Blood and Bone(15)

It doesn't make him angry to be threatened. It makes him do the opposite  of everything I want. He steps into me, pressing his chest against  mine. "Ya might not remember how much ya like it when I touch you, but I  remember. Just because ya lost your memory and forgot how much ya love  me doesn't mean I have to forget how much I love ya." He dips his face,  banking on the fact his words have stunned me still, and presses his  face against mine.

My knee comes up, but he anticipates it, so I bite. He cries out as a  rusty taste fills my mouth. I shove him back, shaking my head. "I mean  it."

He nods, licking his lip and grinning like a psycho. "Me too, Sam. I love you. Always have, always will."

I turn, looking back at the door as it opens. "You don't even know me. And stop calling me Sam. My name is Jane."

He leans against the doorway, blocking me in. "Trust me, Jane, you are not who you think you are!"

I shake my head. "You don't know me."

His face changes into a grim smirk. "Baby, if I don't know you, you're fucked."

There is a horrible feeling inside me that he's telling the truth.  There's a familiarity between us that screams of a history of intimacy.

He turns and stalks off the elevator, walking with swag that almost  forces me to check his ass out. For a cheeky Irishman, he's fine. But  that just adds more conflict over the whole backstory he's given me. I'm  susceptible to advertising. I think I always have been, and I don't  want to believe him because he's attractive. I want proof.

Imagining the two of us together makes me think I must have fallen for his body, because his charms are lacking in every way.

I shudder at the image of his foul mouth touching mine again.

There's no way we were ever in love. Whatever we had must have been based on sexual chemistry alone.

When he gets to the large nurses' station for the floor, he leans across  the desk to talk to the ladies. I am nearly there when I notice one  I've met before. I spin before she sees me, running back to the  elevator. I don't want Derek's coworkers to tell him I was here. I press  my back against the wall and wait. When all this is over I'm going to  wear my red dress and come to the Christmas party. I want everything to  go back to the way it was.

Rory comes back moments later. "The ambassador is in a coma. He's gone into organ failure and is on life support."

I scoff. "That could be from anything."

"And I'm psychic enough to predict it?"

I don't have an argument for that. He has a point. "I want to go home."

"He hasn't gone back to his car yet. He's not home. We need to apprehend him before you can leave our custody."

"That means nothing. I want to go home because I need to be asleep for  real when he gets there. Not dressed in all black and roaming the  streets with you two idiots. He isn't your man. I'm telling you."

He rolls his eyes, pressing the button for down. When we get back  downstairs, the hallway is filled with men in suits and police. We walk  through them all, not briefing any of them on the situation. I assume  they all know the details.

At the end of the dimly lit hallway we find Antoine talking to a tall  man with an angry face. He scowls when he sees me. "I didn't believe it.  You have to be on your last life."

This has quickly become my least favorite thing ever, the whole they remember me and I remember nothing.

"Randall, she's back. No questions about before. It doesn't matter-she doesn't remember anyway."

His steely eyes narrow. "I have some testing scheduled for her first. Take her to a safe house until we can test her."

Rory nods. "The ambassador is dying, you should know."         

     



 

He sighs, glaring at me viciously. "You should have brought him in, Sam. I'm not happy about this shit."

Antoine shakes his dark head. "We had nothing. We still have nothing."

Randall sighs a second time. "Well, we've been told he's no longer of interest to us anyway."

"He just killed a dignitary from another country."

Randall laughs bitterly. "Oh, you don't have to tell me. We've run this  op for seven years. He's killed a hundred people. He's vanished like a  ghost with one of ours and erased her mind. He's playing with us, and  the higher-ups feel that he's one of two things. He's either a spook  assassin we aren't being told about because his pay grade is so high  that even the president doesn't need to know, or he's more dangerous  with us to torment. They think he kills more frequently when we actively  pursue him."

"You're fucking with me, right?"

Randall shoots Rory a look. "I want you on the next flight back to DC, where we will all regroup."

I can feel panic starting to build in me. "What if I don't want back in? I don't remember anything anyway."

"Sam, we haven't wanted you back. Rory said you were eager to catch Dash in action. He said you wanted revenge." Randall snorts.

I cock an eyebrow. "He told me I would be charged with treason if I didn't play along."

Randall shakes his head. "You're free if you want out, but this is it for you. The end of the line."

"Done."

Rory grabs my arm. "Wait. You wouldn't want this. The real you-she  wouldn't want you to stay trapped in there with him. You wanted him  behind bars."

I jerk free, shoving him back. "I want you all out of my life. That's what I want. Sam Barnes is dead. Let's leave her there."

Randall nods at the door. "I have a car; I'll give you a ride. You two go to the airport. The jet is there. I'll meet you."

Rory looks like he might argue again, but he doesn't. I don't look back  to see the angry stare he's trying to kill me with. I push out into the  night air and climb into the black car with Randall. A man drives but  doesn't look back at us.

Randall speaks softly, "You can't blame him, Sa- Jane. He's been  devastated and searching for you for six years. Everyone figured you  would be in Europe, so he's been there working but looking for you the  entire time. Every time a politician or figurehead even coughs or farts,  he blames Benjamin Dash. He's been searching for you high and low."

"Maybe I didn't want to be found."

"Maybe you shouldn't have let Rory fall in love with you."

I turn and nod. "You're right. I never should have let him love me, but I  don't remember being that girl. I don't care who Benjamin Dash is. I  care that I am Jane Spears. I am a shopgirl. I am happy and stress free.  Since all of this started washing back up in my life, I've been  stressed. I feel funny in my skin for the first time in years. I don't  think Sam was a good person, and I don't want to be her. I don't want  her baggage or her bullshit."

The car stops at a red light, and I see my store. "I'll get out here." I  open the door and walk out into the night. I take my usual route home.  My cell phone rings in my pocket, making me nervous Derek is home, but  when I answer, it isn't his voice screaming in my ear. It's Rory.

"He's not with that car in Bellevue. It wasn't his car we were tracking.  He must have known you put the tracker on and dumped it on another  silver Mercedes. The guy just got back-he's a rower. That means-"

"He's home and waiting for me." I finish his sentence. Dread and guilt battle for the top spot in my emotions.

"Where are you? I'll come get you."

"No. Go to the airport. He won't hurt me." I hang up the phone and walk  behind the building to the street where our house is. Seeing his car  makes me gag a little, but I keep walking. I force my steps. Every inch  of me wants to run except my heart. My heart drags my feet across the  street and up the driveway.

I open the unlocked door, peeking into the darkness. The silent house is  still. Even Binx stays hidden. My stomach is in my throat as I close  the door, pressing my back against it. Images of him rampaging with a  knife in his hand flicker through my mind. I turn the lock on the door,  slipping my shoes off. I walk into the kitchen first. It's dark, with  the pale-blue glow of the appliances the only light. I walk into the  dining room, but he isn't in there.         

     



 

So I turn to the living room, but again it's empty.

This isn't me. I have been drawn into their madness, locked away in  their fears, and let them rule me. I believe I am safe in my home with  my boyfriend. But strangers have me scared by all the what-ifs.

I swallow hard, tiptoeing past the French doors that face the backyard to the hallway where the bedrooms are.

When I open the door to our room, I notice the sweat on my palms as I  turn the handle. In the glow of the moonlight and streetlights, I see  him sitting in the chair like Norman Bates. His silhouette and the  shadow he casts are more frightening than a single thing I have done in  the past couple of days.

I close the door, leaning against it and trapping us both in the dark.

"Did you come to kill me?" His voice is soft and yet strong, not defeated as his shadow on the floor might suggest.

"No." Shit. My heart is breaking as the silence and simple words become all the proof I ever needed.