Page 10 of Sheltered by the Lawman

“I can’t thank you enough.” The sincerity in her expression drove through him like a wrecking ball.

“It’s time for you to get some sleep. It’s the best medicine. I’ll see you later.” He swung open the door, gave her one last look over his shoulder and headed into the corridor. He took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head. Somewhere in all this he had become her caregiver, her protector, and how would that affect him apprehending her when the time came? Well, it wasn’t as if he could detain her tonight. The best thing for her was exactly what he said. She needed to sleep it off. Tomorrow was a new day.

He stopped in the lobby and looked around at the options for sleeping. A vinyl chair that looked like it’d fit a child comfortably or the two-seater couch that wasn’t any more enticing than a bed of nails.

With a huff, he headed for the glass doors and stepped into the cool night air, filling his lungs with fresh air.

Taking out his phone, he dialed his friend’s cell number. Deke answered.

“Did I catch you sleeping?” Cull laughed.

“I’m a bit under the weather. Please tell me you have the girl,” Deke said in a raspy tone.

Cull looked back toward the hospital. “You could say that. There’s been a change of plans, for now.”

The man’s moan rattled the other end of the line. “Change of plans? Something tells me I’m not going to like this…”

****

Monica looked at herself in the small, milky mirror in the hospital bathroom, squinting against the bright overhead light. Unfortunately, her head was still sensitive, and she had no more memories this morning than she had before. Because of the concussion she needed to rest for a few more days but she was cleared to go home. Her shoulders automatically slumped.

Home.

Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she stared in confusion. Not only did she have no clue who she was, but she’d lost her apartment and everything in it in the fire. The only thing she had left was a bag full of worn clothing and a few other belongings that seemed as foreign as her reflection.

Leaving the bathroom, she looked through her clothing, picking up each item and inspecting it with displeasure, and finally decided on the shirt and jeans that were closest to fitting her. Once she was dressed with her hair brushed and pulled into a topknot, she was standing in the middle of the room when the door came open.

It was Cull, a stranger and yet the closest to a friend she had. Did she even have any friends? Family? If she did wouldn’t they have shown up at the hospital looking for her? Her stomach flipped and she felt sick. What if she didn’t have anyone? The only person she could rely on was the very man standing in front of her looking as bewildered as she felt.

“Good morning. I brought you coffee. I didn’t have a clue how you liked it, so I took a stab and put in sugar and cream. If it’s not enough, I brought more.” He emptied his pockets of the small packets and dropped them on the table.

“I think I like it light and sweet,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” Caught up in her emotions last night she hadn’t taken the time to look at him, really look. He was good looking. Very good looking. He was missing his hat today. His dark hair was threaded with silver strands that seemed to belong there as much as the stars in the night sky. His jaw was covered with a thin layer of whiskers making him look like a modern-day warrior. His blue eyes reminded her of a clear sky and were on her with such intensity that she wanted to squirm. He wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans that fit him in a way that showed off the toned muscles underneath the denim. She had an instant craving to reach out and test his strength with her hands, but she refrained, unsure of where those sensations came from.

He was also very tall, standing a good seven inches taller than her. She had an inkling that she’d always been attracted to tall men and Cull had a way of making her feel protected. That could be dangerous since she didn’t know him from Adam. After he’d stepped out of the room last night to let her sleep, she’d been bombarded with a million ‘what ifs’. Anyone could tell her anything right now and she wouldn’t know the truth. What if he was a bad man? What if he was the one who had set her apartment on fire? He never did say why he was in the building. Yet, why would he stick around if he was the arsonist?

“Here you go.”

Monica accepted the coffee and their fingers brushed, but she didn’t have time to examine the electrical jolt that kicked through her because she had a memory flash in her head. Coffee cup. A stain on a coat. Flashy jewels. Had she spilled coffee on herself? And did she own expensive jewelry? With the ratty clothes in the dirty bag, it didn’t seem possible.

“You okay?” he asked.

Pulling herself together, she nodded. “I had a flashback.”

“A memory? Of what?”

“I-I think it was a memory…but it doesn’t seem like my life and it’s not much of a clue. I had spilled coffee.” She took a sip of the sweet, creamy delicious brew. How was it that she could remember how she liked her coffee but couldn’t remember the important things…like her own name?

“I hear you’re being released.” He scraped a palm down his whiskered jaw. Was that a sign of stress or habit?

Placing the cup down, she wrapped her arms around her waist to hopefully control the butterflies. “I haven’t decided if that’s good news or bad news.” He nodded as if he understood her trepidation. “I can’t go back home.” Feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, she refused to cry, especially in front of Cull. He’d think she was a weakling—a crazy weakling. No, she didn’t want him to look at her with pity in his eyes. Whatever happened from this point on, she needed to be strong. At least she was alive because the outcome could have been far different.

Cull rubbed his hand over his mouth. He looked a little green around the edges. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke with Detective Whitlock last night. I told him about the memory loss and explained you don’t remember anything, so he wants to wait before he speaks to you.”

“You look worried. Is there more?”

“The fire was started with gasoline. Someone wanted to get rid of the evidence.”

Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, she dropped down onto the edge of the bed. “Someone intentionally hit me on the head and started the fire?”

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