“All right. See you at home, then.”
Home. Somehow that word caused a funny feeling in his chest. Only when Saraʼs car drove off did Jack allow himself to turn around. A sigh slipped from him as he stared at the entrance of the sheriffʼs office, reluctant to go inside. Nope, he definitely didnʼt like cops. He was tempted to leave that damn motorcycle there, turn around, and walk away. Sure, heʼd been excited when Sara had informed him about Nickyʼs phone call. His first instinct had been to go get the bike, take the closest highway out of Texas, and leave godforsaken Starville for good. But then, sheʼd told him about his life in Chicago, the successful company that he had created, his business partner…and heʼd felt as if a black hole had opened right in front of him.
Jack drew another deep breath. No, he couldnʼt leave Starville yet; he needed to stay until he figured out why heʼd decided to return in the first place. Sara was right, he must have had a very good reason to come back to this damn town. At least, so he hoped, otherwise he must have lost his mind.
And then…there was Sara. Sheʼd sounded so concerned when sheʼd told him about his past, as if she were afraid to hurt him. A corner of his lips turned up. Sweet, sweet Sara—heaven knew why, but she always seemed to worry about him. Yes, maybe heʼd lost his mind. But no, he wasnʼt ready to let her go quite yet.
Squaring his shoulders, Jack pushed the doors open and walked in, hoping Lacrod wasnʼt waiting for him with a gun. When he reached the reception area, the young woman sitting behind the desk looked him up and down. “May I help you, sir?”
“Iʼm here to pick up my motorcycle. My nameʼs Jack Turner.”
The womanʼs eyes widened, and she seemed to gasp for air, opening and closing her mouth without uttering a sound. “S-sure. Take a seat, please; itʼs going to take a few minutes.” Her hands shook as she grabbed the phone and dialed a few numbers.
Frustration nearly made Jack curse, but he forced a nod and sat in one of the plastic chairs. Not a moment too soon, he saw Brent walk toward him. No Lacrod in sight, at least.
“Sorry I made you wait,” Brent started.
“No problem. Iʼm here for my bike.”
“Sure. Jessica, give Mr. Turner the papers he needs to sign, please. Itʼs for the official release,” he explained to him. Jack nodded and started signing the pile of papers the young woman kept handing him without meeting his gaze. Brent signed the last paper himself, then gave them all back to her. “Letʼs go. The bikeʼs parked in the back.”
Jack followed him and caught the sigh of relief that slipped from Jessica as they walked away. Good God, he was starting to feel like Jack the Ripper!
“Howʼre you doing?”
“Iʼm all right. I went to see Doc earlier, and he gave me some magic pills,” Jack joked, though he hadnʼt taken any yet. Nor was he planning to.
“Have you remembered anything?”
He frowned. “Is this question coming from Brent the cop or Brent the friend?”
“Would the answer be different?” Brent retorted with a smirk. Jack almost returned it. “No. And no, I havenʼt remembered anything.”
The sliding doors in front of them opened with a swish, and there it was. Parked among ten or so other vehicles was the most amazing thing Jack had ever seen.
His eyes were glued to the Harley as he took a few cautious steps toward it. In the last few days, heʼd thought so much about this bike. Not that he remembered it, but heʼd thought of it as his lifesaver; his escape from Starville, his chance for freedom. Now that he had it in front of him, though, everything felt different. Almost reverentially, Jack brushed his fingertips over the dent in the black-and-silver side. It was as if he suddenly knew there was a special bond between him and that gigantic metallic beast. This motorcycle was the only thing that he felt truly his.
“Itʼs in great condition, all things considered.”
He nodded at Brentʼs words but didnʼt tear his gaze from the bike. “Can I take it?”
“ʼCourse. Why do you think I made you sign that ridiculous pile of papers?” Brent joked, tossing him a set of keys.
“Thanks.”
Jack straddled the Harley almost in awe. His heart raced as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine started with a deep rumble that vibrated through his entire body. It was with extreme satisfaction that he left the sheriffʼs office behind, the wind blowing against his face as he rode the powerful motorcycle through Starvilleʼs narrow streets.
Before he knew it, he found himself on Main Street. He slowed down to take a curious look around, trying to spot anything familiar. This was the town he’d grown up in, yet everything looked foreign—until his eyes caught the faded, worn-out sign of The Cove. On a whim, he pulled over and got off the bike, his eyes fixed on the dinerʼs door.
Jack pushed the door open and walked inside as fast as he could, fearing heʼd change his mind if he thought about it too long. There were only two or three people inside. He had no idea what time it was, but apparently it wasnʼt rush hour. Relieved, he walked up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. He picked up a menu only to put it back down a second later. His stomach was growling, but he was too tense to eat anything.
“A Coke, please,” he said to the gray-haired bartender who was arranging bottles on a shelf behind the counter, his back to him. The man automatically nodded and poured the contents of a can in a glass, then turned to him with a kind smile…which died the instant he realized who was sitting in front of him.
“Holy— Turner!” he gasped in shock.
Jack took a swig of his soda, suddenly wishing it were whiskey. “So they say.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I wish I knew.”
The older man gave him a long, curious look. “So, is it true? You donʼt remember anything?”
He sighed. How many times had he answered this question in the last few days? “I had an accident.”
“Yeah. Isnʼt that convenient?”
Jack stiffened at the sarcastic voice behind him and slowly turned his head to meet the tall, bulky man whoʼd spoken. Neither his angry face nor his scruffy long beard rang any bells in his head.
“Stay out of this, Wayne. I donʼt want trouble,” the bartender scolded. He turned back to Jack, his hand stretched out over the counter. “My name is Hank. Iʼm the owner of this shack.”
Jack shook it with a nod. “I donʼt need to introduce myself, apparently.”
He grinned. “Nope.”
“Look, I donʼt mean to cause trouble, I—” The blow that hit the left side of his face caught him totally off guard, making him lose his balance. Jack instinctively moved all his weight to the right in order to keep from falling off the stool, but a sudden, excruciating pain radiated through his injured knee. Cursing, he tried to readjust on the stool, then raised a hand to his throbbing cheekbone. “What the—”
“Dammit, I told you to stay out of this!” Hank shouted at the man whoʼd hit Jack, who was now rubbing his sore knuckles. The man shot Jack a hostile look.
“Stop playing the role of the innocent victim, Turner. Nobodyʼs buying it, anyway.”
“Get out, Wayne,” Hank repeated firmly.
Wayne glowered at him but turned around and walked out. Still disoriented, Jack touched his aching cheekbone again with his thumb. Fuck, his eye was so swollen he could hardly feel it!
“Holy crap, you really are messed up! The Jack Turner I used to know would have never taken a blow like that. Not without countering with two or three, anyway,” Hank commented with amusement. Too bad the smirk on his face only irritated Jack more.
“He caught me by surprise,” he grumbled.
“Sure he did. Lucy, can we get some ice over here?” Hank shouted toward the back. A few moments later, a woman in her sixties rushed out of a back door holding a bucket full of ice. She froze on the spot as she noticed Jack. Hank promptly caught the bucket before it slipped out of her hands. “My goodness… Jack?”
He cocked his head and stud
ied her with curiosity, wishing he could remember something—anything—about these strangers who seemed to know him so well. With a curt nod, he grabbed the ice Hank was handing him.
“Jack, this is my wife, Lucy.”
He nodded again as he pressed the ice against the wound but cursed when a searing pain shot right into his eye.
“Sweet Lord, what happened to your eye?” the woman said without ceremony.
Hank huffed. “Wayne happened.”
“That brainless ape.” She filled a glass up with beer and handed it to Jack. He grabbed it with gratitude and took a big swallow.
“Jack, I hope you understand that many people in Starville were really close to J.T., myself included,” Hank interjected. “It wasnʼt easy for any of us to come to terms with what happened.”
“I do understand. As I said, I donʼt mean to cause trouble. I just came here because—I donʼt know, but shit, the sign outside is the first thing that has looked remotely familiar to me since I woke up after my damn accident.”
“Donʼt swear, dear,” Lucy scolded him gently. Hank tried not to laugh as Jack dropped his eyes, looking like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
They all turned toward the entrance at the sound of the door opening. With the glass of beer still in his hand, Jack stared at the gorgeous blonde who walked in, her hips swaying sensually in a white miniskirt. His eyes roamed over the red tank top, so tight that it was a miracle she was still breathing, and the long, golden curls that cascaded on her back just above lean hips. What caught Jackʼs attention the most, though, was the fact that somehow he knew heʼd met this woman before—and he knew he was right when their eyes met and her face turned whiter than a ghost.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, pressing a hand against her mouth. “Jack…”
Hank cleared his throat. “Jack, this is Charlene. You guys were, ah, pretty close years ago.”
Remembering his conversation with Sara, Jack nodded and stood up. As he started toward Charlene, though, she jumped back. Strange. It was almost as if she were afraid of him, he thought with a frown. Suddenly, he turned back to Hank and Lucy. “I would like to talk to Charlene in private, if you guys donʼt mind.”
“Iʼm not sure…”
Charlene surprisingly nodded. “Thatʼs okay.”
Hank and Lucy exchanged a concerned look. Hank sighed. “Fine. Only a few minutes, though. Itʼs getting late, and we need to get things ready before the dinner crowd starts showing up.”
“We’ll be right back.” Before she changed her mind, Jack snatched Charleneʼs hand and dragged her outside.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice still shaky. He didnʼt answer and kept walking with her in tow until they reached a small back street just behind the diner. When he stopped, Charlene immediately pulled her hand out of his hold. “What do you want?”
“Relax. I just want to talk to you.”
“Why?”
Jack cursed to himself as she took a step backward. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe approaching her like this was a mistake, after all. “Look, Iʼm sorry I dragged you here like this. But, please, donʼt be scared,” he said again in a more conciliatory tone.
She gave him a doubtful look but didnʼt comment.
“As Iʼm sure youʼve heard,” he continued, encouraged by her silence, “I had a severe motorcycle accident the night I came back to Starville, and at the moment, I donʼt have any memory of my past.”
Charlene took a hesitant step toward him, a half-wary, half-curious look on her face. “What happened to your eye?”
“Some Wayne.” He raised a thumb to it and grimaced. “He wasnʼt too enthusiastic about my return.”
“Iʼm afraid many people wonʼt be.”
“Yeah, Iʼm starting to get that.”
Cocking her head to the side, Charlene darted her tongue over her lips. “We used to have sex,” she blurted, her eyes challenging him to deny it.
Jack nodded, impassive. “So I heard.”
“The lake was our favorite spot. Brent Hayden caught us making out one time and almost had a heart attack.” This time she couldnʼt help smiling as he raised a brow.
“Youʼre kidding!”
“I never kid about sex, honey. Did I shock you?”
Jack smirked as he leaned back against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest. “Iʼm afraid itʼs gonna take much more than that to shock me.”
Charlene stepped back again, desperate to put some physical and mental distance between them. Against her will, she found herself wondering what might have happened between them if things had gone differently years ago. Would they still be together? Would they have a few children running around, babies with her blonde hair and his gorgeous green eyes? Charlene shook her head, crushing those silly thoughts. Things were the way they were. Nothing could change what had happened. And yet. She returned her gaze to him and studied his face, so familiar and yet so different at the same time. She had been crazy about Jack when they were younger, but the man he had become was a thousand times more handsome. And a thousand times more dangerous, she reminded herself. “I canʼt believe you forgot everything,” she said, trying to sound natural. “It must feel weird.”
He shrugged. “It does. Which is why I need your help.”
Suspicion filled her eyes again. “What kind of help?”
“Well, I heard you and I were together for quite a while, so I was hoping that you might be willing to tell me something about myself—what kind of person I used to be, what was going through my mind ten years ago. If you think I would be capable of killing a man.”
She winced. “I-I wouldnʼt know about that.”
“Really.”
Averting her gaze, she gave a quick look around. “Jack, Iʼm sorry. I know you donʼt remember anything about your past, and I understand your wanting to know what happened. But I canʼt help you. The truth is, yes, you and I were together for a while and had plenty of really good sex―but thatʼs about it. Outside of bed, I hardly knew you at all.”
Jackʼs eyes narrowed. She was lying. He knew it; he felt it in his gut. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and took a step forward, struggling to keep calm despite his frustration. “Fine. Tell me about J.T., then.”
Charlene stiffened again. “What about him?”
“Tell me what you know about the night he was murdered.”
He knew heʼd hit a sore spot when he heard her gasp. “W-why would I know anything about that night?”
“Maybe because you suddenly look very pale, sweetheart.”
“Thatʼs because youʼre scaring me.”
Jack scoffed a sarcastic laugh. “By doing what? Asking questions?”
“I donʼt like your tone. And even less do I like the implications in your questions.”
“Bullshit.”
Charlene started to leave then, but he snatched her arm. Fear flickered in her eyes, and it only made him more certain that she was keeping something from him. “Why donʼt you answer me? It shouldnʼt be a problem if you have nothing to hide.”
“I already told the police everything I know about that night.” Her voice shook as she tried to jerk her arm free but failed miserably in her intent.
“Iʼm not the police.”
“Damn right, youʼre not! And I donʼt owe you any answers. Now, let me go!”
“Thatʼs enough!”
They both turned around at Hankʼs severe voice. Jack immediately released Charleneʼs arm and heard her sigh of relief. “Weʼre only talking, Hank.”
“Yeah, well, itʼs getting late, and Charlene needs to get to work,” the older man said, wrapping a protective arm around the girlʼs shoulders. A few seconds later, he opened the back door, and they both disappeared inside the diner.
Jack cursed under his breath.
***
It was dark by the time he pulled up in Saraʼs driveway and shut the motorcycle off. Heʼd been riding for hours, feeling
the need to be alone with his thoughts, and before he knew it, the sun had been long gone.
Inside the house, everything was even darker and quieter than outside, until he noticed the dim stream of light coming from under the denʼs closed door. Jack knocked lightly, but when nobody answered, he decided heʼd been patient enough tonight and pushed the door open without ceremony. Sara was sitting at her desk, completely absorbed in whatever she was typing on her computer. She must have taken a shower, because she was wearing only a white robe, and her hair was still damp and tied in a disordered bun at the top of her head. His frustration started to melt away. “Sara.”
As she turned to him with a start, Jack nearly grinned at the usual ginormous glasses she wore when she worked. She was a mess—in a sweet, adorable way. And the most beautiful sight heʼd ever laid his eyes on.
“Jack! God, you freaked me out!”
“Sorry. I knocked, but I guess you didnʼt hear me.”
“I must have been too focused.” She sighed and turned around to shut the computer down. Jack wondered what in the world she might be working on, since school hadnʼt even started yet.
“Trouble with inspiration?” he joked, following her out of the den and into the kitchen.
She stilled for a second. “Something like that. Ohmygosh!” She gasped, staring at him. “What happened to your face?”
He touched his sore cheekbone with his fingers. “I was hoping you wouldnʼt notice.”
“Yeah, right. Holy crap, Jack, your eye looks like itʼs about to pop out!” Sara pushed him down unceremoniously on a stool, opened the freezer, and pulled out some ice cubes. After wrapping them in a clean towel, she walked back to him and delicately pressed it against his eye.
Jack winced but didnʼt protest. The entire left side of his face felt as if it were on fire—but hell, it was well worth it if she took care of him like this.
“What happened?” she asked again in a murmur.
“It doesnʼt matter.”
Her brows knitted. “I beg to differ.”
“Itʼs a long story.”
“Good. I have plenty of time to hear it.”
Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) Page 12