April charged forward. “Rob, she needs to sit down. She needs water or a stiff drink. We can sort this out inside.”
Rob knew better than to get into a struggle with April over taking care of someone. She was the pro.
Libby let April curl an arm around her shoulders and guide her to the house, so Rob sprang ahead of them to open his front door.
April walked Libby to the couch and patted a cushion. “Sit and tell me what’s going on. Water? Tea? Whiskey?”
“Maybe some water.” Libby rubbed the side of her head where her external wound was healing nicely. Soon there’d be no outer sign of her memory loss—just the vast emptiness inside her head.
“Rob.” April snapped her fingers. “A glass of water.”
Rob rushed into the kitchen and filled a glass with filtered water from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, April was seated next to Libby, whose face had returned to its normal shade.
April asked in a soft voice, “You think you know me from somewhere? Why does that worry you? Do you think I know your ex?”
Libby dropped her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Rob told you that story?”
“Story?” April glanced at Rob. “Is it a story? Whatever your story, you can tell me. No judgment.”
Libby closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I don’t have an abusive ex, or at least not that I know of. I was in a car accident the other day outside Paradiso, and I lost my memory. Rob’s been helping me, and we’ve pieced together a few things.”
“A car accident?” April tucked one long leg beneath her. “That burned-out wreck off the highway?”
“That’s the one.” Libby opened one eye.
“The accident found with the drugs?”
“Not hers.” Rob perched on the edge of the chair across from them.
“Is that why you didn’t report it? Get help?”
“Not at first, but those drugs haven’t made it any easier.” Libby launched into an explanation of the accident and the two men who set fire to the car.
“Oh, my God. You poor thing.” April grabbed Libby’s hand. “You still need to get checked out by a doctor. Rob, what were you thinking?”
“Don’t blame Rob.” Libby’s gaze shifted to him, and his heart melted around the edges. “He was trying to protect me.”
April asked, “So, where do I fit in? How do you know me, or how do you think you know me because I don’t know you, Libby.”
Rob hunched forward, his elbows digging into his knees.
Libby massaged her left temple. “I’ve never met you. I’ve never seen you in person, but I’ve seen a photograph of you.”
Sitting back, Rob rolled his shoulders. “You probably saw a picture of her that I had somewhere. I told you. She’s married to a fellow agent—my boss.”
“That’s not it, Rob. I didn’t see a picture of April since I’ve been here in Paradiso. I saw it before...before I lost my memory.”
“You saw a picture of her somewhere in Rocky Point, Mexico?”
“Rocky Point? That’s where you’re from?” April rubbed her chin. “That’s cartel country. I wonder if my ex-fiancé...”
“Your ex-fiancé is a drug dealer?” Libby blinked her wide eyes.
“Was. He’s dead.” April waved her hand in the air. “Long story. Why did someone plant drugs at the scene of your accident? My husband told me those were packaged to sell.”
“I hope I don’t have an ex-fiancé who’s a drug dealer, but I am mixed up somehow with those people.” Libby pinned her hands between her knees and hunched her shoulders. “The two men who set fire to my wrecked car mentioned something about some guy called El Gringo Viejo. I’ve since discovered he’s some sort of broker for the cartels.”
April’s lips formed an O, and she clutched her midsection. “El Gringo Viejo?”
Rob raised his eyebrows. Clay must share everything with his wife. He’d remember that the next time his boss got on his case. “Clay mentioned him to you before?”
“Not just Clay.” April jumped up from the couch and did a circle around the room. “My brother, Adam, mentioned El Gringo Viejo to me long before I heard about him from Clay.”
“Your brother.” Rob cleared his throat. “He’s the one who, yeah, had some problems with drugs?”
“He had a lot of problems, Rob, not just with drugs, but you know my history in this town, don’t you?”
“I know your brother murdered your mother and let your father take the blame for it.” Rob ignored Libby’s sharp intake of breath. “I know your father disappeared after the murder and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Do you also know that Adam was convinced our father was El Gringo Viejo?”
“What?” Libby pushed up from the couch and grabbed April’s arm. “Are you serious?”
“Wait, wait.” Rob dragged a hand through his hair. “I never heard that your father, C. J. Hart, was suspected of being El Gringo Viejo. We don’t know who he is. Nobody does.”
“That’s because I’m the only one, except Adam and he’s dead, who suspects it. Clay dismissed Adam’s rantings as wishful thinking, and, of course, he strongly advised me against going to Mexico to investigate the matter.”
“What makes you think he’s your father?” Libby dropped her hand from April’s arm and stooped to grab her glass of water from the coffee table.
“Besides my brother telling me he was?” April flicked her hair over her shoulder. “The timing of my father’s disappearance matches the emergence of EGV. Authorities are convinced my father slipped across the border after my mother’s murder. My father had been dabbling in the drug trade before the murder, which is how my brother was able to convince him to go on the run. And, well, he’s an old white guy.”
“And now maybe I have further proof.” Libby chugged down some water and offered the glass to April, who shook her head. “If I knew El Gringo Viejo in Rocky Point and he had your picture somewhere, it makes sense that I’d see it and recognize you from that picture.”
“I’m glad you two have this all figured out.” Rob rubbed his eyes. Was Libby imagining things? She still didn’t remember her own name.
“I’m telling Clay about this. He’s never believed this story about my father.”
“Wait.” Rob sliced his hand through the air. That was all he needed—his boss coming down on him because he’d gotten April involved in some wild-goose chase for El Gringo Viejo. “This is not proof. Did you miss the part where Libby told you she had amnesia? She could’ve seen you anywhere in town. She’s working at Rosie’s now.”
April wedged a hand on her hip. “I haven’t been to Rosie’s this week, and I’m not going to drag you into it, Rob.”
“I’m already dragged in. Libby’s staying at my place. I rescued her from a burned-out wreck in the desert, and I didn’t report that burned-out wreck to the authorities. How do you think that’s gonna go over with Clay?”
“I’ll handle Clay.” April patted Libby’s shoulder and smiled. “You guys have been speculating about EGV for years, and Libby and I may have just handed him to you.”
Libby’s eyes widened. “You don’t mind that he’s your father?”
“Might be.” Rob pushed up from the chair. “Might be and probably isn’t.”
April gathered her hair in one hand, holding it back as she tilted her head to look him in the face. “I’ve lived with the idea of my father killing my mother and abandoning us for so long, this twist won’t come as a shock.”
“The only way we’re going to know for sure is if someone goes down to Rocky Point to investigate, and that’s not gonna be Libby—not for a while.” He folded his arms and puffed out his chest in case there was any doubt he meant business.
April drummed her fingers on his forearm. “Ooh, I like a man who’s large and i
n charge, especially when he’s protecting his woman.”
“Libby’s not... I mean, of course I’m protecting her. She’s vulnerable.” He narrowed his eyes at April, the troublemaker. “Why exactly did you stop by, anyway?”
She winked at Libby. “Just to see how the clothes were working out and if your friend needed anything else. Do you, Libby?”
“You were more than generous, and I, for one, am glad you came by.”
“Nobody handles Clay Archer, not even you, April.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She floated to the front door and blew them a kiss before she left.
“That was strange.” Libby dropped to the couch and covered her face with both hands. “When I saw her, it was like an immediate flash of recognition. It’s happening, Rob. If I went back to Rocky Point and my gallery, I’m sure the memories would start rolling in.”
He swallowed. He had no right to keep her here, but he’d do everything in his power, short of physical restraint, to persuade her not to return to Mexico. “I hope you realize going to Rocky Point would be the most dangerous move you could make right now. It’s a catch-22, but regaining your memory is going to put you at risk.”
“After that showdown with Pablo, they know for sure I don’t have any memory of what I was doing in that car on that road. I’m safe...for now.” She patted the cushion on the couch beside her. “Sit. Did I thank you for protecting me against Pablo?”
He lowered himself next to her. “I think you handled it.”
“Only because you were there.” She ran a hand down his thigh. “He wasn’t about to try anything with you there. If you hadn’t been...”
He cinched his fingers around her wrist, more to stop her hand traveling up his thigh than anything else. “I was there. I am here, and I’m going to see you through this.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t know how I got so lucky that you were the one who found me. If it had been anyone else, any other authority figure, my face would be plastered all over town or I’d be in jail for those drugs.”
“I don’t think so.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers, immediately regretting it. What kind of man took advantage of a woman with no identity? He didn’t even know if she were free.
He loosened his clasp on her hand, but she curled her fingers around his thumb.
“Why stop?” Her whispered words echoed in his head, as if they’d come from his own brain.
“You know why. It’s not a good idea for us to...hook up.”
“It seems like a really good idea to me right now.” She scooted in closer to him. “You’re my anchor, Rob.”
“I’m your only acquaintance. Of course you’re going to feel this way about me.”
She snorted lightly, her nostrils flaring with the effort. “Rosie is an acquaintance. April is an acquaintance now. I spent an intense hour with Jennifer today.”
“They don’t count. They’re all women, and you’re not living with them.” He traced the curve of her neck with his fingertip. “You want comfort. I understand. It must be scary as hell to be where you are right now. I get it.”
Turning her head, she pressed a kiss on his palm. “I don’t think you get it at all, Rob. I’m attracted to you. I like you, and, yeah, it would feel great to be connected to someone, but not just anyone. I’m sure Pablo would’ve been more than willing to...connect with me. You’re not just some port in a storm, my particular storm. You’re Rob Valdez and I want you.”
“Libby, what if you’re married?” He clasped the back of his neck. “You saw that baby today. What if you had one of those, or two? A worried husband? A frantic boyfriend? I know I’d be in a panic if I lost you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” She cupped his face with her hand and toyed with his earlobe. “I’m not with anyone in my real life, Rob. I know that as much as I know I’m Libby James, as much as I know I saw a dead body, as much as I know I’ve seen April Archer’s picture somewhere.”
“Bad comparisons. As tenuous as your memories are of those things, you still have some proof or image that they’re true. Just because you haven’t had any flashes of memory about a husband and children, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist out there.”
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “You don’t want to make love with me because you’re worried we’re cheating on some nameless, faceless person who probably doesn’t exist?”
Was he? He didn’t like making mistakes in his life. He’d worked hard to avoid missteps. Falling for someone else’s wife was not in his life plan.
But neither was picking up a strange woman and making all her problems his own.
He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, “There’s no hurry, is there? When you get your memory back and know for sure you’re single, we have time to explore if that’s what you still want.”
She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “You don’t have to be careful with me, Rob. In fact, I’m the last person you need to be careful with. I’m nobody. I’m a woman without a past and not much future.”
“You’re somebody to me.” He rested his cheek against the top of her soft hair. “And you’re worth protecting.”
She curled her legs beneath her and slanted her body across his, wrapping one arm around his waist. Her hair fanned out across his chest and he took a strand between two fingers and ran them down to the ends.
Her body felt warm against his, and her breathing deepened. The bed was still made up for her, but he didn’t want to move her. Didn’t want to move himself. Didn’t want to breathe.
He held her and looked down at her profile, studying every curve and her delicate bone structure. In sleep, her face lost its haunted look. Even when she smiled, it didn’t light up her eyes. It was as if she had to know who she was, who she’d been, before she could allow herself to just be.
He knew her desire to have sex with him came from a need to get lost in her feelings, a chance to stop thinking.
When he made love to Libby James, he wanted to be with the real Libby, someone who could give him all of herself unreservedly because she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted.
Would he ever have that chance? Was Libby James a married woman? Engaged? In love? He could wait to find out. For now, he had this. He ran his hand down her back.
She arched like a cat, and then burrowed into his chest.
He could sleep with her next to him like this all night...and probably would. Closing his eyes, he tilted back his head.
A few minutes later, or maybe it was a few hours, someone pounded on his front door and a woman’s cry pierced through the haze of sleep. He jerked forward, his arms going around Libby.
Thank God she was safe. Just as his heart rate returned to normal, he heard the cry again and the glass in his front door shook.
Libby sat up, blinking. “What was that?”
“Someone’s at the door.” He put his finger to his lips and scooted out from beneath Libby, still halfway draped across his lap.
He reached for his weapon on the end table next to the couch and staggered to his feet, shaking off the cobwebs of sleep.
Libby grabbed the back pocket of his jeans. “Be careful.”
Rob crept to his door and stood to the side. With his gun raised, he flicked aside the curtain and swore. “It’s Teresa...and she has the baby.”
Libby stumbled against his back, her hand to her throat. “Is Pablo with her?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“It’s a trick, Rob. If you open that door, Pablo will come out of the shadows.” She clutched his arm.
“I’m not so sure about that, Libby. Look at her face. She’s been beaten.” His finger twitched on the trigger of his gun as Teresa rapped on the window and uttered a garbled plea.
“What about the baby?”
He couldn’t take it anymore and turned the dead bolt. “If Pablo’s out there and makes a move, he’s a dead man. Stand back, Libby.”
He yanked open the door and grabbed Teresa’s arm through the narrow space. “Get inside.”
Teresa tripped across the threshold, and Libby steadied her.
Then through swollen and bloodied lips, Teresa said in Spanish, “You have to get away. He was sent here to kill you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Libby wrapped one arm around Teresa and held on to the baby with the other while Rob secured the front door.
He whipped around, still clutching his gun, and Teresa whimpered. “Is he out there? Does he know you’re here?”
Teresa’s eyes took up her entire face, which had blanched.
Scowling at Rob, Libby took Teresa’s arm and led her to the couch. She could extend sympathy to someone in worse condition than she was. She spoke to Teresa in Spanish. “Rob’s not going to hurt you. Where’s Pablo?”
Teresa explained that Pablo had put her and the baby on a bus back to Mexico, but she’d gotten off two stops later and returned here.
“To warn Libby? What do you know about Libby? Who’s Pablo? Who sent him to kill Libby?”
Libby held up a hand to Rob. “One question at a time, Rob. You’re confusing her... And it doesn’t help that your Spanish is atrocious and you’re waving a gun around.”
Rob shoved the gun in his waist in the back and crouched by the window.
Libby sat next to Teresa and stroked the baby’s cheek. She spoke to her in Spanish. “Pablo didn’t hurt the baby, did he?”
“No. He wouldn’t hurt the baby. She’s his daughter, and his name isn’t Pablo Bustamante.”
Libby nodded but pressed her lips together. He’d hurt his wife but not his daughter? How long would that last? “Why did he hurt you?”
“He said I didn’t do enough to make you think Luisa was yours.”
“I’m sorry, Teresa. If I thought he was going to harm you, I would’ve done a better job of playing along.”
Unraveling Jane Doe (Holding The Line Book 3) Page 12