Searching for Eden, page 11
“Zoe, get back.” He nudged her toward Noah.
Noah instinctively put himself between his sister and the potential threat.
Liam set the bat down and opened the door.
Eden crouched at the headboard, one arm wrapped around her legs the other up in a defensive pose. Her hand held an imaginary gun, but real terror etched her face. “Don’t come any closer.”
He reached out a hand then dropped it to his side. “Eden, it’s me, Liam.”
She flinched at his voice. “Get back. Please, please. You were his friend. You said you’d bring me to Jared.”
The desperation in her voice made his heart stutter.
Liam slowed his movements so he wouldn’t startle her any further. Inch by inch, he lowered himself onto the foot of the bed. “It’s OK, Eden. You know me. I’m Liam. You’re at my house. You’re safe.”
His butt had barely hit the mattress when she jumped to the floor, her gaze locked somewhere to his right. Both hands cupped the imaginary gun. “I don’t want to shoot you...” Jumbled pleas mixed with commands continued.
“Does she have a gun, Dad?” Noah’s nervous voice floated from the doorway.
“No. She’s having a bad dream.” Night terror, dream, real memories. Nothing he could do but watch, paralyzed by indecision. Wake her? Leave her to come out of it on her own?
“Get back, Zoe,” Noah cautioned.
“But I can’t see.” Zoe popped around Noah’s body despite her brother trying to keep her back.
“You don’t need to see this.” Liam crossed the floor and moved Zoe out of the doorway.
“Liam?” Eden croaked out the words. “What are you doing here?” She scanned the surroundings, a frown creasing her forehead. “What happened? My throat is super dry. It hurts to talk.”
“Noah, get water from the bathroom.” He eased closer to her. “You’ve been screaming for the last five minutes. You’ve probably strained your vocal cords again.”
Eden moved to the side of the bed and took the paper cup from Noah. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay, Eden?” Noah asked.
“I think so.”
“You were screaming.” Zoe came into the room and leaned on Liam’s leg.
“Was I? I... I guess I had a bad dream.” She passed the cup back to Noah and dropped her head into her hands.
“Headache?” Liam asked.
“Pounding.”
“Maybe that’s a sign your memories are coming back.” From what he’d seen so far, they sucked.
“You tried to shoot my dad.” Stress strained Noah's face and freckles popped against his paler-than-normal complexion.
What little color Eden had drained from her face. Left her winter-white. “I did?”
Both kids nodded their heads vigorously.
“And you said you wanted Jared. Who’s Jared?” Zoe asked.
Eden’s head flinched back as if struck, eyebrows scrunched together. “Jared? I don’t know—”
“Guys, it was a bad dream. She wasn’t threatening me.” Whatever she had locked up in that pretty head wasn’t party favors and ice cream. And it sure wasn’t something the kids needed to know about. Hell, he didn’t even watch the news when they were around. “Okay, time to get back in bed. You gotta be up in a couple of hours for school.”
“Awww, that’s not fair,” Zoe huffed.
Noah laid a comforting arm across his sister’s shoulder. “Come on, pest. Let’s go. I hope you feel better, Eden.”
Liam waited until two doors clicked before giving Eden his full attention. “Do you want an aspirin? It’s downstairs.” He nodded his head in the direction of the hallway.
“Thank you.”
Once in the kitchen he grabbed a key ring off the hook and unlocked the padlock on the cupboard closest to the refrigerator. The temptation cabinet. Medications, lighters, candles, matches. All the fun things that tempted kids to disobey the rules.
A snicker buzzed his ear, the heat from her body permeated the pores along his back as she tried to peer over his shoulder.
“Seriously? What kind of freakin’ maniac locks up aspirin?”
An embarrassed grin split his face. “This kind.”
He handed her the bottle and opened the fridge for a bottle of water. “I can make warm milk. It might help.”
She arched an eyebrow but took the water and the aspirin to a stool. “My God, is there nothing the great Liam can’t or doesn’t do?” And there she was. Sassy, confident Eden. In all her glory.
Grabbing milk, vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon from the cabinets he headed over to the stove top in front of where she sat, elbows on the counter, head in hands.
“That bad?” He poured milk into the pan and turned the gas burner on.
“Yes,” she mumbled.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing I want to. A chaotic mess.” The last was nothing more than a vague whisper.
“Sounds like someone tried to shoot you.” Or, she tried to shoot someone.
“I don’t know. It’s all disjointed. What does come through is all dream-like.” She averted her eyes. The fingers of her hand fiddled with the aspirin bottle while her other hand drummed a nervous beat in the counter.
“You can’t force it. Relax. The memories will come.” He poured the milk in the pan along with the other stuff and stirred while it heated. “This is a safe place. You know that, right?”
A hint of a smile tucked the corners of her mouth up. “Of course I am. I have the world’s most protective dad around.”
The twinkle of amusement in her eyes stirred a fire in him he thought long dead. The white cotton t-shirt molded itself around her shape. And God help him, what a shape it was. While the night terror scared the living daylights out of him, the skimpy pink shorts that covered her perfectly round, pert ass, hadn’t bothered him.
Now, in the sanctuary and silence of his kitchen, with her long legs swinging, bothered was such a weak, ineffectual word to describe the torture that now swept through him.
It took monumental effort to pull his gaze from the temptation she offered. He used the distraction of dividing the warm milk between two mugs to still his traitorous body. Somewhat composed, he slid one across the counter to her.
She took a tentative sip and smiled. “Not bad.”
He cracked a grin. “Don’t sound surprised. My mom’s recipe. She used to make this for my brother and me when we couldn’t sleep or had a nightmare.”
Sadness darkened her eyes. Her hands switched from playing with the aspirin bottle to tracing the handle of the coffee mug. “We never had food in the house let alone having the stuff for making warm milk.” She froze. Her eyes flew wide.
“See, bad dream, or not, it opened the door for more. Anything else?”
Her chest rose and fell faster. Sweat beaded the top of her lip and brow, shoulders hunched. “I... I...”
His cop sense tingled.
Agitation spread across her features.
“Chill. Just let it happen.”
She clawed her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “All the images are here.” Her palm slapped the center of her forehead. “I can see them, moving behind this dark veil. Shifting just beyond my reach. I keep thinking, or hear a word...soil, or sorel. But don’t know what it means.”
Liam came around the counter and squeezed her shoulders. Tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him with those spell-casting eyes. “You have to stop. All you’re doing is tying yourself up in knots.”
She lowered her lids. Lashes creating shadows on her cheekbones. “Doctor Logan told me being here, with you, was the safest place I could be. I know I’ve given you every reason to send me away. And I have no right to ask if I can stay.” She sucked in a big breath, held it, then slowly exhaled as she finally met his eyes only to drop her chin to her chest. “I’m asking anyway.”
At that very moment he would have given her anything she asked. Anything to bring back the feisty woman he’d come to respect.
Her hand worked the bracelet on her wrist in an almost absent-minded frenzy. When she finally brought her gaze to his there was a softness to her features.
Liam’s heartbeat slowed. His vision narrowed in on the woman in front of him. Something monumental was about to come out of her mouth and he was sure it wasn’t going to be anything he wanted to hear.
“I want to stay. Just until my memory returns. Please?”
A ringing droned in his ear. His thoughts swirled with lighting speed. In the short time this woman had been a part of their lives, she’d been stubbornly independent and determined to prove she could take care of herself. Now she asked him for protection. It had to be a hard pill to swallow.
She’d also gotten Zoe hurt, and tried to tell him, several times, how to raise his children. Annoying as hell. Not to mention too damn attractive for her own good. But her worst crime, the one he couldn’t get past... The cloud of mystery that followed the woman. “I... But the sheriff is already looking for a place for you.”
Her mask slipped, and for the first time her true vulnerable nature came through. Not driven by nightmare, or fear or deceit. “Goddamnit! Stop looking at me like a lost puppy.” He had to think. Think about the terrible things that might be behind her missing memory. Think about how he hadn’t spent all these years keeping his kids by his side. He had to maintain control.
“Yeah, You’re right. It’s probably a bad idea.” She rubbed her temples one more time and picked up her mug so he couldn’t see the disappointment on her face.
He saw it and then some. How many nights had he laid awake, the still photo of Krista’s body sprawled in death across their living room floor? She’d been all alone. No one to hear her screams. Her pleas for help. How many nights had he wondered if a neighbor might have heard and brushed it off as nothing. How many times had he wondered how different his life and the lives of his kids would be if one person had stopped, called 911? Eden might be someone’s wife, or mother or sister. He couldn’t allow someone else to suffer through that.
A weighted sigh pressed from his lips, whistled into the middle of the night. Tiny hairs prickled the back of his neck. She didn’t play fair. Cocky, exasperating Eden he could handle. This quiet, scared Eden worked her way past his defenses.
He downed the warm milk in one long pull and then rubbed a hand over the scruff of beard. “Fine. You can stay.” Four little words. Four of the scariest words he’d ever uttered.
EDEN fluffed the pillows and pulled the blankets around her waist. The warm milk worked its magic and sleep stirred at the edges of her brain, still throbbing with residual pain from the memory swamp.
Asking Liam if she could stay with him had been hard. The flash of memory that caused the night terror was all too real, violent. And despite what she told Liam...all too clear.
Every last detail, embedded in her brain. She’d shot someone. She didn’t know who. Or why. Only that she did.
Chapter Twenty
“Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Jared is in jail, and she’s gone—”
“With my money and drugs.” RJ slammed a hand on the counter. Did he not understand how deep their problems went? “How long do you think it’ll be until my father’s men track her down? What then?”
RJ pulled two Shiner Bock beers from the fridge and left one on the counter while he roamed his penthouse apartment. The one perk his father allowed him. Not that it was for him, it was for the impression it made. The place was usually filled with his men, but he’d sent them all out. He didn’t need all of them knowing his business. “You need to pull your shit together and figure out where she is.”
“How you expect me to know that? Dammit, RJ she could be anywhere. I say let her go.”
RJ grabbed the other man by the collar. “Do I need to remind you what happens if Hutch finds her first? I don’t go down alone.”
“Fine. Just let me think.”
RJ released him and handed him one of the bottles. “There has to be something you remember.”
“I don’t know, dude. They were pretty tight. Except for all the times he got sent to juvie. After that it got easier for him to leave her.”
“Great. Did you get close to her while he was gone?” RJ leered. He’d wanted a piece of that bitch since the first time he laid eyes on her. Homeless girls were easy. Especially for him. They always thought he would be their way out off the streets.
Not Eden. Her sneers and body language made her disrespect clear. Would it have killed her to smile at him? Acknowledge who he is?
“I do remember one thing. At night they didn’t hang with the rest of us. They’d go off and find their own corner. Acted like they were better than the rest of us. When they first showed up, she’d cry every night and Jared would tell her...”
RJ waited. And waited. “What? What did he tell her, you moron?”
His partner’s lips moved without a sound and his lids slid half-mast. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”
Seriously, he’d hitched his future to an idiot.
“I got it.” He snapped his fingers. A smug grin on his face. “He’d tell her they’d go to Canada. A place called...Th... Thunder Bay. That’s it. Thunder Bay.”
RJ pulled his laptop over and opened to map search. “Canada? What the hell did they think they’d find there?”
“I don’t know. Family or something.”
It took less than two minutes to find there were two main routes between Dallas and Thunder Bay. I-35 to MN-61 right into Canada. Or, she could have taken the longer route up I-70 into Kansas City where she’d pick up 35.
RJ sat back and drained the last of his beer. If it were him, he’d find the most direct route to his destination. No time for sightseeing. Given the circumstances, she’d do the same thing. “She have a passport?”
“How the hell should I know?”
He’d bet she didn’t which meant there was a real good chance she was still in the US.
“We flying?”
“Sure. We can use our binoculars to scan for my car as we fly over the area.” He stood and swatted the back of the other man’s head. “Driving, you idiot. She could be anywhere between here and there. We take the most direct route and hope to hell that’s the way she’s headed.”
“There’s gotta be over eleven-hundred miles between here and there. You can’t seriously think we’re going to find her. There’s a thousand places . She could be anywhere.”
“Then we’ll comb through every place. If we don’t find her before Hutch and his men, it won’t matter what we do or where we go. My father will kill us both.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Liam whistled while he pulled out mixing bowls, measuring cups, spoons, cupcake pan, and chocolate cake mix, transforming the counter into a bakery. Zoe had come home to announce she needed cupcakes for a school party the next day. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Baking with the kids always guaranteed laughter. Good vibes ran through him even as he glanced over to where Zoe and Eden sat on the sofa in the living room. Eden grinned at a lame joke Zoe told. Her smile, infectious as laughter on a cloudless day, did funny things to the pulse that quickened through his veins. He bit back a groan.
Family bake time would also help keep his thoughts off their meddlesome, but bewitching, guest. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth and unwrapped a stick of butter. She questioned him at every turn while constantly urging him to let the kids have more freedom. As if they weren’t free. As if she knew what they needed. As if she had a say in any of this.
She glanced up. Their gazes tangled across the room.
Every hair on his scalp tingled. A low hum raced along his skin. He spent his days frustrated at her interference while his nights...well, they were just frustrated. There was no freaking way he was the master of his own castle right now.
Eden’s memories coming back couldn’t happen soon enough. Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be anything new on that front. Which meant his purgatory burned on indefinitely.
Yep. A night of baking with the kids, without her commentary, without the tantalizing scent of citrus and warm vanilla, would be a welcome diversion.
Ingredients assembled, he crossed the floor to the pantry. One last crucial piece to complete the setup. His hand stilled over the apron on the back of the pantry door.
He swallowed passed the rock-sized lump in his throat. The ruffles along the edge played beneath his fingers before he pulled the frilly, pink, heart-filled material off the hook. Krista’s apron. The one used only for baking. When he slipped it over his head, fingers twisting the ties at his hips, he could still picture her crooked smile. A ray of light that shone on those she loved. The ache that coiled around his lungs left him momentarily breathless. For his kids. They would never know the warmth of that ray of light. This is why he did what he did. To keep her memory alive for them.
He grabbed the chef’s hat and headed for the living room.
“Zoe.” He waved the hat. “We have cupcakes to bake.”
She jumped from the couch and pirouetted across the floor. “Yea!” She pointed and giggled through her other hand. “You look funny, Daddy.”
He did a simple spin. “What? You don’t like my apron?”
Eden swiveled her head in their direction, quirked an eyebrow, and let loose a bold wolf whistle. “What I wouldn’t pay for a camera right now.” She stood, and in that slow, confident stride that made his temperature pop ten degrees, crossed the room to circle him. Her gaze roamed up and down. “You are one hot baker, Mr. VIP.”
“You like?”
“I do.” Her throaty reply tickled his ear drums.
Warmth blushed across his cheeks. God, what was he? Fifteen, preening under the attention of a school girl? He coughed, pushing traitorous thoughts from his head. “Noah, bake time. Maybe we’ll make an extra batch to keep at home.”
“Aw, Dad, do I have to?”
Liam’s jaw slackened. “I thought you liked this?”
“I’ve never liked it. It’s for girls.”
