Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (8 page)

Her skin was pink from the heat and scrubbing. Fresh. Clean. Her long hair hung down her back in wet tendrils. Her eyes drifted downward, taking in her body
. I’ve definitely lost some weight since…being on my own.
Moving her gaze back to her face as she applied lotion, she noted the reddish scar marring her forehead. Her fingertips moved over it gently, a grimace replacing her complacent expression.
How the hell did this all happen?

*

Blaise moved about
the kitchen fixing the late lunch, three cats swirling between his legs. “Come on, guys. Let me get this going and then I’ll feed you.” His mind had stayed on the woman upstairs in the bathroom. Grabbing his phone from the counter, he called Jack.

“Hey, boss. I wanted to let you know that I’ve got the Mystery Lady here with me. Her dog was injured and she came to our meeting place to find me.”

“They okay?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, but I’m going to have to keep him and I’m letting her stay here while the dog’s recuperating here as well.”

Silence greeted him and he rushed to explain. “I saw the hovel she was living in. Jack, it’s amazing she hasn’t been attacked.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Blaise, because there’s not one of us that wouldn’t have stepped in to help this woman, but are you sure about having her there? You do have a propensity for—”

“Picking up strays,” Blaise finished, irritated that his boss would make the comparison. “But this is different. There’s something about her that draws me in. I want to unravel the mystery of who she is.”

Jack chuckled, saying, “You got it, man. Do you need us?”

“Maybe. I’m going to find out what’s going on with her, hopefully, tonight. Then, if she’s in trouble, I’ll contact you.”

“Whatever you need,” Jack agreed.

“Thanks, boss,” Blaise replied, disconnecting. By now the three cats had jumped on the counter in a more desperate effort to gain his attention. “Get down,” he admonished, moving into the back room, putting food down in their dishes. “You’d better appreciate the fact that you’re getting fed early.”

Walking back into the kitchen, he ran into Miss. She yelped as she stumbled backward, his arms rushing out to grab her shoulders.

“Sorry!” they both exclaimed at once.

Blaise’s hands did not leave her as his mind rushed to catch up to his vision. Soft, dark waves of shiny brunette hair flowed down her back. Her face scrubbed clean exposed light freckles across her nose. Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink. Her lips, curved in a smile, captured his attention as he longed to pull her in the rest of the way. Moving his gaze around, it finally landed on her wide, dark eyes, startling him back to his senses.

Letting go of her shoulders as though burned, he exclaimed, “I’m sorry, Miss. How was your shower? You look amazing, just amazing. Not that you weren’t…um…nice before…but now…well—”

She giggled, watching the normally self-assured man stumble and bumble over his words. “The shower was fabulous. And thank you for letting me use your sister’s toiletries. I haven’t been this clean in…well, a bit.”

Her words brought him back to reality. “We’ve got to talk. But first, let’s eat.” He noticed her immediate concern and said, “Remember, I just want to help.”

Opening up slightly, she said, “That’s sweet, but I don’t think anyone can help me.”

Hating the despondency in her voice, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her around and gave her a little push toward the kitchen bar stools. “Well, we’ll fill our bellies and then see what we can do.”

The sight of a large salad, huge triple-decker club sandwich cut in quarters, and chips was enough to stop her worry for the moment.

“It’s not much, but—”

“No, no, it’s perfect,” she gushed.

The two sat down at the stools and ate in companionable silence for several minutes. She finally turned to him, saying, “When I came down, I heard you talking to someone in the back room. Is Gypsy all right?”

Nodding while chewing, Blaise swallowed and replied, “I was talking to the three house cats. They were annoying me while I was trying to fix the sandwiches so I put them in the back room with some food.”

“Do you talk to your animals a lot?” she queried. “I find myself talking to Gypsy all the time like she’s a person.”

Grinning, he allowed his gaze to move over her face once again, his cock instinctively jumping at the sound of her voice, and those beguiling eyes staring at him. Irritated with his lack of self-control, he willed it to behave. “I think that happens when you live alone,” he replied. “My animals are my world.”

Nodding her agreement, she continued to eat. Stopping only halfway through, she pushed the plate back gently. “I’m stuffed,” she confessed.

“Are you sure? You look like you need to eat more.”

Giggling, she patted his muscular bicep, saying, “Not all of us are so big!”

He reached over, snagging the rest of her sandwich, finishing it off as well. Standing, he took the plates to the sink and left them, wanting to learn more about her. Holding his hand out to her, he said, “Come on, sweetheart. We need to take care of the animals and then we need to talk.”

Licking her lips nervously, she agreed.
I’ve got no idea if you can help me, but Gypsy and I are running out of options.

She trailed behind him, observing as he filled a wheelbarrow with buckets of feed before they walked outside to the kennels. It only took a moment for her to quickly follow his lead and begin filling the dishes of food as he hosed out the kennels.

“Are you keeping them?” she wondered aloud.

“No, they’re boarding here while recovering from one thing or another. They’ll be adopted out as soon as they’re able.”

He looked over his shoulder as she playfully talked to and petted each one. With the setting sun casting a glow over the yard, her eyes were alight, the genuine smile on her face taking his breath away.
She’s got a way with animals.
The strange realization sent pleasure throughout him as he smiled at her obvious joy.

Finishing with their work, they pushed the now empty wheelbarrow back to the door and went inside the house. Washing at the large industrial sink in the clinic, she followed him into the living quarters.

Placing her small hand in his much larger one, she relished the feel of his fingers closing around hers. Protectively.
Possessively? No, get that idea out of your head, girl. He’s just helping.
But as he led her to the sofa in the living room, she knew she was in danger of falling for her rescuer.

H
e settled her
down on his worn, but comfortable sofa, making sure to sit close, but not too close. Treating her like a skittish animal, he needed to provide comfort without appearing threatening.

She watched him closely, not sure what he wanted to talk about. Heart pounding, she sat straight, hands clasped in her lap. Then he smiled and her breath rushed out of her lungs.
I think I’d follow that smile to the ends of the earth.
Her lips curved softly in response.

“I want to tell you about me,” Blaise started, “so you’ll know how I can help. I’m a veterinarian, but I don’t own my own practice. I worked for the DEA as a vet with their drug dogs. It allowed me to pay off my student loans. When I got out, I started a new career.” He chuckled, adding, “Well, a couple of new careers, actually. I run this shelter and have a state license to treat the animals here. And, I’m a private investigator with a firm that specializes in big contracts.”

At his last statement, her eyes widened as her mouth hung open. “I…I…don’t understand,” she confessed.

“I work for a company of investigators. We don’t take the small time PI jobs. My boss gains government contracts, such as working with the FBI or other agencies or large private companies. We provide security and investigations.” He held her gaze for a moment, seeing her mind turning over his words. “Miss, whatever’s going on with you…I can…we can help.”

Oh…I’m a case to him,
she realized with disappointment. Looking into his eager face, she said, “Blaise, unless you’re a mindreader, there’s no help for me.”

Not understanding her words, his eyes found her scar again. She noted his observation and lifted her fingers unconsciously to the injury.

“What happened?” he asked softly. “Let’s start there.”

Shaking her head sadly, she said, “I don’t know.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably. “Okay,” he began again. “Let’s start with who you are. What’s your name? Where did you come from?”

Swallowing hard, she bit her bottom lip, wanting to look anywhere but into his eyes. He lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her gaze to fall upon his. Taking a deep breath, she answered truthfully, “I don’t know.”

Cocking his head to the side, his lips turn down. “You don’t know who you are?”

Shaking her head, again, she replied, “I can’t remember anything.”

The unexpected answer had Blaise dropping his hand, leaning back heavily as his breath left his body in an audible whoosh.
Can’t remember? Amnesia?

“I can see your mind working,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve tried to understand what happened to me, but I don’t.”

“What’s the first thing you remember?” he asked, his mind now working in a completely different direction.
Hell, I thought she was running from an ex or the law. Amnesia? What the hell?

Shifting slightly on the sofa so that she was no longer facing him, but rather toward a view of the window overlooking his yard with the woods behind, she said, “I woke up. Out there somewhere.”

Deciding to stay quiet so she could tell her story in her own time, he settled back as well, keeping his eyes on her.

“I was in the woods. In a car. It was at the bottom of a big ravine, with brambles all around. The car was crushed, but I was able to crawl out. My head was bloody. I looked inside the car to find something to wipe the blood away, but there was nothing in the car, so I took off my sweater. I got the dried blood off.” She touched her scar again, her expression pained. “I didn’t remember anything. My name. What I was doing. I don’t even know if that was my car.”

Blaise stood, moving to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, bringing it back and handing it to her. She took it gratefully, swallowing deeply, draining the glass.

“I heard a whimper…kind of a soft bark. There was a large dog next to the car. I was scared at first, but it came right to me, as though it knew me. There was a collar with a nametag. The only word on it was Gypsy.”

“Was it your dog? Did the name mean anything to you?”

“No. I assumed it was my dog since we were deep into the woods and no one else was around.”

“What did you do?”

“I climbed out of the ravine, which I discovered was very deep. When I got to the road above, you couldn’t even see my car, nor were there any tell-tale signs.” Giving a shrug, she said, “I had no idea what happened, but I thought my memory would come back. A trucker passed by and gave me a lift.”

“You hitchhiked?” Blaise asked, unable to hide his protective irritation.

“Sure,” she said. “How else was I going to get anywhere? The trucker was nice. He didn’t ask any questions and dropped me off at the park in Charlestown. I stayed a few nights on park benches and then tried to find a homeless shelter when my memory did not return. But none of them would take me with a dog and I wasn’t about to part with Gypsy. After all, she was the only friend I had.”

Rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, Blaise tried to still his wildly tossing thoughts, for the first time unable to think methodically. He noticed her growing still and the doubtful expression on her face. Forcing an encouraging smile, he said, “So how long ago was this?”

“About three weeks,” she replied. “I found the abandoned house and made a home for us there. It’s horrible not remembering. I wanted to try to find someone to help me but didn’t know whom to trust. What if someone was trying to harm me?”

“I’ve got to ask, why didn’t you go to the police?” He knew his question sounded accusatory, but he was desperate to understand her motives.

Her face twisted in a mask of frustration. “You can’t imagine what it’s like…I didn’t even know who I was. I couldn’t think well and the fear…the overpowering fear. Even fear of the police.”

“Were you not afraid of the trucker?”

Reaching up to touch her forehead, she said, “I remember that he offered to take me to a hospital. He seemed kind and Gypsy wasn’t afraid of him. I think that’s why I trusted him.”

“And nothing has returned to you?”

“Sometimes, I have dreams…nightmares…but when I awake, I can’t recall. Just images, darkness, fear.” Her eyes implored him to understand. “I just can’t remember anything about who I was before I crawled out of the wreck, with Gypsy at my side.”

“A chip!” Blaise said suddenly, leaping from the sofa. “God, what an idiot I am!”

“Huh?”

He turned back to the wide-eyed woman on the sofa looking at him as though he was crazy. “If Gypsy was your beloved pet, you probably had her implanted with an identifier chip! I can’t believe I didn’t think to scan for that.”