Page 16 of Desire Me
“Because her amnesia is clearly documented,” he assured her.
“Do you think he’ll wait to see if she gets her memory back?”
“Hell no.” If Remi’d had a target with amnesia, he wouldn’t have gambled on the chance that would ever change. “But it does mean he has time.”
Leah thought about that a minute. “He has time to be careful, you mean. Cover his tracks.”
“And he’s very good at doing that.”
“Then how do we protect her? She’s finally starting to make short-term memories again—she recognized me at lunch today—but that doesn’t mean she’s going to trust me when I tell her all this.” She waved vaguely toward the now-blank phone screen in his lap. “How do we keep her safe?”
His heart swelled at the question. For Leah, there was no thought of herself. Now that this guy knew his target’s location and had access to the network, he was equally capable of hacking security cameras to keep an eye on her. In fact, that was the most likely reason he hadn’t made an appearance on the ICU ward. That would only change if and when he came to finish his job. But in the meantime he was likely watching every move in and out of Jane Doe’s room—including Leah’s frequent visits. Remi had no intention of letting the threat stand, either against their Jane Doe or his woman.
“Eli and I have a plan.” As he outlined it, the worry lines around Leah’s eyes eased. But when he finished, they returned.
“He knows her identity, then?”
“Probably.” Some hit men didn’t require more than a name and location; they simply did the job and walked away with the money. He and his brothers had never worked that way. “The only way to find out is to take him alive. He’s our best bet of discovering not only who she is, but what she’s mixed up in.”
“What she’s running from,” Leah corrected him.
“More than likely.” He gathered Leah against his chest once more, wishing he could ease the strain enveloping her even tighter than before. “We’ll make it happen, Leah, I promise. We’ll take care of her”—and you—“no matter what it takes.”
Chapter Nine
“Saint!”
He glanced up from the monitor and rubbed weary eyes before turning to face King where he stood in the open door to Saint’s office. His friend vibrated with an energy Saint couldn’t pinpoint in his tired state. “Yeah?”
“I think I’ve got something.”
The words worked better than an energy shot at bringing him to full alert. Days of staying till the early morning hours at work had wreaked havoc on the both of them, and Saint felt especially guilty that his issues were taking King away from his newfound relationship, but he needed the help. Hell, two of them had barely made a dent in the ground they needed to cover.
Until now, apparently.
Thank God.
King sprinted toward his own office down the hall, his speed underscoring his urgency. This wasn’t an iffy lead, then—his friend had hit on a major clue. Saint’s steps sped up to match as anticipation threw another shot of adrenaline into his bloodstream.
King was already explaining when Saint rounded the doorway and entered his office.
“So I got to thinking about all the random ways criminals get caught sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.” They’d certainly lucked onto intel in the least likely ways in some of their own cases. “We’re not looking for a criminal, though.” At least he prayed not. They might only have shared a few hours together, but he’d touched more than Rae’s body—her soul had been pure fire. He was more than familiar with the taint of evil that accompanied the worst members of society, and Rae hadn’t set off those alarm bells.
“Same principle applies,” King said, gripping his monitor. He swiveled it toward Saint, and as he got a full view of the image displayed there, Saint froze. The sight was like a kick to the gut, such a surprise that he literally choked.
“Rae.”
Her face was firmly fixed in his mind, right alongside the rest of her. And there was no doubt that’s who he was looking at. She just didn’t look the same. Bile rose at the back of his throat. One side of her face, from forehead to jaw, was covered in purple bruises and thick, bloody scrapes. Road rash. Her thick, dark hair was tangled on the white pillow she lay on, and he could see a shaved patch near her temple. Bandages speckled her head, face, and neck.
“She’s not—” He stopped, cleared his throat, but the words that escaped were still full of gravel. “She’s not dead.”
“No! God, no.”
He closed his eyes, his entire body slumping in relief. “What happened?”
King’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and he squeezed down. “Just breathe, brother. She’s gonna be okay.”
