Remembering Red Thunder

by Sylvie Kurtz

  As she stole his breath once again with a kiss, his blood rumbled through his veins, demanding more.

  He didn’t know this woman who claimed to be his wife, but on a level he couldn’t explain he understood the bond they shared, felt the tug of it, soul to soul. Sacred. Frightening. In this world where nothing was familiar, she was his strength, she was his weakness. He could resist her no more than he could stop the storm of his nightmares.

  She backed away from him. A fierce growl escaped him at the infinite space, the desperate urgency her departure from his arms left. His body trembled, desperate for a connection instead of the void his life had become. Blood throbbing against his temple, his wrists, his ankles, he waited, could not ask for what he needed.

  She smiled at him, her face showing her awareness of the power she held over him. That knowledge so blatantly exposed should have been a turnoff, but it wasn’t. The love, the pleasure, the want in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees, had him reaching for her.

  With a shake of her head, she stopped him. “Wait.”

  She grasped the hem of the long pink T-shirt she wore and pulled it over her head. As she looked at him, her eyes were so impossibly blue, so impossibly wide, so impossibly seductive. How could he have forgotten that look when it rocketed through him with such power?

  Her mouth was wet and inviting from the sweep of her tongue. Blushing pink, her skin from head to toe was a velvet dream waiting to be experienced. And he wanted it, wanted it all with frightening intensity. Wanted to lose himself in that passionate softness. Wanted the oblivion she offered.

  He reached for her. He stroked her back in long, slow glides, let the feel of her skin, her soft trembling rekindle life inside him. Eyes closed, he inhaled the clean, fresh scent of her. Rain on a rose. Sugar. Desire. “You smell good.”

  She smiled in the crook of his neck, setting an inferno raging inside him. “Summer Rain. It’s your favorite scent.”

  He kissed her, deep and long, thrilled at the hot texture of her. “You taste good.”

  “Oh, Chance.”

  She gave. She took. She was real. And for now, she was his. Her body molded to his, blended with his, became his. “You feel good.”

  With both hands on her shoulders, he held her away from him. Her confused gaze met his, so blue, so deep. The fingers of one hand skimmed his jaw. Her hips pressed firmly into the very center of his need. “Chance?”

  Now it was his turn to plead. “Let me love you.”

  On her sigh floated relief, consent. In her kiss, in the wrap of her body around his, came the escape that had been so elusive since he’d forgotten who he was.

  “Always, Chance, always.”

  ENVELOPED IN HIS ARMS, Taryn fell asleep. The slow patter of her heart caressed his ribs. The softness of her hair against his fingers was a lullaby. Her breath against his skin was hope. Chance wanted to stay in that comforting moment in time forever. His thoughts slowed. His body relaxed. Soon he drowsed.

  Then the nightmare came back. Red haze. Blond hair. Dead eyes. He gulped in air, fought the urge to jolt up and run. When his pulse slowed, when the darkness was no longer tinged with red, he gently untangled himself from Taryn’s arms. In her sleep, she reached for him.

  “Chance?”

  “It’s all right. I just need something to drink.”

  “Um. Don’t be long,” she said on a yawn.

  He didn’t answer, but padded to the bathroom and closed the door. In the mirror, by the stark light of the bare bulbs on the vanity, his features looked haunted, grim. An unhealthy ashen tint smudged his skin. Dark rings raccooned his eyes. Deep lines etched his forehead, slashed the corners of his mouth. He sluiced cold water over his face, but it failed to erase the haggard man looking back at him from the mirror’s surface.

  That man, he was becoming certain, had caused a horrible tragedy. Had he killed the woman with the blond hair? He gulped down a glass of water, but could not wash away the dread shuddering through him.

  His taste of Taryn had been forbidden fruit. It stirred something deep inside him and filled him with impossible longing. He wanted what she offered. He wanted more. But he couldn’t accept anything.

  Not until he knew who he was, what had happened to him, what he might have done.

  With each passing day, the horrid pictures in his mind grew more detailed and more macabre. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a young girl’s gaze looking blankly back at him, watery blood mixed with her long blond hair. Hands squeezing—killing? The pictures ran one into the other, until they turned into a video on an endless loop.

  He had no choice. He had to find out who she was and whether or not he was the cause of her demise.

  He opened the bathroom door and paused. Taryn lay in bed, hand on the pillow he’d occupied. The love in her deep blue eyes had stabbed his heart with incredible regret. And now, as he looked at her sleeping, he feared for her. A sense of forewarning told him that who he was, what he’d done, would place her in danger. He couldn’t let that happen.

  By the light eking through the bathroom door, he searched in the closet of clothes that were supposed to be his. Shirts—white, denim, starched beige. Jeans—from dark blue to nearly white. Neoprene suits. Uniform pants. He fingered the gold star hanging on the pocket of a beige shirt. Sheriff Chance Conover, Gabenburg County, Texas.

  With disgust, he pushed away the unfamiliar star. He wasn’t the sheriff anymore. His real name wasn’t even Chance Conover. It was a blank—like everything else. Until he found himself, he was nothing. He had nothing to offer to the woman who loved him, to the town he’d once been sworn to protect.

  He took a canvas bag from the top shelf of the closet. In it, he stuffed jeans, T-shirts, socks and underwear. He added the shaving kit from the bathroom vanity.

  The holster draped over the chair in the corner caught his attention. Though he couldn’t remember ever having held the .38 Chief’s Special, he knew exactly how to use it, knew without a doubt he could find his mark with deadly precision. Would he need it?

  His breathing became shallow. His palms grew moist and clammy. He shoved the gun back in the holster and turned away from it.

  Unable to help himself, he stopped by the bed, bent and pressed a kiss on Taryn’s temple. She smiled at him in her sleep. His heart hitched. He wanted to deserve that smile.

  Wherever the memories had come from, they would cause her harm, and the instinct to protect this woman with body and soul overrode the blankness of his recall of their life together.

  With a lingering touch to a strand of her hair, he straightened.

  To have any possibility to reclaim his life, to love this woman again, he had to leave Gabenburg. He had to follow the river north and find out why he’d washed down its current fifteen years ago.

  Before Taryn awoke, Chance grabbed the canvas bag and a pair of hiking boots. Quietly he closed the bedroom door. He made sure the front door was locked and bolted. He exited through the back door and tested the lock.

  Crushing the keys in his hands until they bit into his palms, he walked toward the black truck parked in the driveway. Whoever Jake was, he’d been right. The only way to deal with fear was to face it.

  To get his life back, he had to find himself. And to protect the woman who’d touched his heart, he had to do it alone.

  Chapter Four

  “He’s gone,” Taryn said, still not quite able to believe Chance could leave her like that in the middle of the night. Especially after the loving they’d shared. Without really looking at what she was doing, she filled a suitcase with clothes. “Why did he go?”

  “I don’t think he had a choice, sweetheart.” Angus sat in the straight chair in the corner of the bedroom and watched her pace back and forth between the bed and the dresser. In deference to being inside, he held his Stetson in his hands. And though she tried not to notice, she saw a double dose of worry and sadness in his soft brown eyes.

  “But why? We were just getting somewher
e.”

  Angus sighed and looked away. “Sometimes you’ve got to go to find your way back home.”

  “Not Chance. He’s not like that. He sticks around.”

  “And he sticks to what needs to be done till it’s done. My gut tells me he has to do this.”

  She waved the T-shirt she was holding. “This? What this? Leave me in the middle of the night and disappear? No one’s seen him, Angus. He’s not anywhere.”

  “He’ll be fine. Let him go.”

  The sliding glass door in the kitchen rattled closed. “Yoo-hoo, Taryn!” Her grandmother’s call could have deafened half the county.

  Angus groaned as he stood and crammed his hat back on his head. “I’d best leave.”

  “Stay, please. I can’t handle her alone today.”

  Angus nodded and reluctantly sat back down. The bulldog droop of his jowls and the deepening creases around his eyes added years that hadn’t seemed present only a few days ago.

  “In the bedroom, Grandy.” Taryn stared at the half-filled suitcase, but there was no time to hide it. Nola Barnes might be nearing seventy, but she was still quick on her feet.

  Nola stormed into the room, the skirt of her chic but well-worn dress swirling around her knees. A white puff of teased hair sat perched atop her head and reminded Taryn of a dandelion ready to seed. Those sharp gray eyes didn’t miss a thing, though she’d had to add glasses a few years ago to catch all the details. She kept them attached to a jeweled chain, and when she reached for those specs, Taryn tensed. Of course, Grandy zeroed in on the suitcase.

  “Taryn, honey, I just heard about that husband of yours over the radio. Forget that no good son of a gun. I’ll take care of you.” She hugged Taryn into a too-tight hold, then let her go just as abruptly. “What’s the suitcase for?”

  “I’m going to find him, Grandy.”

  “Now, honey,” Nola clucked. Her glasses slipped down her nose and hung on the tip. “Why would you want to do such a fool thing?”

  “He’s my husband and I love him.”

  Nola picked up Taryn’s clothes from the suitcase and started to put them back in the drawers. “Don’t go chasing after a man. Haven’t found one that’s worth the effort yet. Your mother tried that and look where it got her.”

  Taryn took the clothes out of the drawer and dropped them back into the suitcase. “This isn’t the same, Grandy.”

  “Patsy put her whole stock in one man and it nearly killed her. Killed her spirit is what it did. She was never the same after Earl was through with her.”

  “This is different.”

  Taryn wasn’t repeating her mother’s mistake. She hadn’t had to get married because she was pregnant. Chance hadn’t been forced to marry her against his will. She’d made him wait three years after he asked just to be sure that’s what he really wanted. And she’d waited seven years to get pregnant to be sure he’d stick around. This was different. She loved Chance. She wasn’t sure her mother had ever known real love.

  “Leave the girl alone, Nola. This is hard enough on her without your harping.”

  Nola turned on Angus and squinted at him down her long nose. “Who asked you? What are you doing here in the first place?”

  “Taryn called me.”

  Nola pushed her glasses up her nose and stared incredulously at Angus. “She called you and not me?”

  “I do believe she wanted to hear the voice of reason.”

  “Reason? Are you telling her this is a reasonable thing to do? Taryn—”

  “I didn’t want a lecture from you,” Taryn said. “And I asked Angus here to help me understand where Chance might have gone.”

  “I agree with you, Nola. I think she should stay.”

  “Well, thank you for that.”

  Taryn intercepted her grandmother and relieved her of the clothes she was carrying. “Can you run the bakery for me?”

  “I can’t.”

  Won’t more than likely. The woman could be more stubborn than a team of mules when she wanted. “Why not?”

  “I’m not as good a baker as you are.” Nola plucked a pair of running shoes from the suitcase and deposited them in the closet.

  “You taught me everything I know. You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Nola turned around and put both hands on her thin hips. “Okay, then, I won’t. I won’t help you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Taryn didn’t have time for this sulkiness and drama. She reached for the shoes and threw them back into the suitcase. “Fine, then don’t. I’ll close the store if I have to, but I’m going and that’s final.”

  “You’re stubborn. Just like your mother.”

  “And we all know where they both got it from,” Angus muttered.

  Nola huffed. “Nobody asked you, Angus.” She whirled back to Taryn. “I just want what’s best for you.”

  Taryn closed the suitcase and clicked the latches into place. “What would be best is your support.”

  “I can’t. Not when you’re making a mistake.”

  “The more you press, Nola, the more you’re setting her mind.”

  “Who asked you?”

  The one thing about Nola was that bribery worked awfully well. Taryn didn’t want to disappoint her regulars while she was gone, but she had to find Chance. Having Grandy take over the bakery’s operations for a few days would ease her mind.

  Taryn picked up the set of keys from the night table and spoke into the electronic memo-minder Chance had given her two years ago as a Christmas present because she was forever losing her lists of things to do. “Buy Grandy that dress she’s been eyeing in Jackson’s window as a thank-you for minding the bakery. Although why a grandmother needs a dress like that beats me.”

  Nola clicked open the latches on the suitcase. “I may be a grandmother, Taryn-child, but I’m also a woman.”

  “You’re seeing someone!” There was always the hope of derailing Grandy’s single-minded track with personal business.

  Angus snickered. “That’ll be the day!”

  In quick succession, Nola extracted a week’s worth of underwear from the suitcase. “A woman doesn’t always have to dress for a man. She can dress for herself. I thought I’d already taught you that lesson.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d lend me your car?” Taryn asked.

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  Taryn ignored her grandmother’s sulking and spoke into the memo-minder once again. “Rent a car. Stop at bank. Put up sign in bakery window.”

  “You can borrow Lucille’s,” Angus offered.

  Nola pushed up her spectacles. “Angus! How could you? I thought you were on my side with this.”

  “I’m not taking sides. I’m being practical.”

  Nola windmilled her hands. “Then talk some sense into that girl.”

  “I’ve been trying to, but she’s determined, and if she’s determined, she might as well be safe.”

  “Well, a whole lot of good you are!” She dismissed him with a huff.

  “She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

  “What right does that boy have to disrupt her life so?” With jerky motions, Nola refolded a stack of T-shirts into the dresser drawer. “Came from nowhere and ought to go back to nowhere.”

  Taryn hugged the shorts she was holding tight against her chest and swiveled to face Angus. “Do you think that’s where he’s gone, Angus? Back to where he came from?”

  Angus eyed her sadly, then nodded. “That’d be my guess.”

  Nola exaggerated a shiver. “He’s leading her into trouble. I can feel it in my bones.”

  Taryn sank onto the edge of the bed. “He never talked about…before.”

  “I don’t think he knows much, sweetheart.”

  She looked up into Angus’s eyes, searching for answers that didn’t want to be found. He looked almost as beat as she felt. “How can he go back to someplace he doesn’t remember?”

  “Look until he finds it. Like I said before, Ch
ance sticks to what he has to do, and if he feels he has to find his past, then he’s going to keep at it until he finds it.”

  “A fool! Like the rest of them, you included, Angus. I thought maybe you had some grit, but obviously I was mistaken.”

  Taryn leaned forward, trying hard to ignore her grandmother as she unpacked everything again. “What happened, Angus? When you found him, what happened?”

  “He was just a boy.” Angus reached for her hand and held it in his. “Eighteen. Nineteen. He was all cut up, hanging on to a branch with a death grip even though he was beached. Took us a good long time to separate him from that piece of wood. He didn’t remember anything.”

  “Why didn’t he try to find out who he was back then? Why didn’t you?”

  The furrows on Angus’s forehead deepened and he suddenly looked uncomfortable sitting in the straight chair. “Because everybody deserves a second chance and he looked like he needed one.”

  “Angus Conover.” Nola stopped her frantic activity. She adjusted her glasses and stared at the man in the chair. “What do you know that you’re not telling?”

  “Nola, stop beating on a dead horse.”

  “What if he had family?” The thought had Taryn’s heart beating double-quick. Her fingers curled tight against Angus’s leathery hand. What did they know about what waited for Chance wherever he was going? “What if he still does? How could you let him leave everything behind without knowing?” And let him hurt his family the way he’s hurting me now.

  “It was his choice to make.” Angus’s eyes didn’t look so unshakably sure anymore. He slipped his hand from hers and worried the brim of his hat. “Just as it’s his choice now.”

  She should let this go but couldn’t. She couldn’t believe that someone’s decision fifteen years ago was now affecting her on such a deep level. Go. Stay. So simple on the surface. Angus’s failure to search for answers then was costing her her world now. She wanted, needed, someone to take the blame for her pain. “But it wasn’t an informed choice if he didn’t know for sure he needed that second chance.”

  “Maybe part of him did, sweetheart.”