He grabbed her in return and gave her a shake. “How do you know!”
“Let my mind go!”
Their faces were so close, she could see the flecks in his irises, and for no good reason at all, she decided his cologne was the best thing that had ever been in her nose—not that that was in any way helpful or appropriate.
Breathing through the headache, willing herself to stay conscious, she said hoarsely, “I know you’ve taken something from my memories. You have to give it back. Whatever you’ve done is making my mind unstable and causing me to question my sanity. Please. Give it back.”
She was talking fast, slurring her words, careening through the begging request, but it was the best she could do. Her thoughts were loose in a way that scared her and made forming cogent statements nearly impossible.
“You don’t have to save me,” he said roughly.
Save… him, she thought.
Yes… in the dream she’d just had back at headquarters. The black smoke that had come out of him. And then the second nightmare, with the shadow in her house—
“How do you know what was in my dream?” she whispered, aware that she was standing on the precipice of mystery, of another reality.
“I don’t. Those were the words you were saying as you passed out.” Then he cursed. “You’ve been dreaming of me?”
“Yes, and it’s always the same.” The headache got worse as she tried to access the recollection, but she forced herself to keep going. “I can’t… I can’t remember the specifics. It’s not with me when I’m awake, but when I’m asleep, I see you. And I know…” All at once, she felt a terrible dread. “There’s something coming after you, isn’t there.”
The man in black leather eased his hold on her arms. “No, there isn’t.”
When he didn’t go any further, she had the sense she wasn’t going to get anywhere pushing him on that front.
“Give me back my memories,” she demanded.
On some level, she couldn’t believe she was talking like this, especially because she didn’t believe in hypnosis or mind control or any of that kind of crap. But he wasn’t disagreeing with her, was he? If anything, he was looking guilty.
“You know what you’ve done to me is wrong,” she said.
“It’s to protect you,” he shot back. “You have no idea what I am.”
“Yes, I do. You’re a thief.” He winced at that, so she went harder, probing his weakness, her mind becoming a little clearer as she went on, more grounded. “You’re a thief and a violent criminal. I’ve seen you on a hidden camera bringing the watches of a murder victim to the trailer of a known trafficker in stolen goods—who happened to be dead on his couch as you walked in. He’d been shot in the head, but you barely noticed. It didn’t bother you in the slightest. You just took some money and left.”
“How do you know the watches were stolen?”
Were they really doing this next to Connie’s body? she thought numbly. But like she was going to get another chance? If he took off, she knew she was never going to see him again. Their intersection right now was a one in a million stroke of luck.
Unless he killed her. Then it was not so lucky at all.
And she should probably care a little bit more about the danger she was in, being alone with a man like him.
“So you don’t deny you were there in that trailer?” she said. “With the watches?”
“I have to go—”
As he started to move away, she jerked him back with a yank on his leather jacket. “You stole from me. From my mind. I want what’s mine back—I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t care about that. Give me my memories.”
Strong as he was, it was no problem to disengage from her and get to his feet. Staring down at her, his face was remote. “I don’t want you involved in any of this.”
“It’s too fucking late for that, isn’t it.”
“Exactly what kind of danger do you think I’m in.”
“Stop deflecting—”
“What kind of danger!” His words were harsh and loud, and they echoed around the barren, dirty room and the body that lay on the mattress beside them. “How do you know.”
Erika looked at Connie’s remains and her heart ached. There was always death in Caldwell, but tonight the Grim Reaper seemed to be everywhere. And the idea this man, with his criminalities, was in trouble was not a news flash. The problem was… the danger was not from his life on the street. It was from that shadow from her nightmare. She just knew it.