Accidental Shield

“Because I couldn’t remember your number. They patched me through.”

“Whatever. Are you here yet?” Before she can answer, he continues. “I’m worried about you. This whole amnesia thing…listen, I’ll take you to the family doctor. I called the clinic. They said to bring you right in, and they’ll find out what’s going on. Where are you, anyway?”

I try not to snort. The prick sounds concerned.

Of fucking course he’s trying to sound concerned. All the better to lure her in. Trouble is, he’s such an impatient little mongoose it’s not even coming across that way. I’ve heard bastards in handcuffs put on a better act.

Beneath the surface, Ray sounds anxious, demanding, uneasy. Apprehensive.

“I don’t need a doctor,” she says.

“Bullshit, Val. If you’re not playing around with this amnesia crap, you need to be seen,” Ray tells her.

“I’ve been seen by someone perfectly capable. There’s nothing he can do. It just takes time,” she answers.

My eyes flick to the white van. The two guys inside are scanning the area, homing in on a guy near the long line of t-shirt racks at the store next to the coffee shop.

He’s not a shopper looking for trinkets and printed Hawaii shirts. He’s a man on the hunt if I’ve ever seen one. Almost certainly one of them.

“What doctor? When?” Ray continues, rapid fire. “Valerie, listen—”

“I’m telling you, I’ve been checked almost every single day since the accident. I wouldn’t lie,” she answers. Then glancing at me, she asks, “Ray, why was I on the yacht? Why were we on the boat at all?”

He’s silent as he stretches up in his seat, searching the area harder.

“I thought you said you had amnesia,” he says, a sharp, unsure edge in his tone. “Are you fucking wired, sis? Are the cops—”

“Wired? No! I just want answers.”

Ray drags the phone closer to his mouth, damn near growling into it. “Yeah, answers. Fuck. Then we’re looking for the same thing. Where the hell are you? I came here to help. Not to get busted if this amnesia shit is just some cover story.”

“It’s real, Ray. I only remember bits and pieces. Of me and you, out on the yacht, and then something happening that caused me to get thrown off the ship. That’s why I’m asking. Please, just tell me.”

There’s a long pause on his end. He looks out the windows one at a time, not just searching for her, but for undercover agents, no doubt.

“You weren’t supposed to be there. You know that, Val, or you did before. I tried to make things right,” he snarls. “Now, dammit, enough of this. Where. Are. You?”

“Who were those other men on the boat, Ray?”

His face twists, gold eyes a shade brighter than Val’s flashing. He slams his fist against the steering wheel so hard I cringe.

“Valerie, fuck! Don’t make me ask again.” He throws open his car door and kicks his way out, turning his head in all directions when she doesn’t answer.

She’s too busy pinching my hand, her face tight, watching my pen move to the notepad. I’m ready to bail her out.

“Almost there, honey. You’re fine,” I mouth silently. I shift my hand to her knee and squeeze gently.

She nods, but she’s still nervous, this soft quiver winding through her body.

My fingers sense it.

I give her knee another gentle pat, wishing like hell we weren’t undercover. Her asshole brother hasn’t even looked our way yet, and he’s too keyed up to recognize her in this vehicle behind her disguise even if he does, but hell.

I’d just love to get a hold of that chicken shit loser and let him know exactly what I think of how he’s treating her.

“Can you see my car yet?” Ray asks, calming down enough to slam his car door shut. “Come get in so I can take you home!”

The mock-concern vanishes. He sounds viscerally angry as he stalks toward the coffee shop. “Are you inside?”

“It was too crowded. No seats inside,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gold eyes shimmer, fear constricting her throat.

“Then where? Where are you? Don’t you get it? I’m trying to save your stupid ass!”

My free hand tightens like an angry fist around the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how much more I can take before I rush over and smash his face right into that six-figure ride of his.

“I don’t care. And I don’t want to go home with you, Ray. Not yet. I-I’m safe right now.”

“Safe?” He runs a hand through his short dark hair. “You’ll be safer with me, Val, those guys…Jesus. You have to trust me. Please.” That last word falls out of him, weirdly desperate.

“Not today. I’m sorry. I…I have to go. ” She looks at me, shaking her head.

I see it in her expression. She’s done.

And I think we’ve learned everything we can from this little exchange. Davis and my boys are no doubt watching every move the guys who came in the van make.