
My whole body ached when I’d done hardly anything.
I collapsed on the bed and let him pull a blanket on me.
“I’d like to kiss you again.”
It was the last thing I wanted, but the word came out, devoid of any control. “Okay.”
This kiss wasn’t like the one when we’d fled the square.
It was demanding. Dominating.
His mouth was oppressive and relentless, and I tensed when he sank down beside me on the mattress, his hand cupping my face. There was a violent pull in two directions. One begged him to stop, and the other wanted desperately to please him. It made no sense.
Blood rushed through my head, drowning out sound, and when his tongue brushed against mine, a jolt of unpleasant electricity surged through me. I endured it, just wanting it to be over.
When the kiss ended, he thankfully stood, but he ran a hand through his hair as if I had made him restless. “Get some sleep. If you need me, I’ll be in the office. Down the hall, third door on the right.”
I watched him go and lowered onto the pillow, letting the coolness help soothe me.
Suddenly, a memory was there, like it had been in my mind the whole time waiting around for me to notice it.
I was sick when I was little, maybe six or seven, and my father stayed home from work to be with me. I remembered lying on our gray couch and watching him read the back of a box of macaroni and cheese.
The moment stuck out for two reasons. One, my father despised the stuff, and two, this was when I realized they printed the directions on boxes. My mother made it so often she never had to look.
One tiny, random memory, but the relief it gave me was immense. Having the doctor tell me they would return was one thing, but to have it happen was another. Now there was a spark of hope.
I hadn’t realized I had fallen asleep until my eyes blinked awake.
The sun had begun its journey back down to meet the horizon when I treaded into Ryan’s office. His laptop was on some banking site, he was on the phone, and my motion drew his attention. I started to back out, not meaning to interrupt, but he waved me forward.
“Put it together and send it over,” he said to whomever he was talking to. “I’ll be out the rest of the day.” He set the phone on his desk, stood, and his lips curved into a smile that made me nervous. “Hi. Still know our names and where we live?”
I nodded. “I do. I also remember what my father looks like and that he hates mac and cheese.”
His smile froze. “Hated,” he corrected quietly. “Your father hated mac and cheese.”
His meaning sucked all the air from the room. “How?”
“A car accident when you were young.”
Oh, God. An awful new truth about my amnesia slammed into me. If my memories returned, would I have to relive all the painful ones again?
“And my mother?”
“She had cancer.” His tone was filled with remorse. “She passed seven years ago.”
I folded my arms over my chest, once again feeling cold and empty. “This fucking sucks.”