Dangerous Lover (4 page)

“Just that I didn't hurt that man. And that…I'm a good person.” The last was said with a look in her mother's direction, but Vidalia refused to meet her eyes.

“All right, Selene. You go on home with your family. But now, listen, this is important. You can't be leaving town. We're gonna need to talk to you some more as this investigation moves along. All right?”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

Selene rose from the chair and walked with her mother and Caleb to the door. In the waiting area of the police department, her sisters Kara and Edie waited, and they came to hug her hard as soon as she came within their sight.

“Are you okay?” Kara asked. “I told Jimmy not to let you out of his sight while you were in this place.”

“I'm fine, and Jimmy was with me every second since he got here.” Selene glanced behind her to see him coming out of the interrogation room, looking tired.

Vidalia was heading for the exit, not even pausing to talk to the girls. She was embarrassed by her youngest daughter tonight. That was a first. She paused only long enough to send the girls her patented get-moving-already look.

Selene frowned. “I'll be home soon, Mom. I have something I need to do first.”

Vi stared at her for a long moment, then just lowered her head and shook it slowly, as she turned and left the room.

“Damn, she's upset,” Edie said. “I've never seen her this bad.”

“She'll be all right once she gives me a chance to explain,” Selene said. “But you two better go with her. See to it she gets home all right. I'll be along later.”

Caleb put a hand on her shoulder. “Your car's been impounded, hon.”

She took that in stride, she thought, barely flinching. “Then someone will have to loan me one.”

Kara handed her a set of keys. “I'll ride home with Mom and Edie. Keep it as long as you need it, hon,” she said.

“Thanks, Kara.”

“You want to tell me where you're going?” Caleb asked.

She met his eyes, shook her head side to side, and left the police station.

 

He lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. But the ceiling held no answers. His mind was gaping black hole. He had no idea who he was, but there was a deeper and more frightening lack. He didn't know
how
he was, either. Was he a serious man or a playful one? Was he hard-working or lazy? Was he a friendly, easy-going type or a grouchy SOB? He had no clue.

“How are you feeling?”

He drew his focus up out of the abyss that was his inner psyche and shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the nurse standing beside his bed. She must be close to retiring age, he thought. She was silver-haired, bone thin and slightly stooped, but smiling.

“How would I know?”

“Well, are you in pain?”

“No.” He glanced down toward his belly, though it was currently covered by a layer of bandages, a hospital gown and a white sheet. “But I have no doubt you're here to start poking at the hole in my belly to change that, just like you've done every time it's stopped throbbing for more than five minutes.”

“I'm afraid so.” She peeled back the covers.

He yanked them back over himself again. “I'm afraid not.”

“It's necessary, son.”

“I'm not your son. At least, I don't think I am.”

She scowled at him, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Listen, I have other patients to take care of.”

“Then go take care of them and leave me the hell alone.”

From behind the door there was a commotion. He frowned in that direction, hearing the cop who'd been posted outside telling someone they couldn't come in. Then he glanced at the nurse. “See who that is, would you?”

“Oh, so now you
want
my help?”

He just held her gaze until she rolled her eyes and turned to go open the door. “Prince Charming in here wants to know who's trying to see him. I figure it's gotta be someone with a penchant for self-flagellation, because he's—oh. Aren't you—?”

She didn't finish the question. And because Nurse Ratchitt was blocking the partially open door with her body, he couldn't see who it was. Maybe someone who knew him. Maybe—

He tried to get out of the bed, but when he started to sit up, it felt as if his stomach muscles were ripping apart. Dammit.

“Let them the hell in, whoever they are.” He made the demand in a voice that hid his pain as he fell back onto the bed, one hand on his belly, waiting for the pain to ebb.

The door opened the rest of the way, and the nurse stepped on the doorstop to keep it there, then stepped aside. The woman stood there staring in at him. She had eyes as pale blue as a springtime morning, and that silver-blond hair that made a man think of angels. She was wearing a blouse this time, with the sarong skirt she'd been wearing earlier, but he remembered clearly what she'd looked like without one. Wild and free and enticing.

He also remembered opening his eyes to find her standing over him with a knife in her hands.

“I'm going to have to search you, ma'am,” the cop beyond her said.

She sighed and raised her arms outward toward her sides. “Just keep in mind that if you touch anything you shouldn't, my brother-in-law will kick your ass.”

“Which one?” the cop asked with a crooked grin.

“All four of them,” she said. “I can't guarantee in what order, though.”

He shrugged, and proceeded to run his hands up and down her sides, and her front and her back. He didn't grope her, but he didn't skip any parts either. Seemed all business. Then he nodded and looked past her at him. “You sure you're okay with this?”

He didn't take his eyes off the woman. And hers were on him now, steady and probing as he nodded.

“Okay, then,” the cop said. “I'll be right outside the door if you need me.”

“Okay.”

The cop withdrew, pulling the door closed behind him.

He lay in the bed, waiting. “So?” he asked after a long moment.

She shrugged and came closer. The way she looked at him suggested that she knew him. “So.” When she was standing right beside the bed, still probing his eyes and drinking in his face as if she were trying to memorize it, she lifted a palm and lowered it onto his shoulder.

It was an odd thing to do. And even though there was a thin hospital gown between her skin and his, he felt the heat, and wondered what the hell it was about. He had to grab hold of himself, shake himself a little, before he could speak. “So what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you were okay. It's not every day I have wounded men falling at my feet.”

“Just healthy ones, huh?”

She smiled a little. “I guess it's a good sign you have a sense of humor.”

He shrugged. “Do you know me?”

Her smile died. “No. I'm sorry, I wish I did.”

“You said you did. You said you'd been waiting for me.”

She lowered her eyes to hide them from him. “Well, waiting for a dark, handsome stranger to fall at my feet, anyway. Though I'd have preferred a less wounded one.” Lifting her steady gaze to his again, she went on. “It must be awful, not being able to remember.”

“It'll come back to me.”

“Sure, I know that.” She pursed her lips a little, lowered her head, repositioned her hands, so they were resting on his chest now. “I'm Selene, by the way.”

“Yeah, I heard that somewhere along the line. What is it you're doing, exactly?”

He nodded downward at her hands on his chest as he asked it.

“It's a healing modality.” Then she thinned her lips, and lifted her hands. “I'm sorry. I should have asked first.”

“Healing modality?”

“Yeah. So do you mind?”

Did he mind? Her hands on his body were not exactly a hardship. “No, I don't mind.”

“I knew you wouldn't. That's probably why I didn't ask.” She laid her palms on his chest again. He wished he wasn't wearing a hospital gown. Her hands got warm, tingly against his skin before she moved them lower, kind of bracketing the bandaged section of his waist, knowing where that spot was without being able to see it.

“So…about what you told the police—”

“Right. So you're finally getting to the reason you're really here, then.”

Her brows crinkled over her pale, spooky eyes. “I came because I was compelled to come to you. And I think you know it.”

“I do?”

“You're kind of grouchy, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, getting stabbed in the belly will do that to a guy.”

She held his gaze, her own steady, unflinching. “I didn't hurt you, you know. I only tried to help you.”

“And if you had, you'd have come here to admit it?”

“I know how it must have looked, but it's not what it seems.”

“Well, let me recap for you. Someone stabs me in the belly. I run away, aware only that I'm hurt and bleeding and being chased. I collapse, and when I look up it's to see you standing over me with a dagger raised up head high, ready to bring it down. I can see where that set of circumstances could confuse the hell out of me.”

She lowered her head. “If you would just stop thinking so much, you'd know the truth. Look at me. Look me right in the eyes.” He did, but he found himself getting lost in those eyes of hers. “Keep looking. And open up your senses. Feel me. Sense me. You know I didn't hurt you. Can't you sense that? I couldn't hurt you if I wanted to.”

He felt himself nodding in agreement, then snapped his gaze from hers. What the hell was she doing? Trying to hypnotize him or something? The cops had said there were occult connections to this woman, and the others who were with her out there tonight. It gave him chills.

“Look, I don't remember what happened. And staring into those blue eyes of yours isn't going to help.”

“It might be the only thing that does,” she whispered.

He shot her a look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Look, would it help if I told you the police didn't find any blood on my athame?”

“Athamay?”

“My…blade. My dagger.” She held his eyes, finally lowering hers. “This isn't going to be easy if you insist on thinking I tried to kill you tonight.”

“What isn't going to be easy?”

She frowned, sighed. “Never mind. I have to um…go home. Face the music, you know? But I'd like to come back and see you again.”

“Why?”

She made the cutest face he'd ever seen, then. She pursed her lips and moved them all the way to one side, as if straining hard to think of an answer to his question. It disarmed him completely, shot down his suspicions and almost made him smile. He had to fight hard to keep a straight face. Finally, she said, “I don't think I can tell you that yet. But it's important. To me and to you. So don't…you know, disappear, okay?”

“I don't think there's any danger of me going anywhere tonight.”

“I'll be back tomorrow, then.”

He almost looked forward to it. “Okay.”

She turned for the door, and he said, “Selene?”

Stopping, she faced him slowly, and he went on. “What were you and those other women doing out there by the Falls tonight?”

She smiled slowly. “We're Witches.”

He felt his face go blank. She said it as if that was supposed to explain everything. It didn't.

“Yeah, I know. You don't know what that means. But I have to tell you, it feels good to say it like that. Just say it right out, and not worry about the reaction. That's the first time I've done that. I like it.”

“I am completely confused.”

“I know. Look, we can talk more about that the next time I see you, okay? I mean, you really do need to know.”

“I do?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You do. You more than anyone. Good night, C. I'll come by in the morning.”

He frowned hard. “Did you just call me C?”

“Yeah. I don't know the rest. But I'm sure your name starts with a
C.
A hard
C,
not a soft one.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I told you, I'm a Witch.”

“Right.”

She sailed out of the room, but paused in the doorway to send him a long, searching look. He felt something in that look, and for just a second, believed she really was what she said she was; a Witch.

 

He sure as hell wasn't going to make this easy on her. She didn't think he was used to trusting his senses, and he was going to have to learn to depend on them, to make up for his lack of memory. Convincing him of that would be a challenge.