by Chloe Lang
Mr. White nodded and his shoulders sagged slightly. “Of course, I understand. I’m just frustrated, Kathy. That’s all. Wait. I did bring another picture with me. It’s you and me together. I’m not sure I should show it to you or not. It might jog your memory too hard. Has she been seen by a doctor, Sheriff?”
Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “We weren’t able to come down from the mountain with her until now. The doctor just checked her out. She’s fine. He called it retrograde amnesia. He says her memory could return at any time.”
A thin smile spread across Sergei’s unremarkable face. “I’m out of line here. You took care of my girl when she needed help. I should be thanking you two.”
The man’s sudden change of demeanor eased Amber’s misgivings about him, but only a little. “Please show me the picture you brought with you.”
“I will if you promise to at least eat dinner with me. I’m in a suite at the hotel. We could dine alone and talk everything out.”
Before either Bryant or Emmett could decline his request, the sheriff held up his hand. “Wait, guys. I think these two do need to have some private time, but Mr. White, I think I have an idea that will satisfy all of us.” Jason looked at her. “Amber, would you be open to having a meal with Sergei in a public place?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff nodded his approval. “We have three places to choose from. There’s Phong’s Wok, Lucy’s Burgers, or Blue’s Diner. They’re all located here in the square around Central Park.”
“Hold on, Jason. I don’t think this is a good idea.” Bryant’s hesitation was clearly shared by Emmett.
“Even if he is her husband as he states, that doesn’t mean the rest of his story is true. What if Amber was running away from him? What if he was a terrible husband? I’m not leaving her alone with him until I know more, Jason,” the older Stone brother added.
“I hear you both,” the sheriff said. “I’m asking Mr. White to take her to one of the local eateries, but I’m also asking he sit in a table or booth, depending on where they choose to go, that is right by the window. That way you two can keep an eye on him right outside, and White and Amber can be alone. Make sense?”
“Fuck no,” Bryant growled.
Amber grabbed his hand and then grabbed Emmett’s with her other hand. “It’s a good idea. I’ll be okay. I’m not a little girl.”
“Little girl or not, you’re not going. Understand?” Emmett’s throaty, forceful tone made her tremble—but not in the good way.
They were being overprotective, which she comprehended. Sergei was a stranger to them and to her, but he also could be telling the truth. What reason would he have for lying?
She needed them to trust her. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll scream bloody murder until you come in to rescue me once again.”
“Do we have a deal, guys, or not?” Mr. White stood.
“Let me see the picture you mentioned you’d brought with you first,” she demanded.
His lips tightened into a thin line. “All right, Kathy.”
Sergei reached into his coat opposite where he’d placed his cell. He extracted the photo and handed it to her.
She gazed at the image of her next to Sergei White. She was smiling and so was he.
“Do you remember anything about this?” Emmett asked, his anxious tone shaking her to the core.
The wall remained solid and foreboding, but a single thought shot over its crest and landed inside her head. “This was someone’s birthday party, yes?” She looked up at Sergei, who was chewing on his lower lip.
He nodded. “Your twenty-fifth birthday, Kathy. Six months ago.”
She closed her eyes, trying to pull more from the other side of the blockage. Nothing came. She opened her eyes and stared back at the photo she held in her hands. The image of the smile on her face slackened her apprehension about Sergei some.
“A public place will do just fine. Chinese sounds good to me,” she said. “I’ve been living off sandwiches for way too long.”
“I don’t like this one damn bit, Amber.” Bryant handed her his cell.
“Neither do I,” Emmett added.
“Keep this with you.” Bryant brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Promise me you’ll call Emmett’s cell if you need us for anything. He’s number one on my speed dial.”
“I promise I will, Bryant.”
Emmett didn’t move his stare from Sergei. “Amber, we’ll be right outside watching Mr. White’s every move.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Mr. White pulled out his cell once again. “First, I need to let your parents know you’re safe, Kathy.” He typed a message into his phone. “All done. Let’s go see what this pissant town has to offer.”
* * * *
When Cody got back to the road after a full hour of climbing, he was still unhinged by what he’d found in the van.
Had Amber been driving it when she had her accident? As much as he believed she’d fallen from heaven onto the ranch by some kind of act of fate, he knew better. She was flesh and blood. A real woman. The van had to be the vehicle she’d been in. There was no other explanation he could come up with no matter how much he wanted another. Perhaps she’d been a passenger, even a hostage. He clung to that idea, no matter how far-fetched or how horrible to think, with every fiber of his being. If true, Amber was no longer a hostage of whatever creep had held her. She was safe now. If not, he prayed Amber’s memories would never return. Let her dark past remain a mystery to her. That would be best for her, and for him and his brothers.
He looked over at his horse, still tied to the tree twenty feet from the drop-off. “Good, boy.” Tuxedo’s ears were up, and his nostrils were flaring. “Settle down. Sorry I left you so long.”
Catching his breath from the hard climb back up the cliff, he looked at the horizon. The sun had already dipped below it, but there was still just enough light in the sky that he didn’t have to bring out the flashlight.
Before heading Tuxedo’s direction, he scanned the items he’d brought up the cliff. His jaw clenched once again. These weren’t good for Amber. Not one damn bit. Not good for any of them.
The purse held Amber’s driver’s license. Once again, he looked at her picture. God, she was beautiful. Twenty-five years old, turning twenty-six in another month. Her name was Katherine White. That didn’t fit her in his mind. She would be “Amber” forever to him.
The bag also had a slip of paper he thought might help solve the mystery, though he was worried what more he would discover if he continued pursuing the truth. But he knew he must. Whatever more he found about Amber, she was his woman, and he would not let past sins take her away from him no matter what. On the note were a name and a phone number. Nate Wright. Did that guy have anything to do with the other items he’d found in the van? How was Amber mixed up with him? The area code was the same as Destiny’s, which meant the man was in Colorado, but that could be anywhere from the entire Western border—Durango to Steamboat Springs—and the whole northern third of the state. Once bars appeared back on his cell’s service indicator, he planned on calling Mr. Wright. If the dude ever had done anything that hurt her or put her in danger, Cody would kill the son of a bitch.
Another perplexing item was the registration he’d found in the compartment in the dashboard. The van belonged to the Green Lakes Boys’ Home in Chicago, not Amber. Was the van stolen? Another call to make once his fucking phone was working again.
The last item was unfathomable to him. He’d brought up only this plastic bag, leaving the other two identical in every way to this one, including contents. Still shocked by the packages, he held this one up to take another look. It resembled broken glass, but he had no doubt it was crystal meth. His gut tightened.
What the hell was Amber doing with all those drugs? None of it made any sense to him. He needed to get to her fast. She was in trouble, and he wasn’t about to let her face that without him. No one would harm her or take her away from him—not even the law, should t
hey come looking for her. Whatever her past held, he would stand by her side and keep her safe. He believed his brothers would, too.
She’d cracked his ever-so-serious and always-dutiful brother’s walls. Emmett was changed. Bryant, too, was different. His twin had thrown caution to the wind and had fallen hard for Amber. And me? What about me? He’d been looking for so long, dreaming of a day when they could be a real family again—he and his brothers sharing, adoring, and loving a woman together. Amber was the love of his life. She was the one.
He heard a crack of a branch behind him, and his survival training kicked into gear. Tuxedo had been trying to warn him in his way that they weren’t alone, but he’d been too tired and too stupid to realize it.
Dropping his packages from the van to the ground, he ducked and spun around.
His move kept him from being hit over the head with a metal pipe.
Cody balled up his left hand and punched his attacker in the nuts, while freeing his pistol from its holster with his right hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cody spotted another man, pointing a thirty-eight his direction.
The man with the pipe crumpled to the ground with a thud.
With no hesitation, Cody emptied five of his gun’s bullets into the other man’s chest.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The creep got off a single shot that hit him in his left leg.
He remained low, scanning every direction for any other assholes that might have come with these two.
He found no one else.
Straightening up, he pointed the barrel of his gun at the guy he’d turned into a eunuch.
He scanned the other prick he’d filled with lead. Dead as a doornail.
He limped closer to the other man. “Who the fuck sent you? Nate Wright?”
Chapter Fourteen
Amber looked out the big picture window at Bryant and Emmett standing by the dragon statue that guarded the southwest corner of the park in the center of Destiny. Around the green space were the four roads that made up the city’s square and housed most of its business.
Knowing her cowboys were across the road, just on the other side of South Street, gave her some comfort. They’d never stopped glaring through the window of Phong’s Wok at the man who had come to take her away from Destiny.
Sergei stood by the stone Buddha near the front door, talking on his cell and glancing back at her several times. This was the fourth time he’d taken or made a call. He’d apologized each time, claiming the calls were work related.
She looked at her plate of orange chicken, which she’d only taken a couple of bites from. Her appetite had vanished the moment she’d walked into the sheriff’s office earlier. She was thirsty, but her glass of water had been empty for over fifteen minutes. There’d been no sign of staff or owners coming to their table with a pitcher. In fact, there was no sign of staff anywhere to be found. Even the customers had disappeared right after Mr. White and she arrived. Very strange, but a quick look at her cell told her that the current time—3:31—had to be a downtime around Destiny. Right this minute, she and White were in between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd.
Sergei sat back down at their table. “Okay. Where were we?”
“At the very beginning. How did you and I meet?”
“Why do you insist on grilling me like a two-bit criminal?” His angry tone was easy to detect.
“I’m sorry if my questions are making you feel that way. That’s not my intention.”
He rolled his eyes, and she felt a heavy pit in her gut. “You said you remembered a boy. Do you recall his name?”
She shook her head. “I wish I did. He seems so lost and sweet.”
“Hispanic, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s toss around some common Spanish boys’ names, Kathy. Maybe one of them will unlock your mind.”
“Okay. Maybe it will.”
“Let’s start with the letter J, shall we?”
“Sure thing,” she answered but wondered why he’d chosen the middle of the alphabet as opposed to the beginning.
Several that began with the letter A came to her mind. Alberto. Alfonzo. Antonio. Many more popped in her head but none of them were the boy’s name, of that she was certain.
“Let’s begin,” White said. “Jesus. Javier. Jose.”
“No. None of those sound right to me.” She closed her eyes and brought up the image of the boy in the back of her mind. The kid’s smile was so sweet. Who was he?
“Look at me, Kathy.” Sergei’s tone seemed to carry a suspicious note to Amber. Or was that just her overactive imagination getting the best of her?
She opened her eyes and looked directly into White’s. She watched him squeeze his eyes tight and, as before, chew on his lower lip. Silent alarms were firing inside her, but she wasn’t sure why. She had the oddest urge to wave Bryant and Emmett inside. Why? What reason would she be able to tell her cowboys if she motioned them in? That she didn’t like his tone? No way. Sergei might actually be telling the truth, and where did that leave her?
When White opened his eyes back up after what felt like at minimum a full minute to her, she watched his face cloud up with what seemed to her to be anger and volatility. She leaned back in her chair, trying to put an extra inch of space between them. Silly? Maybe, but she needed to be cautious.
He tapped his fingers on the table, creating a rat-tat-tat repetitive sound. Then he grabbed her hand. “What about ‘Juan’ for the boy’s name? You think that’s his name?”
She pulled her hand free from his grasp. Maybe she’d liked his touch in her former life, but right now, right here, she definitely didn’t. Everything inside her was recoiling from Sergei, but she wasn’t sure why or even if it was appropriate. How could she trust her gut when her head had taken a hike, leaving no forwarding address?
Sergei reached across the table and cupped her chin. Then he glanced out the window. He knew Bryant and Emmett were within a couple of leaps from them. Her cowboys.
His cell buzzed again. White looked at the screen and frowned. “I’ve got to take this, Kathy.”
“It’s fine, Sergei. Take your call.”
He stepped back to the place he’d been standing in before. He talked quietly into his cell, so quiet she couldn’t make out any of his words.
She placed her chopsticks on the side of her plate. No more bites. She felt completely frustrated by how this day had turned out. She thought about looking back at Bryant and Emmett, but she couldn’t right now. It would be much too painful, but more pain was heading her way. Sergei meant for her to go with him back to their home outside Chicago. She closed her eyes and tried to bring up anything about the place. Nothing. The only space that came back was the playroom in the brothers’ cabin. She crunched her eyelids even tighter. The picture of her and Sergei floated to the front of her mind. White had told her it had been taken at her birthday party. That didn’t feel right to her. Yes, it was a birthday party, but it wasn’t hers. Then whose? The face of the sweet boy glided on the surface of her consciousness, next to the invisible wall. Was the party where the photo had been taken for him? For Juan?
Juan. Juan Garcia. She remembered. It was his twelfth birthday. She’d put it together for him in the main room of the boys’ home where she worked. She opened her eyes and felt the tears of recollection roll down her cheek. She visualized the wall, which had kept her memories locked away since her accident, crumbling into dust and then vanishing from her mind forever.
Like a flood, everything she’d forgotten came crashing back into her consciousness. Her name was Kathy White, just as Sergei had told her. But his last name wasn’t “White,” and he wasn’t her husband. He was her boss. Sergei Mitrofanov was the director of the Green Lakes Boys’ Home right in the heart of Chicago. She was the resident therapist for the place. The home was part of a network of homes for orphans, which were founded and funded by an anonymous philanthropist. What would he think if he
knew one of his boys’ homes was fronting a drug dealer?
Her mind slipped back to the moment that had changed everything for her.
Kathy looked out her window into the parking lot at Juan, standing next to his bike. She wondered why he was out there by himself. The boys usually rode their bikes together, which was encouraged by the entire staff, including her. It was important that the boys’ bonds grew. They were family. They needed each other.
She was about to head down the hall and go outside and ask him when she spotted Sergei out of the corner of her eye through her window. The director walked up to Juan and towered over him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could see the boy’s trembling hands. Whatever Sergei was telling him frightened Juan.
Her mouth dropped as she saw the director reach in his suit coat and pull out a piece of paper and a plastic bag filled with what looked to her to be some kind of drug. Juan tucked the bag into his backpack before riding off on his bike.
Two emotions tied her up in a knot—disgust and fear. The first was for her sleazeball boss. The latter was for Juan.
She wasn’t sure what to do to get Juan out of harm’s way. She bolted to her car, passing right by the asshole.
“What’s wrong, Kathy?”
“Family emergency, Sergei,” she blurted, surprising herself.
Unfortunately, it took her two hours to locate Juan. She found him in a park a mile from Green Lakes. He sat in a swing, staring down at his feet.
“Juan,” she shouted.
He looked up and leapt to his feet. He ran to his bike, which was leaning against the wall near the swing set. She ran as fast as she could and got to him before he could escape.
Big tears fell from his brown eyes.
“Lo siento. Por favor, perdóname.” Though he spoke fluent Spanish, Juan mostly spoke English to her. Whenever he didn’t, she knew something was wrong. Really wrong.
“It’s okay, Juan. I’m here. Tell me what happened to the plastic bag Mr. Mitrofanov gave you in the parking lot.”