Memory Reload

by Rosemary Heim

  She closed her eyes, trying to bring the images into focus, trying to see the faces hidden from her by the darkness.

  Nothing.

  Ryan stood, picked up her camera bag and held out his hand. “C’mon, AJ. Let’s get out of here.” He led her out of the diner to the Explorer, tucked her into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt for her.

  Neither of them spoke as they drove toward the city. Her head hurt from trying to remember and her heart ached for the unknown losses. After twelve minutes she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” Behind his sunglasses, his glance flickered in her direction. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “How about what just happened back at the diner?”

  “You remembered your name.”

  She waved that away. “You think I’m married.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. “I…I don’t know. If I am…” She shook her head and looked out the side window, not really seeing any of the scenery as it flashed by. “It seems as though, if I am married, I should feel something, some sense of urgency to get back. And I don’t.”

  “So you’re running from something. Maybe it’s not a good marriage. Are you afraid to go back?”

  “No.” She shook her head as she searched the empty memories. “It’s not that. Nothing like the idea of going to the police. The word marriage doesn’t evoke any fear. It’s more like…” She turned in her seat to look at Ryan.

  “Like what?” His guarded tone hinted at some suspicion he wouldn’t come right out and admit.

  “Sadness. Like I’ve lost something and I’ll never find it again.”

  Ryan slowed, then pulled to the side of the road. He held on to the steering wheel as though it were a lifeline. Just then, that’s pretty much what it was. His tight grip was the only thing that kept him from reaching out to her.

  But he knew that sadness too well. The echoes from his childhood pried his hands from the wheel. He could no more ignore the pain in AJ’s voice than he could stop the tide from rising. He turned in his seat, taking off his sunglasses to finally look her in the eye.

  At the diner, he’d watched the blood drain from her face when he’d asked about marriage. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms then, to apologize for the pain his question had brought. He still wanted to. The need to protect her kept growing.

  All he would allow himself was a touch. Only one touch. He tucked her hair behind her ear and traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. The velvet softness of her skin sent a bolt of desire crashing headlong into his best intention to keep his distance.

  Damn. For all they knew, she could be married. Maybe to the presumably dead Justin. Maybe to the other brother, David, presumably very much alive. Ryan didn’t mess with married women. That was just plain wrong. He fought the urge to pull her closer. He lost the battle an inch at a time.

  He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand and leaned closer. The distance between them narrowed. He zeroed in on her lips as they parted slightly on a quick-drawn breath. She let it out in a rush as he paused a hairsbreadth from actually kissing her.

  Her warm breath triggered the heat of a desire he knew he should deny. “This is probably a bad idea,” he whispered, his lips barely touching hers as he formed the words.

  Her eyes drifted shut. “You’re probably right.”

  He inhaled, savoring the sunshine scent of her. Desire unfurled, reaching deep, pulling him tight in an iron-fisted grip. “We probably shouldn’t even consider this.”

  The moment stretched into an eternity as what he wanted came head-to-head with what he knew to be the right thing to do.

  She was attracted to him. There was no question about the attraction being mutual. All he needed to hear were the right words from her.

  Her warm sigh flowed over his skin, sending another wave of heat straight to his core. “Probably not.”

  That’s all she said. Two soft words.

  The wrong two.

  For a heartbeat he considered ignoring the one rule he’d held to for his entire adult life.

  If she’d been willing, he might have succeeded. But she wasn’t.

  It wouldn’t be right.

  Disappointment replaced want as he straightened away from her, putting much-needed distance between them. His sunglasses added another small barrier.

  Not until they knew who she was, what was going on and if there was a husband somewhere waiting for her to return. Once they knew that…

  He pushed the accelerator and the tires spun on the soft shoulder before grabbing and pulling them back onto the pavement.

  As they neared Kimo’s photo shop, he pushed thoughts of desire for AJ to the back of his mind. Time to switch to agent mode. When all was said and done, that was better, safer than allowing himself to feel for her.

  He began scanning the area. The streets were filled with a variety of cars, Jeeps and trucks. They weren’t nearly so obvious in the dark green four-by-four as they had been in the cherry-red Corvette. The occasional full-size sedan stood out, registering on his awareness. For the most part they seemed harmless enough.

  Except for the unmarked car staked out across the street from the shop. Ryan drove by, glancing at the driver of the car and getting a good enough look to know it wasn’t Ole Slim from yesterday.

  AJ touched his arm. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

  He drove down a couple blocks and turned around. On the next pass, Ryan looked through the shop windows. He couldn’t see much, but what he did make out sent a shiver down his back.

  Kimo stood behind the counter with his hands raised in the air.

  “Blast it to hell.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Is there a back door to the shop?”

  She nodded. “There are a couple parking spaces behind the lab. Kimo usually leaves the back door propped open.”

  He took the corner into the alley with tight control. “When I get out, you slide behind the wheel. I’m going to go in. If anyone other than me or Kimo comes out the door, you take off.”

  “But…”

  “Head back to the estate. Go to Jamie. You’ll be safe there.”

  “What about you? I can’t sit and do nothing while you get yourself shot.” Her voice cracked. “I won’t do that again.”

  Her words sent a chill down his spine. What the devil had she witnessed? He backed into one of the empty parking stalls, positioning the Explorer so she’d have an easy getaway if it came to that. He hoped it wouldn’t.

  When he turned to face her, her gray eyes shimmered with tears. He brushed a finger across her cheek, wiping away the single tear tracing a path over her smooth skin. The urge to hold her swelled up again, but there was no time. “AJ, I need you to promise that you’ll stay in the car until I come for you. I can’t help Kimo if I have to protect you, too.”

  “But who’ll watch your back?”

  Watch your back. Jamie’s warning echoed in his mind. He ran through his options. None held much promise.

  “Here’s what you can do. Keep an eye on the door. If anyone else goes in, lay on the horn. That’s all the warning I’ll need. I promise you, it’ll be okay.”

  He hoped he hadn’t just lied to her. He slipped out and pushed the door shut with a soft thud.

  The back door of Kimo’s shop stood propped open. At least there wouldn’t be any squeaking hinges to give away his entrance. Crouched low, he paused inside the door to slip off his sunglasses. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he surveyed the back room. A work island stood in the center of the space. Shelves, stacked high with photography equipment and supplies, lined the wall beside the door. To his left, a matte black revolving door led into a windowless room. A large machine extended from one wall of the room. A long, shallow metal sink and more shelves, these stocked with jugs of chemicals, filled the wall to his right.

  The doorway leadi
ng into the shop stood in front of him, a little left of center. Long strings of shells provided a curtain of sorts. From his position, he couldn’t see Kimo, but he could hear voices.

  He reached to the small of his back where his gun nestled against his spine with reassuring weight. He’d clipped on the holster almost without thinking as he’d dressed after his shower. Jamie’s warning had kicked the old instincts into gear and he hadn’t questioned the habit. His loose Hawaiian-print shirt hid the holstered gun from view, so he hadn’t needed to explain its presence to AJ. Now he was glad to have the handy little Walther PPK in his hand.

  He crab-walked closer to the front of the store, still keeping low, every sense on high alert. As his position changed, he could see farther into the shop. Kimo still held his hands in the air. From the tone of his voice, his patience had reached its limit.

  “I already told you. I don’t know what you’re looking for. Why don’t you just take the money and go.”

  “Listen, old man,” the gunman’s voice sounded as if he gargled with drain cleaner. “It’s not money I’m interested in. I want the film. You give it to me and you won’t get hurt.”

  “Which film? Take your pick, color, black-and-white, prints, slides. I’ll get a bag, you can take it—” Kimo’s words were cut off as the gunman grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him part way over the counter.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Drano-voice growled. “I want the film the girl dropped off yesterday.”

  “Which girl? I got over a hundred orders waiting to be picked up. Give me a name, I’ll find it for you, you can have it.” Panic laced Kimo’s voice.

  If this didn’t end soon, someone would get hurt. Ryan didn’t want it to be AJ’s friend. Leaning against the wall next to the door, he slowly stood up, all the time watching the two men as they moved down the counter. They stopped at the bins where orders were stored.

  “I need a name.”

  “She came in here yesterday morning. Long black hair in a braid. A man came in right behind her.”

  “Alex? Why would you want her film? She’s an artist…that’s it, isn’t it? You know she’s good and want to sell her stuff on the black market.”

  “Get the film,” Drano-voice barked.

  Kimo jumped. “It…it’s in the back room.”

  “Well then, let’s go get it.” The gunman vaulted over the counter and jerked his head toward the back room. “Lead on, old man.”

  Ryan slipped behind the work island and ducked down as they entered. The surface of the sink acted as a mirror, providing him with a distorted reflection of the two men as they moved into the room. He shifted his position, slowly circling the work island to get behind the gunman.

  Kimo led Drano-voice to the film processor. “Alex’s stuff won’t be coming out for a while. It’s still going through the machine.”

  “How long?”

  “Twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes.”

  Drano-voice cocked his revolver. “I’m not a patient man. I suggest you figure a way to hurry it up a bit.”

  Kimo waved his hands in front of his chest. “There’s nothing I can do. Once the machine starts processing the film, it’s all automatic.”

  “Wrong answer, old man. Try again. What are those handles for?”

  Kimo glanced at the machine, then back at the gunman. His eyes widened. “Those are for maintenance. When I clean the machine, I have to take out all the gears and rollers.”

  Drano leveled his gun at Kimo’s chest. “Bloodstains are hard to remove, I’ve been told.”

  AJ, sugar, what’s on that film to make it worth murder?

  Ryan shifted into a better position to tackle the gunman. He’d only get one chance to take him down. He better get it right, or Kimo would pay the price.

  A bell jangled out in the shop. Someone had come in from the street. Ryan ducked back around the work island as Drano turned to look over his shoulder.

  “Hello? Anyone here?” a child’s voice called.

  Kimo stood frozen, his eyes wide.

  “Uncle Kimo? Where are you?” The voice came closer to the back door.

  Drano swung around, the barrel of his gun digging into Kimo’s chest.

  “She’s my niece.”

  “I don’t care if she’s Princess Kaiulani herself. Get rid of her.” He waved Kimo to the curtained doorway.

  Kimo scurried out of the back room. Ryan couldn’t see anything from his position crouched behind the work island. He checked the reflection in the metal sink and nearly cursed. He could clearly see Drano’s reflection. Same as Drano could see Ryan’s if he happened to glance that way. Fortunately, Drano was more interested in what was going on in the shop.

  Kimo’s voice carried clearly to the back room. The shop owner answered his niece’s many questions about film speed and light. Finally the overhead bell jangled again, signaling the little girl’s departure.

  “Don’t even think of trying to call the police, old man,” Drano called out. Silence answered the implied threat. The curtain shifted and Kimo returned to the back room.

  He looked directly at Ryan. What little color was left beneath his dark complexion drained away.

  Ryan motioned him to keep silent, praying that Kimo would recognize him as a friend and not give away his presence.

  Kimo looked back at Drano, saying nothing. Ryan let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “Now, old man. About that film.”

  Kimo walked back to the machine, drawing Drano with him.

  Ryan sent a silent thanks to the old man. He shifted back around the work island. He stopped when he was directly behind Drano.

  “When will that film be out?”

  Kimo shook his head slowly from side to side. “I told you, maybe another twenty minutes yet. It depends on where it is among the other customers’ rolls.”

  “What about those doors on top? Why don’t you open one of those, pull out the stuff I want and we’ll be done.”

  “If I open those doors now, all the film will be ruined.”

  “I suppose I could ruin your shirt instead.”

  “We’ll never be able to tell which is Alex’s or what is on any of the film.”

  Drano swore. “That’d suit me fine, but my boss has other plans. I guess you and me are just going to wait.”

  Ryan rose behind Drano and jammed his gun into the man’s back. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you give your gun to Uncle Kimo, here? Then you and I can discuss your manners like proper gentlemen.”

  Drano spread his arms out to the sides. Kimo took the gun and stepped away, putting the work island between himself and the other two men.

  “Now then.” Ryan tucked his own gun back into his holster and began patting down Drano. “Didn’t your mama teach you that it’s not nice to take what don’t belong to you?”

  Drano let loose a string of four-letter words.

  “Tsk, tsk. Such language. My mama always said profanity was symptomatic of a poor vocabulary.” Ryan pulled a switchblade knife from Drano’s front pocket and dropped it into his own.

  “Too bad she didn’t tell you it’s not smart to stick your nose in other people’s business.”

  “She did, she did.” Ryan finished searching Drano, without finding any more weapons. He pulled his gun from his holster and turned Drano around to face him. “But you see, this is my business.”

  A movement in the doorway caught his attention. He shifted his hold on Drano and swung his gun around to aim at the new threat.

  AJ stood silhouetted in the door, the Glock clutched in her hands.

  Ryan let loose with a choice few words of his own. “Kimo, get her out of here.”

  The damage was done. AJ’s distraction was enough for Drano to land a punch to Ryan’s stomach. The blow didn’t pack much of a wallop, but it was enough to make him lose his hold on Drano’s shirtfront.

  Ryan swung a counterpunch and the fight was on in earnest. Drano was bigger and heavier, but Ryan was faster. Both r
ained blows on the other. Ryan managed to block more punches than Drano landed. It was a dead heat until Drano’s ham fist glanced off Ryan’s chin and landed a solid punch to his throat. It was a lucky punch, but it was enough to send Ryan to his knees.

  Drano barreled through the doorway into the shop. He leaped the counter and headed for the door to the street. The overhead bell jangled a cheery farewell before Ryan could vault over the counter. By the time he reached the door, Drano and his buddy in the stakeout car were disappearing around the corner.

  Damn. This is not good. The adrenaline surge began to fade. He leaned against the doorway wishing he could go someplace and regroup.

  The soft clacking of the shell curtain warned him that he wasn’t alone.

  He looked back over his shoulder. Kimo and AJ stood in the doorway staring at him.

  “I thought I told you to wait.” Anger propelled Ryan back across the store. He ignored the various muscle groups already protesting the abuse they’d just suffered.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I told you to wait.” He glared at AJ as he tested his jaw. That last punch might have done a lot more damage if it hadn’t slipped.

  “It took so long. I thought something happened, that you might need help.”

  “Not that an empty gun would do much good.”

  “I’m sorry. I…” AJ stammered to a stop. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  Ryan didn’t answer. He wanted to shout at her, but couldn’t. She stood her ground in spite of the fear in her eyes. Fear for him, not of him.

  Kimo watched the exchange then turned to AJ. “You know this man?”

  She nodded. “We met yesterday.”

  He turned a narrow-eyed stare at Ryan. “You didn’t waste any time, did you, haole?”

  AJ laid a restraining hand on the older man’s arm. “It’s all right, Uncle. He’s…” She faltered, casting a look at Ryan for some direction.

  “Let’s go in back.” Ryan rounded the counter and held the curtain out of the way. “We need to tell him, AJ. For his own safety, he needs to know.”