“It might not make sense but it’s the truth,” he said flatly.
He rubbed his hand through his scalp. He’d gone back to a kind of military cut – lost the long hair that I’d seen in the tropical forest photo.
“Tell me how you got into this,” I said.
“For the last four months, I’ve been having visions. I see people just before they’re attacked. They might be surrounded by a gang of thugs or about to be run down by a truck.”
“Then you rescue them?”
He met my eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction.
“You make me sound like a knight in shinning armor.”
“Aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It’s not how it seems. Yes, I save them, but I don’t have much choice.”
I frowned. “Why? You could walk away if you wanted to.”
His eyes flicked to the left then fixed back on mine.
“No, I couldn’t. After I get the vision I get a feeling. It’s like a compulsion.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“There’s no other word for it,” he said. “I have to save the person. There’s nothing I can do about it. So I do. And that’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“So you got a few headaches and some funny dreams and then came to Rome and started saving people? What are you, some kind of modern-day guardian angel?”
He winced. “I’m no guardian angel. I’m as confused as you are by this.”
We paused for a long moment and looked at each other. Just looking at him gave me goosebumps. It was like there was a deep link between us that made all my silly questions irrelevant. I felt drawn to him like a magnet. I found myself leaning in towards him. It was if I was hypnotized. As if I could hear the waves crashing on the beach from my dream in my ears – and feel the cool sand under my feet and feel his lips on mine. But we weren’t kissing yet. The image drew me towards him. As we got closer I closed my eyes and our lips brushed and that familiar jolt of electricity went through me. We both jumped back, both of us looking and feeling awkward. This was getting ridiculous.
“Look,” he said. “We need to find out what this is. This thing between us.”
I nodded and pulled my hand through my hair.
“But how?”
I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out the St. Christopher medal.
“Do you know anything about this?” I said.
His eyes flicked to it and he jumped slightly, his hand going to his neck.
“Shit, yes,” he said ,taking the medal and holding it in his hand. “It’s the St. Christopher medal my father gave me when I was a kid. I didn’t know I’d lost it.”
I knew it had something to do with him. That was why every time I touched it I felt like I was diving into a black hole – reliving my memory again. I looked up at him again.
“Every time I touch this medallion something happens. I…”
I felt stupid saying this. I wasn’t superstitious or into the paranormal in any way, but this was undeniable.
He looked at me.
“Somehow we know each other,” I said.
“If there’s a link between us we can try and use it. You said it triggers you memory? What do you remember?”
I flushed slightly. I was still too embarrassed to tell him about the dreams fully.
“I’m not sure. But I think you’re in them. And I think it’s important that I, that we remember. You don’t have any memory of me?” I said shyly.
He shook his head.
“Not as such, no. But there’s a lot of things I don’t remember. I do have the feeling that I know you, though. And it’s as powerful as the memories that you’ve described.”
“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? What could have caused it?”
“I don’t know. But I think you’re right about this medallion…
“Maybe we have some kind of mutual amnesia. Maybe we did know each other before and we’ve forgotten. Maybe it’s just some kind of illusion. But sometimes familiar objects can trigger memories. If this object is somehow familiar to both of us. I don’t know how, because I haven’t been in the US since I was ten and you didn’t leave the US until you were in your twenties – and this St. Christopher has been with me the whole time. So I don’t know how you could be familiar with it.
“But let’s go with it.”
“What do you mean?”
He took the St. Christopher and held the medallion by the edge, resting his elbows on his knees, leaning forward – holding the medallion out towards me.
“If you touching the medallion triggers memories, let’s see what happens if we both touch it and each other.”
He was right. I felt a surge inside me of excitement and fear.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try.”
I leaned forward, mirroring him, resting my elbows on my knees. I swallowed, reached forward, and touched the edge of the medallion with my fingertips, allowing his hands to cup mine.
***
“Make sure you’re back by ten.” I jerked. It was a voice I hadn’t heard for years.
It can’t be.
I was standing in a corridor lined with flock wallpaper and family pictures. The front door was in front of me – a heavy wood-paneled door painted with white gloss. A newspaper protruded through the letter slot halfway down.
To my left was a small table with a telephone sitting on top of it. There was a corkboard on the wall above the table with leaflets from the church, a take-away menu from a Chinese restaurant, and a card from a taxi firm. The topmost church leaflet said: Coming back to Jesus at Easter.
It can’t be.
“Did you here me, Petra?”
The voice had a slight edge to it now – as if its owner was getting annoyed at not being answered.
Then she came around the corner. A woman of about forty-five, with auburn hair in a tight perm, and an apron tied around her waist. She put her hands on her hips.
“Back by 10 p.m. I don’t want you hanging around town after the meeting. It’s not safe, okay?”
I couldn’t believe it. It was my mother. She was exactly as I remembered her. But it couldn’t be. She’d died five years ago.
“Okay, Mom, don’t hassle me.” I heard my voice answer. The eighteen-year-old version of my voice. A little bit spoiled and whiney.
This isn’t real.
As the thought arrived in my head I realized this was a dream, a vision. In reality it was 2015. I was in Rome holding hands with Alec Reader, both of us touching his St. Christopher.
But in this dream I was looking through the eyes of my eighteen-year-old self, reliving one night back in the summer of 1985. Something told me this was the night it had all started. This was the night when my past had been taken away from me.
You’ve got to remember this.
I heard myself say, “Okay, Mom, don’t hassle me. I’ll be back.”
Then I turned back to the front door, feeling my heart speed up a little. I was excited… about something.
The bell rang, a thrill went through my eighteen-year-old body, and I jumped to open the door.
“Hey.”
A younger version of Alec Reader stood on the doorstep. He was dressed in Levis jeans, a dark blue tee-shirt, and a leather jacket. His hair was longer than it was in 2015, and his face more relaxed – less troubled.
I skipped forward, threw my arms around his shoulders, and kissed him on the lips, balancing on my tiptoes.
Then the scene changed.
We were in a university lecture theater. The kind with seats elevated higher the further you got from the front – like a real theater. Alec and I were sitting next to each other about halfway back. About thirty other teenagers sat nearby. Up front stood a middle-aged man with a politician’s haircut, over-white teeth, and a shiny suit. Off to one side a few men in lab coats fussed around their equipment.
The politician stepped forward and smiled.
“First I’d like to thank you. For volunteering for this program.”
I felt myself squeeze Alec’s hand. He squeezed back. We were both excited to be here. Looking forward to something.
“You’re doing a great service for your country,” said the politician.
He was suave, smooth, smiled an awful lot, flashing those pearly teeth. His hair was very neatly combed back. His eyes were flicking to the left or right frequently, as he spoke. Something told me that he wasn’t all he seemed to be on the surface. But the eighteen-year-old Petra hadn’t picked up on that.
“It’s kids like you–” He paused and smiled insincerely again. “I should say young adults like you, that make this country great.”
I squeezed Alec’s hand again.
He turned and smiled at me. A warm loving smile.
“Well, that’s enough from me,” said our host. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Zeigler, who’ll explain the program in more detail.”
The doctor, a lab-coated man with frizzy hair, wearing round metal glasses, took the floor. He had energetic nervous movements.
“After tonight your lives will never be the same.”
***
“Petra, Petra wake up.”
I was being shaken - being brought back to reality. Part of me wanted to stay in the dream. It was crucially important. I had to remember what had happened that night. I couldn’t wake up now.
“Petra.”
My eyes jerked open.
I was lying on the floor back in Alec’s room.
He was leaning over me. A very different Alec to the one I’d just left. He looked worried.
“What happened,” I said my voice groggy.
He frowned.
“I think we both passed out when we touched the medallion. I came around a few minutes ago. But I couldn’t wake you. You kept muttering something under your breath.”
Alec helped me sit up. I leaned against the bed and he crouched in front of me.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I said rubbing my head. Then I looked at Alec.
“You had the dream, right?”
He nodded slowly.
“Sure did.”
We held each other’s gaze for a long moment, aware that the relationship between us had subtly changed.
I couldn’t resist the attraction anymore. We leaned forward toward each other our lips met and seconds later he lifted me up off the floor, and we were tearing at each other clothes. In moments my dress and top were on the floor and my underwear followed. I ripped his shirt off – my fingers tracing over his abs the pulling frantically at his belt. In seconds we were standing in front of each other naked. He leaned toward me and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I could feel his hardness pushing against me.
The End of A Dangerous Liaison Part Two – You can get Part 3 on Amazon here.
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Melanie Brooks Titles Available On Amazon
A Dangerous Liaison
A Dangerous Liaison Part One
A Dangerous Liaison Part Two
A Dangerous Liaison Part Three
The Irresistible Series
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Part 1 – No Going Back
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Part 3 – All I Want
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Part 1 – No Going Back
Part 2 – In Too Deep
Part 3 – All I Want
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Forbidden Fruit Part 1
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Forbidden Fruit Part 3
Forbidden Fruit Part 4
Forbidden Fruit Part 5
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Forbidden Fruit Part 1
Forbidden Fruit Part 2
Forbidden Fruit Part 3
Forbidden Fruit Part 4
Forbidden Fruit Part 5
About the Author
Until recently Melanie Brooks was an emergency room doctor. She only wrote when she had a spare moment, but she’s recently taken a sabbatical from medicine to devote more of her time to writing. She likes to write contemporary erotic romance novels. Writing is her passion, and she hopes you will feel for her characters, to laugh and cry along with them, as she has done.
Melanie draws her characters and the situations they find themselves in from her life as a doctor, but adds plenty of spice. Her books are fun and exciting, so get ready for a roller-coaster ride.
Melanie believes that each day is a gift. She loves to write, spend time with her family and on the beach near where she lives, walking her dog. She believes each day is for living to the full.
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