Her Forgotten Betrayal(21)

But he let her go, easing her onto her feet while he remained beside her until she’d settled in the chair. He took its nearest companion, turning it around before straddling the seat and propping his arms on the back. Her cat made a return appearance. Esmeralda rubbed her dainty body against Cole’s calf, purring with delight.

Shaw shook her head in amazement, trying not to take it personally, given the nonchalance the animal had always shown her in comparison. “Who knew she was such a flirt,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.

Cole scooped up Esme and placed her in Shaw’s lap, where the Siamese curled up, content to gaze adoringly at her new conquest. It suddenly struck Shaw how similar Cole’s eye color was to her cat’s. Such a beautiful, brilliant blue. It had been one of the things she’d first loved about Esmeralda when she’d been told that the beautiful, if aloof, creature was her long-time pet.

Cole touched Esme’s gold charm, then withdrew his hand. The metal disk tinkled as it swung back and forth on the cat’s collar.

“Pretty,” he said, his gaze lifting to Shaw’s face. “It looks old.”

“I think it was my grandmother’s. I found it while ransacking the house for something that might jar my memory. It was so beautiful, I couldn’t just throw it back in a dusty drawer. I figured it was special enough for even my little queen to appreciate.” She hugged her purring companion close. “Esmeralda’s been wearing it ever since.”

Cole smiled, then his attention shifted to the floor between them. With a roll of his massive shoulders, he looked back up again, his expression solemn.

“Why would someone be trying to kill you?” he asked, as if what must have sounded like raging paranoia was the most logical thing in the world.

His easy acceptance sang through her. She found herself wanting to wrap Cole around her, close her eyes, and believe him into the reality of her forgotten life.

“I run an international corporation,” she explained instead, reminding herself firmly that he was just being neighborly. “We research various technologies, mostly top-secret stuff for the government. Maybe there’s some explanation there of who might want to hurt me.”

“You mean so they can get you out of the way to steal something?”

“Or I pissed someone off. A rival, maybe. But the authorities don’t think so. They can’t find evidence of any threats against me. I was mostly a loner, I’m told. There wasn’t much to my world but my work, and most of that was done in an isolated office building where I spent the majority of my time. The doctors won’t allow the authorities to share with me too many details of my life or my shooting. They don’t want to overstress my recovery. So I need to remember on my own.”

She stopped short of telling him about the Marshals Service keeping tabs on her. Her story already sounded ridiculous enough.

“I keep dreaming about that night. I know there’s something, someone, I should be remembering. But my recall shuts down when I wake up. I’m trying to take things slow up here. You know, while I exhaust myself cleaning everything in sight, until I’m so tired I think every bump in the night is an evil man out to get me.” She sighed. “If I can’t calm down and remember more, I might never know who’s responsible for this.”

“For hurting you?” Cole took her injured hand from where she was petting Esme, his thumb soothing as it brushed her palm.

“For destroying my life. Even though I wonder how much I could have liked that world and my job, if it’s this easy to banish them from my mind.”

She’d talked to countless doctors and government officials at the hospital, in interviews and consultations that had produced nothing of value and had left her shaking and drained. Petrified. But talking with Cole about what had happened, about her confusion and fear, felt safe. Cathartic. She could breathe easier than she’d been able to since waking in the hospital.

She’d managed to wrap her fingers around his, holding on so tightly her bandaged thumb throbbed.

“I try all day,” she told him, “every day, to remember who and what I am. Nothing happens until I’m asleep, and none of that makes sense once it’s over.” She let go and wiped at the corners of her eyes. “This entire situation is turning me into a stark raving lunatic. I can’t even make coffee without freaking myself out over nothing, because I clumsily grabbed a knife instead of a spoon.”

Cole seemed poised to say something—most likely that he had somewhere else to be besides listening to her ramble on. Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and reached down for the drawer that lay turned on its side on the floor.