Page 81 of Help Me Remember

“I remember more than before, but not much.”

“Such as?”

“That I was working for the Russian Mafia, that I was high-ranking, and that I was involved in a lot of their deals. I was apparently here to do more of that work and was betrayed by another member, Gabriel.”

And Eric. I remembered Eric. I remembered more and more, and now the memories weren’t a source of pain and guilt for the death and suffering I had brought him, but joy at his existence and relief in his survival.

Oh god, he was alive.

“Let me get this straight,” Agent Harkins began, steepling his fingers. “It’s your understanding that you are a high-ranking member of an international crime family. Guilty of an untold number of crimes…and the first thing you do upon directly interacting with a federal officer is confess that?”

“Losing your memory and going back to square one gives you a new perspective on what’s important,” I told him, narrowing my eyes.

“Like the truth, apparently?”

“Not really.”

“Doing what’s right?”

“Part of it.”

“Mr. Davis then?”

My lips twitched, and I leaned back. “Yes.”

A knock on the one-way glass brought Harkins’ head up, and he got up from his chair, opening the interview room door. I couldn’t see who he was talking to, but their conversation was hushed and rapid.

“That was a genuine surprise,” I managed to hear the second person insist, sounding annoyed.

“Then you deal with this,” Harkins muttered, opening the door.

“Fine,” the voice said, and despite the huskiness of it I recognized it as female.

She marched into the room, and I found myself sitting up straighter as I saw her. This agent wore a suit much like Harkins’, but the uniformity didn’t do much to conceal her good looks. She was tall enough that I was pretty sure she could have reached my nose, which was impressive even for other men. She filled the suit well, and her features were smooth and rounded, giving her a gentle heart-shaped face. Her bright blue eyes stood out against skin that reminded me of freshly brewed coffee and were almost as bright as the white of her smile as she sat down.

“Good to see you again, Dylan,” she said in her husky voice, which exuded warmth. “Somehow, I have a feeling you don’t remember who I am.”

“No,” I said without a trace of regret. “I’ve been running into that a lot lately. I’m guessing you’re another agent?”

“Agent Chalon,” she said, gesturing to herself. “But you can call me what you always did, Ivy.”

I glanced toward the door, trying to process what Harkins had already told me and still unable to make sense of it. “I’m guessing I wasn’t very good friends with him.”

“You didn’t have a lot of interaction with Dave, but he was never a big fan of yours, no,” she said with a throaty laugh. “Then again, you were always very good at getting under his skin, so that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I guess me not remembering him hasn’t made him feel any better about me,” I said, wondering if they were partners or if one of them was the other’s superior. However, my previous suspicion about the FBI’s interference had been spot on. I just didn’t know where any of this was headed.

“I think it’s irritated him more.”

“Not a fan of people with brain damage?”

“More that it’s difficult for him to be angry with a man who has no way of knowing what he’s done wrong. Especially when…”

She trailed off, and I raised a brow. “When what?”

“When it’s still very clearly you in there, and I don’t mean your looks. Now you’re not in shock, I can see you analyzing everything, trying to piece together the puzzle with every new crumb of information you get. Meanwhile, that dry sense of humor and sharp tongue of yours is making a reappearance. It’s not totally you, but…I can see it, the Dylan I knew.”

“I don’t know you,” I told her stubbornly. I didn’t like the feeling of being known by someone who was a stranger to me. I’d been the same way with Eric too, but with him I’d had the time to trust him again, and in better circumstances.

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