“Dance with you? In the rain? To no music?”
“Like I said: foolhardy things…”
He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off my feet. Our faces were only inches apart as he turned me around slowly, as if we were dancing to some sweet old song.
“Can it stay like this?” I asked him before I realized the words had left my mouth.
“I think we might want to try it with you on two good feet and not in the rain, but I suppose it’s possible,” he replied. His grin slowly spread to a full smile that could have lifted the cloud above us if he’d turned it on the wispy grey mass.
“You should go work, Gabe. You can’t lose this place. I know how important it is to you.”
His grip on me tightened for just a moment before it lightened, and he placed me down on the ground.
“I’ll be in before nightfall,” he said, cupping my wet face in his hands.
“I’ll be waiting,” I whispered back.
With that, he leaned down and planted the kiss I’d been anticipating earlier that morning lightly on my lips. He was gone right after, jogging back to the running tractor. As I made my way up the porch stairs, he drove off the way he had before. But this time he looked back at me.
***
He returned at nightfall, just as he’d said he would. He was caked in dust and sweat, and looked sexy as hell. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him as he walked through the living room, headed for the shower upstairs. Noticing my stare, he smiled at me—a subtle, sultry smile that told me he understood exactly what I was thinking in that moment. I immediately blushed and shied away. My retreat earned me a laugh as he disappeared into the piano room. Whatever had been brewing between us was about to come to a head.
But not in the way I expected.
Chapter 13
Gabe joined me in the kitchen, flipping on the tiny TV on the counter. It was a welcome distraction from the growing tension between us. My heart raced as I avoided Gabe’s gaze. I knew we were on a precipice. If I looked up at him, there would be no going back. Though my body craved that, my mind was less certain that the choice would be a wise one.
When Gabe stepped in front of me, silently demanding my attention, I let my eyes drift over to the TV screen. The local news was doing a feature on the string of freak storms that had pummeled eastern Iowa and all the way to western Indiana in the past week, showing interviews from random people across those states. Even though I could hear Gabe talking to me, I couldn’t look away. Instead, I reached to the TV and turned up the volume.
There was no way for me to have known that that single, innocuous act would be the key to regaining all that I had lost.
The young female reporter finished up her questions with a farmer from somewhere in rural Iowa about damage to his crops before the segment cut to another storm victim. A tall, dark-haired man with penetrating hazel eyes stared at me through the screen with an intensity that stopped my heart for a beat or two. When it started up again, it raced wildly.
“So I understand that you witnessed a plane crash the other day?”
“Yes,” he said, his tone calm and neutral. “A small private jet. It just fell from the sky and erupted in flames.”
“That must have been terrible,” she pressed, making an emotional play for ratings, no doubt.
“It was. I knew the passengers. One of them is still unaccounted for.” My hand drifted up to the TV and started tracing the outline of his face. I hadn’t felt it move until I saw it in front of me.
“Oh my God,” the reporter gasped with genuine shock. “I’m so sorry. Have the police found anything to help locate him?”
“Her. And no, nothing. It’s as if she just vanished into thin air,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “As if the storm ripped her away from the wreckage.”
“Do you have a photo of her that we can share? Maybe someone out there has seen something that could help in the search?”
“Sadly, I don’t. But I have faith that she will be found. I will not rest until she is.”
By that point in his interview, my face was practically pressed against the screen—my eyes unblinking. I was so drawn to him, this stranger I didn’t know. I wanted to climb through the TV and go to him.
If only that had been possible.
“Do you recognize him, Phira?” Gabe asked, startling me. I’d been so fixated on the screen that I’d forgotten he was in the room. In truth, I’d forgotten where I was entirely. All my focus was on the mysterious man.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my finger still circling his face. “But I feel like I should.”
“Is he—” Gabe cut himself off, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Is he Nico? Do you think that could be him?” I shook my head no. The feeling I had looking at him was nothing like the anger I felt when that name came to mind. “Maybe we can call the station and get some information about whoever that was. Maybe the reporter has his phone number or something.”
I could hear Gabe in the background rummaging around for a pen and paper. Then I heard him call information to get a number for the news channel. All the while, I just hovered in front of the TV, staring at the weather man. My unknown man was long gone—I knew that—but in my mind, I desperately wanted him to reappear.
I wanted him to say my name.
I wanted to be the woman he was looking for.
“Yes, hi. My name is Gabe Hunter, and I’m calling about the segment your station just played about the storms in the area…” The one-sided conversation didn't go on for very long before Gabe was thanking whoever was on the line for their time, disappointment heavy in his voice. “Sorry, Phira. They only got a first name from him and no phone number. It’s a total dead end.”
“That’s okay,” I said softly, forcing my attention from the TV. “You tried. That’s all you could do.”
He looked at me, the frustration in his expression melting away slowly.
“The way you floated over to the TV,” he started, exhaling hard. “I was sure you remembered him…that maybe he was your—”
He never did finish that sentence.
“I can’t explain it,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “It was like he demanded my attention through the television.”
“Sure seemed that way,” Gabe muttered to himself.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter now, though, does it? Even if I did know him, I don’t remember anything about him, and we have no way of tracking him down, so it's useless standing around pouting about it.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed at me, his mind working overtime.
“Wait a minute,” he said, grabbing his notepad. “He said there was a plane crash. A jet.”
“Yeah…and?”
“And he said his female friend from the plane was missing, right?”
“Mhmm…”
“We need to find out the details of that flight. Now.”
He picked up the phone again and waited for the other person to pick up.
“Deputy Hanson? Yeah, it’s Gabe Hunter. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to find out what you can about a private jet that crashed in the area in the past few days. Can you do that?” He waited for a second in silence before a wide smile crossed his face. “Excellent. Thanks.”
He hung up and put the phone down.
“What? What did you find out?” I asked, my excitement growing with every word I spoke.
“He’s going to look into it and get back to me.”
“Couldn’t we just google it or something? Wouldn’t that be faster?”
“It would, if I had internet service out here,” he replied, looking ashamed. “It’s expensive. I don’t have money for extras like that. No cell phone either.”
“Oh. That does make that challenging.”
“We could go into town. I think one of the shops there has wifi that you can use, but I don’t have a computer either. No laptop. No tablet.”
“And yet somehow you survive,” I said wit
h a playful wink.
“I’m a miracle of sorts, I guess.”
“That you are, Gabe. That you are.”
“If Hanson can find out who was supposed to be on that flight, Phira, do you know what that means?”
“It means you’ll know if I was one of them?”
He scoffed.
“Obviously, but we can find where you came from. Who you were with.”
“And you’ll finally be rid of me,” I replied. My comment was meant to be humorous, but my delivery was far from comedic. The pain in Gabe's eyes at my observation and failed joke was hard to see. There was no denying it; he had become attached to me in a short time.
And I to him.
He stepped closer to wrap his strong arms around me and pull me tight against him.
“What if I don’t want to be rid of you?”
I knew his question had been rhetorical. He knew I would have to return home once we found out who I was. But what he didn’t know was how a part of me longed to stay, regardless of whether or not I remembered my past. That I wanted to be the Phira I was when I was with him. I suspected she was a far better person than the one who would resurface with my memory.
And I highly doubted he’d feel the same about her.
“When the time comes, I think you will,” I replied, extending my neck to look up at him. “But let’s not worry about that now.” Taking a cue from Cheryl, I pressed up onto my toes and brushed my lips against his. “Let’s worry about this instead.”
I kissed him lightly, wanting to remember the feel of my mouth on his. If our time was destined to end, I wanted to make the most of it while I could.
Judging by his response, he felt the same way.
His hand was soon entangled in my dark curls, pulling me tighter against him, his kiss harder and more desperate than mine had been. But unlike the previous night, when fear and a near-death experience had fueled our actions, this time we were in complete control.
He picked me up and put me down on the counter, pressing his body between my legs. The moan that escaped him when he pushed against me made my heart race faster.
“Phira,” he groaned, his voice low and husky and full of want.
“Not here, Gabe,” I whispered in his ear as he kissed his way down my neck. “Your mom…”
He made a strange growling sound in frustration, knowing I was right, then picked me up by my ass and threw me over his shoulder. The move was very Neanderthal in nature—very “me Tarzan, you Jane”—but it was hot nonetheless. Sweet, caring Gabe was on a mission. One to separate me from my pants, and it seemed that not even his mother would derail him from succeeding.
All he had to do was carry me upstairs, and he was home free.
Even after the whoring memories I’d had, I realized that Gabe was right. I could choose who I would be from this point on. And sleeping with him would be nothing like those tawdry memories.
Nothing at all.
He practically ran through the living room into the adjacent one, me giggling like a schoolgirl along the way. I found his enthusiasm entertaining. He was almost to the newel post, ready to round the corner and take the stairs two at a time, but the laundry I’d placed at the bottom of the stairs had other ideas.
The floor sniper kind.
Gabe, in his quest to take me to bed, didn’t notice the tiny pile of clothing lying there, and he slipped on an errant shirt. He tried to catch his balance, but my weight on his shoulders proved too much, and the two of us went crashing to the floor with a thunderous boom. I landed on top of him, which kept my ankle from getting wrecked up further, but poor Gabe whacked his head on the floor—hard. He seemed a little out of it for a minute.
The mood had sufficiently been killed.
“Jesus, Gabe! Are you all right?”
He moaned a little and tried to prop himself on his elbows from his supine position. His hands slipped out from under him twice before he managed to push up to a seated position. There was already a lump on his left temple where it had hit the wall on his way down. I was sure the back of his head didn’t look much better.
“I’m going to get some ice,” I said, scrambling to my feet. I hopped along the wall to the kitchen without my crutches and grabbed the pack I'd been putting on my ankle. When I returned to the piano room, I found Gabe sitting on the bench, facing me as I hopped into the room.
“Do you find concussions sexy?” he asked, wincing when I pressed the ice pack against his head.
“You seem to think my amnesia’s pretty hot, so I think it’s only fair.” He looked up at me and laughed, instantly grabbing his side when he did. Apparently he’d banged up his ribs in the fall too. I’d told him I weighed more than he thought.
“Girl, you really are a handful.”
“Apparently I’m more of an unwieldy load, given how we just fell like a sack of potatoes.”
“Stop!” he said, trying hard not to laugh at my remarks. “I gotta find a way to shut that mouth of yours for a bit until I can bind up my ribs.”
“I have some ideas,” I replied, wiggling my eyebrows.
The speed with which his expression bled from amusement to lust was impressive. Somewhere deep within him a battle raged between his need to tend to his wounds and his need to get laid.
He moved to stand, his lower half having won the war over his brain, but stopped himself the second his butt made it off the bench. A second later, it was parked right back where it had just been.
“I’d love to learn more about those ideas, Phira, but I’m going to have to take a rain check. Unfortunately I’m in no shape for that kind of extracurricular activity.”
“What a shame,” I said, feigning a pout.
I came to sit down beside him, our thighs barely touching. His hand slid over to mine, taking it in his and resting it in my lap. It was a sweet gesture after such a sexually charged encounter, and I found comfort in that. He was unlike the men from my memories. He actually wanted me for me.
Or the me I was at the moment.
“I’ve seen you sitting in here…through the window,” he started, looking at the empty wall on the far side of the room. “You look so at peace when you’re at the piano. It reminds me of my mom. The joy I always saw in her face when she played.”
“I like it,” I replied, looking over my shoulder at the well-used instrument. “Sitting at the piano feels like second nature to me—so does singing, for that matter. They’re obviously hardwired into my memory. I must have spent a lot of time doing both.”
“You have a beautiful voice,” he said softly, turning to look at me. I shied away from his compliment, taking a sudden interest in the grain of the wood floor beneath my feet.
“Thanks.”
“But there’s a note of sadness in it when you sing that I just can’t make sense of. It contrasts the joy in your expression when you play. I tried to write that off at first, but it’s still bugging me. I can’t figure it out.”
“Add that to the ever-growing list of Phira mysteries,” I joked. He didn’t reply. Instead, he took my chin in his hand and gently turned my face up to his.
“I want to erase that sadness, Phira. I really wish I knew how.”
“Maybe it’s hardwired too.” My suggestion was met with a concerned expression.
“Maybe,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss me. It was soft and sweet, and it stole away the anxiety I felt every time I contemplated who I had been before I woke up in his field. “Maybe your mind just needs to do a little remodeling.”
“How?” I whispered into his lips as they pressed against mine.
“Sing for me, Phira,” he said, so softly that I nearly missed his words.
But something in the back of my mind sprang to life the second he uttered them.
“What did you say?” I asked, my voice quiet though my uneasiness raged loudly within me.
He paused for a moment, pulling away to look at me. His dark eyes held a familiar stare that I couldn’t quite place. Not yet.
/>
“Sing for me, Phira.”
And I wanted to. I wanted to hold on to the fantasy that I could spend my days with Gabe at my side while I played the piano, my past no longer a concern. But I couldn’t.
My mind would no longer allow it.
Adrenaline shot through me and I jumped up off of the bench with no concern for my ankle. It was the least of my worries. I was too busy drowning in the rapid-fire slideshow of my life that inundated my mind.
I saw it all: the storm, the crash, my brothers, TS, and so much more. In a blink my mind unraveled two years of my life, leaving me standing in the wake of the disaster I had caused in Little Church, Nico by my side screaming at me. I clutched my chest, gasping for breath as though I hadn’t taken one in far too long. Judging by the expression on Gabe's face as he hovered above me, saying something that I either couldn’t hear or couldn’t comprehend, I probably hadn’t.
Only when he physically shook me by my shoulders did I start to snap out of it.
“Phira! Phira, what’s happening?” he shouted, fear in his eyes.
I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, staring at him with wide eyes.
“I remember,” I whispered, disbelief in my tone.
“What? What do you remember?”
“All of it,” I said, unable to look at his hopeful eyes any longer. I pulled away from him to go to the window. I needed space. I needed to wrap my head around everything I’d just seen.
I took one step on my bad ankle and crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, pulling up the leg of my pants to stare at the collage of black and blue that encircled my ankle. I’d never been bruised like that before. Not once in my life.
And that’s when the worst reality of all slapped me; when my entire house of cards collapsed around me. I was missing something—something I hadn’t been without for the past two years. Something that was so much a part of me that I couldn’t fathom how it was gone.
The angry outbursts I’d had while on Gabe’s farm should have ended so differently than they had. The fact that they hadn’t only reinforced what I was both terrified and thrilled to admit in that moment. The thrum of darkness that I’d battled forever no longer coursed through me. The powers that I feared no longer threatened to escape. Whatever curse my abilities had become had been mysteriously lifted. And though I was elated to be freed of my burden, I knew I’d been strapped with another almost equally terrifying.
Live Wire (Blue-Eyed Bomb #1) Page 14