“I did not know about the agency or any of the danger I was in at the time. I was told she was Stella’s niece and that Matt gave her a job here as a housekeeper. Well, she always dressed in fancy clothes, perfect hair, perfect make up, and never cleaned a single thing. However, Matt refused to fire her.”
“See, I told you she can be hostile. So, no, she is not always friendly, even after she figured out who and what I was, she still had a jealousy issue with me. To be honest, I didn’t like her much either. But she grows on a person.”
“Grows on a person? You make me sound like a fungus.” Analise mocked being hurt. Standing, she walked over to Felicity and stuck her tongue out.
Felicity burst out laughing and Lucky couldn’t help but join in. When the laughing subsided, she noticed that Asad was smiling. His smile should have been friendly. At least she thought his smile was meant to be friendly. There was something about this man sitting there smiling that made her skin crawl.
The night had been decent. The man she was with had behaved like a perfect gentleman. She never knew what kind of man she would wind up with. Some were decent and kind, while others were downright cruel. This man was proving to be one of the nicer men she was sent out with. His kindness had her relaxing and starting to enjoy the evening.
The date started out with taking in a play at the theater, then dinner at a fancy restaurant. The conversation flowed easily to where she could pretend it was a real date. That she was out with a man she liked and who in return liked her for who she was. Not a man who had paid for her like an object.
She was smiling as he ushered her into his hotel suite. She knew the routine and knew that sex was expected. If the rest of the night followed the early part of the date, she expected the sex would be tolerable. She was wrong. This would be a lesson well learned. Looks could be very deceiving.
No sooner had he locked the hotel door was he standing in front of her. His facial expression looked so tender and sweet. She smiled at him. In an instant, his hand was fisted in her hair and he was forcing her roughly to her knees. Screaming out in pain, she glanced up and saw the tender expression gone. In its place was a cruel smirk.
Her chair crashed against the floor as she darted to the French doors. Asad was on his feet and coming toward her. Concern was written on his face. “I just need a few minutes alone. Some fresh air is all.” With that, she slipped out of the doors and onto the deck.
Her body shook from the memory. Of all the things she could remember, it had to be a memory of pain and violence. It terrified her. Sharp and painful, it cut her soul like shards of glass. She wanted to take the memory and throw it in a trash can and forget. Or bury it back into the recesses of her mind where all her other memories were locked away. She feared what her past held and just how much more painful memories were left to come.
Chapter 7
Nathaniel was about to head into the stables when he looked over and saw her. She was standing on the back deck of the main house. Turning away from the stables, he made his way toward her. He had not had a chance to meet her yet and now was his chance. This woman held the answers to who had killed his grandparents and his stepmother. He wasn’t about to wait for Matt or his mother to decide when to tell him who had killed them. He was going to get those answers himself.
Reaching the deck, it shocked him how young this woman looked. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she was a teenager and not a woman who worked in a strip club. The bruises on her face and arms pulled at something deep inside him. No woman should ever endure what this one had endured. He knew that no matter how old he got, he would never understand how men could lay their hands on a woman.
“Hi. I’m Nathaniel, Stella’s son,” he said as he made his way up the stairs.
“I’m Lucky. Or, at least that is what Analise keeps calling me.” She gave him a weak smile that never reached her eyes.
“So, what is your real name?” He watched as the breeze ruffled through her blonde hair.
“That is the burning question of the day. I have no clue. The doctors say I have amnesia. Asad ran my prints but nothing came back under any name but Lucky.”
“Wow. That has to be tough on you.” Disappointment shot through him. How was he supposed to find out who killed the people he loved if the only living witness had amnesia?
“I am not sure I want to remember who I am. Analise said I worked in a gentlemen’s club. Asad said I had an arrest record for prostitution. Not something I want to remember.” She stood at the railing, crossed her arms over her chest and stared off into the distance.
“I am sure there are other aspects of your life that you would want to remember.” He raised one eyebrow.
“I don’t know. They tell me I did these things and it just feels off. Like there is no way that I could have done those things. And I can’t place why I feel that way. Then there is the fact that I feel like there is something hugely important that I must remember.” Taking a deep breath, she shook her head.
Moving to stand next to her at the railing, he reached out and patted the back of her hand. Instantly she jerked her hand back and her whole body went stiff. “Sorry, I was just trying to offer comfort. I didn’t mean to offend you . . .”
“No, it is not you. I seem to have this uncomfortable feeling around the men I have met today. Again, I don’t know why I feel this way. I don’t feel this way around any of the women.” Shaking her head again, she turned her face to look at him. “It is so damn frustrating.”
“I can promise you that none of the men here on the ranch would ever hurt you. I promise you are safe here. Just take your time, recover, and let your brain heal. The memories will come back in time.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and placed her hand on his chest. Her hand trembled against his chest. She snatched her hand back as if burned.
“I am going to head to the stables now. I need to get to work. I will see you around, Lucky.” Turning, he made his way down the stairs and headed for the stables.
Once inside the stables, Nathaniel stood staring into space. He tried to analyze his encounter with Lucky. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that when she touched him, he felt something.
There was something about her that made him take notice. That something was stronger when her hand touched him. She was a victim of something and in no position to be pursued by some undercover agent slash ranch hand. He knew he needed to keep his distance and planned to use the bunk house and stables to make sure he didn’t spend too much time with her.
***
Two weeks had passed, and Nathaniel managed to avoid Lucky. He figured if any of her memories returned they would reveal the man responsible for all this. If that happened, then someone would have told him. No reason to go seeking her out for answers.
Unable to sleep, he slipped out of the bunk house and was strolling around the grounds when he saw her. At first, he was unsure what he saw. A flurry of ghostly white streaking across the yard not too far in front of him. Realizing it was Lucky, he headed in her direction. She ran like someone being chased. Who or what was she running from?
He caught up with her when she stopped by the fountain in the gardens. Her back was to him, but he could see her shoulders rise and fall, indicating that she was out of breath. The white nightgown flowed down her tiny frame and fluttered in the light breeze against her calves. Gently, he turned her to face him. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. The look of terror on her face cut through him. He wished he could take away whatever had happened to her. No woman should ever be this afraid of anyone.
He gently held her shoulders. In an instant, she lashed out, clawing at his face and kicking him. The attack caught him off guard. His cheek stung as warm blood slid down his face. Grabbing her tight against him, he tried to stop the assault. With her arms pinned between them, she kept kicking at his shins. An animalistic scream filled his ears.
Behind him, he heard Matt and his mother’s voice calling out. “Over here
. We are in the garden.”
In a few moments, the two of them reached him. He continued to hold onto Lucky as she kicked and screamed, trying to break loose from his grip. Her nightmare had a grip on her, which he knew made her unpredictable. He was afraid if he let her go she would hurt herself.
“What is going on?” Matt and Stella asked in unison.
“I don’t know. I saw her run out of the house and I followed her. Next thing I know she’s attacking me.” Moving his leg back he tried to stop another vicious kick to his shin.
Stella moved in closer to them. “Lucky, calm down. No one is going to hurt you.” Her soothing tone did nothing to calm the other woman. “Lucky! Look at me,” she demanded. It took several attempts before the other woman calmed down and looked at her.
“Stella?” she whispered.
“Yes, sweetheart. Hey, no one is going to hurt you.” Stella rubbed her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.
When Lucky looked up, Nathaniel saw the confusion on her face. He figured she must have been trapped inside a nightmare, unaware that it was him she was attacking. Either that, or a memory so powerful it drove her to fight off a real attacker from her past.
“You’re bleeding. Oh no. Did I do that to you?” Her fingers were trembling as she touched one of the scratches.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He let go of her and stepped back. Thankful she was no longer attacking him. For a tiny thing she was vicious.
Matt came around him and he watched as Lucky flinched back from Matt’s presence. He could tell that even fully awake, Matt frightened her. He knew that whatever else happened, this woman was going to need severe therapy. More than anything the Agency could do for her.
“I am going to take her inside now. Come on, Lucky, let’s go into the house and I will fix you some hot tea. Then you can tell me what happened.” Stella put her arm around the girl and guided her away from the men.
Nathaniel stood and watched his mother lead the other woman toward the house. Part of him wanted to join them, the other part knew that any more contact with her was not good for either of them. So, he stood with Matt and let her go.
“You need to go clean those scratches. They look pretty bad.”
“Yeah, she got me good. I don’t think a woman has ever slapped me or clawed me before.”
“She has a lot of fight in her. Which isn’t a bad thing considering all she has been through.”
“Has anyone figured out any more about what happened to her?”
“Not much. We still don’t know who she is, and what memories she has are just random bits and pieces. What I can gather, none are pleasant. Random moments of violence. But none that are connected to how she ended up in that alley that night.” Matt stood a moment and looked around the gardens. “It is late. Let’s try and salvage what sleep we can.” With that, he headed back toward the house, leaving Nathaniel to head back to the bunk house.
Chapter 8
April 2002
She was sitting in the living room watching Stella play with the children when Nathaniel came into the room. There was something about the man that made her palms sweat and her heart kick up a bit. He was different from the other men she met here at the ranch. It was more than just the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him. Unlike the others, he avoided her. Maybe it was the fact that he avoided her that made her less afraid. Or was it something more than that? She wasn’t going to spend time examining it though. She had to focus on trying to get her memories back. The feeling that she was forgetting something very important was getting stronger. Yet the memory wouldn’t come.
Looking over, she saw Nathaniel on the floor next to his mother. Little Matthew was on his lap and smiling up at him. Aurora was trying her best to get on his lap next to her brother. Both the children seemed to adore Nathaniel. She had seen the same softness with the children in Matt as well. There was no mistaking that these two small toddlers were growing up in a home full of love. A tear slid down her cheek. Getting up she left the living room and headed for her bedroom.
Inside the safety of her bedroom, she let the tears fall. She wanted to be loved like that. To have a family where she could feel safe and wanted. Out there somewhere just might be a family that did, in fact, love and want her. She just couldn’t remember them. Then again, why would she have been in that horrible strip club and have a prostitution charge if she had a loving family? Things were not adding up inside her head. It all added to her confusion, and her heart ached to know the full truth about who she was. The other part of her wanted to run and forever hide from the truth.
Wiping her tears, she forced herself to just let go. Laying across the bed, she closed her eyes. A couple of deep breaths later, she willed her body to relax. Laying there, she waited for another memory to surface. Nothing. Sitting up, she shook her head. Laying back down, she took another couple of deep breaths. Counting backward from ten, the tension slipped away. She continued to breathe in deep and slowly exhale. A few moments passed as she waited for something in her mind to surface. Again nothing. Getting up, she left the bedroom.
Passing by the sewing room, she saw no one was in there. Entering the room, she looked at all the different fabrics. The quilt Stella was working on lay on the quilting table. Something about the colors and the patterns beckoned to her. She stood there mesmerized by the quilt. Running her finger over the quilt a memory tugged at her brain. Closing her eyes, she could still see the vibrant colors that spread out across the quilt in a big sunburst pattern.
Opening her eyes, she spotted the black and dark blue fabrics sitting on a small table. Without thinking, she grabbed up the fabric, loose measuring tape, and a pair of scissors. Deftly, her fingers worked as she measured and cut the fabric. She was not thinking, just moving on auto pilot. With the fabric measured and cut, she sat down at the sewing machine and began to sew.
Cutting the dress free from the sewing machine, she inspected the dress. Smiling, she turned it over and over in her hands. “This will look perfect on her. Just the right size.”
“Perfect on who?” Stella asked from the doorway.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Coming into the room, Stella looked down at the Amish-style dress. “Lucky? Who did you make this dress for?”
“I don’t know. I just came in here and saw the fabric and just started sewing. When I finished it, I knew it would be perfect for her. The thing is, I don’t know who she is.” Tossing the dress onto the sewing table, she put her head in her hands. Sobs tore from her. Stella’s arms encircled her shoulders. “Why can’t I remember?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. But be patient; it will all come back to you in time. Do you know why you sewed this type of dress?”
“No. I just started cutting and sewing. This is what came out. It felt like I had sewed this dress before. When I try to pull something from my mind, it is blank. I don’t have any memories of even seeing a dress like this.”
“Well, we will do whatever we can to help you remember your past. I promise we won’t stop till we have answers.”
Chapter 9
Nathaniel was in the bunk house when his mother walked in. She made a beeline straight for him. The look on her face instantly told him something had happened. Standing, he met her half way. “What is it?”
“I went into the sewing room and found Lucky sewing a dress for a little girl. She couldn’t remember who she sewed it for or why she sewed a dress like that. Nathaniel, it was sized for a small child and it was Amish.”
“Amish? You’re telling me that Lucky sewed an Amish dress but has no reason for why she did that? It doesn’t make sense.” He feared his mother was grasping at straws. Was it her Amish roots causing her to see Amish where was none?
“I know. Sadly, if she grew up Amish, it will be almost impossible to find her family unless she remembers more of her past. I am at a loss of what to do. Matt has no answers either. He agrees there a
re way too many Amish communities to even know where to start. “
“Mom, I doubt she is Amish. Even when Amish girls decide to leave the church and join the English world, they don’t run off and start working in strip clubs.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. “Mom I think you are injecting who you were into who she is.”
“So how do you explain her sewing a dress like that on instinct?” She asked with a bit of annoyance.
“Easy. She might have seen a sewing pattern for one and something triggered that memory.”
“You’re probably right. Amish girls don’t do that sort of thing, even after becoming English. So much of our raising is still too ingrained in us.” She looked even more confused than when she first walked in.
“Exactly. I am sure once her memories return, there will be a logical explanation.” He leaned over and gave his mother a hug. Once she left to go back to the main house, he went back to sitting on his bunk. The whole situation puzzled him. There was only one way an Amish girl would do those sorts of things. He knew he needed to talk to Matt, because if Lucky was Amish then the Agency needed to call in the Feds. Still it seemed to farfetched for him to believe what he mother just said.
Making his way to the main house, he thought over the situation again. If he was correct, then there really were evil monsters in this world. Evil monsters that needed stopped immediately. Inside the main house, he found Matt in his office. Taking a deep breath, he made his way across the room and stood at Matt’s desk.
“We need to talk, and I am afraid this may not be good.” Taking a seat opposite of Matt, he waited for Matt to look up from his paperwork.
“I take it Stella told you about the girl sewing that Amish dress.” Matt never looked up from his paperwork.
“Yes, she came to see me. I told her that even if Lucky had been Amish, she would not have worked in such a place. Amish girls who leave for the English world still don’t do that.” He noticed Matt nodded his head but kept on the paperwork he was working on. “Matt, that leads me to think that maybe she didn’t start working there of her own free will.”
The Making of a Centaur (Centaur Agency Book 3) Page 3
