Chapter 8
RAFE
Ever since Jax showed me the horrors hidden in my cellar, I’d spent every waking moment digging into the past my brain refused to remember.
I’d spent hours on the Internet reading about the rape trial, watching it unfold from the seat of a spectator, though I was the main star.
I’d watched the police haul me from a training session, hands cuffed at my back.
What I found most disturbing about that piece of footage was the guilty look on my own damn face.
As if reading about the trial wasn’t torturous enough, I dug into Jax’s background too, which I found nothing on.
I wasn’t sure he’d understand my need to know more about him, so I didn’t tell him I was looking into his life, but I couldn’t swallow the idea of a stranger living on my father’s island.
What bothered me most, however, was Alex’s disappearance.
The media had yet to report on her miraculous return from the dead.
Going by the news reports of her “death,” authorities had found her car in the Columbia River two and a half weeks ago.
Jax said we’d pushed her Volvo in after taking her from Portland.
He also said I’d decided to let her go hours before I got shot.
So where the fuck was she?
I could think of only two possibilities.
Either she was terrified by what I’d done and had gone into hiding…
or something unimaginable had happened to her.
While I agonized over her whereabouts, my partner in crime was too busy working or disappearing to care about what had happened.
Jax’s only concern was staying out of jail.
As long as Alex didn’t surface, we were safe from being charged for kidnapping.
He also suspected she’d had something to do with the shooting, which didn’t make him her biggest fan.
My amnesia ensured I didn’t remember shit, and it was frustrating as hell.
There was only one person in this new reality I trusted. Certainly not the stranger at my side, or my own brother. No matter what Adam said about reconciled differences or how he thought I should come back and work at Mason Vineyards—familiar routines and all of that—I couldn’t talk to him.
But fuck, I needed to get out of my own head or I was going to go crazy.
I took a deep breath and climbed the steep staircase that led to the front door of Nikki Malone’s house.
It had taken some needling of old friends, but I eventually got her address out of a girl who’d had a crush on me in high school.
Nikki’s place was up the mountain, nestled between clusters of Douglas firs.
The Columbia River peeked through the branches, and I wondered if she had a view of the island from the porch wrapping around her home.
The place was huge, built more recently if the modern angles and vinyl siding accented with stone was any indication. She’d done well for herself.
I hesitated, feet planted on the welcome mat, my fist poised to knock.
She was engaged to the enemy. Jax would probably rip me a new one for trusting her, but I’d known her too many years not to.
I rapped on the door and waited. A white BMW sat in the driveway, and I assumed it belonged to her. She had to be home.
I lifted my hand again, knuckles nearing the wood, and halted at the unmistakable thud of steps.
She pulled the door open, and her eyes widened, her mouth gaping.
Same golden hair, same seductive brown eyes, but something fundamental had changed in them.
Like most things these days, I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Nikki was not the same Nikki I’d known before my mind decided to check out on me.
“Rafe,” she said with a smile that lacked the warmth I remembered. She ran a thumb along the edge of the door.
“I should’ve let you visit me at the hospital,” I said, figuring her less-than-enthusiastic welcome stemmed from my turning her away. “I’m an ass.”
“It’s okay. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose so much of your memory. Confusing?”
“Something like that.” I gestured toward the door she held close to her body. “Can I come in? I really need to talk to someone, and you’re the only one I trust.”
“What about Jax?”
I tilted my head. “How much do you know about him?”
She shrugged. “We talked at the hospital. But he goes on about you like you’re his brother or something. Guess you guys are close.”
“Were close, maybe. I don’t remember him at all.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and something oddly familiar slid down my spine.
Like I was the one who should have been watching my back…
hiding something from her? I shook the idea from my mind.
It happened often—a seemingly inconsequential phrase, gesture, or object, such as the table in my own damn kitchen.
There was history on that slab of wood, and I wasn’t talking about the many years I’d spent there with my dad and brother.
Something about it bothered me, yet excited me all the same.
“I could use some air,” she said. “Want to walk?”
Why did this seem so familiar? I nodded, shaking off the weird feeling.
As she slipped into a pair of sandals, I saw into her home. Open, airy, with vaulted ceilings, a stone fireplace, and wide windows that overlooked the river. The sun cast a beam of light into her great room. She stepped outside and pulled the door shut, then wrapped her arms around me.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Her lips brushed my cheek as she backed away. “Do you remember anything at all about that night?”
“Afraid not.”
We reached the stairs at the same time. I indicated for her to go first, but she halted, lifting a hand toward my face. “Wait, you’ve got a little…” She brushed her thumb on my cheek. “Wouldn’t want people talking about how you were wearing my lipstick.”
“People here talk,” I said, thinking of the icy reception I’d received from the townsfolk—some who’d known me since I was a kid. “Regardless of lipstick malfunctions.”
“No need to give them more fodder.” Nikki withdrew her hand. “I think you’re decent now.”
The corner of my mouth curled up. “You and I both know I’m far from decent. The last memory I have of you proves that.”
“And what’s that?”
“Seattle.” I raised my brows.
She ducked her head, an unmistakable flush coloring her cheeks. “I remember Seattle.”
“What happened between us while I was locked up?”
“Let’s not get into all of that.” She descended the steps, and apparently that thread of conversation was off the table.
I followed, close on her heels. “How about we start with you and the sheriff then? Lyle Lewis, Nikki?”
“We already had this conversation.”
“Except I don’t remember that conversation.”
“Your brother and Jax say you’re pushing too hard. They’re worried you’re going to make the amnesia worse.”
Once we reached the bottom, I grabbed her hand and pulled her around. “You’ve been talking to them about me?”
“I’ve been doing the bookkeeping at the vineyard. Your condition came up.”
“It’s not a fucking condition, Nik. It’s not like I’m crazy. I’m still me.”
“Language and all,” she muttered, disentangling from my grip. She strode ahead several paces and gravel crunched under our feet until we reached the paved shoulder of the road.
“Are you and Jax friends?”
“I barely know him, but I guess you could say that.”
“Like you and I are friends?” I shook my head. “Were friends.”
She stopped and turned, hands on her hips. “We still are, Rafe. There’s too much history between us.” Her defensive stance eased. “I can’t imagine ever just walking away.”
I reached out and tugged on her arm, bringing her against my chest. Her hands rested on my shoulders, and I stiffened under her touch. Though I no longer needed the sling, my shoulder still ached.
“Nikki…” I licked my lips, tantalized by the thought of losing myself in her, and I almost forgot she was eight years older from the last time I saw her.
The last time I fucked her. I tilted my head, closing the distance between us, and moved in for a taste of something I hoped would bring back a spark of sanity to my life.
She gripped my shirt. “What are you—?”
“Shut up and fucking kiss me.”
Nikki stared at me for a few seconds that beat in my head like a gavel.
She deliberated, indecision warring on her face—in the squint of her brown eyes, the downturn of her lips.
All at once, she met me halfway, open-mouthed and as far from shy as I remembered.
Her tongue thrashed with mine, trying to get the upper hand until she gave in.
She always gave in. I gripped her hips, pulled her into the hard ridge of my jeans, and the whimper that escaped her throat told me all I needed to know.
I could conquer her right now, in broad daylight as the occasional car rolled past, and she’d let me.
I lowered my zipper, pushed up the flirty skirt that hugged her ass too tightly, and wound her strong legs around my waist. We swayed for a moment, both hanging on until we regained balance.
I was a moment away from tugging her panties to the side and thrusting into her, except something about this didn’t feel right—beside the fact it was an insane, irresponsible public display of indecency.
In my gut, it felt like a betrayal to someone else.
Our mouths disconnected, and her legs slid down my jeans slowly. My chest rose and fell in rapid succession, matching the movement of hers. I wiped the sweat from my brow and returned her perplexed gaze.
“I’m sorry.” I gestured to the ring on her finger. “You’re engaged, and I’m…” I paused long enough to yank up my zipper. “Really fucked up in the head.”
She smoothed her hair, patted down her skirt, and stood up straighter. “You’re not the only one. I kissed you back.”
“I guess we have unresolved issues,” I said, waving a hand between us.
“Our issues were forgotten a long time ago.”
“Nothing seemed forgotten when I had your legs wrapped around me. Except for the last eight fucking years of my life, that is. What happened to us?”
“You went to prison!” She stumbled back, still fidgeting with her clothing. “That’s what happened. Doing this again, it’s too painful.”
“Doing what?”
Angling her head downward, she tried to hide her sorrow. “I’m glad you don’t remember, Rafe. That place did something to you.”
“I can’t stand the blankness.” I pointed to my head. “There’s nothing here and it’s driving me insane. I’m imagining all sorts of things. How could I have gone away for that?” I swallowed hard. “Do you believe I did it? Did I do it? Please, just tell me.”
She covered her trembling mouth with a hand and shook her head.
“You do, don’t you? You believe I raped her.”
“No!” She closed her eyes. “I’ve never doubted your innocence. I just…can’t. You shut me out eight years ago and I refuse to open myself up to that again.”
“Nikki—”
“No, you need to hear me. When you got out and came back home, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
But then we talked, and I put up the biggest front of my life.
You didn’t even blink. It was obvious you’d moved on from us, and you definitely didn’t kiss me.
I tried to let you go, Rafe. But seeing you now, it’s like seeing the man you were before those bars closed on you. What happens when you remember?”
“I don’t know, Nik, but being with you is the only thing that feels…normal.”
She shook her head. “I won’t be your crutch. You’re just turning to me because you’re scared.”
“Who says I’m scared?”
“Please. I know fear when I see it.” She jumped into motion and stalked past me in the direction of her house. As she climbed the stairs, I stood on the side of the road feeling like an idiot who couldn’t break an old habit.
Fuck it. I went after her, feet pounding the ground as I covered the distance. I bolted up the staircase and shot out a foot to keep the door from closing at the last second.
“We’re not done.”
“Move your foot.”
“No!” I shoved the door until it gave. Feeling like a Neanderthal, I forced my way into her foyer. She could run from me in public, but not here in her own home. “All I’m asking for is—”
She wasn’t alone.
Jax stood in the middle of her living room, barefoot, his mural of tats disappearing from view as he pulled a shirt over his chest. His jeans hung open in the front. It wasn’t his state of undress that bothered me as much as the guilty expression on his face.