by Mia Caldwell
“You can look, but don’t disturb her,” Joann said. “She needs her rest.”
Merrick looked in on the girl, and for the third time in twenty-four hours, he felt his heart squeezed inside his chest. What was it about her? Yeah, he wanted to keep her around because of her talent, and yeah, even with the bandage around her head, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was an enigma to him. He didn’t know a thing about her – other than that she sang like an angel and had moves the devil’s harlot would envy. Why was he so entranced?
A part of him hoped her amnesia would still be in force when she woke up. He’d decided he would tell her lies, make up stories, whatever it took to make sure she’d agree to go back with him. And, as he watched her chest heave slowly under the covers, he realized that it was about more than just procuring a great talent before someone else did. More than anything, he just wanted to protect her, which meant getting her the hell away from Misty Falls.
When Merrick returned to the table, he avoided chitchat. He was trying to come up with the right words. He needed Charlie and Joann’s help if he was going to be successful in executing his plan. Joann put some eggs and bacon on his plate and stuck the dish in front of him, but Merrick ignored it.
“Charlie, Joann,” he began, his tone serious. “I need you to do me a big favor.”
“Anything,” Charlie said immediately, but Joann crossed her arms and kept her mouth in a thin line. Did she know what was coming?
“It’s about the girl and her amnesia. If she wakes up and still doesn’t remember anything, I’d like to keep it that way for now and not tell her anything about what happened last night.”
“What are you saying?” Joann said.
“It’s clear she’s in some kind of serious trouble in this town, and the only way I can think to keep her safe is to get her away from here, as soon as possible.”
He paused and checked for a reaction. Charlie nodded as if that made perfect sense. Joann pursed her lips but didn’t argue with him. Encouraged, Merrick went on.
“So, follow my lead. Don’t mention guns, or the sheriff, or even that she probably lives in Misty Falls.”
“So, you want us to lie about who she is and where she’s from?” Joann said.
Merrick didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice, and he didn’t appreciate her tone. She was supposed to be his employee, not his mother. He wasn’t used to having his dictates second-guessed.
“That is exactly correct,” he said without guilt. “Just follow my lead, and only repeat what I tell her, nothing else. Are we clear?”
“What if she remembers what you said last night, when you told her you were engaged? Are we to go along with that lie as well?” Joann said, asking the question as if clarifying a color choice at the paint store.
Merrick started. Had he really said that? He’d totally forgotten. What in the hell had he been thinking?
“Well, she was under the influence of the doctor’s pain meds, so I’m pretty sure she won’t remember any of that. I’ve got a helicopter coming, and I plan to take her back with me to Atlantic City.”
“What about the MRI Doctor Mitchell suggested?”
“I’ll see that she gets top-notch medical attention as soon as we arrive in Jersey.”
Joann’s face softened. “Alright. I suppose that makes sense.”
Merrick saw her brow furrow again. “But what do we do if she remembers everything, including her real name, and what happened last night? What then?”
“Hello?” A tentative voice caused the three people at the table to start and turn around. Merrick’s heart thudded as he spotted the girl standing in the doorway of the guest room. His face heated with guilt. How long had she been standing there? Had she heard what they’d been saying?
The girl’s legs wobbled, and she grabbed for the doorjamb to stop her fall. In an instant, Merrick was at her side, guiding her by the elbow to the closest place to sit down. After he settled her onto the small couch, he knelt down beside her and held her hands.
“How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?” he asked, afraid of what she might say.
“I’m hungry.”
That broke the tension. Everyone including Merrick laughed. She looked at them, and her face lit into a smile so broad it made Merrick’s heart ache.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing, dear. We’re just glad you’re feeling better,” said Joann. “Let me get you something to eat.” Joann headed to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a plate filled with bacon, eggs and toast.
“How do you like your coffee, dear?” Joann asked.
“Lots of cream, no sugar,” the girl said, without the slightest hesitation.
If she remembers how she likes her coffee… Something twisted in Merrick’s stomach. She’d want to leave soon, to go back to her life. He couldn’t think about that right now.
But to his relief, for the next few minutes, the girl didn’t ask any questions, nor did she ask for a phone or talk about the night before. She had a one-track mind. He found himself smiling as he watched her enjoy her food. He marveled at her gusto and the brightness in her eyes. Gone were the haunted, terrified eyes from the night before. She seemed happy and content. Merrick’s throat tightened.
“Excuse me,” he said. He got up from the table and went outside. Pacing along the dirt driveway, he crunched pine needles with every step. It was driving him mad not knowing where he stood. He needed to know what, if anything, she remembered, but he was afraid to ask. What if she asked for a ride home, a ride back to that bastard? He couldn’t allow that. He needed to find a way to convince her to come back with him, to leave Misty Falls.
When he came back inside the cottage, the girl was strolling around the small home, taking in the shabby chic interior as she picked up and examined every knickknack and book in the room. She looked happy and relaxed. Gone was the yellow dress, replaced by an oversized t-shirt and a pair of men’s sweatpants. Despite her unfashionable ill-fitting attire, she looked sexy as hell. His heart rate quickened as he saw her run her fingers lightly along a wall of small paintings. Clearly reproductions since he recognized several old masters, each one placed inside the same kind of intricately carved wooden frames.
He realized she was humming. He recognized the tune, and the hope that she’d forgotten her past disappeared. She was humming the song from last night. If she could remember the song from the night before, then that probably meant she no longer had amnesia. Damn. He hated not knowing. He gritted his teeth and walked over to her, determined to find out.
“Do you know the lyrics to the song you’re humming?” he asked casually.
“Oh,” she said, starting. Her face lit up into a big smile. “I didn’t see you there. What did you say?”
“Do you know the lyrics, to that song you’re humming?
“Of course I know the lyrics,” she said as if surprised he could ask such a silly question. “I know all the lyrics to all the great musicals. I love musicals. Why do you ask?”
Merrick didn’t know how to answer.
Joann came into the room, drying a just-washed frying pan. “I see you’re starting to remember things, dear. That’s excellent. What would you prefer I call you?”
“Huh?” the girl said as her brow furrowed in confusion.
Merrick tried to silence Joann with a glare, but she wasn’t giving him any eye contact.
“Your name, honey. Do you remember your name?” Joann asked.
Merrick wished he was close enough to stomp on her foot.
The girl laughed nervously, then said in a voice much higher than before, “It’s just the silliest thing, I can’t remember my name. Isn’t that hysterical?”
Relief and guilt both flooded Merrick at the same time. Relief that she didn’t know who she was, and guilt because she was so upset about not knowing. Joann moved to comfort the girl, but she put out a hand to stop her.
“It’s okay, we can ask him,” she
said and pointed at Merrick. “I’m sure my fiancé knows my name.”
Merrick couldn’t speak. Was she on to him? Was she messing with him? Was she rubbing his lie in his face?
The girl faltered again, and this time Joann rushed to her side. She led her to a nearby couch and helped her to sit down. As soon as she was seated, she grabbed a throw and wrapped it around her shoulders. Merrick could see that she was trembling, and Joann glared at him.
When the girl lifted her face to wait for his response, he saw that her eyes were wide and wet. He could read her now. She wasn’t faking anything; she wasn’t trying to rub anything in his face. She didn’t know who she was, and it scared the hell out of her.
When her lips began to quiver and Merrick heard the rattling of her teeth, he made a decision. Moving to the couch, he scooped her into his arms. She burst into tears, shaking as she cried. He held her, his chest expanding as he breathed in her heady scent and compressing as he imagined the fear and confusion she had to be going through.
“Don’t stress, honey,” he said as he kissed the top of her head. “You had an accident, that’s all, and you hit your head pretty bad. It’s just a little memory loss. Everything will come back to you soon. I promise.”
When the sobbing slowed, Merrick released her and thought about giving her some space. But, when he started to get up, the girl grabbed for his hand, gripping his fingers like she was drowning and his hand was the only thing keeping her alive. His Irish white hand interlaced with her rich honey fingers, and he squeezed them tight, letting her know he was there for her.
She looked at him with sad, innocent eyes. “Please tell me my name.”
Merrick gulped. He didn’t know her real name. He only knew one name for her.
“Bombshell,” he blurted, before realizing how idiotic that sounded.
“That’s a funny kind of name. Bombshell.”
She fixed Merrick with her gaze, then she dropped her head. “I feel so bad about this,” she began. “I know you said that we’re engaged, but I… I can’t remember your name either.”
He should be explaining that she had heard wrong. That they had never been engaged, that she had been under the influence of pain meds when she’d misheard him. He should have taken that opportunity to set things straight and then work on convincing her to go back with him for logical reasons, such as furthering her career and avoiding a lunatic sheriff. But she seemed so miserable, and so fragile, he couldn’t do it. And when her lips quivered, all he wanted was to kiss them still. Hold her. Never let her go.
He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, calming her.
“Please don’t worry about that, sweetheart, I understand. My name is Merrick, Merrick Flynn.”
Upon hearing his name, the girl seemed to relax. A tiny smile appeared on her face and almost reached her eyes. “So, that means I’m going to be Bombshell Flynn?”
“Sugar, I’m sorry, Bombshell is just your stage name, not your real name,” Merrick blurted before realizing what that meant.
“What’s my real name, then?” she asked. Merrick had no idea what to say. Why couldn’t she have just stayed Bombshell? Well, it was too late now. He glanced at Joann, desperate for some help. She shrugged, equally perplexed.
Merrick peeked surreptitiously about the room and focused on the mini framed masters. He spotted the Mona Lisa, a van Gogh and a van Dyck. “Uh, your real name is Mona Lisa – Mona Lisa Van Dyke.”
“Mona Lisa Van Dyke,” the girl said. She repeated the name over and over again, rolling it around on her tongue like a lemon drop. “I like it, it sounds rich. Am I rich? Are my parents rich?”
A warning flag snapped in the back of Merrick’s mind. Was she playing him? Did she know he was a billionaire? Was this all part of some elaborate gold digger con and he was the mark? He watched her face carefully. No tells. If she was conning him, he’d have to keep her out of the poker room.
“Merrick?” the girl said, looking at him.
He realized she was waiting for an answer. He forgot her question. Oh yes, she wanted to know if she was rich and if her parents were rich. How would he answer that? If they were engaged, he couldn’t just say she’d never told him. “You’re adopted, honey, you never knew your parents.”
Joann shot Merrick a now-you’ve-gone-too-far expression. Merrick returned his focus to Bombshell, whose full lower lip was sticking out in a sweet kissable pout.
“I was adopted?” she asked. “That’s so sad.”
Her eyes were tearing up again. Merrick felt like a heel. Why did he say that? Did he have to kill her parents?
“Okay, so I was adopted, but surely you can tell me other things about my life. What do I do? Where do I live? How did we meet?”
Merrick squirmed. Was she playing him? He watched her face for any sign of sarcasm. But there was nothing. He couldn’t think of any way to answer her questions. He gulped.
To his relief and gratitude, Joann came to his rescue, motioning for Merrick to get off the couch and then taking his spot.
“Bombshell,” she said as she took the girl’s hands in hers. “That’s enough talking for now. You need more rest. Sleep another hour or so, and then we’ll get you dressed and take you up to your fiancé’s cabin. Then the two of you can get reacquainted and you can have all your questions answered.”
“That’s right,” Merrick said, standing up to go. “I’ve got some work to do. I’ll see you later.” He leaned down to kiss her lightly on the top of her head, then walked out the front door, the smell of honeysuckle and cinnamon lingering on his lips.
When he got back to the cabin, he used the house phone and called Tony.
“Tony, were you able to book the bird?”
“Nice to hear your voice, too, bro.”
“Sorry – I’m a little preoccupied.”
“I bet. Rescuing damsels in distress, and avoiding work.”
“Are you coming anytime soon or not?”
“Not. Can’t come until tonight.”
“Good, then we can be back in Atlantic City before midnight.”
“What? Hell, no. Merrick. No pilot is going to fly in those mountains after dark. You better have a room for me and the pilot – ’cause we’re spending the night. And besides, I want to see that legendary fishing creek of yours.”
“Fine, but I want to leave right after breakfast tomorrow, and I need another favor.”
“What, dude? You’re starting to push it. You’re going to owe me so much.”
“I need new identification for Bombshell.”
“For who?”
“The damsel in distress. That’s her stage name. She doesn’t have any identification, and I need you to get her some. Also, I want to take her to the hospital tomorrow, so add her to the payroll and backdate her start date so the insurance company doesn’t give us any crap.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you, bro?”
After clarifying exactly what he wanted on the identification and what pay rate and position Mona Lisa Van Dyke would have at the hotel, he thought about the other issue.
“Have you said anything to Mom about what’s going on?”
“Nope, just that you got in a bar fight and lost an eye.”
Merrick snorted. If he’d told Mama G that bit of news, she’d have flown the helicopter herself to check on him. “Seriously, what does she know?”
“Nothing, except… okay, she was getting on my case again about Calista being gone, so I told her you found a new performer.”
Merrick gulped. Now he really needed Bombshell to come back with him to Atlantic City. “Well, at least you didn’t tell her what I told the girl. That would flip her out,” Merrick said, unable to stifle a laugh.
“What? What did you tell the girl?” Tony prodded.
“I told you that she’s got amnesia, right?”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
“Well, I wanted to make sure she’d come back to Atlantic City, so I told her that the two of us were
engaged.”
“Bro. No way!” Tony said. “Oh, that’s priceless. Wait until Mama G hears this.”
“No, Tony, you can’t tell her!”
Merrick gaped at the phone. Tony had hung up. He called him back right away, but Tony had already transferred his phone to the answering service. Damn him. Merrick wished he had his cell phone. Then he could text his half brother all the details of what he’d do to him if he dared to say anything to Mama G about the fake engagement.
Chapter Six
Sheriff Harold Buck got out of the shower and put on his uniform. He went into the kitchen and filled a plastic tumbler with ice. Unscrewing the top from a bottle of Smirnoff, he poured until the liquid was almost to the top. After grabbing a bottle of canned grapefruit juice and topping off his breakfast with some vitamin C, he sat down at the table and readied his gun for the daily cleaning. He stopped before taking the cloth to it, and stared at the fouling dusted along the barrel. He looked inside the barrel and saw more evidence that the gun had been recently fired.
He put the gun down and rubbed his temple, trying to remember when and where he’d used his gun. A growl in his stomach made him forget about the gun.
“Jana,” he yelled towards the back of the house. “Make me some breakfast.”
But Jana didn’t respond. And he remembered. He got up, taking his drink with him, walked across his pristine living room, and opened the door to the guest room. All her things were still there, so where was she? Then he remembered. She’d left him. She’d – left – him!
Harold’s jaw clenched. He downed the rest of the liquid, then threw the glass against the wall. The motion made him groan as he felt something ache in his chest. His face hurt as well. He walked back to his bathroom and examined his face. When had he gotten in a fight? His nose was swollen – not broken, but badly bruised. He lifted his shirt and saw an ugly bruises blooming under his rib cage. He thought about the gun that had been recently fired. Had he killed someone?
He went back to the living room and cleaned up the broken glass, picking up the ice cubes melting on his carpet. He picked up the phone and called in to dispatch.