I watched as she stared down at her purse. I couldn’t read her. Was she fucking with me and just pretending to not know who she was? Maybe she thought I wouldn’t find her purse, and then she could go on pretending that she couldn’t remember a thing. Turning on my heel, I headed into the kitchen to grab some food, watching her out of the corner of my eye.
She slowly opened the zipper of her purse, first pulling out some chapstick, examining it like it would give her the answers of the universe. I rolled my eyes in frustration. At this pace, I wouldn’t find out who she was any time soon. I got to work cutting up some meat and tossing it in a pan, always watching her. By the time the food was cooking, she was finally opening her damn wallet. All her other shit was spread out on the table in front of her.
She flicked the wallet open and stared down at the license. Her brows pinched together as she studied the photo.
“Well?” I snapped.
She swallowed hard and looked up at me. “My name is Ciara. Ciara Donnelly.”
6
Ciara
I stared down at the picture in front of me. The woman staring back looked like me, but I wasn’t sure if the name fit. Ciara Donnelly. The first name sounded familiar, but the last… I bit my lip as the man snapped at me.
“Well?”
I looked up at him, unsure of what I was saying. “My name is Ciara. Ciara Donnelly.”
He studied me for a second, his eyes watching me for something. He was always watching me, always looking at me like I was trying to deceive him. “So, Ciara?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know?”
I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. Did I want to tell him that it felt wrong? Wouldn’t that make him even more suspicious of me? I looked down at the picture again, still feeling like something was off about what I was seeing.
“I just don’t remember,” I finally said, hoping that was enough to appease him.
“Well, since that’s the only name we have, that’s what we’ll go with.”
“What about you?” I asked. It was only right that I have a name to go with the face I looked at every day.
He slowly turned to me, the look on his face so terrifying it would have scared anyone else. But for some reason, it calmed me. “What the fuck does that matter? You’re not going to be around long enough to use it.”
I huffed in irritation. He was acting like he was going to kill me or something. “Look, if you intend to kill me, you’d better do it while I’m still injured enough for you to get the upper hand.”
He smirked. “Like you could ever take me out.”
I sighed wearily. I was exhausted, my body felt like it was ready to give out. My forehead was feverish, and my headache was still pounding. I wasn’t in the mood for games or his attempts to scare me. “I just thought—”
“You don’t need to think anything. I’m nobody to you. I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow and drop you off, and that’s where this ends. You don’t know me. You’ve never seen me before. I brought you in because I found you on the side of the road and you were injured.”
“Well, since that’s exactly what happened, we won’t have any trouble keeping our stories straight, will we?” I snapped back.
“Just remember that when you leave here,” he growled, returning to what he was doing at the stove.
Christ, he acted like I was going to run into town and blabber to the world about the mysterious man I was staying with. As if I even had anything to tell anyone. The man was a mystery, and I was pretty sure that looking menacing wasn’t a crime. And the fact that he held a gun on me couldn’t exactly be used against him since I had been holding a knife on him.
Opening the suitcase, I thought maybe I would find something that would clue me in as to who I was, but it was just clothes. There was a small bag of toiletries, which I was grateful for. Birth control pills for several months, along with some sleeping pills, were also in the bag. Yet none of it felt familiar to me.
I pulled out the second suitcase, which was even sparser than the one before. Sighing, I closed it and leaned back against the couch. My whole body ached, and all I wanted to do was sleep, but I also needed a shower. I had blood crusted all over my body.
“Can I borrow your shower?” I asked, not bothering to open my eyes to look at him.
I heard a click and then his footsteps. I opened my eyes, watching him stalk toward me. He grabbed my arm, ‘helping’ me to stand. I could have done it on my own without the rough arm tug. He started dragging me toward the bathroom, but I stopped him.
“Wait, I need my bathroom stuff.”
Sighing, he walked back and picked it up, guiding me into the bathroom. When he shut the door behind him, I stared at him expectantly.
“What?” he snapped.
“Um…you’re still in here.”
“You have a gash on your leg and a broken wrist. Just how the fuck do you think you’re going to get cleaned up by yourself?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.”
“Like you did with your pants?”
Anger surged through me, and I tried to cross my arms over my chest, which didn’t work with a broken wrist. I wasn’t giving in on this.
“Get undressed.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I’ve already seen you naked. I’m not going to do anything.”
“You’re damn right you’re not going to. Do you honestly think I’d let you anywhere near me when I’m naked?”
He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Fine. Do it yourself. I’ll go bring in more wood.”
I didn’t breathe easily until the door slammed shut. There was something intoxicating about him. He exuded power and strength, but also mystery. I felt like I should know him or that I was somehow connected to him, but I didn’t know or understand why. That had to be why I calmed down when he was on top of me. But if that was the case, if we knew each other in some way, wouldn’t he just say so? I didn’t understand.
Tiredly, I pulled the clothes from my body, hissing when I pulled my pants down my leg. It was red and swollen, and the pus starting to form underneath was not a good sign. I needed antibiotics, and I had to rely on the man in the other room to get them for me.
The slam of the front door told me that he had finally left me in peace. I finished undressing, raising my eyes to meet the lifeless woman in the mirror. She looked just like the woman in the picture, but she looked happy. I looked…lost. I leaned forward and studied my eyes, green and wide, but saw no signs of familiarity. Who was I? My eyes wandered over my body until I caught sight of something on my hip. Turning, I studied the ink in the mirror. It was some sort of symbol, but I had no idea what it meant. It was probably just a pretty design that I got after a drunken night at college.
I glanced up in the mirror. Did I go to college? I shook that thought from my head because I really had no idea. Sighing, I climbed into the shower, my leg throbbing painfully as I stepped under the spray. I let the water wash over my face, thinking about how I just had to make it one more day and then the doctors would hopefully be able to tell me something.
I reached for the soap, but even that felt like too much for me right now. I wasn’t even sure that I could stay on my feet for the whole shower. The heat stung my gash, but it made me feel good, feel alive. I leaned my forehead against the wall, feeling dizzy. Maybe I should have let him help me. God, I felt so terrible. I started washing myself, but the soap slipped from my hand. Sighing, I bent over to get it, but the world tilted and I collapsed on the shower floor, my face smacking the tile. Groaning, I tried to push myself up, but it was no use. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
7
Antonio
I walked out of the bathroom, careful not to slam the door like I wanted. That damn woman was so infuriating. I was trying to do the right thing. I was trying to help her, but she didn’t
look to me for help. She looked at me like a monster. And I was one, at least in a previous life.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the doorframe, thinking back to that day with Carly.
“Do you forgive me?”
“You don’t need my forgiveness. We both did what we had to. We survived. Go make a new life for yourself and learn how to forgive yourself.”
My last surviving family member, and she couldn’t forgive me. I hadn’t forgiven myself either, and I knew I never would. What I had done would live with me until I drew my last breath. Still, knowing that my sister was alive and well out there, living life with someone she loved, should make me happy. Instead, I was resentful. She left me. She left all of us. She could have stayed with the family. Maybe she would have been able to see what I couldn’t, that I was being manipulated. Maybe things would have turned out differently, but now I would never know.
Pushing off the wall, I walked over to the front door, preparing to get wood, but then I glanced back at the suitcases on the living room floor. Opening the front door, I slammed it shut, then waited for a moment. Quietly, I walked over to the couch and sorted through all her things. Her purse was filled with typical things that women carry. I picked up her driver’s license and studied it. The plastic was a little thinner than it should be. There was a slight smudge on the ink, almost imperceptible, but I was used to looking at stuff like this. And the holographic symbol was just slightly off, not reflecting quite the way it should in the light. This was a fake, a very good fake, but still a fake.
I tapped it against my hand, trying to figure out why she would need a fake ID. I started rummaging through her suitcases, trying to find something that would tell me who this woman was or where she was headed, but I couldn’t find anything. Sighing, I sat back on my haunches and looked at the mess before me. There was absolutely nothing to give me any insight.
A small piece of the fabric on the inside of the suitcase was torn. I fingered the hole and felt velcro on the other side. Pulling at it, the fabric came away. Jackpot. A manilla envelope sat inside, but when I opened it up, it wasn’t what I expected. I dumped the contents of the envelope out, shocked to find another license with the name Ciara Murray. I inspected this one, bending it slightly, and checking the holograph, along with the ink. This one seemed legit. If it wasn’t, it was the best fake I’d ever seen. So, her name was really Ciara Murray.
Underneath the license was a bank account set up through one of the largest banks in the country. Her bank statement showed just under two-thousand dollars in it, with her last withdrawal in Vegas. She had taken out five hundred dollars. That would be just enough to get from one point to another without raising too much suspicion.
But none of that was all that interesting. The really good stuff was below all that. Pictures of backroom deals that I recognized all too well, along with pictures of Ciara on the arm of some man dressed in a very fancy suit. This man screamed money, but if she was with him, why wasn’t she now? I glanced back at the photos, studying them for a moment. I didn’t recognize anyone in the photos, but if I had to guess, she was dating the man in the picture. Either she saw or heard something she wasn’t supposed to, or she took something from him.
The sound of a thump tore through the cabin, muffled by the door to the bathroom. Frowning, I stuffed the papers back into the envelope, then resealed the fabric that had torn away. I’d have to keep an eye on her and see if she went after the hidden compartment. I quickly stuffed the clothes back in the suitcase and glanced around the living room, making sure everything was as I left it.
Walking over to the bathroom door, I knocked lightly, but she didn’t answer. “Fuck!” I groaned, staring up at the ceiling. Turning the knob, I opened the bathroom door and looked inside. Ciara was laying on the tile floor of the shower, her eyes barely cracked open. Shaking my head in irritation, I walked over and hoisted her up in my arms. She was dead weight, but fumbled to try and stand on her own.
“Would you fucking stop moving?” I growled. “If you had just let me help you in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Asshole,” she muttered, resting her head against my chest. I could feel her burning up through my shirt. I had to get her to the hospital now. I couldn’t have her dying in my house. That would raise questions that I wasn’t prepared to answer.
Why didn’t you call for help?
Why didn’t you try and get her to the hospital sooner?
What’s your name?
How long have you lived here?
Of course, my name and how long I’d lived here could easily be found, but I worried it would draw deeper questions. I lifted her soaking body in my arms and carried her to my bed. She was shaking furiously, her cheeks flushed with fever. I should have tried to take her to the hospital earlier. Grabbing some clothes from the other room, I began the difficult task of dressing an unconscious person. The gash on her leg looked worse by the minute, and when I pressed my hand to her forehead, I knew that I couldn’t wait until morning to get her to the hospital.
After getting her dressed, I carried her into the living room, pulling some socks on her. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get a coat on her. She was flopping around like a rag doll in my arms. I could drape her coat over her to keep her warm. Running out to the truck, I started it up, getting it warmed up as I finished getting her ready to go.
Grabbing some medicine out of the cabinet, I filled a glass of water and brought it over to her. I had no idea how long it would take us to get to the hospital, but I needed to try and at least get her fever down in the meantime. I slapped her cheek several times, trying to rouse her. Her eyes drifted open slightly, but she was still out of it.
“Come on,” I said sternly. “Wake up. I need you to take some medicine.”
Her head lolled to the side. I couldn’t believe she had gone downhill so fast. It wasn’t even a half hour ago she was sassing me. Now she looked like she was on the verge of death. Her flushed cheeks and burning skin had me worried. Me. I couldn’t remember the last time that I cared about anyone or worried about whether or not they would live or die. I had lived a hard life, one that everyone knew was full of uncertainty. But this woman, this pain in the ass, had me actually thinking about someone other than myself for a change.
Deep down, I knew there was more to her story, but I could figure that out later. It wouldn’t matter what her story was if she ended up dead.
“Ciara, listen to me!”
“So grouchy,” she grumbled, but peeled her eyes open. “So sexy,” she muttered.
I rolled my eyes. Now wasn’t the time for her to start telling me things like that. It wasn’t like I could fuck her like this.
“I don’t feel so good,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again.
“I know. That’s why I’m going to take you to the hospital, but I need you to take some medicine first.”
“Is it poison?”
“What?”
“Are you going to kill me?”
I frowned, wondering why she suddenly thought I would kill her when I had let her stay this long. “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t have rescued you from the damn car.”
I grabbed her chin and forced her to take a sip of water. She choked on it at first, spitting water all over me. But the second time, she was able to drink some.
“Good, now take the pills.”
I placed the pills on her tongue and lifted the glass to her lips again. She choked a few times, but finally swallowed the pills. Her head wobbled again, her eyes drifting closed. It was time to go. I grabbed her coat and draped it over her body. It should really be on her, but I wasn’t sure I could wrangle her into her coat as well. I put her boots on her, not bothering with the laces. It wouldn’t matter at this point. I hauled her up in my arms, her dead weight making it nearly impossible to carry her around efficiently.
Carrying her out to the truck, I tucked her into the front seat, watching as she flopped over before I
was able to get her buckled. I wrapped the seatbelt underneath her and clicked it in place. The shoulder strap would be useless, but at least she had some protection. I ran back to the house and shut the door, not bothering to lock it. There was nothing to steal anyway.
The cold wind bit into my cheeks as I ran back to the truck. I dreaded making this drive down the mountain in the dark, but I didn’t have a choice at this point. I shouldn’t care. She was nobody to me. So what if she died? No one even knew she was here. I could toss her body out in the woods for the bears to feast on. If she was ever found, at some point, her car would be too. They would assume that she wandered off after the crash and was eaten by a bear.
But as I looked over at the woman beside me, I just couldn’t do that. I knew it was wrong. I knew I would draw attention to myself in one way or another. The cops might look into me a little more than they already had. The townspeople would whisper about me. All around, it wasn’t a good position to put myself in. But as I pulled onto the road, I knew there was no going back.
Driving down the mountain road was hell. Slipping and sliding all over the place, I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. At some point, Ciara wiggled over next to me, burying her head in my lap. I almost shoved her off, but the way she nuzzled into my leg, I thought maybe it was bringing her some comfort, and I just couldn’t deny her that. As we got closer to Denver, I took one hand off the wheel, most of the roads cleared by now, and rested it on her forehead. I could already feel the heat coming off her head through my pants, but when I touched her, she was burning up.
Tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, I fought down the need to protect her. She wasn’t mine, and it didn’t matter what happened to her when I dropped her off. She wouldn’t be my concern anymore. I rubbed my eyes as sleep threatened to take over. I was so close to the hospital.
Dead Man's Hand: A Small Town Romance (A Good Run Of Bad Luck Book 1) Page 4
