Memorized

by Alyne Roberts

  "I'm looking for Noah," I tell him.

  I try to move around him, but he continues to block me out. Several other men dressed similarly are busy moving the crates into the building. I look around, trying to spot Noah and get his attention.

  "Mr. Banks is busy right now," he says, and he grabs my arm and leads me away. I try to pull out of his hold, but his grip tightens. I wince in pain and know I'm going to bruise.

  "It's important I see him," I argue. "Let go of me!"

  "Sorry, no can do. If you know what's good for you, leave. Now."

  The big man pushes me toward the sidewalk and I barely correct myself before hitting the ground. He glares at me and slams the fence gate shut. He fastens a padlock and says something into an earpiece. I flip him off after he turns away. My face is burning with frustration as I stomp away. When I see a man leaning against the fence, I stop my tantrum.

  "Couldn't get in?" he asks casually. He's watching me with curiosity.

  "No," I huff. Now what was I going to do?

  "What are they doing?"

  "No idea," I bite. "I know you," I say when I'm standing in front of him. He drops his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. A series of flashbacks flood into my mind.

  "Do you?" He looks at me calmly, waiting for me to place a name.

  "You came into the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. We had coffee before," I start to explain. My head is fuzzy when trying to connect the dots.

  "And?" he prompts. He pushes off the fence and looks down at me.

  "How do I know you?" I can't place a name or recall why we were meeting. I get the feeling it was secret, but that's all I got.

  "Tell you what," he says as he reaches into his back pocket. "Here's my card. When you remember, give me a call."

  I take the card and he walks away, leaving me confused. Upset nothing is going according to plan, I head back to my apartment to regroup. I wave to security as I pass and get on the elevator. When the doors close and I'm alone, I glance at the card in my hand.

  Chase Fisher

  Detective

  Atlanta Police Department

  I toss my phone on the coffee table. It's been almost twenty-four hours since I've last seen Willow. I woke up alone, surrounded by her scent and my shirt neatly folded in the bathroom. I waited all day to hear from her, but nothing ever came. Paige only received one text from Willow and her apartment security wouldn't let me through. I tried the back door again but it was locked.

  I roughly run my hands through my hair. I finally had her in my grasp. I ignored every reason I shouldn't and I let myself have her. I jeopardized everything we had been working for, as well as her relationship. For a brief moment, she was all mine. As much as I want to forget how that felt, I can't.

  I didn't expect her to be gone when I woke up. I have no idea what I thought would happen next, but I thought we would at least try to figure it out. I was looking forward for once in my life. I'm always looking back, replaying the past over and over. Willow made me think about what could be instead of what happened that couldn’t be changed.

  I barely slept at all last night. I spent the night pacing the apartment and checking my phone. The hollow feeling in my chest grows with every hour of silence. I've been waiting around for morning so I could finally try to catch Willow at her work. If she asks me to leave her alone, I will, but I just need to know she's okay.

  When I enter the coffee shop, Paige smiles sadly at me. "She called off."

  "What?" I growl. She hands me my coffee anyway. "You said she would be here."

  "She was scheduled to be. She said she was sick," she explains.

  "Something's not right," I mutter. My stomach sinks and I leave the cafe.

  Running the possibilities in my head, I guess there are only a few places she would be. I eliminate her apartment since I know she doesn't feel safe there. Her concerns are based on some underlying fear that I haven't been able to dig up yet. I head to the next likely place. She's either changed her mind, is losing her mind, or is hurt. Any one of those options doesn’t sit well with me.

  On campus, few students linger. As the beginning of the semester nears, many are getting books or touring the school. The staff is already back and getting ready for the start of the year. As suspected, the music hall is unlocked. I head inside and hear the music as I enter.

  The stage is lit up and empty except for one lone player. With her violin propped under her chin, she is glowing under the spotlights. I take a seat in the front row to watch. Willow is lost in the music as she sways and drags the bow over the strings. She looks perfect on the stage; like she's where she belongs. Her eyes are closed and the sad music fills the room. She drags out the final note and it drifts into silence. Willow’s eyes open and she finds me immediately. Unsure what she wants, I don't move. It's like I'm approaching a skittish animal and don't want to scare it off. She gracefully packs the violin back into the case and takes the few steps off the stage.

  "I was worried," I admit when she takes the seat next to me. "You were just gone."

  "I know," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I had something I needed to take care of."

  "You couldn't have called or texted?" I don't bother hiding the bitterness in my voice.

  "I ditched my phone. He pays for it," she explains. "Along with everything else in my life."

  "Why did you run off?" I ask her. "If you want me to leave you alone, say the word and I will."

  My chest tightens when I think about cutting her out of my life for good. I hope she says no, but if she doesn't, I will keep my promise. I want her happy above all else, even if it's hard for me.

  "That's not what I want," she insists. Willow grabs my hand and looks at me. "I just needed to think, sort my thoughts."

  "You scared me," I admit quietly. "I didn't know if you were hurt or just didn't want to see me."

  "I'm so sorry." She leans back but keeps my hand in hers. I stroke the inside of her wrist, feeling her racing pulse. "When I woke up, I had this moment of clarity. I remembered a lot of my past and needed some space to figure out what it all meant."

  As a psychology student, I completely understand. As the guy she slept with and left before he woke, I'm confused. I want to know what she wants, how to make her happy, and what she plans to do. Situations like this are the reason I keep to myself. If, or when, Willow tells me she wants nothing to do with me anymore, it will never leave me. The pain and hurt will be fresh every single time I relive it.

  "What did you figure out?"

  "Well, I'm still working on it, but some things are known. At some point, I was really happy with Noah. I changed for him and became someone else for a long time. I know I liked that person and life for a while."

  I watch her profile while she thinks. Her eyes are glistening over and I wish I could chase it all away for her. There is reason why doctors shouldn't become emotionally involved with patients. Part of me, the logical one with schooling, knows she needs to keep talking and work through it. The other part that cares about her more than I thought was even possible wants to hold her, make her forget, and fix it all. I want to erase all her worries with my lips and body.

  I want to tell her he's wrong for her. She must know it because what I feel can't be one-sided. You can't tell someone how they feel. I can't force her to make a choice and give up everything she has. Willow needs to feel it herself. Yesterday morning, I thought she was there only to find an empty side of the bed. Now, I don't know what she's thinking.

  "At some point, I wasn't happy anymore. That's the part I want to understand. What happened between us? I think I was planning to leave him," she tells me. "I want to know why."

  "Did you ask him?"

  "No," she says with a shake of her head. "I went to see him, but he was busy. I doubt he will even tell me the truth. I remember giving his ring back."

  "Willow," I turn and take her face in my hands. My thumbs rub her cheeks and I wait for her to look back at me. "Tell me what you want me to
do. I'll do anything you ask, but I need to know. You want me to walk away?"

  Her answer is a kiss. It's soft and tentative, and I return it. It's slow as we take our time tasting and savoring. I could kiss her like this every day and never get bored. It's hard to find anything that will hold my attention, but I know she always will. Willow's hands tugs at my hair and then she is moving to straddle me in the chair.

  "I don't want to give you up," she whispers on my lips. "You are the only thing that feels right anymore."

  I grab her thighs and kiss her throat, loving how it vibrates as a moan escapes her. Her words are filling my emptiness inside. I'm already hard for her when Willow rubs herself on me. Sucking on the sensitive skin behind her ear, she gasps. When I take her lips again, it's not sweet and soft. It's hungry and full of passion. It's everything I've been holding back for months. We've broken the floodgate now. There's nothing holding me back anymore.

  Our hands are everywhere, pulling and grabbing. I fist her hair and tilt her head back so I can kiss her harder. Willow's hips move at a rhythm, grinding against me and driving me insane. I want her naked. Now. Nothing would ever compare to the way it felt when I pushed inside of her. The way she fit me perfectly and how she milked my dick through her orgasm.

  Willow pulls away, breathing heavily. "Bad place for this."

  She rests her forehead on mine, and I nod in agreement even though I hate it. If the campus wasn't gearing up for the school year, I would take her right here. Her moans could echo in the room while I brought her to the edge over and over again. That's how desperately I want to have her. Willow slowly pulls herself off me and looks down at me.

  "Kissing reduces the noise in your head," she whispers, repeating the words I told her when I massaged her.

  "What?" I sit up, alert because she looks like she's ready to bolt. Again.

  "You make me see clearly," she tell me. Willow grabs my face and plants a kiss on my lips. "I gotta go."

  "Willow, wait," I call. I reach for her, but she slips out of my grasp.

  Before I can comprehend what's happening, she's running up the aisle and out the doors. I chase after her, but she's nowhere in sight when I burst outside. I pull out my phone, only to remember she doesn't have hers. Out on the streets, I don't see her either. Where the hell is she going?

  I start walking the way to her apartment when I spot a familiar car. I look at the license plate and confirm I've seen it before. Pictures flash in my head. I've never connected it before, but I am now. I've seen the black sedan outside her apartment before. I've seen it several times before near her bus stop, outside the café, and at the hospital. A single man is in the driver's seat and I see him watching me in the side mirror. When I start toward him, the car speeds off into traffic.

  I growl in frustration. I always suspected Willow's paranoia was justified. All reasoning led me to believe there was a reason that her mind didn't reveal to her yet.

  My heels click across the tiled floor as I walk through the lobby. Men and women dressed in their uniforms pass me without a second glance. Everyone has more important things to do. Life goes on even when you feel like yours is ending. People live in their own little worlds with their own problems confined inside the borders they put up.

  "Hello," I say to the woman at the front desk. "Willow Thorne here for an appointment."

  She makes a few taps and a phone call before nodding me through the doors. "Down the hall and it’ll be the third office on the right."

  I follow her directions, ignoring everyone on my way. I keep my head up, my sunglasses on, and my purse clenched to my side. When I reach the door, I knock twice.

  "Come in," a deep voice calls. I enter and find myself facing Detective Chase Fisher.

  I shut the door behind me and sit in one of the chairs facing him. He's in a suit today with his badge on a chain hanging from his neck. He looks different from the times I've seen him for coffee or on the street. In his street clothes, he looks casual and like any other guy. Chase gives an impression of power from behind his desk with a police badge on his chest.

  "How can I help you?" he asks me, a knowing smile crossing his face.

  "I think we can cut some of the bullshit," I say simply. "We've been meeting for months. We aren't strangers." I glare at him and fold my hands in my lap. I came here for answers and I'm not leaving without them. "It would be great if you explained why," I say. "I seem to be a little forgetful these days."

  "So I've heard. Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. You need to remember it on your own."

  I study his face and Chase waits patiently. He's familiar and I feel like I can trust him even though I can't decide why. He's older than me but still young, maybe early thirties. His brown hair is cropped short and he has hazel eyes. He has more facial hair than several months before and he rubs his jaw when he's deep in thought.

  "I was giving you information," I realize. Chase leans forward. "That's why we met in secret."

  "What were you telling me?" he prompts. There's an excitement and thrill in his eyes. Like a hunter when he's closing in on its prey.

  My head is spinning with visions and memories. I gasp. "Noah."

  "Keep going, Willow," he says. "What do you remember?"

  Pieces are falling into their places. Snapshots here and there are creating a full picture. The phone calls, the men we would meet for dinner, the lies. Yesterday at the building site now makes sense as well as Chase's presence outside. Something is hidden behind those fences. Noah is hiding something from the world, but I can't remember what.

  "I don't know," I whisper in frustration. Out of the thousands of questions Landon or Dr. Mason have asked, these seem to the most important.

  The answer is right there, at the surface of the water. I'm kicking and pushing as hard as I can to reach the surface and finally take a breath. I'm so close, but the current keeps pulling me under. The water is too murky to see the sky above. I'm fighting so I won't drown.

  Chase sighs and drops his head in disappointment. My answers are important to him. I hold information he needs and I've been willingly handing it over. Noah trusted me and I was using him—that I know. I kept asking myself why I stayed when I wasn't happy with him. Now I know I had a reason. I forced myself to stay with a man I hated in order to expose what he'd been hiding.

  "You're right, Willow. You had been an informant for five months before your accident. A very valuable one. When I saw you in the hospital and you didn't remember who I was, it was a major setback," he explains.

  "Have you been following me?" I ask. There were nights I was sure I was being followed or watched. I convinced myself I was paranoid or losing my mind.

  "No," he answers. "Why? Are you being followed?"

  "No. I don't think so."

  Barretta92. It's a gun.

  "He's using his properties," I start as the memories start flooding in. "They ship guns in and he holds them until customers can pick them up. No one suspects a million dollar property would hold so many weapons."

  "There you go." Chase grins.

  I shake my head that's gone fuzzy. The apartment I live in, the large diamond ring I wore, and everything I own is paid for by criminals. Noah provides a service for those in the gun trade. They hide their merchandise in his buildings, under the noses of the wealthy and elite. It's well protected and invisible in large cities. Customers come and buy the weapons in bulk and no one sees a thing. Noah gets paid for his silence and for basically operating mobile gun stores.

  "You don't have enough on him do you?" I ask. "I still hold what you need?"

  The flash drive. I have it, I'm sure I do. I just have no idea where I hid it.

  "Yes," he answers sadly. "But don't worry about it, Willow. We have it under control. You should just be careful."

  "Careful?"

  "Yes. Under no circumstances do you tell Noah what you remember. You don’t honestly believe your attack was random, do you?"

  It was dangerous, snooping arou
nd in my fiancé's things, eavesdropping, and then relaying it all to police. I knew that back then, but I didn't stop. I kept looking and listening for names, addresses, and locations. Noah made his money working with some very dangerous people.

  "Well, not anymore," I mumble. My heart cracks to think Noah would hurt me like that.

  "You're only safe now because they think you don't know anything. Keep it that way," Chase tells me, leaning over the desk.

  I stand. "Thank you, Detective. I'll be in touch."

  "Willow," he calls when I pull open the door. "Watch your back and don't do anything stupid."

  I nod and leave his office. I hide my face while I get into a cab. The last thing I need now is someone to see me leaving the police department. I pay the driver and rush back into my apartment. I smile widely at the security. I haven't been home in two days. Surely they have noticed and reported this fact back to Noah.

  "Willow." My feet freeze inside my doorway.

  "Noah," I say on an exhale. He is the last person I need to see today.

  "I've been looking all over for you," he says, stepping toward me. His eyes are dark and suspicious. A shiver of fear runs down my spine.

  "I needed to think. About us," I lie easily. "I didn't mean to worry you."

  "Where have you been?" His voice is laced with fake concern. I pick up on all the subtleties now. Like how tense his shoulders are, and the twitch in jaw, the tightening of his lips.

  "I stayed with Paige and then walked around the city. I went back to that rooftop where you proposed to me," I tell him. The last part isn't a lie. I found the restaurant and snuck up to the roof hoping to remember a happier time. I needed to know if leaving Noah was the right choice. Was starting over with Landon going to make all this pain go away? Would leaving only put Landon in danger?

  "And?" There's a flicker of hope in his eyes. I can tell him the truth and end this all now. Warning bells are sounding in my head. Angering him is dangerous and I learned that before.

  I pulled my fingers away from the back of my head. They are stained red. Broken pieces of mirror covered the floor, reflecting my face. Mascara lines darken my face. Any minute now, a guest could come into the bathroom. Noah doesn't care though. His face is red as he restrains from lashing out on me again. The message was heard loud and clear. Do not question him again. It‘s none of my business.