Smoked

by Slade, Heather

  “It’s so much worse than that, Smoke.” There was enough light from the moon that I could see the pained look on his face. “It’s as though you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

  “Was there a time I thought you did?”

  His head hung and he shook it. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re not shocked by it.”

  “I told you before that we argued.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.” I rolled so my back was to him, hoping he would leave.

  It was a long time before he spoke again. I heard him let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve lost some cattle, calves mainly, but several thousand dollars’ worth. I found one of the places I believe the rustlers used to gain access to the herd. I was out late with the rest of the crew, trying to get it sealed off.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “I didn’t expect you to still be awake.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t speak.

  “Come to bed, Siren.”

  “I’ll be fine where I am.”

  His fingertip trailed down my spine. “I won’t be,” he whispered. When he held out his hand, I rolled over and took it.

  * * *

  We slept in his bed; neither of us spoke again. When I woke, the sun was up and Smoke was gone. I knew he’d stayed with me, though, since I hadn’t had a single nightmare I could remember.

  “Come in,” I said when I heard a rap on the door.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Gallagher, but are you ready for your breakfast?” asked Ms. Wynona.

  “Please call me Siobhan, or Siren if it’s easier, and I’ll be right out.”

  “I can bring it in if you’d prefer.”

  I thanked her but told her I’d rather be up and about.

  “Has Smoke eaten?” I asked when I joined her in the kitchen.

  “He was up before dawn, Miss…Siren.”

  “Is he typically?” I asked between spoonfuls of the best steel-cut oatmeal I’d ever had.

  “He isn’t here at the ranch that often, but yes, he is usually up and gone before I arrive.”

  “It seems you’re always here. I thought perhaps you lived here.”

  “I do.” She pointed out the window at one of the smaller houses. When I turned to look, I saw the can of Irish oats on the counter.

  “Do you always have that on hand?” I asked.

  “No, no. Mr. Smoke asked me to get it when he told me you’d be staying here.”

  “That was sweet,” I mumbled, shaking my head and wishing I could remember more about him.

  “There you are,” said Maureen, coming into the kitchen with a syringe and blood-pressure cuff in hand.

  I held up my palm. “No pain medication.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t argue. She took my vitals and then sat down to join me for breakfast. Soon, Ms. Wynona had us talking and laughing about growing up in the UK while she told us stories about living in the South.

  We were still at it an hour later when Smoke walked into the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said when the two women with me sprang to their feet. He turned to me. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked as I followed him out of the kitchen.

  “I want to talk to you about going to Asheville tomorrow. We’ll have to leave early.”

  “Okay.” I waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. “Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “No.”

  “That couldn’t have waited?”

  “I just wanted you to know.” He stalked out, leaving me wondering what in the world had just happened.

  When I returned to the kitchen, both Maureen and Ms. Wynona were gone and all of our dirty dishes were put away.

  It was a warm day, so I grabbed a book from the shelf in the main living area and went outside to the front porch. A few minutes later, I saw Smoke stalking away from the barn.

  Maybe I dreamed about him being angry because that’s the way he was most of the time. But why would I be with someone like that?

  “Always a war waging inside that man,” murmured Ms. Wynona, startling me.

  “Why do you suppose that is?” I asked when she sat in the chair beside me.

  “He can’t stay still long enough to see the life he desires is right in front of him.”

  “How do you see that life?”

  She reached over and put her hand on mine. “He loves this ranch with all of his heart, yet when he’s here, it doesn’t feel like home to him.”

  “Why not?”

  “You haven’t been here with him until now.”

  I laughed. “I don’t remember much about my life or about our relationship, but the more I’m around him, the more I wonder if we were happy. It doesn’t seem like we were.”

  “You’re good for him.” She squeezed my hand before getting up to go back inside.

  Was I? More importantly, was he good for me?

  * * *

  I didn’t see Smoke at dinner and didn’t know what time he’d finally come in. I’d asked Maureen to help me move my things to a different bedroom and then, around eight, told her I felt another headache coming on.

  The pain medicine she gave me made me drowsy enough that I slept through the night. When I woke, I could see the sun coming up on the horizon.

  After unhooking the IV and closing the port the way Maureen had shown me, I took a quick shower and dressed. I didn’t have many clothes, and the ones I had, I had no idea where they’d come from.

  When I came out of the bedroom, Smoke was standing in the hallway.

  “Hello.”

  “You should pack an overnight bag.”

  “Okay.” I was back in the bedroom and about to ask if he had a bag I could use when he wheeled one in. “That looks like it would hold more than a night’s worth.”

  “You may have to stay longer.”

  He said “you,” not “we.” Should I point that out, or would it be best for me to hold my tongue? Given his apparent foul mood, I opted for the latter.

  * * *

  Smoke drove Maureen and me into Asheville and walked us into the medical center for my first appointment.

  “I’ll check back in later,” he said when we reached the door of the doctor’s office.

  “Wait.” I took Smoke’s hand and led him away from where Maureen stood. “You’re leaving?”

  “Did you want me to go in with you?”

  “You’re joking, right? Smoke, you’re the one who insisted I come to America. Now you’re just dumping me off with a nurse from the UK who probably isn’t licensed here for the kind of care she’s been giving me?”

  “I thought you’d want privacy.”

  My mouth was hanging open, and I couldn’t find the words to tell him what I thought other than what an absolute fecking eejit he was.

  “I can stay,” he muttered.

  “Up and down like a fiddler’s elbow,” I mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your moods. One minute you’re leaving, the next you’re staying. What’s it going to be, Smoke?”

  “I just said I’ll stay.”

  “You said you can stay.”

  “I’ll stay, all right?”

  I stormed back in the direction of the doctor’s office with Smoke trailing me. Part of me wanted to tell him to feck off. Another part hurt like hell at thinking he could be so cavalier about my medical condition. And finally, the last part wanted to hang onto him for dear life and beg him never to leave me.

  11

  Smoke

  I listened as the doctor rattled off a slew of acronyms for the tests Siren would have to have. MRI, CAT, PET—I didn’t really understand why she needed so many different ones, but what the fuck did I know about medical treatment? I couldn’t help but think that someone like Decker should be able to come up with one machine that could do all three things.

  Giv
en the uncertainty of how long each would take, the doctor asked if it would be possible for us to stay in the area for at least a couple of days so he’d also have time to review the results.

  “Until I know more, I’m going to suggest we hold off on any kind of physical or occupational therapy,” he added.

  “We’re supposed to meet with them next,” Siren said to the man.

  “They’ll need orders from me anyway, so go ahead and meet them. We’ll just wait to get your appointments scheduled.”

  “Will the tests give any indication as to what is causing the amnesia?” I asked.

  “That’s certainly our hope.”

  “Will my memory come back?”

  “From what you’ve said, it seems you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia as opposed to anterograde—the inability to form new memories.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Whether your memory comes back and how quickly it might, is dependent upon a large number of factors. I anticipate the damage was mainly in the hippocampus part of your brain, in which case, what we find in the scans should give us a better idea of what to expect.”

  I watched as Siren processed what the doctor had said. If someone had just told me I may never regain my memory, I don’t know if I would be taking it as well as she was. I reached over and took her hand in mine.

  “I have a note that you’ll be meeting with Dr. Mansfield this afternoon as well.”

  “Yes,” she murmured in response.

  He nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

  Siren turned to the nurse who was seated in the chair behind us. “Would you excuse us, please?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about physical activity?” Siren asked after the door was closed and we were alone with the doctor.

  “I’d prefer to wait until after I’ve seen your test results to determine what type of physical therapy—”

  “I don’t mean physical therapy. I mean sex.”

  I highly doubted that under normal circumstances, a physician would blush at the mention of sex, but he and I both did with Siren’s bluntness.

  “Ahem. Since you asked a direct question, I’ll do my best to answer in the same manner. As I said previously, I will not feel comfortable making a determination regarding physical activity, of any kind, until after I’ve seen the results of the scans I’ve ordered.”

  “Very well, then.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand to hide the smile I couldn’t keep off my face.

  “If there’s nothing else, stop at the front desk and someone will get the tests scheduled along with your follow-up appointment.”

  It took several minutes, but eventually, the radiology department was able to schedule Siren for two of the three tests this afternoon and the third tomorrow.

  * * *

  “Do you need to return to the ranch?” Siren asked after we’d left the doctor’s office.

  That’s what I’d planned to do until the ramifications of her never recovering her memory hit me in the head like a steel plank. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “If you need to leave, I’ll understand. I’m sure you didn’t plan to be here more than a few hours.”

  “Excuse us.” Like she had earlier, I took her hand and led her away from her nurse. However, my grasp was much gentler than hers was on mine.

  “I’m staying.”

  Siren turned her head away when her eyes filled with tears. “I feel like an eejit.”

  I cupped her cheek with my palm. “None of this is your fault. You were shot in the line of duty.” I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling of the corridor. “If you want to know the truth…” I stumbled on my words, trying to mask how emotionally overcome I suddenly was. I leaned down and gently rested my forehead against hers. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.” I closed my eyes, remembering how panicked I had been in the few seconds it took me to get to her. The immediate sense of loss I felt, unnerved me then and now.

  She wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face in my chest. “I wish I could remember more about you.”

  And I wished the exact opposite.

  * * *

  While Siren was in with Dr. Mansfield, I made arrangements for us to rent a house within walking distance of the hospital. If Siren had to be here on a regular basis, driving back and forth would wear her out. I also made sure the nurse I’d hired to travel with us was able to stay on.

  “I’m happy to stay on as long as I’m needed, Mr. Torcher,” said Maureen.

  With the amount of money I was paying her, that didn’t come as a surprise.

  * * *

  I stepped outside when my cell rang with a call from Rile. “Hello, my friend. I’m sure you know why I’m calling.”

  It could be one of two reasons, and I said so.

  “As much as I want you to commit to becoming an Invincibles’ partner, I’m calling for an update on Siren’s condition.”

  “For your knowledge or IMI’s?”

  “My own.”

  “We’ll know more tomorrow after she’s undergone some tests. Any word from Hughes?”

  “I was able to burn the details of von Habsburg’s escape from the mental facility. As far as Director Hughes is concerned, Siren is still on loan to MI6 until further notice.”

  “What about Z?”

  “He’s on board.”

  Z Alexander was the current chief of MI6 and Rile’s former boss. Given the majority of assignments the Invincibles took on were on behalf of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he would keep the details of Siren’s medical condition a secret until told otherwise.

  I told Rile I’d be in touch, and was headed back inside when I saw Siren coming out. She looked exhausted and as though she’d been crying.

  Instinctively, I opened my arms and embraced her as she walked up to me. “We have an hour before your first scan. Would you like to lie down for a while?”

  “I would. I’m so tired.”

  * * *

  “What is this?” she asked when I pulled up in front of the furnished rental.

  “I thought this would be more comfortable than a hotel.”

  “You’re a very kind man, Smoke.”

  Siren had called me a lot of things in the time I’d known her. Kind had never been one of them. I wondered if she’d still think so if and when she got her memory back.

  * * *

  “Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you shopping,” I said when she unpacked the few things she’d brought with her. When she shrugged, I pulled her into my arms. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  I tugged her over to the bed and lay beside her. When she turned on her side, I pulled her close so her back was against my front. “Try to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”

  “Smoke?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if it never comes back?”

  I leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “Then, we’ll make lots of new memories.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “Yes.” Probably more than I’d meant anything before in my life.

  12

  Siren

  When we left the house to return to the hospital, Smoke suggested Maureen take the afternoon off. He was able to stay with me as I waited to be taken in for each of the scans, and just knowing he was there was a comfort.

  His words from last night replayed in my mind as I considered what my life would be like if I never remembered anything that had happened prior to being shot. Would making new memories be enough? Would I have a sense of myself without knowing what made me the person I was now?

  “Do you feel up to having dinner with me?” Smoke asked when I came out to the waiting area after the second scan was finished. “Scratch that. Let’s do takeout instead.”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  “I just realized what a long day you had.”

  “It’s been long for you too.
”

  No sooner were we out of the hospital than Smoke lifted me into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” I shrieked.

  “Conserving your energy.”

  “The doctor said we had to wait.”

  Smoke smiled. “Is everything about sex with you?”

  I rested my head on his shoulder. “To be honest, that’s all I remember.”

  Smoke laughed. He didn’t chuckle. He laughed. I loved it when he laughed. More, I loved it when I was the one who made him laugh. A memory flashed through my mind so fast I barely caught it, but it was of Smoke. There were a lot of people around us, and even though it was fleeting, I knew I’d said something funny. The thing that confused me was the feeling the memory brought with it. Surprise.

  “I’m not usually amusing,” I murmured.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, setting me on my feet when we arrived at his SUV.

  “You don’t laugh at things I say often.”

  He opened the door, and I climbed inside. “It’s the life we live, Siren.”

  When he got in the driver’s side, he typed things on his phone while I rested my head against the seat. He was right about my fatigue; all I wanted to do was sleep.

  “Where are we?” I asked when Smoke parked on a street where there were several bars and restaurants.

  “Picking up our dinner.”

  “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  Smoke shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

  He was gone mere minutes, and when he opened the back door and set a bag on the seat, the most heavenly aromas wafted from it.

  “What is that?”

  “Indian.”

  “It smells fantastic.”

  “It’s your favorite.”

  The way my mouth was watering over the pungent scents, I knew he must be right, but that I couldn’t remember my favorite food depressed me. “What else do I like?”

  “There isn’t anything you don’t like. At least that I know of.”