Killer Body. Elle James
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in the air and teetered.
“It’ll take time, sweetie. You might not get your memory back in a day.” Liz stared at the door. “You’re not ready to go out there. It’s crazy.”
“I’m spinning my wheels here in the hospital, getting nowhere. Nothing here triggers a single memory. Nothing. I need familiar territory. I want to go to my apartment to see if anything comes back.” Savvy’s hand raised to Liz’s still cupping her face. “If you’re really my friend you’ll help me.”
For a long moment, Liz stared into Savvy’s eyes, then she glanced at the bandage swathing her head and finally she sighed. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
“No, I think I can manage.” Relief flooded Savvy. Tightrope-like tension followed immediately. She let go of Liz and took several tentative steps toward the bathroom. Although wobbly, she managed on her own. At the bathroom door, she grabbed for the handle.
“Hey, you’ll need these.” Liz eased past her and set the bag of clothes on the floor inside the bathroom. “Don’t be a hero. I can help. All you have to do is ask.”
Savvy gave her a shy smile. “Thanks. I will.” She closed the door between them and leaned on the bathroom sink. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and stared into the mirror, hoping that seeing her own face would trigger her missing memories.
Hope died when she gazed at the woman in the reflection. A white bandage covered her left temple, held in place by a strip of gauze wrapped around her head. Strawberry-blond hair, matted with specks of blood fell over her shoulders and down her back. Deep green eyes looked back at her … eyes of a stranger. Nothing in the mirror made her remember this woman, or her past.
A sob rose up her throat and she choked it down. She couldn’t cry over her loss—she wouldn’t. If she wanted to recover her memory, she had to go to familiar places, touch her things, live the life she’d been living to get it back, memories and all.
Since her face didn’t jog her memory, she’d have to go to the places she’d lived and worked. If they didn’t find evidence of another suspect, she’d be arrested and charged with the murder of Tomas Rodriguez. The sooner she remembered, the sooner she could clear her name, before the authorities decided to toss her in jail.
A sense of urgency filled her as she dug into the gym bag Liz had brought. She found clean jeans, a blue Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, panties, bra and white tennis shoes, a hairbrush and toothbrush.
Careful not to disturb her wound, she washed her face, dressed, stopping now and again when her head swam with the effort. Clothed and feeling a bit steadier on her feet, she tackled the gauze circling her head, peeling it off, round by round. When she pulled the bandage away, a two-inch square, white gauze bandage peeked out of the edge of her hairline near her temple.
Using a clean washcloth, she dabbed at the dried blood and residual orange-colored disinfectant used around the bandage. Gently working the brush through her hair, she restored it to some semblance of order, draping the hair over the wound as best she could, hiding most of it. Pale and shaky, she stepped from the bathroom, having accomplished the tasks in less than five minutes. “I’m ready. Can you give me a lift?”
Liz held out her arm. “If you insist. I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“I have to do it. Someone has to be trying to frame me. Until I remember what happened, I’m the prime suspect. My memory is the only thing standing between me and jail.”
“Savvy, you may or may not get your memory back.” Liz smiled sadly. “What then?”
“I’m taking this one bite at a time.” Savvy pushed through the door to her room and out into the hallway, walking right into Dawson’s chest.
Oh yeah, she had to convince her court-appointed bodyguard to let her leave the hospital.
Chapter Four
Dawson gripped Savvy’s arms and steadied her. “Why are you out of bed?”
She straightened and pushed away from him. “I’m going home.” When she tried to pull free of his hands, his grip tightened.
“Not until the doc releases you, you aren’t.”
She stared up at him, her mouth thinning, tears awash in her eyes. “I have to. Don’t you see? I can’t remember anything here. I have to be around my own things.”
“You can wait until tomorrow.”
“No.” She reached up to pry his hands loose, her weakened state making her attempt ineffectual. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Not knowing is driving me crazy. Let me go.” A single tear tipped over the edge of her eyelid and slid down her cheek. “Please.”
He could have resisted if she’d yelled and screamed at him, but the one tear and her anguished plea jerked at his heart, reawakening the dormant organ. How could he resist those eyes staring up at him as if he held her world in his hands? For a moment, he wavered. “No, it’s not safe out there.”
Savvy’s lips twisted in a half grin, her eyes shimmering. “And it’s safe here?”
She had a point. The attack that morning had almost ended his assignment before it had begun. “It’s easier to protect you inside a building than out in the open. The avenues for attack multiply exponentially once you step out the hospital doors.”
“Either I get attacked outside or I go crazy stuck in my room. I prefer to take my chances.” She brushed away the moisture from her eyes and laid a determined hand on his arm. “Are you with me? Because, if not, I’ll go without you.”
Electric impulses shot up Dawson’s arm where Savvy’s hand touched him. The low sexy voice, the eyes glittering with unshed tears threatened to bring him to his knees, if he let it. With a hard-won deep breath, he shook off her hand, unwilling to let himself care more about her than the job warranted. “It’s your funeral.” He turned, and without offering her any assistance, he marched toward the exit.
Liz leaned close and whispered in a not-so-quiet voice, “A bit uptight, if you ask me. But very sexy in that he-man kind a way.” She gave a soft wolf whistle.
Dawson shook his head. “I heard that.”
A bright pink flush rose up from Savvy’s collar and flooded her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know. He’s just a bodyguard to me, for the sake of whatever, he’s my fake fiancé.” Her gaze connected with his as if daring him to refute her statement.
“Not your real fiancé?”
“No, it just makes it easier for him to get past the nurses.”
Liz’s cheeks dimpled. “In that case, would you mind if I made a pass at your guy?”
Savvy’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she bit down hard on her lip. “He’s not mine. Do whatever you like.” She pushed a long strand of strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and closed the distance between herself and Dawson.
He’d bet behind that tough-gal exterior, her legs shook and she teetered on the verge of collapse. With her shoulders flung back, she didn’t let a single sign of weakness shine through. She probably thought that if she did, Dawson would have her back in the hospital so fast her head would be spinning more than it already was.
Damn right he would. But he couldn’t help admiring her pluck. He preferred it over the tears.
Pausing at the glass door, Dawson performed a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, his gaze going to every corner of the lobby before he stared out at the street quickly growing dark. A gathering of fifty or sixty people stood in front of the emergency entrance. Scattered among them were news reporters and camerapersons, at the center stood the D.A.
Savvy peered through the glass. “Why is there a crowd?”
Though her voice came out weaker than a