Jesse returned the grip, squeezing harder. It was bone crushing, and Sam nearly winced. Determined, though, he held tight, a mocking game they’d played for years. When he let go, he tried to be inconspicuous as he flexed his fingers.
“Going soft, are you, up north with all those yanks?” He then leaned around Sam to get a look at Marcie, her head now bandaged, being loaded onto a stretcher. “Didn’t know you were back. It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, I thought it was time to come home for a bit.”
Jesse said nothing, but there was something in the way he watched Sam. Maybe he knew why Sam had come back. After all, they shared a childhood bond; two local vagrants from broken, abusive homes growing up together. Or maybe Sam was just paranoid, being back in this city. This place was tinged with too many memories, both good and bad.
Jesse turned away when Stoffer tapped him on the shoulder. Sam shoved his hands in his faded blue jean pockets and debated whether now would be a good time to slip away. He craned his neck, looking for the door, when those damn memories invaded his head.
How many times had Jesse swallowed his pride and reached out to him? He had never trusted Elise. He loved Sam. It was why he had told Sam, when he married Elise, that she was trouble. But Sam wouldn’t listen, and now a fresh wave of pain punched a hole right through him. But he did what he always did. He shoved the ache back in the dark pit it came from.
“Sam, are you listening?” He blinked. Jesse was in his face again. “Got a call, purse snatching and assault. The powers that be get a little nervous when things happen in our airport.” His friend frowned, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Don’t tell me you’re mixed up in this?”
“It wasn’t a purse. Try backpack. My lucky day—I was behind her when she got tossed.”
“Big, strong, good-looking guy like you, women are still jumping in your lap. Amazing.” Jesse’s invisible green horns of envy flashed.
Sam stepped back and chanced a glimpse at Marcie.
“You get a good look at the guy, did ya?” Jesse’s sharp gaze missed nothing. He took a step into Sam’s space, eyes level and pinning him to the spot.
Sam blamed his obsessed, scattered focus for the reason he didn’t zero in on the tall, lanky kid before he’d taken Marcie down. The thief had operated with speed and skill. He was definitely a pro. Pissed at the young thug, Sam struggled to remember where he’d come from. Ah, that’s right. He’d slid in behind the lady, cut the straps of her bag, and knocked her down before bolting; only to be swallowed up in the crowds. It was the perfect snatch and grab.
Street-smart instincts had kicked in when Sam started after the kid, but he had stopped cold when Marcie’s head smacked the ground. He looked back at Jesse and then over to the door when he realized his name would be on the police report.
Jesse’s crooked smile widened as he appeared to read Sam’s mind. “Trying to sneak away, are ya?”
Sam snarled before he could mask his reaction. He shuffled his feet and then crossed his arms. He really needed to get out of here. He used his six-foot-one height and his solid build to tower over Jesse.
“Sam, come on. I know you’re trying to get out of here, but you’ve got to help me out.”
Sam sighed when he looked back at the girl. “Not much of a look. Tall, lanky kid sidled up to her. Blue jeans, gray T-shirt, grungy brown baseball cap, picture of sea lions on the side. Dark kid, maybe six feet with a gold earring in his right ear.” Had time stood still?
“Don’t miss much, do you? What he have for breakfast?”
Sam cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Jesse chuckled.
“Excuse me, sir. The lady’s asking for you.” A slightly balding, short paramedic, whose name tag said “Wesley,” spoke softly. “We’re ready to go.”
Sam looked with ease over Wesley’s head. Marcie appeared stricken, with doe-like eyes. She needed a friendly face.
“We need to get her checked out. She’s going to need a couple of stitches for sure, and they’re going to want to do a head CT for her possible memory loss and confusion.”
Sam moved beside Marcie. She reached for his hand, and he winked and watched her face soften with relief. He warmed a little in his belly, feeling like a gallant knight who’d saved the damsel in distress, until he caught Jesse’s sharp eye watching the entire exchange suspiciously.
“Memory loss… What’re you saying, she has amnesia?” Jesse stepped forward and spoke directly to Wesley.
“She’s confused. Not unexpected with head injuries. The doc will look her over.”
Marcie clung to Sam with both hands now. She’s scared. God help him, but he was stung by a piercing drive to protect her. He didn’t want, or need, this complication right now. He had his own problems to deal with.
“I don’t want to go to any hospital.”
“Marcie, it’s not a choice. You need stitches, and the doc needs to have a look at you.”
“Will you come with me?” she pleaded, her eyes desperate.
“Sure.” He slammed his teeth together. Digging yourself in further. That was your last chance to slip away, you idiot. He closed his eyes to stifle the irritating voice, except those smooth, tangy words poked him again. You just couldn’t mind your own business and walk away. Good boy. Whose voice was that? It sounded like Mama Reine, the large black woman who was his surrogate mother—a loving woman who had sheltered both him and Jesse during the worst time of their childhood. Great, now he heard other people’s voices. Maybe, while at the hospital, he should have his head examined.
When he looked down, Marcie gazed up at him with something akin to worship. Swimming in those cornflower blue pools had him sunk. What made it worse, when her panic faded and she eased her hold, was the way she watched him with no pretense, no games. She’d hooked him as her lifeline.
If, in fact, she had lost her memory, she’d just emotionally latched on to him as the first and only familiar person. What have you taken on, boy?
Chapter Four
Other than going and getting stinking drunk, what else did Sam have to do? So he, along with Jesse, trailed the paramedics. Stoffer and three airport security guards cleared a path for the gurney through the swarm of travelers.
Sam grumbled when they passed the luggage conveyor. He should stop and grab his bag. That would be easier than the corporate hoops he’d have to jump through to reclaim it later. Instead, what did he do? He followed, shoving his hands in his pockets while being escorted out the sliding glass doors to the parked ambulance.
Jesse dogged Sam, his raspy chuckle grating in Sam’s ear. “So, explain to me again how you don’t know the lady, yet here you are, holding her hand, escorting this pretty young thing to the hospital.”
Sam ground his jaw together before firing back at Jesse. “Is it absolutely beyond you to step in and help someone who needs it? She’s alone. I’ll go with her to the hospital. Then I’m leaving. It’s called chivalry, asshole.” He hoped it’d send him withering away. It had worked on the young agents he worked with, but now he remembered that with Jesse, it only added fuel to the fire, and he’d use it to dig deeper.
“Helping someone, sure, I’ve done it. But the two of you? Nah, there’s something more. Come on, you and this pretty young miss, you know each other? You two have chemistry. Come on, tell Jesse everything.”
Okay, that last remark was too much. Sam whirled around, raised his hand, and jammed his index finger against Jesse’s chest with a hard thump.
“Keep your hands down, and don’t do that again,” Jesse snapped. “Did you forget where we are?”
That was a decent pail of ice water thrown on him. It doused his fiery temper in an instant. Wake up, boy, and look where you are. Words in his head jolted him when he saw the hundreds of people surrounding them, eyes aglow and fascinated, fixed solely upon him. Another scandal—pile it on. That was the warning he’d heard. It would be something he couldn’t afford, so instead, he utt
ered in a low growl, “You stupid ass, fuck off.” Sam flinched when Jesse smacked him in a brotherly way in the middle of his back and then let out a boisterous whoop of laughter. This time, he shrugged Jesse off with nothing more than a warning scowl while the paramedics loaded Marcie in the ambulance.
“You always did have a way with words,” Jesse said. “Now get in.”
* * * *
Sam made a plan as he followed the gurney to a cubicle in the emergency room. Get her settled, see she was looked after, and then leave. Two nurses, a doctor, and the two paramedics assisted Marcie onto the bed.
Sam leaned in to say goodbye but was asked to step aside when Marcie was questioned, poked, and prodded by nurses and interns. Three butterfly strips were taped across the bloody contusion along the front of her hairline. Then, after the standard blood test, they whisked her upstairs for a head CT. Again he was told to wait, so he crossed his arms and waited. He expected to be dismissed to the waiting area, but instead, a pretty, blond intern on staff questioned him.
“How long has she been confused?”
“I guess since she hit her head.”
“Can you tell me how she hit her head?”
“She was robbed and pushed. She went down hard and smacked her head on the concrete.”
“Are you family?”
“No, I don’t know her. I was just behind her in the airport.”
“Is there any family we can contact?”
“I don’t know. Hey, Jesse, was there any ID in her pockets?”
Jesse wandered in from the nurse’s station. “Nothing. Suppose if she doesn’t remember anything, we can get her picture up on the news.”
A tall, lanky orderly wheeled Marcie back in and helped her into bed.
“Listen, is it common for someone to lose their memory from banging their head?”
The intern was busy scratching notes onto Marcie’s chart, but when she looked up with twinkling light brown eyes, she gave Sam a pleasing smile. “Not necessarily. We’re only seeing symptoms of a mild head injury. I’ve seen nothing that makes me believe this is anything permanent.” The Barbie-doll intern wore blue scrubs. She wiggled her rounded bottom a little extra as she wandered over to Marcie and shone her pen light in Marcie’s eyes.
Sam shared an amused glance with Jesse, and both pointed at the other.
“Her pupils are normal and reactive. There’s been no vomiting. She’s sitting with relative ease. Do you have a headache, hon?”
Marcie glanced up at Sam first before answering. “No, not overly bad.”
“Very good. Your speech sounds clear, and I like your eye contact.”
The intern stepped closer to Sam. “I don’t see anything leading me to believe this is more than a mild concussion. Memory loss can happen, but I’ve rarely seen it. Sometimes it can be an underlying psychological condition. I’ll ask the psychiatrist on call to do a psychological workup. Other than that, if the head CT comes back normal, she probably just needs a few days of rest. Her memory should return.”
Sam watched the worry build up in Marcie’s shoulders. She hunched forward and played with a piece of lint on her blue hospital gown before looking helplessly at him. “I still don’t remember who I am or why I was at the airport.”
Sam was disturbed to see this vulnerability. He didn’t quite know what he’d do if everything familiar disappeared from his memory. Of course, he was embarrassed by the response hovering on his dry lips. Say goodbye. Wish her well. Hell, leave your number just in case she needs something. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t be that cruel.
“Marcie, do you remember what the guy who stole your purse looked like?” Jesse crossed his arms.
“Jesse, I’m pretty sure it was a backpack,” Sam said. That had been Jesse’s way to trap her, but Sam, too tired to play games, interrupted. He wanted this done.
“Yes, Sam. Good thing you’re here, or we’d never get to the bottom of this,” Jesse snapped.
Marcie’s eyes darted between the two of them. “I didn’t see anyone, and I don’t know what I had. The only thing I remember is seeing my hand covered in blood and you stopping to help me.” Her hand flattened, palm up, in a powerful gesture toward Sam. “I’m pretty sure my name’s Marcie. I don’t know my last name. I don’t know how I got to the airport or how I ended up with my head cracked open. And I don’t even know if anyone’s looking for me.”
The intern patted her hand. “I’m going to have the psychiatrist come by and have a chat with you.”
“Is that going to help me get my memory back and provide any of these answers?” Marcie asked. Sam liked that spark of personality.
“It’s too soon to tell, but psychiatrists can decipher all kinds of things going on in someone’s head that we can’t see.” The intern smiled warmly at Sam, ignoring Jesse, who stood off to the side. Then she deliberately placed her back to Marcie, glancing down at Sam’s ring finger. “You know, there’s really nothing more you can do here, and I get off in an hour. Any chance you’d like to grab a coffee?”
Jesse chuckled from the corner, reminding Sam of how easily women flocked to him, but it was the bright tears sparkling in Marcie’s hurt eyes that sliced open Sam’s gut.
“Ah, no.” Sam moved to stand by Marcie, annoyed by emotions he didn’t care to explore waging war inside of him. “Listen, what happens after all these tests are done? Are you going to admit her?”
The intern’s suggestive smile vanished. Her spine stiffened. “Most likely, she’ll be released. We’re overcrowded as it is. There are no beds.”
This time Jesse stepped up. “Oh, come on. Are you telling me you’d throw out a woman who can’t remember who she is? Where’s she supposed to go?”
The nice perky intern vanished before Sam’s eyes. She crossed her tanned arms in front of her. “Oh, come on, Detective. That’s not fair to put on me. We’ve got no beds. You know how bad it is for county cases. She’s got no insurance, right?”
“If my memory’s gone, how would I know if I had insurance?” Everyone looked down at Marcie, who seemed very aware.
“Maybe we can get you to one of those women’s shelters for tonight.”
How thoughtful of Jesse. But Sam knew how bad some of those places could be, and that was if you were lucky enough to find a bed. “Look,” he said, “I haven’t been home in a while. My place has been closed up, but there’s a bed for you to sleep in tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll come up with a new plan.”
Marcie said nothing, though she gave a weak nod, appearing to consider the idea. “Just for tonight, then. I really don’t want to put you out.”
Now he felt bad for having tried to sneak away earlier. She seemed genuinely nice, which was a far cry from the criminal element he usually encountered. At least he’d have one more night of sobriety. Maybe tomorrow he’d get a chance to wallow in misery.
Chapter Five
Marcie’s head CT came back negative for any serious head trauma. The psychiatrist assessed Marcie briefly and said there was no clinical explanation for her memory loss. He suspected her memory could easily return in a few days, but if it didn’t return in a few weeks, he suggested she explore it further with a neurologist.
Jesse drove Sam and Marcie back to Sam’s small apartment in the French Quarter. Instead of going right home, Jesse accepted Sam’s invitation to come up.
“Let me open some windows.” Sam slid open the balcony door. An instant breeze stirred the musty air.
Marcie leaned against a bare wall, crossing her arms over her blood-splattered shirt. She looked around the simple box room. Every dingy wall remained free of pictures or adornments. This place was merely four walls and humble furnishings.
“How long’s it been since you were here last?” Jesse had a heavy rhythmic walk, swaying his shoulders with each step, wandering the plain apartment kitchen as he spoke. He had a tanned, slightly scarred face; mysterious, dark eyes; cropped, curly hair, and a wide mouth, which smiled on command to shamelessly flash a
gleaming silver tooth.
Jesse appeared distracted and distant, pulling open the fridge and then the old, scratched cupboards as if inspecting the unmaintained unit’s condition.
“Over six months. Don’t know why I keep the place. Guess I can’t figure out what to do with everything. So I keep paying the rent.” Sam fiddled with an old clock sitting on a cluttered desk in what Marcie supposed was part of the living room. The way he smoothed his hand over the brass cover and then pulled his fingers back as if burned, she realized some emotional link kept him here.
“You’ve got no food. Do you want me to make a run to the market for you?” Jesse’s concern appeared brotherly, as if he were playing the familiar role of watching over Sam. He swaggered over to Sam, hiking up his baggy pants just under his heavy beer belly.
“That would be great. Grab us some burgers too.” Sam pulled out a worn wallet and fingered out a handful of bills, mashing them into Jesse’s hand. “And don’t forget the beer.” Something passed between the men; hesitation, awkwardness.
Jesse didn’t linger. He turned and shuffled to the door. He stopped when his hand turned the knob and gave a look of kind consideration to Marcie. “Do you need anything, Marcie?”
She blinked and moved away from the wall. This compassion, for some reason, pulled a little in her heart. It was foolish, really, but it meant something. She darted a quick glance at Sam. He, too, looked thoughtfully. “Thank you. I don’t know what I need.”
Sam flushed and firmed his lips as he stalked across the room like a man secure on his feet. He handed more bills to Jesse. “Get her a new shirt, toothbrush, some essentials. I don’t know what else. You have a wife.”
“So did you. Don’t mean I know what she needs nor pay any mind to what she buys.” Jesse tucked the money in his pocket and went out the door. “I’ll do my best.”
Sam patted Jesse’s back. “Thanks, Jesse.” Jesse left, and Sam rested his palm against the closed door, watching Marcie with his mesmerizing blue eyes.
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 73