by Kim Baldwin
Jake nodded but said nothing, hoping Kat would pick up where they were before the interruption.
But Kat wouldn’t look at her. She took up her place beside the bed and resumed her rebandaging of Jake’s ribs. Once that was done, she examined Jake’s face, removing the bandages except for the one across her broken nose. She applied an antibiotic ointment to a couple of areas and left them open to the air to heal. When she was finished, she backed off a couple of feet, putting distance between them and finally meeting Jake’s eyes. “You should rest,” she said. “It’s the best thing for you right now, and I could do with a nap myself.”
Jake started to protest. Her body still burned with desire, every nerve ending raw and exposed. She would not sleep any time soon.
But Kat was behaving so differently now, so detached and inscrutable, that Jake knew the moment was gone. She sighed. “All right,” she said. “Wait a minute—I’m taking your bed, aren’t I?”
“Not a problem,” Kat replied. “I’ve a couch in the other room.” She turned off the lamp. “Sweet dreams.”
When Kat shut the door behind her, the room went absolutely black.
Jake could not relax. She was wide awake, and as the minutes passed, the darkness seemed to close in on her. It was too quiet. She felt incredibly small and vulnerable. The room was her amnesia, swallowing her whole. She yearned for Kat’s return.
*
Kat slept fitfully. Her mind was preoccupied with analyzing the unfamiliar emotions she had felt before the alarm went off. She had lived her entire adult life somewhat estranged from the world, shutting down emotionally after her family was taken from her. She’d never allowed herself to experience true intimacy with anyone. Certainly she was no virgin, but her sexual rendezvous were all about release and gratification, never affection. They were quick and anonymous, and often a little rough. She seduced strangers, or allowed herself to be seduced, when her pent-up energy demanded an outlet or in the infrequent times when she could not ignore the loneliness that had become an integral part of her.
But what she felt for Jake was more than simple lust. Her mysterious guest totally captivated her and evoked feelings of tenderness, protectiveness, of...belonging. She’d never experienced such things with anyone, and it terrified her even as it excited her.
Kat tossed and turned until midafternoon and then gave up trying to sleep. She got up and headed to the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar to provide enough light for her to see. She crossed to the dresser and removed clean underwear, socks, a navy pullover, and a pair of jeans. She noted with some satisfaction that only a pair of socks and sweatshirt were missing from her things, just as Jake had said. The rest appeared not to have been disturbed. Kat could not resist moving to the bed to check on her patient, who was sleeping soundly, snoring softly because of her broken nose. Kat reached out and lightly brushed hair from Jake’s forehead, marveling not for the first time at how soft her skin was. It begged to be touched. This is not good. Not good at all. You’re just getting in deeper and deeper. Look at yourself, all touchy-feely all of a sudden!
As she went about her routine of showering and getting dressed, Kat found herself preoccupied with planning what she would cook for Jake. What power did Kat’s guest have over her to make a simple thing like cooking so complicated?
*
Jake awakened to one of her favorite smells. Freshly brewed coffee. An enticing, earthy fragrance that beckoned her with an elusive familiarity. A necessary part of her daily routine, she was certain, but it triggered no specific memory. She opened her eyes just as Kat set a tray on the end of the bed. The coffee competed with another delicious aroma and set Jake’s mouth watering.
When Kat turned on the lamp, she could see that Jake was already awake and watching her. “It’s afternoon, but I was kind of in the mood for breakfast, so I made coffee and blueberry pancakes. I hope that’s all right.”
“It smells wonderful,” Jake said, sitting up.
After positioning the tray across Jake’s lap, Kat took her seat in the easy chair beside the bed.
“Where’s yours?” Jake asked as she took a sip of coffee. She recognized it as a Kona blend, rich and dark and full bodied. “This is so good. I’m a bit of a coffee addict, I think.”
“I’ve already eaten,” Kat replied, taking a second cup from the tray. “Just coffee for me. Do you take cream and sugar? I’m afraid I only have powdered milk.”
Jake poured warm maple syrup from a small glass pitcher over the stack of flapjacks. “No thanks, black is fine.” As Jake devoured her flapjacks, she stole sidelong glances at Kat. From the furrow on Kat’s brow, Jake guessed that something was on her host’s mind. She put her fork aside and faced Kat. “Want to talk about it?” she asked.
Kat said nothing immediately. She shifted position in the chair, looking down at the floor. She avoided Jake’s knowing gaze. “I went back to your car last night and searched it. I’m afraid there was nothing there to help identify you. I’m sorry.”
Jake was surprised that Kat had revisited the crash site without telling her about it first. And at night? That’s weird. We really must be out in the country if the car is still there. Why the hell would I have been on such an isolated road? But despite her questions, Jake felt oddly relieved at the news, as if her subconscious really did not want her to remember who she was.
What if she never remembered? What if there was no way to verify her identity? Part of Jake wanted it that way so she could toss the wedding ring out into the snow and explore her feelings for Kat. But it was a silly fantasy. Anyone could be found.
Jake met Kat’s eyes. “Can’t the police trace the license plate and tell me who I am? Or at least who owns the car. I have to know them.”
“That’s a possibility, but we’ll have to wait until the weather is better and you’re healed some more before we try to get you into town.”
Jake nodded. There had to be an answer out there to the mystery of the wedding ring. But what if she met her husband and still couldn’t remember him? Despite her respect for the sanctity of marriage, how could she be expected to be faithful to vows she never remembered taking—to be wife to someone she didn’t even know?
Jake realized that despite her overpowering attraction to Kat—or perhaps because of it—she now believed her spouse was a husband, not a wife. When she’d thought Kat was going to kiss her, she knew that what she was feeling was somehow different than what she was used to. The thought of lying with Kat and touching her soft skin...exploring the curves of her body...her breasts...aroused Jake in a way she knew was unprecedented. She felt a flutter in her chest as she imagined it, like she was a teenager discovering sex for the first time.
Her images of her sexual history were indistinct, but she sensed she’d been with men, not women. The thought of sex with men felt...vivid. Real. But although Kat seemed somehow familiar to her, the idea that she’d been intimate with a woman before seemed...kind of unreal. She felt naïve when she tried to imagine it. And she was a little afraid that if she was right about the desire she’d seen in Kat’s eyes—and if they gave in to this powerful attraction that seemed to be pulling them together—would she know what to do?
Jake was relieved there could be no immediate answers. She wanted to put off searching for someone she didn’t remember to give her time to get to know this woman she was so drawn to; to explore whatever was happening between them. She realized she hadn’t spoken in several minutes, and Kat hadn’t broken the quiet. She glanced up to see Kat watching her, an expression of gentle concern on her face.
Jake tried to smile. “I’m okay.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been wondering what I’ll do if we find out who I am, and I still don’t remember. Can’t imagine picking up right where I left off if my spouse is a stranger to me.” She sighed, looking away, and ran her fingers through her hair again. “So in a way, I’m not in a real hurry to find out who I am from the police. I’d rather remember on my own. But I know any family I have
must be worried about me.” She sighed. “Nothing we can do about it at the moment. Got any more of that delicious Kona?”
“Yes. Plenty. I’ll bring back the carafe.” Kat set their mugs down on the bedside table and took the tray from Jake’s lap. “You know, you should think about a real name for yourself...just in case you don’t get your memory back. And I have some ideas about that. Be right back.” She headed for the door.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jake answered. She wouldn’t have if she could.
*
Kat returned with the coffee and a small pile of books. She tossed the books on the bed next to Jake and refilled both of their cups.
Jake scanned the covers. There was a dictionary, the Audubon Society Field Guide to North American birds, a guide to wildflower identification, and one entitled Michigan Trees.
“Thought we might get some ideas leafing through these,” Kat explained, reaching for the bird book and settling back into the chair. “Lots of names come from nature: Robin, Phoebe, Iris, Violet. We can toss out a few and see if anything hits you.”
Jake thought it an inspired plan. “What a scathingly brilliant idea!” she proclaimed with a grin, reaching for the dictionary.
Kat chuckled, recognizing the reference. “Thanks, Hayley,” she commented dryly. She’d seen The Trouble with Angels too.
Jake looked through the dictionary, flipping randomly among the pages. She recognized immediately what a whimsical task this could be. Her eyes seemed to fall on words that, when considered as names, seemed absurdly humorous. Furl. Fume. Funk. Heave. She glanced over at Kat.
Her host seemed to be taking the task a bit more seriously. Kat’s face was furrowed in concentration as she flipped through pages, shaking her head.
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Kat thought as she scanned the bird book. Nearly every species that jumped out at her was absolutely ludicrous as a person’s name. Butterball. Bufflehead. Booby. Canvasback. Cuckoo. Godwit. Grosbeak. She considered Wren and Widgeon; she kind of liked how they sounded, but neither seemed right for the woman in question. She tossed the bird book back on the bed and reached for the one on wildflowers instead, glancing up to find Jake watching her. “Nothing really grabbed me,” she explained a bit sheepishly.
“Me neither,” Jake agreed. “Well, why don’t I just toss out some words at random and see how they sound? Leave it to fate?” She quirked an eyebrow as a mischievous grin spread across her face.
What’s she up to? “All right,” Kat said.
Jake made a ceremonious show of flipping the dictionary open on her lap. She closed her eyes and dramatically flexed her index finger before jabbing it on a random entry. She bent over the book to see what she’d landed on and announced, “Gimlet!”
Kat grinned. Why was this silly game becoming so much fun?
Jake repeated the selection process. This time her finger landed on...“Fococcia!”
Kat chuckled. “Could make for some interesting nicknames.”
Jake looked momentarily confused, but as she mentally sounded out the options, her cheeks flushed.
Kat’s smile broadened. She snatched the dictionary from Jake’s lap. “Let me have a go,” she said, then went through the same dramatic selection process, finger poised over a random entry. She jabbed blindly at the page, then peered at her choice. “Opaline?”
Jake giggled. “Fine if I was ninety and living in a nice little rest home in Opa Lacka.” She held out her hand for the dictionary. “My turn.”
Kat grinned and relinquished the book. As their fingers touched briefly in the exchange, a spark flashed between them.
Jake swallowed hard and tried to refocus on the book in her hand. “Uh,” she stammered. “Okay, let’s try that again.” She opened the book and blindly selected “Auger?”
Kat cocked her head. “Actually, I don’t think that’s too bad. Kind of catchy. But not you. Doesn’t suit you,” she declared.
“All right, I’ll take your word for that,” Jake replied. Kat’s response had made Jake realize just how much Kat’s opinion in this really mattered to her. She would immediately reject any name if Kat didn’t like it.
It didn’t make sense. Jake had imagined herself as too independent to be concerned with a total stranger’s opinions of such things. It seemed the more time she spent with Kat, the more confused she was about her identity. She made no move immediately to return the book to Kat, lost for a moment in a concentrated effort to remember her past.
Kat noticed the change. “Jake? You okay?”
Jake didn’t answer right away. She stared off into space, squinting her eyes as if that would help her clear the block in her memory and see beyond it. Finally she looked at Kat and shrugged. “Sorry. Trying to remember. But it’s so damn frustrating. I sort of sense things about my life. They feel like long-ago memories, where you can recall vague generalities but have forgotten the details. I’ve been to a prom, but I can’t tell you where I went to school. I love macaroni and cheese, but I can’t see my mother’s face and tell you if she ever made it for me.” She sighed. “Better than remembering nothing at all, I guess. But it’s maddening.” She handed the book back to Kat and forced a smile. “C’mon, your turn. Pick a good one.”
Kat nodded, wishing Jake would laugh again. She loved that laugh—it was lilting, and light, and very infectious. She hadn’t laughed very much in her life and it felt really, really good. She poised her fingertip over the dictionary, squinting her eyes for effect, and landed on, “Mucosa!”
Simultaneously, they both said, “Eew,” then erupted into laughter. Jake roared until tears streamed down her face.
Kat struggled to contain herself, but every time she looked at Jake, they burst into giggles again.
Finally, after several minutes, Jake leaned forward and took the book. “I have got to do better,” she said, selecting blindly from the big tome. “Scrumptious?” she read aloud, then blushed. She couldn’t look at Kat.
But that was all right because Kat couldn’t look at her either. She stared at the wall, a light flush warming her cheeks. Determined to regain control, she blindly reached for the book and cleared her throat, not commenting at all on Jake’s selection. She poised her own finger over a page. She chose. She looked down. Her light flush went full dark scarlet in an instant, just as Jake glanced back up at her.
“Well?” Jake urged. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s my new name?”
Chapter Fifteen
Thomas was relieved to have some good news for his boss for a change. Evan Garner had been growing increasingly sarcastic and terse with each hour that had passed since they’d last heard from Frank, the man they’d sent to Tawa. Thomas had seen it before. It was how Garner manifested his impatience, and it wasn’t good. It usually meant his boss was about to erupt, and he would pick the nearest scapegoat if the real target of his frustration—in this case Hunter—wasn’t available.
Since it was intended to be a reconnaissance mission only, they had not dispatched their best man to Michigan. They expected only to find out what had happened to Scout—but Garner knew the man might also stumble on Hunter in the process. So the operative had to be expendable.
So they had sent Frank, a large man who followed orders well if they were spelled out in detail. He was quick for his size and skilled at several methods of killing. He was not nearly smart enough to go up against Hunter, but few were, and he wasn’t really expected to see her face-to-face.
Thomas rapped twice on Garner’s office door and pushed it open.
His boss stared at him as he entered the room. “Frank found the car Scout was driving, boss. It was wrecked off a little road, miles away from anything. Flipped over into a ditch.”
“Wrecked?” Garner asked, his curiosity overcoming his bad mood.
“Yeah, door was open, and the trunk. No sign of the broad, but there is some kind of track leading off into the woods, probably from a sled. Frank followed it for a ways, but he said it was slow going o
n the snowmobile, so he turned back. Needed better lights and warmer clothes. The homing signal ended at the car. Frank thinks Scout’s phone must be under the wreck somewhere in the snow. He can’t find it.” Thomas paused. “He tried to call from the crash site, but his cell phone was out of range so he had to go back to town. He wanted to know do you want him to follow the track. I told him stay put while I check with you.”
Garner considered that a moment. “Have him relay to you precisely where the car is, so we can find it again if anything...unfortunate happens to Frank. Then tell him to follow the track and report back as soon as he can.”
“Right, boss.”
“And Thomas,” Garner said, catching him at the door. “Remind Frank that if he does meet up with Hunter, the million is his if he kills her.”
Thomas nodded and shut the door behind him.
A smug grin spread across Garner’s lips. He was already thinking about how he would celebrate when he could go back outside, unafraid of an ambush from Hunter. He knew better than anyone not to underestimate his former protégé. He’d been living in this secure building and sleeping in his office since he’d issued the contract on her life, and he’d continue to do so until she was eliminated. Even now he didn’t feel completely safe. His inner sanctum was familiar territory to Hunter, and she might be bold enough to meet Garner on his own turf.
He hated to give up the million dollars cash, half of it out of his own hefty bank account and half skimmed from accounts he controlled as administrator of the Academy. But business had been very good the last few years. They had had no shortage of assignments, almost all of them bringing in six figures. He knew he’d get no real peace of mind until she was dead. We’re closing in, Hunter. Can your damned intuition feel it?
