by Megan Hart
“Odd, how?” Ewan poured himself a mug of coffee.
Aggie shrugged. “Quiet. She wasn’t smiling the way she normally does.”
“Do you think we need to worry? Should we go find her?” Ewan put the coffee mug down with a thump on the kitchen counter.
Aggie shook her head. “No, and I’m sorry to make you fret. I think, perhaps, she’s simply feeling the effects of the damage that’s been done to her. It’s not as though we can really expect her to not have any bad days, you know. How would you feel if you couldn’t remember anything from day to day?”
“I don’t know. Bad, I’d imagine.” Ewan frowned. “I’ll talk to her.”
Aggie leaned against the counter with her own mug, although she was probably drinking tea. “Also, I hesitate to be a tattletale about this, but . . . She’s not been taking her meds. I found the bottles in her bathroom. All full.”
“Scratch it! How long has that been going on?”
Aggie held up a hand. “Don’t you go confronting her about it. She’s a grown woman, and she’s capable of deciding for herself what she puts into her body, no matter how we might wish to make those choices for her. If she feels she wants to handle the pain without drugs, Mr. Donahue, that’s her choice, and we ought to respect it.”
“It’s not her choice,” Ewan said harshly. “She needs to take the meds to help keep her—”
“To keep her mind fuzzy,” Aggie interrupted. “To keep her calm. Complacent. Under control. She’s complained of it already, being groggy. She’s well aware it’s the meds that do it to her.”
“That’s not what they’re for. They’re to protect her from catastrophically remembering things that will make her try to throw herself off a cliff again,” Ewan snapped.
Aggie said nothing.
Ewan took up his mug and sipped angrily, not caring that he burned his tongue. “I’m going out to find her.”
“Mr. Donahue, I understand you’re worried about her, but you can’t treat her like a child.” Aggie gave her head a solemn shake. “I’m sorry if it seems I’m overstepping myself, but you hired me to do a job, and part of it is keeping that girl safe. Do you think I’m not doing my job?”
“No,” he said. “Of course I don’t.”
Still, he looked yearningly toward the back door, his stomach twisting with tension at the idea that Nina was out there, running, possibly too close to the edges of the cliffs. “What if the programming is activated, and we don’t know it?”
“You put a tracking chip in her that also acts as a negative feedback deterrent,” Aggie told him flatly. “She’s not going to throw herself off the cliffs again, Mr. Donahue, because you’ve made it impossible for her to even get close enough to do it.”
Ewan stood, his fingers curling lightly into fists at his sides. “That was on the advice of her medical team. You’re making it sound like she’s a dog I put a shock collar on.”
Again, Aggie said nothing.
Ewan scowled. “I want to keep her safe.”
In silence, Aggie turned to the sink and began scrubbing the baking sheets. Ewan wanted to demand she turn around and face him, but he stopped himself just in time from acting like a total sphincter. That was the man he’d become after Nina. One who didn’t automatically berate his employees. He took a couple deep breaths, instead. Chose his words carefully.
“I want to keep her safe, Aggie. That’s all. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. So right now, I’m going to find her and make sure she’s all right. You don’t have to like it or approve of it.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Donahue,” she said stiffly without looking at him.
Ewan went out the back door into the garden beyond. It was a rare clear day, the sky the color of a summer vacation. Too late, he’d forgotten he wasn’t dressed for jogging, so instead he set off at a brisk walk as he pulled his personal comm from his pocket. A few swipes brought up the small tracking screen, the green dot indicating Nina’s location. He headed in that direction, making sure to put the comm securely back in his pocket.
He took the stairs to the beach two at a time, pausing when Nina came into view. She stood on one of the big boulders, the ocean roiling and seething around it and occasionally splashing her calves. The wind had blown her hair out of the ponytail she usually wore. She faced the water’s wide expanse as the wind tugged the hem of her lightweight jacket. As he watched, she lifted her arms, palms to the sky, and leaned into the wind off the sea.
Like she was trying to fly.
Ewan’s heart pounded as his love for her surged higher and stronger than the waves ever could. He hadn’t said her name or anything at all, but she must have sensed him because she twisted to look at him. She smiled and raised a hand in greeting.
“Ewan! Hi. How did you know I was here?”
Guilt flooded him as he thought of the tracker. She had no idea her every movement was monitored or that she was constantly influenced about where she went. “Lucky guess.”
Nina hopped off the boulder and headed toward him. “I was going to go for a run, but I stopped here to admire the ocean. I can’t remember the last time we had such a gorgeous clear sky.”
She paused.
“It might have been yesterday, for all I know.”
Then she laughed, the sound light and humorous and beautiful, and all he could do was join her. Hope, he reminded himself of what he’d said to her. Without it, what was the use of anything? Nina’s laughter sounded like hope to him, and he was going to keep holding onto it as long as he could.
CHAPTER SIX
Boxes and boxes of files and documents, none of them dated more recently than fifteen years ago. Nina knew that because she knew what year it was currently, and she knew that because she’d been asked if she knew it, repeatedly, by the med team in the first days of her recovery. At first, her name and the date. A bit later, her location. The names of Ewan, Aggie, and Jerome, as well as the med team docs. Nina had the feeling she had not remembered anything close to all of that at first, but she was certain she did now.
Today it had only taken her half the usual time to finish up the work she’d allotted to herself. She’d portioned it carefully so she wouldn’t run out of material before the end of the week, since the airtranspo would not have returned with its monthly supplies until then. If she finished before the next delivery, she wouldn’t have anything left to do. Ewan wouldn’t be worried about that, but Nina already struggled to keep herself fully occupied. Running out of work, even if it was only busywork, meant she needed to find other ways to occupy herself and that had turned into too much time to think. She wanted to avoid more of that, if she could. Thinking too much led to uncomfortable feelings of melancholy and despair.
Still, she could only type so slowly and go over the data so many times before she had to concede that she’d finished every task to perfection. She’d reached the final paper in the files for this morning. Stretching, she went to the attic window to check the weather. Dim, but not gloomy. This morning the sky was a pale pearl, silvery clouds covering the sun, which was trying valiantly to break through.
She did not know what season it was, Nina realized with a sudden twisting stab someplace between her ribs. Come to think of it, she hadn’t noticed much in the way of changing seasons at all, and she’d been here . . . she tallied the days on her fingers, trying to figure it out. Months, but how many? Certainly there ought to have been some noticeable change in the weather, right? Something to indicate the passing of time?
Where exactly was this island, anyway?
It felt different when she knew she didn’t remember something versus never having had the knowledge to begin with. When her mind was trying to pluck out information from wherever it had been stored and was no longer accessible, she often felt a phantom sort of burning, or a more specific pain in her temples or the backs of her eyes. Now, when Nina blinked hard, not much hurt. That meant she hadn’t forgotten the island’s location. She’d never known it in the first pl
ace.
Many days, Ewan worked in the office with her, although his desk was at the far end of the attic room and there was a screen that could be pulled shut between them for privacy. She’d seen him at breakfast this morning, but he hadn’t come into “work.” That wasn’t uncommon. She did wish he were there now, though, so she could ask him where in the universe they were.
Downstairs, she found Aggie swiping at nonexistent cobwebs near the front door. The older woman had opened it to let in a swirling gust of brisk, fresh air. The sky beyond the doorway had lightened even more, though the air remained temperately cool.
“Aggie,” Nina said. “Where are we?”
Aggie didn’t pause in her cleaning. Didn’t even turn to look at her. “In the doorway.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Aggie shot a grin over her shoulder and took another swipe with her duster. “On an island.”
“Where’s the island?” Nina asked.
Aggie waved the duster again before tucking it under her arm and facing her, hands on hips. “This island is off the coast of New Consolidated Britain.”
“New . . . what? Where, now?”
“New Consolidated Britain,” Aggie said gently, watching Nina’s face. “You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“It used to be off the coast of Newfoundland. After Gray Tuesday, they consolidated with what used to be the UK, along with Ireland and some parts of France,” Ewan said from behind them on the stairs. “New Consolidated Britain. But we are off the coast of it, not part of it. The island is considered internationally neutral territory.”
Nina turned toward him. “Gray Tuesday was years ago. I remember it.”
“Yes,” he said.
“But not the rest. Damn it, I should have, right? It was common knowledge. Never mind, I know now.” She sighed and shook her head, then frowned at a new thought. “But what about the weather?”
“What about the weather?” Ewan asked with a glance at Aggie he probably didn’t mean for Nina to see.
Irritated that the two of them seemed to be dancing around something they wanted to keep from her, Nina said, “If we’re off the coast of Newfoundland, or what used to be Newfoundland, why isn’t it colder? Why don’t the seasons change? I mean sure, this is no tropical paradise, but shouldn’t there be some sort of differences over time?”
For a moment, the three of them made a triangle of tension there in the foyer. Nina put her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer. She looked from one to the other, then back to Ewan, who looked embarrassed.
“I had a weather tempering system installed around the island perimeter,” he said finally. “It keeps the ambient temperatures regulated to provide a more consistent weather experience.”
Nina’s eyebrows rose. “That’s possible?”
“In small-range, limited quantities. Yes.”
“That’s . . .” She shook her head in disbelief. “That must be hyper pricey.”
Ewan looked even more embarrassed.
Again Nina looked from him to Aggie, who was studiously swiping away the still nonexistent cobwebs. Nina had known, of course, that Ewan had money. A poor man wouldn’t have been able to afford to pay her to do busywork while also covering all of her medical expenses. She’d assumed Donahue Enterprises was a successful business, even as she now realized she’d never thought about what sort of business it was, exactly.
“I get that it’s probably rude to ask this,” she said, “but how much money do you have, exactly?”
“I’ll go see about lunch,” Aggie said and fled.
Ewan leaned on the railing with one hand. “I have a lot of money, Nina.”
“Oh, c’mon. Are you really a billionaire?”
“You know everyone’s a billionaire now, ever since the New World Credit system went into effect.”
Pain sliced through her, and Nina closed her eyes.
Darkness.
* * *
Ewan knew the precise moment Nina was blanking, because her gaze went unfocused and far away. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, then relaxed. Her lips parted with a soft, indrawn breath.
“It’s a drone,” she said.
He tensed and called Aggie’s name in a low voice. He didn’t turn when he sensed her behind him. If Nina was going to react to any kind of destructive programming, Aggie would be able to help him stop her.
Nina didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. Her fingers curled again, but loosely, not so much making fists but more like she was holding onto something. When she raised them, Aggie stepped up next to Ewan, and he put out a hand to keep her from interfering.
“Wait,” he said.
Nina stepped into what he recognized instantly as a defensive stance. She looked up and beyond him and Aggie, as though searching a sky only she could now see. When she spoke, she sounded like the woman he’d met back in Woodhaven, when he’d hired her to protect his life.
“Get down,” Nina said. Before he or Aggie could respond, Nina commanded, “I said get down!”
Ewan had forgotten how fast she was. How strong. He didn’t have time to move before she came at him. Sweeping his leg, she dropped him onto the wood floor and braided rug at the base of the stairs. She kept her grip on the front of his shirt to stop him from hitting the ground too hard, and before he could react, she’d leaped toward the staircase, pushing off from a few steps up. She twisted in the air and swiped at the empty air above them all.
She ended up on one knee beside him.
Aggie let out a low gasp. Ewan pushed up on one elbow. Hope kindled inside him. The fact he’d had the breath knocked out of him didn’t matter. Not when it looked as though Nina was starting to remember.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, lowering her hands and scanning her gaze upward like she was looking for more threats. “My job is to protect you. I am very, very good at my job. If that means dropping you on your ass, Mr. Donahue, then . . . well. What’s more important? Your pride or your life?”
“It wasn’t that long ago that I would have said my pride,” Ewan managed to reply.
Nina blinked, then again. She stood and looked down at him. Her brow creased. “Are you all right? What happened?”
She was already reaching a hand to help him up, something she did so swiftly and with such ease that he was on his feet before he could so much as take another breath. Aggie had stepped into the shadows, giving him a nod before retreating once more to the kitchen to leave them alone once she saw that Nina was all right. Ewan dusted himself off.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Nina was silent for a few seconds. “Something happened, and I missed it.”
She’d forgotten already. The hope that had kindled inside him didn’t gutter out like a windblown candle, though. Because she had remembered, no matter how briefly, and without activating anything destructive. It was going to happen again, and again, until she was herself once more. It had to, he thought, but in this moment, he had to be careful.
“I tripped on the stairs,” he said. “Shoelace.”
She looked reflexively at his shoes, which had not come undone, then at his face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He paused, taking a chance. “The only thing I hurt was my pride.”
Nina’s smile was wary, but genuine. She touched her temple lightly, but made no comment on if there was any pain. “I finished all the work for today. I was going to see about having some lunch.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ewan told her. “I’ll join you.”
This time, her smile was broad and easy and warmed him inside with a flush of rising heat. They stared at each other without speaking. He didn’t imagine the tendrils of tension between them, so much like it had been when they’d first met. He wasn’t the only one who could remember, he thought.
He’d never been able to forget.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hands on her body. Stroking. A sleek, wet tongue flickers along her throat an
d to the slopes of her breasts. Nina arches into the touch with a moan.
It’s been so long since anyone touched her this way. She wants the pleasure to go on forever. In the dark, the scent of her lover and the touch of his strong fingers along her spine are the only sensations she wants. She gives up to him. Her body is his. Her heart.
Her mind.
With a start, Nina woke sitting upright in the bed with the blankets tangled around her ankles. The room was chilly, yet she was sweating. Her nipples peaked beneath the heavy nightgown she’d worn to bed, and when she cupped them, her breasts were heavy. A little lower, she slipped a hand between her thighs and pressed against the tingle of fading pleasure there.
That had been some dream.
Nina pressed her head into the pillow’s soft comfort, closing her eyes. She had no idea how long it had been since the last time she’d made love or fucked or even gotten off . . . how long had it been, anyway? Her body was telling her that it had been a long onedamned time. Too long.
She ran her hands along her body, covered almost completely in thick fabric. The gown she wore was one of several identical nightdresses from her dresser, and although she’d never felt quite right in them, she hadn’t questioned that they belonged to her. They were in her dresser, who else would they have belonged to?
Now she wriggled out of it, for a moment flinging off the blankets to expose her naked body to the night’s cool air. The sky outside her window was still dark, not even a hint of a moon or stars, and if she blinked hard enough she could make out the shapes of the furniture in her room, but she didn’t need to see anything right now.
She could feel.
Her own body, curves and scars. The length of her torso. The fullness of her breasts. Her thighs parted as she pushed her feet against the bed, lifting her hips as she tweaked her nipples to upright, taut peaks between her fingers.
