by Rita Herron
A ball of fire rolled through the room, the orange flames licking the wooden-beamed ceiling and splintering it into pieces. She scrambled up, saw the chair beside Nadine’s bed catch on fire. Nadine cried out and huddled toward the top of the bed, hugging her teddy bear.
Flames ripped along the wall, clawing at the curtains, eating the braided rug. Stella screamed, a shrill sound that sounded almost animallike. Then fire crawled up the side of her own bed, licking at her feet.
Suddenly he was there. The big man with black hair and black eyes.
Orange flames lit a halo around his evil face. “I’m here to save you. Come on, Stella. Just take my hand.”
The fire singed her feet, picked at her toes, rippled up her legs. She had to escape. She couldn’t just lie here and catch on fire.
So she took the man’s hand. Let him lift her and carry her away.
He was the devil. She knew it. But she was all alone now.
And she’d do whatever she had to do to survive.
STELLA JERKED AWAKE, staring into the silence, willing the unknown to offer her answers to a past that was as lost as the child inside.
The evening before crashed back. The blood. The man with the dead eyes.
The other one, the one who claimed to be her husband. Luke Devlin. Kissing her goodbye.
He had given up on her. Left her here to rot just as the others had when she was little.
She’d trusted him once. She had no idea how she knew that, but in some deep corner of her mind she sensed it was true.
But he was as much the enemy now as the others.
BY EARLY MORNING, Luke arrived at the jail. He’d already arranged for Stella’s court appearance, pulled some connections to have her released on bail in his custody. Then he could watch her like a hawk, arrange medical treatment for her, uncover the truth, help wake her memories from their deep sleep. Make sure she was all right.
How would she react when he told her she was coming home with him?
It didn’t matter. After all, she had no family, no one else to turn to. And he wanted answers.
Although he hadn’t slept a wink all night for contemplating what those answers might be.
Or that having her in his home might destroy his equilibrium.
The guard led him to her cell, and he sucked in a deep breath as he stopped and studied her. She was lying on her side in a fetal position, her body rocking slightly back and forth. His gut clenched. He had a strong feeling she hadn’t slept, either.
As he approached, she rolled over to face him, and he had to swallow hard not to whisper a comforting word. Dark circles shadowed her pale green eyes which looked bloodshot and tearstained. Whatever fingernails she’d had left had been chewed down to even more jagged edges than before. And the bruises on her face, neck and arms looked even more harsh in the early-morning light.
But the disoriented expression clouding her face disturbed him the most. It was almost as if she were looking at him but couldn’t see him. As if she’d slipped into a catatonic state to keep from dealing with the present.
He needed to consult with Dr. Wong again. See if she needed medication or to be hospitalized.
“Stella?”
She pushed herself up to a sitting position, no evidence of emotion dawning.
“It’s time for your arraignment.”
She stood and walked to the cell door, still in that surreal state, as if the night had incapacitated her. The guard unlocked the door, and Luke stepped to the side, then touched her arm gently. “Are you okay?”
For a fraction of a second, fear registered in her eyes. Without speaking, she nodded, the mask dropping over her emotions again as she fell into step beside him.
A half hour later, they’d maneuvered the motions of the arraignment, his concern for Stella mounting at the quiet intensity with which she absorbed the ordeal. Luke contemplated arguing his reasoning for assuming custody of Stella when the courtroom door burst open, and two men entered. Luke recognized one, Lamar Winslow, a high-powered attorney who had represented some major players in the political community.
The other man was tall, had black hair with gray at the temples, was dressed in a pin-striped suit, sported a Rolex that cost more than Luke’s entire wardrobe, and possessed an arrogant air that immediately made Luke’s suspicions skyrocket. Who the hell was he, and why was he here?
“Excuse me, Judge,” Winslow said. “We’re here representing Stella Segall.”
The judge glanced down at his notes, then back up, studying the men over bifocals. “You’re late, gentlemen. This proceeding is almost over.”
“I apologize, Judge, but due to the late hour of the arrest, and the fact that I wasn’t aware of this arraignment until a half hour ago, we made it here as fast as possible.” Winslow moved forward with confidence as he gestured toward the other man who seated himself on the defendant’s designated side. “This gentleman, Drake Sutton, was Stella Segall’s legal guardian. He’s concerned about her health and would like to post bail.”
Luke swallowed, stunned. Stella had insisted she had no family. And when she’d disappeared, no one had come forward looking for her.
Beside him, Stella’s eyes remained fixed on Sutton. The breath that whooshed from her lungs hinted at surprise, but in her eyes, recognition flared. She knew this man.
Another one of her lies. Luke tried to tamp down his frustration and anger.
Winslow produced papers to prove his point, and Luke clutched the desk edge with a white-knuckled grip.
“Your client is accused of murder, Mr. Winslow.”
“We’re aware of that, your honor, but she’s also sustained injuries, is suffering from traumatic memory loss and needs medical care. I spoke with the doctor at the hospital where she was examined. She’s dehydrated and needs bed rest.”
“She can get that in jail,” the district attorney cut in.
Winslow gave him a withering stare. “The psychologist also stated that the trauma of prison might worsen her mental condition. I can assure you that she isn’t a flight risk. We’ll be glad to see that her passport is turned over to the courts. Mr. Sutton will also submit his own if necessary.”
Passport? Luke grimaced, once again feeling like a fool. Stella had claimed she’d never been out of the States. In some moronic romantic fantasy, he’d imagined taking her to Europe and showing her the world one day.
Oblivious to his turmoil, the judge quickly made his ruling. Winslow and Drake Sutton posted bail. Sutton rushed to Stella. She remained frozen in the hard wooden chair. Luke resigned himself to the fact that he’d lost this battle. Stella wouldn’t go home with him. Instead she’d go to Sutton’s place.
He approached Sutton anyway, unable to allow Stella to leave with this man without more information. “Mr. Sutton, I’m Luke Devlin, Stella’s husband.” He extended his hand, but Sutton simply stared at him instead of accepting the gesture.
“Where have you been the past year? We posted news reports on TV looking for Stella, but you didn’t respond.”
“I was out of the country most of the year,” Sutton replied. “Out of touch.”
“What kind of business are you in that keeps you away from the news?”
“I’m a serious art collector, and I dabble in numerous international businesses. Stella is an adult, but we still see each other fairly often.”
Luke folded his arms. “You still didn’t answer my question.”
Sutton narrowed his eyes. “All right. I did see Stella this past year. She flew to Paris to meet me after your unfortunate marriage.”
Stella frowned next to Sutton as if confused by their exchange.
“Stella decided the marriage had happened too hastily,” Sutton added.
“Then why run?” Luke asked. “Why leave a bloody wedding gown on the bed?”
“Women are impetuous, who knows what goes through their minds sometimes?” Sutton offered a smarmy smile. “I’ll instruct my attorney to draw up the necessary papers to
dissolve the marriage immediately.”
Luke glanced at the blank look on Stella’s face. Still tormented by the hot nights he’d spent with her, he shook his head at Sutton’s offer. “No. I refuse to sign anything until Stella recovers her memory and tells me herself that the marriage was a mistake.”
Just the fact that Sutton was in such a rush to rid himself of Luke aroused his suspicions. Sutton might claim he cared about Stella, but Luke didn’t trust the man.
And he sure as hell didn’t intend to bow out of Stella’s life now without some answers.
Chapter Four
Stella shuddered as she glanced from the attorney to Sutton to Luke to Devlin.
Who could she trust?
The tall, gray-haired man who claimed to be her guardian or the enigmatic stranger who insisted he was her husband? And he had the photo to prove it.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled as Drake Sutton touched her arm. She glanced sideways at Luke Devlin, but fury radiated from every pore in his masculine body. Not even a hint of the erotic kiss they’d shared the night before was reflected back.
That kiss had kept her awake half the night.
Then the nightmares had set in.
“Stella, my God, baby, what happened?” Sutton attempted to pull her toward him, but she couldn’t allow this stranger to fold her into his embrace. Granted he was good-looking, seemed well-educated, appeared to care for her, and he had just offered a large sum of money as well as his passport to free her on bail, but he presented as much a mystery as Luke and everyone else in the room.
“Mr. Sutton…thank you for what you just did, but I… I’m afraid I don’t remember you, either.”
His eyes flickered with disappointment. “Oh, honey, the doctor was right. You need medical care.” He extracted his wallet, removed a couple of photos and handed them to her. “Look, this is the two of us right after your parents died when you came to live with me.”
Stella searched her memory banks. In the picture, she was just a small child. She stood beside a ten-foot Christmas tree that glistened with white lights. An enormous wreath hung over an ornately carved white mantel that had been strung with festive garland and berries. Several colorfully wrapped presents were piled beneath the tree, all artfully arranged with coordinating gift paper. The setting almost seemed…staged, as if it were fake, as if the decorations had been part of a photo set.
On some level the scene seemed familiar, though, but not in a good way. In a way that said she’d been upset that day. Maybe scared.
“I don’t look very happy,” she said, testing him.
Luke moved an inch closer, and Stella thought she felt a protective hand go to her waist. But when she glanced up, Luke stared down at her, not a shred of emotion on his face.
“You weren’t, Stella,” Sutton said with a shake of his head. “You were only five, and you’d just lost your folks. Your entire world was ripped apart. It was a difficult adjustment for both of us at first, but we managed.” His look softened. “We even grew close over the years.”
Stella wet her dry mouth with her tongue. “Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
Sutton hesitated slightly. “No, it was just you.”
“What happened to her parents?” Luke asked.
“A boating accident off the coast,” Sutton said. “They got caught in a storm…”
An image of thunderous waves swirling above her flashed into Stella’s mind, but in the next second, the image seemed foreign. As if the idea of her parents boating wasn’t possible.
And what about the dream where her mother had been crying out for her, the one she’d had the night before? Had that only been a nightmare, or could part of it have been real?
In the dream there had been a raging fire, not crashing waves.
“Was I with my parents when they died?”
Sutton shook his head. “No, thank God. The sailboat was completely demolished. You wouldn’t have survived if you’d been in the boat.” He gestured for her to look at the second photo. She studied the snapshot, trying to imagine beyond the picture to her past. In the photo, she was much younger, maybe seventeen. She and Sutton stood, arms linked, beneath a sprawling live oak with Spanish moss dripping to the ground. A huge castle-type Southern mansion was set back in the woods, a black wrought-iron gate encompassing the estate. It seemed cold, austere, cut off from the beauty of Savannah.
“That’s my… our home,” Sutton said in a low voice. “Where you grew up.”
A protest teetered on her lips. Instead of looking homey, the estate reminded her of a prison. But after spending the night in a cell, she reined in those thoughts. Any place was more inviting than prison.
Of the two choices she had, going home with Drake Sutton seemed safer than leaving with Luke Devlin. After all, Sutton claimed to care for her like family, to want to help her get well. He wouldn’t have the same expectations as Luke.
Luke might expect her to assume wifely duties, something she wasn’t prepared to do. Although her body had sung with excitement when he’d kissed her the night before, on an instinctual level, she didn’t think she was the kind of girl to sleep around. Then again, what did she really know about herself?
Luke had claimed they’d met at a bar—so she had jumped into bed with him the first night they’d met.
Then shortly after, she’d insisted they elope to Vegas…An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Just what kind of woman would dive into a relationship that quickly?
The type to have sex with strangers and forget them?
The type to commit murder?
LUKE’S INSTINCTS warned him not to trust Sutton.
Of course, his instincts had been completely off-kilter with Stella. Because his libido had entered the picture.
He was fighting the same problem again now, the urge to hustle Stella away to a private hideaway where he could take care of her, let her heal, and jog her memories. But he couldn’t relent to his roller coaster emotions.
Not without some answers.
Sutton reached for Stella’s arm to escort her from the now empty courtroom, and she angled her head toward Luke. “I…what’s going to happen now, Mr. Devlin?”
“It’s Luke.” He swallowed hard. “The police will gather evidence, discuss the case. I’ll investigate. We’ll find out what happened.”
“Will I have to go to trial?”
He wanted to soothe her fears, but he refused to lie. “That all depends on what the D.A. and your defense attorney decide to do.” He grimaced. “If the D.A. has a solid case and no other suspects, they might offer a deal. If not, they’ll set the court date soon.”
Sutton cleared his throat and met Luke’s gaze head-on. “We’re not accepting a deal,” Sutton declared. He stroked Stella’s arm, his voice softening. “Don’t worry, Stella. We’ll clear you of this whole mess. All you have to do is go home with me, rest and recover. I’ll take care of everything else.”
Luke fisted his hands by his sides. “I’ll need your address and phone number, Mr. Sutton. And I’m going to question Stella again.”
Sutton removed a business card from his pocket and handed it to Luke. The card verified Sutton’s assertion that he was an international art dealer. A home and cell number were listed, so Luke pocketed the card. He’d look into the authenticity of Sutton’s businesses later.
And he intended to check on Stella daily.
“That’s fine,” Sutton said. “Now come on, Stella. I’ve arranged a private nurse to supervise your care.”
Stella gave Luke an odd look, almost panicked, as Sutton coaxed her toward the door. Luke’s chest tightened. Sutton’s comment had upset her. Was she frightened of the man?
He followed Stella and Sutton out the door, half expecting, half hoping she’d turn back to him for help. But she didn’t.
At the last minute though, she darted another brief glance toward him as they exited the building.
Luke squared his shoulders. “Stel
la, wait.”
Damn, the heat was getting to him. That and the scared look in her eyes. He scribbled his personal number on his business card, then pushed it toward her. “Take this. If you need to talk to me, for any reason, just phone. Day or night.”
Sutton reached for the card, but Luke wrapped Stella’s fingers around it with his own hand instead. Her gaze met his, and emotions flickered in the depths, emotions he didn’t want to analyze.
Sutton clutched her arm by the elbow, ushering her away to a dark Mercedes. Luke frowned and wiped the sweat from his brow. Damn, he sensed he’d just let Stella down somehow. That the man who’d pretended to be her savior was the big bad wolf in disguise.
His cell phone vibrated inside his jacket. He switched it off vibrator mode, then answered. “Special Agent Devlin.”
“Agent Devlin, this is Marvin Andrews. We need to meet.”
“I’m pretty busy right now, Mr. Andrews, so why would I want to take time to meet you?” Luke asked.
“Because of your wife.”
The two words hung in the air between them, mired with unanswered questions.
“What do you have to do with my wife?”
A slight hesitation followed. “I might have some useful information about her.”
“Who in the hell are you?”
“A reporter. I work for the Sun.”
“Son of a bitch,” Luke muttered. All he needed was the paper interfering with a federal investigation. And why would this guy have Stella’s case on his radar?
“I don’t have time for games, Andrews,” Luke snarled. “If you have information, then spill it.”
“That isn’t the way it works. I want an exclusive on Stella Segall. The whole story.”
Irritation crawled up Luke’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“Just meet me and I’ll explain.”
“Tell me over the damn phone.”
“That’s not possible,” the reporter hissed. “I have something you need to see.”
Luke checked his watch then sighed. “What time and where?”
