by Vella Day
This is important, so behave, he told his wolf.
But she smells so fucking good.
Like I don’t know that? Ronan believed he had it worse than any shifter in the world because of his acute sense of smell. Blair distracted him like no one ever had.
A woman in a long gray dress stepped from behind a tree. Blair grabbed his hand for a second and squeezed. “There she is. Just like I remember her.”
Her brief touch made his balls ache. Most likely, his eyes were growing more amber by the minute. Forcing himself to study the older woman, his cock thankfully deflated. “Do you want to speak with her alone?” he asked, hoping she’d say no.
“No. Come with me. Izzy claims the witch talks in circles, and I might forget everything she tells me.” The brief smile that followed caused his wolf to clamor for release.
Stupid wolf. “Let’s go.”
*
Pricks of excitement blended with stabs of uncertainty. Blair wanted Ophelia to help her, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to remember that tragic event. But if Blair never learned the truth, it might slowly drive her crazy.
“Blair! You’ve grown up to be such a lovely woman.” Ophelia held out her hands, and Blair grasped them. Her gnarled warmth sank into her.
For a brief moment, Blair thought Ophelia might tell her that while her bear was in hibernation, she’d awaken soon. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
“Thank you.” Ophelia let go and her gaze swung over to Ronan. When her eyes and face softened and a broader smile appeared, Blair tensed. Why? Surely it wasn’t jealousy! “This is Ronan Laramie. He’s my bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard, you say. Interesting.” Her smile remained.
What was she implying? Everything Ophelia said had a hidden meaning. Blair was about to explain that he was a bit more than that, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up. Yes, Ronan was sexy and the type of man she wanted, but she didn’t trust herself not to make the same mistake twice.
“Ronan Laramie. You’re Lexi’s brother, right?”
Now how did she know that? Duh, because Ophelia knows everything.
Ronan didn’t even blink. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ophelia returned her gaze to Blair. “What can I help you with today? Izzy only briefly told me what happened. I’m sorry you were caught up in such nastiness.”
A murder was more than just nastiness. “I can’t remember anything about the event. It’s like someone erased my memory.”
All cheer in her face evaporated. “Even after a few days, nothing’s come back?”
“No.” Worry dug a big hole in her stomach.
“It doesn’t sound like a spell then—more like a curse.”
Ronan pressed closer, but it barely helped quell the tremors in her hands.
“So you can’t reverse it?” he asked.
“Young man, I have my limits. Now, stand aside and let me see what I can do.” Ophelia faced her again and held out her hands once more. Blair clasped them. When Ophelia closed her eyes, so did Blair.
The old witch hummed, and her grip tightened. When Ophelia’s tone changed, Blair’s heart wiggled and then fluttered. Ophelia let go, and Blair opened her eyes. “Well?” she asked.
“A darkness is near.”
“A darkness? What does that mean? What should I do?”
“That’s all I can say.” Ophelia twisted toward Ronan and added, “Protect her the best that you can.”
“I will.”
Ophelia turned and seemed to float toward the woods. Izzy had mentioned that once the session was over, it was best to leave, but Blair had so many more questions to ask. Only when Ronan wrapped an arm around her waist did Blair realize her knees had buckled.
“Let’s head back to the Jeep,” he said.
Once seated, Blair faced him. “If Ophelia can’t reverse the spell, what am I going to do?”
“Keep looking and hoping.”
“You’re no help.”
Chapter Six
‡
After two more days of living with a mind that refused to be filled in, Blair was willing to try anything. “What if hypnosis doesn’t work?” she asked Ronan.
“Then we try something else.” He ran a hand down her arm, and his touch soothed her more than she was willing to admit.
“Ms. Murdoch?” asked the assistant who stood at the door leading to Dr. Eleanor Hamilton’s office.
“Yes.” Blair stood. While she’d never met the therapist, Jackson had some interaction with her and gave her a good recommendation.
“Good luck,” Ronan said. “I’ll be here when you finish.”
She’d thought about asking him into the room, but then she worried she might say something about how attractive she found him, and that would only lead to complications.
Stop obsessing. Blair had already proven to be a bad judge of character. Until her bear decided to make an appearance and help her out, she’d keep her distance from any man.
Dr. Hamilton was small in stature with rather wide hips and short blonde hair. Around fifty, she wore her glasses on a chain around her neck. “Come in and sit down.”
After describing how she would conduct the hypnosis, Blair settled back, praying this went well. She remembered the therapist asking her some questions that had nothing to do with the crime, and she somehow ended up talking about lovers and babies. Where had those thoughts come from?
“You can wake up now,” the good doctor said.
When the blood rushed back into her body, Blair sat up. How was the session over so fast? They hadn’t even talked about the murder. Or had they? “Did I remember anything?”
“I can’t be sure. You talked about a man and a woman.”
Shit—Jared and his wife she bet. “Anything more about the murder?”
“You spoke about two people arguing.”
Yes, she and Jared had gone a round or two after she’d found out that the man of her dreams already had a wife.
“Could the killer have been arguing with Timothy Delahart?” Blair asked. Or did she want to believe she hadn’t spilled her guts about that terrible year after she learned Jared wasn’t who he claimed to be?
“It’s possible. You spoke of someone cheating. Perhaps that was what got Mr. Delahart killed.”
“Maybe, since he is a drug dealer—or rather he was a drug dealer.” She prayed she hadn’t been talking about Jared. When the doctor rose, so did Blair.
“I’m hoping the hypnosis unlocks something in your mind,” the good doctor said. “You might start to remember something in a few days.”
“Thank you.”
When Blair stepped back into the waiting room, Ronan jumped up. His hopeful expression made her smile. He wanted her to remember probably more than she did.
“How did it go?” he said as he moved next to her.
“I don’t think I remembered anything, but the doctor said I might recall something in a few days.”
Her only memory seemed to be about two people arguing. Because that had to be her and her ex-boyfriend—not Timothy Delahart and a female assassin—Blair decided not to mention it.
Recalling anything about Jared had Blair’s stomach doing all sorts of tumbling routines, dredging up a bunch of bad memories. How had she thought Ronan might be anything like her ex? Ronan was open whereas Jared held more secrets than Pandora’s Box.
“You up for some dinner?” he asked.
For a second, she hadn’t been aware they’d even left the office. “As in a restaurant?”
He smiled, and her insides tumbled. “It’s all I know. I’ve spent my life chasing after criminals and practically lived in my car. Learning to cook was never my thing.”
Poor Ronan. What a waste sitting in a car waiting for something to happen. “Do you think it’s safe to go out in public?”
“If I’m with you, it will be. We’ll go someplace busy, where no one would dare harm you.” The twinkle in his eye convinced her she was overreacting.
/>
Ronan was interested in keeping her safe, but he also seemed to want to keep her happy. “How about McKinnon’s Pub and Pool?” she asked. “We’ll be surrounded by our kind.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Just driving to a place different than McKinnon and Associates lightened Blair’s mood.
“Tell me about the session,” Ronan said. “Was it scary, invasive, frustrating, or enlightening?”
All of the above. Needing a moment to collect her thoughts, she glanced over at him and admired his prominent brows, high cheekbones, and full lips.
She then jerked her mind back to the moment. He was hired to stay by her side, not be her lover.
“I was only with the doctor a few minutes, so it was hard to tell. When I couldn’t remember much, I think she figured why waste my time and hers, which was why she snapped me out of my hypnosis.”
“A short time? You were in there a little over ninety minutes.”
What sounded like gunfire exploded within her brain, and she twisted toward him in disbelief. “No, I wasn’t.”
From Ronan’s pinched lips and worried brow, he was telling the truth. “Look around, Blair. The roads are packed—well as packed as Silver Lake gets. People are getting off work.” He tapped the clock on the dashboard.
“It’s five thirty? How is that possible?” Oh fuck, her memory loss was happening again. Like a wildfire out of control, she searched for something to put out the blaze, but she couldn’t find anything. “I remember talking to the doctor, just not for how long.”
He reached out and patted her leg, but that only pissed her off more. She wasn’t a child. “That’s what hypnosis does to a person—time seems to stand still.”
She hoped she hadn’t said more than she’d intended to. “If I thought leaving town would help me gain back some control in my life, I’d hop on the next plane.”
Ronan pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, and the familiar site helped calm a few of her nerves.
“Remember, the judge ordered you to stay in town,” he said.
“I know, but a girl can dream, can’t she?” When she looked over at Ronan, his jaw was set tight, and his beautiful brown eyes had turned dark. What had she said?
“Come on. Let’s have something good to eat and forget all about Timothy Delahart and smoking guns.”
“I’d like nothing better.” When he didn’t sound angry, she let out a breath.
Once they were seated, Blair looked around, recognizing only one or two others. For the most part, she was a stranger in this town.
“You look sad,” Ronan said.
She returned her attention back to him. “Wistful maybe. I left town when I was seventeen and didn’t return until I got the job at the Wellness Center. While it is my hometown, I don’t really know anyone anymore.”
“Jackson said you spent a good many years at school?”
“Yes. I earned my bachelors and masters degree in physical therapy.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “How about we talk about you? I think I’ve been asked enough questions lately to last me a lifetime.”
He held up his hands. “You want to talk about me?” She nodded. “My life is not very interesting.”
She doubted that. “Let me be the judge. I do know your dad had issues.”
Ronan chuckled. “Issues? The man was a drunk and a gambler, but he wasn’t all bad—at least he wasn’t until after my mom died of cancer. Once his will to live evaporated, he turned to some pretty bad vices.”
“He must have loved her very much.” Her parents were like that, though she didn’t think her dad would turn to some kind of vice if her mom died. Daniel Murdoch was a strong and proud man. Most likely, he’d throw himself back into helping run the Clan or work full-time at McKinnon and Associates.
“My dad might have loved Mom, but his demons rotted his brain,” Ronan said. “Growing up, he was good to us when he had a job, but then he’d lose it and become depressed. Mom would boost him up, and it worked for a while until he lost that job too.”
“I can see where that would wear on a person—and his family.”
Ronan nodded. “It was hardest on Lexi. She loved Mom so much, and when she died, Lexi took it upon herself to help Dad.”
Blair still couldn’t believe that Lexi’s own father had tried to sell her. “I’m so lucky my parents still have their health, both mentally and physically.”
“You aren’t kidding.”
The waiter stopped by for their order, and since she wanted to have one night to forget it all, she ordered a beer.
“Coffee for me,” Ronan said.
She was about to ask him to join her, but then she remembered he was still on the clock. The waiter left and Blair was anxious to hear more about him. “What made you want to become a bounty hunter?”
“It’s simple, really. One of my talents is that I have an acute sense of smell. Once I get the scent, I can track that person for miles.”
Jackson had mentioned something about that. “I bet being in a restaurant where there are so many odors might be nauseating.”
Ronan held up a finger. “Ah, but that is where I differ from everyone else. I do smell things like a fresh grilled steak, popcorn, and rich coffee, but somehow my brain translates that odor into a color. I see patterns and can identify who or what it belongs to. Mingling odors are like mixing paints—some pleasant, some not.”
Now she was totally fascinated. “You see odors as colors?”
“Yes, your fragrance, for example, is a rich purple with a blend of light pinks, with an occasional swath of green.”
She liked that combination. “Is there any reason why I’m not say, yellow with lime green? I do like those colors.”
He smiled. “Do you know that no one has ever asked me that question before? I honestly don’t know why certain colors are associated with a person.” He held up a finger. “However, if your mood plummets or soars, you give off different colors. For example, once when you were afraid, you emitted a color from the gray spectrum. When you had a good memory—like when you spoke of Ophelia—I saw yellow.
“Wow. So you know what a person is feeling by their color?” He nodded. “It’s like everyone in the world is a giant mood ring!” Ronan chuckled, and the sound rumbled deep in her body. A woman could get used to that.
“I wish it were that easy. I have to know them well before I learn what each color means. For instance, gray represents fear or tension to you, but it might mean something different to someone else.”
He had paid that much attention to her? That was impressive. “When you walked in here just now, surrounded by the scent of beer, peanuts, and French fries, were you blinded by the assortment of colors?” He smiled and heat shot to her core. Not good.
“No. I can control it—usually.”
“Wow. What about the general color aura surrounding evil people? Are they black with specks of red or white?” This was rather fun.
“It’s not that simple, though men usually have darker colors.”
His ability to see colors for scents was a talent she never knew existed. Their drinks arrived, and Ronan sipped his steaming brew, his gaze off to the side as if something struck him.
She let him think. Unfortunately, that allowed her mind to wander too. Finally, she spoke up. “Not that I really want to talk about the case, but do you or Kalan have any idea what kind of person we’re looking for? If he comes into my workplace, I want to be ready.”
Ronan stroked his beard. “I don’t have a profile other than if he’s anything like Timothy Delahart, the killer will be overconfident, have genetic makeup similar to ours, and will most likely be a sociopath.”
“That hardly narrows it down. Most of the men on the hill are like that.”
Ronan leaned closer. “You mean the Changelings?”
“Yes.”
Ronan shook his head. “I’m thinking they aren’t involved. I chased Delahart for quite some time and am convinced he came to Silver L
ake because he found out I was here. When Connor and I ran into him a while back, I managed to gouge up his face pretty badly. He probably wants revenge.”
The idea that someone wanted to hurt Ronan reignited her nerves. “I’m glad he’s dead then.”
Ronan tossed her another quick smile. “So am I.”
The waiter returned and took their order. As soon as he left, she leaned forward. “So, what’s your best guess as to who might have killed Delahart?”
Ronan shrugged. “I’m thinking Delahart came to Silver Lake a few days ago. He has always been excellent at assessing who would be the most likely to buy or sell drugs. I’m thinking the killer was either less than anxious to part with his money, or else he believed Delahart was cheating him.”
The word cheating ricocheted inside her head. Yes. Perhaps she hadn’t been babbling about her and Jared when she told the hypnotist about the two people arguing. “The killer was a woman,” she blurted. Ronan’s laugh lit her up, and this time not in a good way.
“Shh. Why are you laughing?” At me?
“Sweetheart, no woman on earth could get the drop on Delahart.”
The nickname of sweetheart swirled in her chest and wrapped around her heart, but she pushed the image aside. “But a woman was there.”
He sobered quickly. “What do you mean?”
“While I was under hypnosis, I remember hearing two people arguing. One of them was female.”
His brows shot up. “If a woman was there, then she must have been with a man. Delahart wouldn’t have given a female the time of day.”
That made sense. “I could be wrong.”
Ronan reached across the table and placed a hand over hers. “You were very brave to undergo hypnosis. Don’t fight the memory loss. It will return.”
For some reason, having him give her permission not to remember helped. “Thank you.”
“So,” he said. “Tell me what is it that you do for a living?”
Chapter Seven
‡
On Monday morning, Ronan dropped Blair off in front of the Wellness Center so she wouldn’t have to walk down the alley of death, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness. The crime scene tape that had blocked the alley was gone, which begged the question: had they learned anything from gathering all that evidence? A woman’s strand of hair perhaps or maybe even high heel imprints next to the body? Had Blair been right about a female being present? Or had that memory been about her and Jared? Aargh. Why couldn’t she just have her memory return?