Page 11 of Hunter

“That feels good,” he said, and she heard the wonder in his voice. It was like a little boy on Christmas morning finding the floor under the tree unexpectedly piled with presents. Yet it had taken only the touch of her hand on his arm to elicit the response.

She felt a strange fluttering around her heart. At that moment she was achingly convinced that he had no recent memory of any gentle touch. It was the strongest proof yet that Bill Emerson wasn’t totally lying about his history. If it was true, though, the implications were staggering. Was this really a man without memories of human interaction—good or bad?

God, what would that be like? Maybe a little like having amnesia.

If she stopped to examine the logic of the situation, she was lost. This encounter was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. He was like no one she had ever met. They could have been two people from different galaxies making first contact. Two people trying to find common ground that would let them understand each other.

“Why do they call you John Doe?” she asked in a low voice.

It was a simple question, but more seconds ticked by while he thought about the answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“If you could pick a name, what would it be?”

He raised his head, stared into the distance. “Grendel,” he said in a low voice.

She felt her throat constrict and had to swallow before she could ask, “The monster in Beowulf? Why?”

This time his shrug had a slightly different quality. “That is how they think of me. I am apart. Different. They fear me.”

“No.”

He made a low sound. “Maybe you do not. They do.”

She heard the resignation in the words and had to blink back tears. “If you could pick a name you really liked, what would it be?” she asked.

Again, he considered her question. “Hunter,” he finally said.

“Why Hunter?”

“That is what I am.”

She didn’t know him well enough to follow his reasoning, but she nodded. “I like that name.”

“Then I will tell them I am Hunter.”

“Yes.” She liked the way he said it, his tone clear and decisive. “You chose it yourself.”

He nodded, a look of pride on his face. It brought a subtle change to his features

Such a little thing, she thought with a surge of wonder. A name. Yet it made an enormous difference to him. As she gazed at him, she felt an invisible net tightening around her, pulling her toward this man who needed her more than anybody had ever needed her before. It was empowering, yet frightening. She sensed that he had let her past a barrier no other person had crossed. He was so open to her. Vulnerable. She could hurt him badly if she didn’t handle things in the right way.

He watched her eyes intently as he lifted his hand and very gently ran his thumb over her cheek, down to her lips. The pad of his thumb was rough.

“Your skin is soft,” he said in a barely audible voice. “I touched a yellow flower in the field once. You are soft—like the petals.”

The way he said it made a shiver go through her. All she could do was nod the barest amount. The emotional turmoil of the past few days had been staggering. She had come to Stratford Creek because she thought she’d be safe—that she could stop worrying about being stalked. But nothing that had happened so far had been what she’d expected. She hadn’t met anyone here who made her feel safe. Except, oddly enough, a man who was supposed to be a criminal.

A sense of unsteadiness, of confusion made her heart beat faster. The effort of holding herself together was suddenly too much. Without conscious thought she let her head drift to his broad shoulder. It was solid and strong. Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to conjure a little fantasy. If she delivered herself into this man’s hands, he would shield her from harm.

The notion was deeply appealing, and she sighed. So did he.

“Where did we meet before?” he asked.

“On the road.”

“Before that. I do not know when it was. All I know is that it is important to remember,” he continued in an urgent voice. “More important than the music. Or the other things.”

“What other things?” She raised her head and stared at him.

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