Page 13 of Velvet Deception

“Where…?” He blinked, scowling. “No.Who?” Locking his uneasy gaze on me, he licked his lips and exhaled a long breath. “Who am I?”

Oh, fuck.

I’d never had experience caring for a patient with a concussion or a traumatic head injury, but I knew amnesia could be a concern.

“You…” I reared back on my haunches. “You don’t know who you are?”

“No.” He stared at me like I could explain.

“You don’t remember your name?”

“I don’t remember much of anything.” Again, he studied the room. “I don’t know what happened or who I am.”

Schooling my features into this blank, neutral expression, I fought to hide my reaction. He couldn’t recall anything. Not his name. Not how he’d gotten hurt.

Nothing.

And I couldn’t stop the worry that his amnesia could be another danger, another threat.

An additional peril I could really do without.

6

DIEGO

Mesmerized by her bright green eyes, I stared at the nurse and willed myself to remember her. To understand how I’d ended up under her care. As she watched me carefully, seeming to take inventory and check on the bandages wrapped around my head, I couldn’t shake this hunch that she was trying to avoid making direct eye contact with me.

Because it almost seemed like she was… afraid when I said I didn’t know who I was.

But she might.

“Do you?”

She blinked down at me, worry pinching her face. “Do I…” She swallowed, and I watched the tension in her neck that came with that motion. “Do I know who you are?”

Hopelessness filled me at the awkward tone of her voice. It wasn’t as comforting and soothing, like that angel’s voice I’d attached to her. Angelic and sweet. Calming. Now, she sounded on edge and hesitant.

I nodded the best I could with the aches that stormed through my nerves at the slightest movement I attempted.

“No.” She licked her lips, tucking the tip of her tongue at the corner of them. “I don’t.”

No. Please, no.

It should’ve been such a simple thing, knowing one’s name, being aware of one’s identity. It was a confidence I lacked, though, no matter how long I stared at her and willed her to answer differently.

She gazed at me without panic, though, and I detested the pity that her sorrowful expression hinted at.

No, pity wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I demanded answers. Straining to think back, to recall a single fucking detail, I was met with nothing. Ominous and unending, the blankness of that void I’d fallen into presented no answers, no clues.

“But you are safe here. You’re protected here.”

Her voice pulled me out of the rising frustration and threat of panic this memory loss gave me. I watched her checking my pulse again, her fingertips cool and sure against my flesh.

“Where—”

She cleared her throat, diligent to allay my worries. “Safe. My home. I found you unconscious and brought you here. I couldn’t…” She shook her head, making those long, riotous waves sway further from the braid that unraveled. “I couldn’t leave you for dead. You’re in my living room.” She raised her brows, as if she debated continuing. “Outside Medellin…”

I nodded. “I…” My throat was still so dry and raw.

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