Unforgettable (7 page)

W
hy couldn’t they leave her in peace? Lucky wondered. She should be used to the gawking, the snickering. Being treated like a lower life form incapable of feelings. She tried to concentrate on counting her footsteps as she paced the cell, blocking out the people watching her.

But she couldn’t ignore Greg. Seeing Dodger had filled her with such happiness. At last someone—even if it was a dog—was glad to see her. Then it had dawned on her that Greg must be somewhere nearby.

His voice had ripped through the crowd as sharp as a new razor. Right now she could hear the shuffling of feet. People were leaving.
Please, God, make Greg go too. Don’t let him see me like this.

She wasn’t anyone worth saving. This single thought had haunted her these past days. No one had come forward to identify her. Adding to her misery, the owner of the car rental agency was pressing charges. The public defender representing her was convinced she would be convicted.

Just when she thought she’d hit bottom, Cody Braxton had informed her that she had been wearing a dead woman’s tennis shoe. She had racked her brain for some plausible explanation, her stomach churning at the macabre thought. She remembered
putting on the shoe and knowing it wasn’t hers. But how had she gotten it?

A variety of scenarios flashed through her mind. All of them seemed to indicate that she was involved in something criminal. The police chief certainly thought so. He had reopened the investigation into the hiker’s death. Could she be a thief, or worse? She just didn’t know anymore. She hated herself. Hated what she saw in the mirror. Hated not being able to remember her own name. Hated having Greg Braxton pity her.

Lucky kept her forehead braced against the cold concrete, thankful for the silence. Evidently everyone had left. She closed her eyes, telling herself to rest. She was so tired that she was shaky. The crying made it impossible to sleep at night. The first time she had heard it, a few minutes passed before she realized no one was actually crying.

It was all in her head.

She was alone in a prison cell. But the sobs had seemed so real. So hopeless. Each time she tried to sleep the same sound whispered through the empty corridors of her brain until it became a keening wail.

The clanging of the cell door startled her, and she realized she must have dozed off. It was probably lunch. What had the woman who had been in the other cell called it? Blowup. The soy-based protein expanded in the stomach and felt like cement.

“You’re outta here,” the matron informed her.

“Someone’s posted bail?” She hadn’t remembered how bail worked, but the public defender had explained it. The matron nodded, glaring at her as if she were public enemy number one.

Once freedom would have filled her with hope, but not any longer. If her family hadn’t come for her by now, they never would. Greg Braxton must have posted the bail. She swung around and faced the wall. “Tell him to save his money. I’m not budging.”

“Suit yourself.” The woman left with a belittling huff of disgust.

Didn’t Greg have any sense? Couldn’t he see she wasn’t worth his trouble?

Never forget.
I
love you.

“Stop it!” In sheer frustration, she banged her head against the wall before she remembered the doctor’s warning that another blow to the head m
ight cause even more damage. “
Why are those words imprinted in my brain?”

Last week the words had comforted her. That was before she’d been imprisoned. She’d spent only three days in jail, but it seemed like a lifetime. If somebody had once loved her, they’d deserted her now.

Something cold touched her arm and she whirled around. Dodger stood beside her, his soulful eyes on her, his tail wagging. In spite of herself, she smiled. Then she saw Greg standing in the open door, his six-foot-plus frame dwarfing the tiny cell.

“Come on.” Greg’s quietly spoken words ricocheted off the walls.

Something tightened in her chest, hurting a bit, yet giving her a curiously weightless feeling. A combination of pure joy and loneliness, a bittersweet ache that she had never before experienced.

Smothering a sob, she bit down on the inside of her cheek. Like a swift-rising tide, hope welled up inside her, taking her by surprise. The cinch around her chest tightened again, and the bittersweet ache intensified. Until this second she had no idea how alone she’d been. Now here was the one person she truly knew. Someone who was, in an unexplainable, frightening way, part of her.

G
reg drove down the road with Lucky at his side and Dodger in the backseat. Unfuckingbelievable! What had possessed him? He had posted bail, putting up the one thing of any value he owned—his home.

Why? To have Lucky stare out the window, her head averted, clinging to the door like a limpet. She hadn’t said a damn thing.

He’d led her out of the cell, gotten her a lab coat to wear instead of the prison jumpsuit, and taken her to his car.

“
Want a baseball cap?
”
he asked as he stopped to let a truck loaded with sugar cane pass. He didn’t know what else to say. He reached into the backseat and snatched his cap off the seat beside Dodger.

Without looking at him, she took it and pulled her unruly hair through the opening in the back of the cap. He stared at the bushy ponytail. Evidently she had no idea what he’d risked to help her. All she offered him was the back of her head.

What did he expect? Gratitude. No way. Like Jessica, women were users. Or, like Aunt Sis, they hated men. Hell, Lucky was happier to see Dodger than she was to see him. He’d let her get to him. Again.

He gazed through the windshield up at Haleakala. The dormant volcano was sporting its usual troop of clouds, shielding the top of the peak from view. It was raining on the upper slopes, making the hiking trails along “house of the sun” treacherous. He looked down and checked his beeper; search and rescue was on twenty-four-hour call.

When he’d posted Lucky’s bail, he hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen if he had to leave her for a rescue operation. Could he trust her not to take off? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like him to waffle, but she had him confused as hell. One minute he believed her, the next he wasn’t so sure.

“Where are we going?” she asked, but she didn’t look at him.

“To Kmart. You need some clothes.”

There was a moment of silence, then Lucky spoke, still turned away from him. “Attention Kmart shoppers! Attention Kmart shoppers!” She finally faced him and beamed a smile that could melt your heart. “I’ve been in Kmart. I know I have.”

He grinned at her childlike enthusiasm. Okay, so she’d been in a Kmart and relished the memory. How many times could she have heard that Kmart slogan? Surely not more times than
she’d heard her own name. Then why couldn’t she remember it?

Was he risking everything he had for a woman who could be a talented liar? A thief? A woman who would disappear—like Pele’s ghost—as unexpectedly as she had appeared?

6

H
e was smiling—or trying to—but Lucky knew that he was thinking she was a thief. That she really knew her name. Her own smile crumpled. Why had he bailed her out if he didn’t believe her?

“Let me tell you. I’m a real college of knowledge,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I know Jupiter is the fifth planet out from the sun. Khartoum is the capital of the Sudan. There are two varieties of Scotch: Highland malts and island malts. Why, I can even spell
verisimilitude.
But I don’t know my own name.”

Greg stared at her in that disturbing, intense way of his.
“Your name will come to you…
probably when you least expect it.”

“That’s what the doctors told me,” she said as he drove into the Kmart lot. “Someone will ask me my name, and without thinking, I’ll say it. The name will just pop out from wherever it’s been hiding.”

He pulled into a parking place. She couldn’t tell what he
was thinking now. He had a way of closing himself off that upset her.

“Why didn’t you just leave me in jail?”

Greg turned off the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition, then he gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead. “Everyone deserves a break. They were ganging up on you, not giving you a fair chance.”

So, he had fought for the underdog. That explained a lot. To her, he was special, the only person she really knew. The best man in the world, someone who had saved her life. To him she was a cause. There was nothing personal in this. She might be an endang
ered species or a rain forest.

She closed her eyes for a second. Right now she wished she were a rain forest. It sounded cool and green and quiet. And very far away. She let her mind drift for a moment, pretending she were somewhere else.

A rush of warm air enveloped her and she opened her eyes, realizing they’d been closed for a few moments. Greg had opened her door and was waiting for her to get out, Dodger at his side.

Inside Kmart it was cool, the smell of new clothes and popcorn in the air. Children were laughing, running up and down the aisles. It was comfortingly familiar. She had been in Kmart before, but she had never been in jail. Everything about that experience had been terrifyingly new.

“No ka oi!
Wow! Look at those!”

Two teenage girls were pointing at her shoes. The vinyl slippers had Maui PD stamped across them. Greg had been able to rustle up a lab coat that could pass for a dress, but she’d had to borrow the shoes.

“Waaay cooool!” they cooed as Greg guided her down the aisle.

She supposed she should be thankful that the girls hadn’t recognized her and called her Pele’s ghost. And laughed at her. The baseball cap probably helped by hiding most of her hideous hair and shadowing her face.

Dodger sprinted ahead of them, then stopped with one paw raised, pointing to the panty hose display that consisted of two cabinets pushed together.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Greg halted beside the dog. “Is someone under there?” He held up one finger, but Dodger didn’t respond. Then he held up two fingers. Dodger barked once, twice, three times.

“Body A!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “It’s alive!” But how big could it be? It was probably a rat or a mouse.

Dodger barked three more times. A few shoppers stopped to watch. A damp patch of moisture formed on the back of her neck and she moved closer to Greg. After her experience in jail, she was positive if more than three people were near her, she’d reach critical mass and run. But these people weren’t interested in her; Dodger had their attention.

A man elbowed his way through the group. His “Welcome to Kmart” badge said his name was Hank and he was assistant manager.
“
What’s going on? Dogs
aren’t allowed in the store.”

His officious tone didn’t faze Greg. “You’ve got a problem here.”

Greg shoved the cabinets apart. A small gray animal with a bushy plume of a tail blinked at them. Obviously, they’d awakened the poor thing. But what was it? Not a rat. Not a squirrel either.

The animal quickly regained its wits, took one look at the people and bolted, scurrying down the aisle at astonishing speed. Greg snapped his fingers and Dodger was racing after the animal. The crowd followed, led by Greg.

She trailed along behind. The good old college of knowledge had severe gaps. She didn’t have the vaguest idea what kind of animal that was. Like a dying heartbeat, the secure feeling of being in a Kmart—a place she remembered—vanished. What she didn’t know, what she would have to relearn was overwhelming.

Dodger had the creature cornered in the garden department.

The little beast was up on its hind legs, teeth bared, claws out. The animal was much smaller than Dodger, but it looked vicious. One swipe of its claws and Dodger could lose an eye.

“Stand back,” Greg ordered and everyone obeyed.

He leaned down and grabbed the animal. There was a lot of hissing and flailing claws, but Greg had it by the scruff of the neck. He walked toward the plant arcade, holding the squirming animal away from his body.

“Get that dog out of the store,” the manager told her as soon as Greg had disappeared from sight.

“
Dodger’s a special dog,” she informed everyone with pride, repeating what Greg had told her while he was getting her out of jail. “See that?” She pointed to the gleaming chrome badge on the back of his collar. “It means he can go anywhere, just like a Seeing Eye dog. He’s a registered disaster dog.”

She was about to subject the uppity runt of an assistant manager to the biggest piece of her mind she could spire, when she spotted a woman staring at her intently. If the slim brunette had been in a grass skirt instead of a buttercup yellow halter dress, she would have been pe
rfect for a travel poster. Some
thing about her expression told Lucky that the woman thought she was Pele’s ghost. If the woman said anything, the crowd would taunt her the way they had in jail.

“Come, Dodger.” Lucky snapped her fingers the way Greg did, and Dodger trotted off with her, leaving the amazed crowd and the beautiful brunette behind. She led Dodger into the lingerie department, confident that Greg would find her when he returned. She stopped between two racks of bras and matching panties.

Dodger licked her hand, a quick flick of the tongue. She petted him the way Greg had that day when Dodger had found the vial, jostling his ears.

“You’re good at what you do, Dodger. The best.” She kneeled beside him and gazed into his eyes. She couldn’t resist giving him a hug. The dog stiffened as her arms wrapped around him. Evidently, Greg didn’t hug him often. A few seconds
passed as she murmured what a good dog he was, and Dodger’s taut body relaxed. He licked her cheek, just another quick swipe of his tongue, but it made her happy. She kept hugging him, wishing she had someone to hug her.

G
reg walked back into Kmart and didn’t see Lucky and Dodger. He told himself not to worry. Dodger was too well trained to go off with anyone. He stopped in his tracks and scanned the store. Nothing. No sign of a woman in a baseball cap with wild blonde hair streaming out the back. No dog in sight either.

Well, hell, where would she go? His gut instinct said she hadn’t run out on him, but his brain said she might have. She was weird. Who knew what she might have done? He’d been so pissed at how Lucky was being treated that he’d ignored the inner voice warning him not to get involved with her.

Suddenly, the image of Aunt Sis’s scowling face intruded.
You’re too stubborn fer your own good, sonny. It’ll get you in a p
a
ck of trouble.

As much as Greg hated to admit the old biddy could possibly have been right, he had to concede that she was. He always had been incurably stubborn. Now that character flaw could cost him his house. He should have left Lucky in jail; cleared out the gawkers, sure, but he should have known better than to risk everything he owned for her.

He quickly walked into the women’s department. A few women were mauling the racks for bargains. No sign of Lucky or Dodger. He heard a soft voice and edged his way through an armada of racks laden with frilly lingerie. Jesus! Who bought this stuff? He peered over a rounder of bras and saw Lucky sitting on the floor, hugging Dodger. He almost heard his own sigh of relief.

“You’re both good at what you do,” Lucky was saying to Dodger. “Really good. The way Greg handled that—that animal was marvelous.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Capturing a mongoose could be tricky, but he’d done it in seconds—like a pro—then released , it.

Lucky was fondling Dodger’s ears now. “I’m in good hands with you two. I know I am. I’m just a cause to Greg like a white rhino or a jaguar, but that’s okay. I don’t mind. At least Greg’s willing to help me. You see, he’s all I have.”

All I have.
The words echoed through his mind. What would it be like to be alone? To recognize no one except the stranger who’d rescued you? He couldn’t imagine it.

Despite his suspicions—and he had them in spades—he felt a powerful bond with Lucky. That night in the tent, she had touched him, reaching a dark, unexplored part of his psyche.

It was a feeling he’d shared once with his brother—years ago when their parents had been killed and they’d had no one but each other. Now Lucky had no one but him.

“Greg’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Lucky asked Dodger.

He couldn’t handle it, had never been able to accept praise. He’d only been doing his job. He turned to walk away, but
her next words halted him.

“
Why couldn’t I be a nuclear physicist or someone like that? Someone worth saving?”

Her voice was low, her attention solely on the dog, yet without even looking at him, she triggered feelings he’d never realized he had. Aw, hell. Before he knew it, Greg was sitting beside her. “Lucky—”

She turned away, focusing on Dodger, her face shadowed by the cap. “Greg, what kind of animal was that? A ferret? I can’t exactly remember what a ferret looks like.”

He gave her credit for trying to be upbeat, for hoping he hadn’t overheard her heartfelt conversation with a dog. He went along, pretending he hadn’t overheard her, trying to ignore the quickening in his nerves and the tension in every muscle. “That was a mongoose. Years ago someone decided to bring them to Hawaii to control the rats that
l
ive in the cane fields,” he explained with more detail than necessary, not knowing
what else to say.
“
Too bad no one bothered to check that the mongoose hunts by day while rats are nocturnal. Now they both live side by side in the cane fields.” She rewarded him with a suggestion of a smile, which kicked up his pulse another notch. “I let the mongoose loose in the field next to the parking lot.”

“There’s a lot that I’m not going t
o remember like the mongoose.”

There was something vulnerable and imploring in her tone, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him.

“I want to thank you,” Lucky said, “for getting me out of that awful jail.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Lucky pushed the bill of the baseball cap to the top of her forehead, revealing eyes that were wide and green and filled with raw emotion. “I want to be someone worth rescuing. I don’t want to be a criminal.”

Man, oh, man, were those tears in her eyes? He had never been able to handle tears. Jessica had used them constantly, crying whenever she didn’t get her way. Granted, Lucky had every reason to cry, but he couldn’t stand it. He started to reach out to her, intending to put his arm around her, but stopped himself in time, remembering how she’d behaved in the tent.

Too late. She moved toward him with a sound that could have been a sigh or a sob. He had no choice but to put his arm around her. That’s all he meant to do. She needed someone besides a dog to comfort her.

She touched his arm, barely making contact, her hand coasting upward, her eyes never leaving his. He held himself stiffly, trying not to let her touch him, but it was impossible. Her soft breasts melded against his torso. She wasn’t doing anything—exactly—just letting him comfort her.

“I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” she whispered, her breath soft and warm against his neck.

Christ! He gazed up at the rounder of bras dangling overhead, striving to control the treacherous warmth thrumming through
his veins. With a quick intake of breath followed by a soft sigh, she hugged him. A charged silence arced between them, and for several heavy heartbeats neither moved. He sucked in a deep breath to relieve the pressure building in his chest.

She kissed his cheek, nothing more than a brush of her lips, but before he could stop himself, both his arms were around her. He intended to give her a quick, reassuring hug—nothing more. But suddenly he was kissing her, cradling her in his arms and pressing the hard contour of his chest against the lush fullness of hers.

He steeled himself, half expecting her to pull something the way she h
ad that night in the tent. Her li
ps were soft and pliant beneath his and unexpectedly tentative as if the last thing in the world that she had expected was to be kissed. Her lips parted, welcoming him with another little sigh, then his tongue brushed hers. The contact sent a fierce jolt of longing surging through him. He knew she felt it, too. She went utterly still, then her tongue daintily caressed his.