After Hours (10 page)

Amera resisted the urge to follow him, pushing down her strange response to him. Taking her umbrella was a good cover, but she realized that she’d end up getting soaked on her way to her car. Maybe that was his intention--the bastard.

Owen gave a low whistle. “I’ve never seen that look before.” He sat down. “What’s going on between you two?”

Amera took a deep breath. She wouldn’t be upset and at least he’d allowed her to keep her lie. “It’s just work related.”

“What I saw didn’t look work related.”

“You know him. It’s always about business.”

Owen looked at her unconvinced. “Sure.”

Amera waved her hand, trying to make light of the matter. “He’s just annoyed that I didn't tell him about my engagement first.” She grabbed her coat. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Sure, why?”

“Since he took mine, do you mind walking me to my car?”

Owen stood up and grinned. “It’ll be a pleasure.”

***

Vernon waited in the shadows, glad for the rain. Most people would be inside the building and that would make his job easier. Amera was one problem he had to extinguish fast. He couldn’t have her come by and look too closely at their numbers. She could ruin everything for them and he couldn’t allow that. Florence was his heart, and he had to keep her safe. Since Amera wouldn’t take the hint, he’d have to make his message clear and take her out of the picture.

He saw her distinctive umbrella. He’d seen it many times before and had even commented on it. To him it was as beautiful as a bull’s eye the size of a billboard. He couldn’t miss. As she walked across the parking lot, he grinned, putting on his silencer. “Don’t worry, baby. All our troubles are over,” he said, before he lifted his gun and fired.

She’d never shared an umbrella with a man before and realized that she liked it. Actually, to her surprise, she liked Owen. He was a kind, steady, man who took Curtis’ abuse with ease. She was about to ask him about his holiday plans when Owen said, “Hey, isn’t that your umbrella?”

She looked and saw it blowing past. Had Curtis just thrown it away when he got into his car? Was he really that careless? “Help me grab it,” she said. She made a move to run after it when she caught something shiny in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a watch catching the light of a streetlamp. She moved closer, surprised that a watch would be left on the ground, then stark and vivid fear gripped her when she recognized the watch and the person it belonged to.

She raced over to the lifeless figure lying on the ground, but felt as if she were moving in slow motion. She didn't seem to be getting any closer to him. She kept expecting Curtis to get up and swear or hold up his head, but he didn’t move. He didn’t moan or groan. He didn’t make a sound. He just lay still. Like a fallen beast. He couldn’t be dead. Could he?
Was this how his life would end?
she wondered. She saw the blood on the side of his face and under his head being washed away by the cold rain.

“I got your umbrella and...Mother of God,” Owen said staring down at Curtis. “Someone finally did him in.”

Amera fell to her knees and checked Curtis’ pulse. He still had one. “Call an ambulance.”

Owen pulled out his phone. “He had plenty of enemies.”

“He’s not dead yet,” Amera said refusing to refer to Curtis in the past tense.

Owen spoke to the dispatcher then asked Amera, “Is he breathing?”

“Barely.” She ripped off her gloves, balled them up then pressed them against the gash on his head.

Blood spread onto her skirt, and stockings, but she didn't care. The wound looked bad. “You’re going to be alright,” she said, although he didn’t look as if he would be. “You wouldn’t let your old man out live you, would you?” she whispered in his ear.

She saw his eyelids flutter.

“Yes,” she said, encouraged by the motion. He was a fighter. “Just imagine what he’d say.”

Curtis groaned and started to move.

“Stay still, the ambulance is coming.”

He muttered something she couldn’t understand, then he was still again.

The ambulance arrived within minutes and whisked him away, leaving her to talk to the police. She felt helpless because she hadn’t seen anything and didn’t have much information to help them. Someone had tried to kill him and the saddest part was that if he died, nobody would care.

***

Thoughts collided together, but didn’t make sense. Curtis remembered the sight of a sexy pair of stockings, feeling a sense of unease, seeing a reflection of a man, hearing the sound of a woman’s voice, feeling her touch--and not wanting her to leave. He remembered thinking that this was a terrible way to die and that he couldn’t let his father out live him. Voices asking him rapid-fire questions he couldn’t respond to, telling him things he couldn't understand.

He struggled to reach the surface of his mind, piercing through the fuzzy chaotic, dark thoughts, desperate for a semblance of order. But when he opened his eyes the sense of desperation grew stronger. Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t even know why. But something ominous weighed heavy on his mind. It was as if his memories were locked in a box for which he didn’t have the key to open.

Owen came over to him. “You’re in the hospital.”

“What?”

“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

He shifted his gaze to the window and saw the sun, now understanding why the room seemed so bright when he’d last remembered the sight of the moon. “What happened?”

“The police are looking into it. You can’t remember anything?”

“No.”
“Someone shot you. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed you. What did the real damage was the car.”

“The car?”

“Yes, you hit your head on it when you went down.”

Someone shot at him? Curtis gripped the bed sheets, consumed by rage. Why had someone tried to kill him? He searched his mind to make sense of it, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, in brief flashes of insight, he saw a man he didn’t know, a diamond ring. The ring. He felt an overwhelming sensation that something was important to him. No, not something,
someone
. A sudden fear seized him. He wasn’t the target, she was in danger, but he didn’t know why. “Where is she? How is she? Did she get hurt too?”

“Who?”

Who? Yes, who? She was always by his side. He remembered her eyes, she looked at him without fear. The only person who did. She wore a ring. No, not just any ring.
His
ring. “My wife.”

“What?”

“My wife.” God, he didn’t even remember her name. What was her name? Why did he have the feeling that he never used it? It didn’t matter. He had to reach her. “She was there. Is she okay? Where is she?”

“You’re confused.”

He pounded the bed. Yes, he was confused, but not about this. Something was wrong. Why wasn’t Owen telling him? “Tell me where she is.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Curtis grabbed his wrist. “Are you going to get her?”

“Yes, sure, of course,” he said, his words running into each other, almost sounding like gibberish.

Curtis relaxed his grip and sat back feeling drained but relieved, that meant she was alive. “Good.”

***

“He appears to be suffering from transformative-retrograde amnesia,” the doctor told Owen as the two of them stood in the hallway. Kyle wasn’t there when his brother regained consciousness, but had come to visit. His mother stayed away, after initially seeing him that first day, when he was in a coma. Owen would call Kyle later to let them know the prognosis.

“What does that mean?”

“The good news is that his long term memory is intact, but his short term memory has been affected.”

“Affected? It’s been destroyed, doc,” Owen said with feeling. “He thinks he has a wife and he’s never been married.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I would have known, I think,” he said, suddenly unsure. “But I don’t know her name and he acts as if I should.”

“Be patient with him and I’m sure you’ll get some clues to her identity.”

“When will he be okay?”

“This could last a week or month. I think he’ll be fine with rest. He just can’t take major shocks.”

Owen swore and paced. What was he going to do? Amera would know. They’d taken turns looking in on him. They’d been able to keep the media away, but he didn’t know for how long. Fortunately, Amera was always calm and clear headed and he needed that right now. “He’s awake,” Owen said, once she answered the phone. “But there’s a problem. The last several weeks are gone from his memory.”

“Oh no.”

“But that’s not the worst part,” Owen said with a heavy sigh.

“It gets worse?”

“He’s asking for his wife.”

Amera paused. “His what?”

“I know, that’s what I said. I know he’s briefly delusional, but of all the things to imagine, why a wife? As if any woman would want to marry him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’re good with him. You can help him clear his thoughts. Talk to him, find out who she is. I’ve never seen him so agitated. He’s really worried about this imaginary woman, as if he truly cares for her. To be honest, seeing him so human is a little scary.”

Amera sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

There was definitely something wrong with his face. Amera stepped into Curtis’ hospital room with caution, analyzing his features with amazement. His face hadn’t been disfigured or anything and others would say it was fine, a slight bruise and cut, the stitches hidden on the side of his head, but nothing more visible. However, Amera knew it was all wrong. It wasn’t Curtis’ face. Instead of the biting black stare she’d grown used to, she was greeted by dark brown eyes that looked relieved by the sight of her. He had never looked relieved before. He was too reserved for such an expression. Owen had said he’d recover from the head injury, but was there more damage than they thought?

Amera pushed her shoulders back. She wouldn’t pity him, he didn’t need that. If he was to recover, he needed to be treated like the man he used to be. “Couldn’t you have found another way to gain sympathy?” she said in a curt tone.

Curtis seized her hand. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Amera was too startled to reply. Not just by his words, but by the swift, powerful attraction that engulfed her as his large hand swallowed hers. She’d been with him many times before and never felt such a visceral reaction. Her eyes dropped to his full bottom lip, her skin feeling the heat of his hand causing a tingling pit in her stomach. What was wrong with her? She started to draw her hand away, but he tightened his grip, but not enough to her hurt.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said in a tender tone.

Her heart picked up speed, her body longing to move closer. He’d lost his mind, and clearly so had she. “Wait. What?”

Curtis looked down at her hand. “I don't know what I would have done if something happened to you.”

“ Uh...Sir--.”

Curtis frowned. “Why are you calling me that? And you’re trembling. What’s wrong?”

He’d never looked or touched her like this before. He was ill, she had to be the rational one. She had to deal with the facts. That was the language Curtis understood. She swallowed and kept her tone businesslike. “You were--”

“Shot. I know, but you don’t have to worry. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve suffered a major head trauma and you’ve lost some memory.”

He rested his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“You need to rest.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember, but I’ll keep you safe.”

He never apologized. And why did he need to keep her safe? She pressed her free hand to his forehead. Was he running a fever?

He frowned. “You’re still trembling.”

She yanked her hand away.

His dark eyes met hers. “Don’t you believe that I can protect you?”

The hard gaze and tone were reminiscent of the old Curtis, even though his words didn’t make sense. “Of course. I just never thought I’d see you like this,” she said, holding his gaze when she really wanted to look away.

“I’m going to make him regret the day he pulled that trigger.”

Amera cleared her throat wondering when he’d let her hand go. It was becoming distracting. “You have to rest first, sir--”

He gritted his teeth. “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“But I--”

His brows drew together. “Work for me,” he finished. He slowly nodded his head as if some pieces were coming together. “At the office.”

“Yes, you know me from the office. That’s where we met. You hired me. Do you remember that?” she asked with a note of cautious hope.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“So you remember the business you’re in and the role you play?”