Fyre & Revenge (14 page)

Rae hadn’t
wanted to come back in the morning so she’d asked to wait. For one,
she’d come in the ambulance with Logan so she didn’t have her car
here at the hospital. She had no idea how she was getting home.
Deep in thought, she nibbled her lip. She could ring Reg from the
garage and get him to drop her car off. She’d known him since she
was a child and he always serviced her car, so she knew he had a
spare key in his workshop. But it was late, edging into the early
hours, and Reg would be long in his bed. It wouldn’t be fair to
wake him.

She sat in the
chair next to Logan, watching him sleep. Far better to wait until
the morning now. If she couldn’t get hold of Reg she would have to
get the bus. There was one that went between Newbolton and Ashton
about mid-morning. She’d have to be careful not to drop off though;
otherwise God knows where she’d end up. Probably some bus terminal
somewhere with a janitor shaking her awake and wondering at her
mental state.

She turned her
attention back to Logan. He looked…peaceful, lying there on the
bed. Stripped of the suit he wore like armour, and asleep, he still
had a strong look about him. Something about the set of his mouth
and chin, a determined set. She had a feeling he’d have been a
formidable man regardless of what field he’d gone into. Just her
bad luck he happened to be in property development. She leaned back
in the chair and stifled a yawn.

What was she
still doing here? He was in the best place, and the doctor said
he’d be fine; his injuries should heal and his memory should come
back before long. She’d done more than anyone would expect from
her. So why hadn’t she left already? When she’d shut her front door
on him earlier she’d vowed if she never saw him again it would be
too soon. Especially after forcing that kiss on her…

She drew a
ragged breath, her fingers running through her now loose hair.
Okay, that was a little unfair. He hadn’t forced the kiss on her.
He’d given her plenty of chances to pull away, or slide past him.
However much she might dislike him because what he and his company
wanted—her home—she couldn’t accuse him of being little better than
a rapist.

She’d enjoyed
it, if she could enjoy something which rattled her to her very
core. She’d never felt such instant heat, such chemistry, with any
man before.

Was that why
she couldn’t leave now? Because of the kiss? She leaned her head
against the high back of the chair, allowing her eyes to half close
as they rested on the figure lying on the bed. No, not even a kiss
would have kept her here considering how she felt about Jensen and
Fyre. Not even that hotter than hell kiss.

No, it was
because he was alone. In all the time she’d been here, waiting for
him whilst they checked him out and cleaned him up, no one had
called for him or arrived to see him. Not in all the hours she
waited as they took him down for x-rays. Nor as she sat here
watching him sleep.

He didn’t have
any contact numbers in his wallet, just a couple of his business
cards. Since she assumed the number on the front was for the sleek
silver cell which had been in his pocket, they weren’t much help.
Feeling like a snooper, she’d even been through his phone to check.
Scrolling through the numbers and messages and looking for the name
or number of someone she could contact. Either he was the most
organised man she knew, or he didn’t have any friends or
family.

She gnawed her
lip. She should let someone know, perhaps his office? The card had
a landline number. No doubt his office; they’d know who to ring.
She’d do that first thing in the morning. No point in trying now,
business hours were nine to five. Even for hotshot property
developers.

Yawning again,
Rae shook out his coat again and snuggled under the thick fabric,
breathing in his scent. She’d always been a sucker for someone or
something in need. She wouldn’t, couldn’t leave him to wake up on
his own with no memory and only the nurses around him. The least
she could do was pretend to be a family member and be concerned
about him until someone got here to take over for her. If anyone
did…

Logan woke
slowly, his head pounding like he’d been out on a three night
bender. He’d never been on a three night bender but he’d been drunk
enough before to appreciate how it would feel. Something similar to
the way he felt at the moment—as though a herd of elephants were
stampeding around in his skull. Not a pleasant sensation. He
swallowed painfully, the tiny movement threatening to make his head
drop off his neck as a fresh surge of pain thudded across his
temple.

Even the light
creeping in at the corner of his eyelids hurt, the glare so bright
that someone had to be shining a bright lamp in his face. Like a
scene from old-fashioned spy movies, when the bad guys captured the
hero and tried to make him talk. In fact, he wouldn’t have been
surprised if a male voice drawled ‘
Oh no Mr Bond, I intend for
you to die’
or something equally dramatic.

He lifted his
hand carefully to his head. If he was honest, a toddler could
easily take him down at the moment. He’d have to hope no marauding
gangs of them appeared any time soon. Amusement filled him. It was
rare he drank a lot, but a hangover of this magnitude meant he must
have had a
really
good night.

His hand
stopped halfway to his head as a sharp pain shot through it. Even
in his dazed confusion Logan registered the pain as wrong—a sharp
scratch
under
his skin. Blearily he opened his eyes,
squinting against the low lights to locate the source of the
scratching.

“Ugh.”

There was a
needle in the back of his hand, which meant he was in hospital. He
dropped the hand back to the bed and winced as the slight impact
jarred his head again. Eyes closed, his mind started to put the
pieces together. Hospital, faded impressions of being in a car and
the squeal of brakes and a huge bang. A bang he’d felt more than
heard. Then pain and a view of a hedge. A soft female voice, caring
and concerned.

He’d been in a
car accident. It must have been a good one for him to be in
hospital rather than… He frowned again. He’d been doing something,
something important, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. It was
hardly important at the moment so he let the thought slide away,
whatever it was. After he’d oriented himself, then he’d worry about
it.

He tried
opening his eyes again. This time the lights didn’t assault him as
badly. Even dimmed, they were still painfully bright. Lifting his
head clear of the pillow, he searched with his free hand for a call
button. If he was in a hospital then there were nurses nearby,
ready and waiting for patients to need them.

But instead of
the square plastic he expected his hand touched soft hair.
Surprised, he looked down, his fingers automatically curling around
the silky red-brown strands they found. A woman lay half across his
bed, fast asleep. Ignoring the warning throb in his head he studied
her more. Slender and petite, she looked like an angel, peaceful in
sleep.

Logan made a
noise deep in his throat, somewhere between surprise and
contemplation. Okay, now he knew where he was, he just had two more
questions.

Who was the
girl? And why the hell couldn’t he remember more than his name?

* * *

Exhausted by
her night at Logan’s bedside, Rae took a while to wake. The first
thing she became aware of was a soft touch on her hair. The gentle
caress of a large hand stroking the hair away from her face.

She opened her
eyes, blinking as she focused, and found Logan smiling down at her.
Instantly nerves burned the sleep out of her brain as she waited
for him to say something, sure her deception was about to be
uncovered.

“This might be
a stupid question.” His voice was little more than a soft rumble in
the quiet of the private room. Confusion swam in the clear blue of
his eyes. “But I have no clue who you are.”

Relief washed
through Rae. He didn’t remember her! She hadn’t been found out yet.
As soon as she thought it, guilt followed on its coattails. How
could she be relieved another person had lost their memory? That
was an awful thing to be relieved about, and probably revealed some
deep flaw in her personality.

“That’s not a
question,” she replied on automatic, her tongue buying time as her
brain frantically played catch-up. Dammit, she shouldn’t have
fallen asleep. Or at the least she should have set her phone to
wake her up earlier, so that she could get her story in place
before Logan woke.

She checked her
watch, five to six in the morning. Five to six! What a god awful
time. No sane person should be awake at this time. She thought
longingly of her comfy bed with its thick duvet and soft
pillows.

“The doctors
said you’d be asleep until morning.”

“Well, from the
looks of that, it is morning,” Logan nodded to the morning light
just visible through the cheap hospital curtains. His lips quirked.
“Okay, let’s try this one again.
Who
are you? Obviously
someone I know unless you’re in the habit of breaking into
hospitals and going to sleep across the beds of complete strangers.
Of course, you could be… I don’t know…”

“Well, they
don’t come much stranger than you,” Rae threw back, the quip rising
easily to her tongue as she tried to work out what the hell to say.
She couldn’t just admit who she was, could she?

Yeah, I’m
Rae Borne. You thought I was a man, kissed me senseless in my hall.
Oh, and you’re trying to kick me out of my house. I thought I’d
just pose as your wife, see if I couldn’t get you to change your
mind somehow…

Salvation
arrived in the form of the nurse who swept into the room with a
bright smile. “Ahh Mr. Fyre, you’re awake. Good, Doctor Davies will
be pleased. How are you feeling this morning?” Brisk and efficient,
she moved around the small room with the force of a small tornado,
tidying up in an absent manner.

“Like I’ve been
hitting my head against a brick wall.”

Logan’s reply
surprised Rae. Usually guys like him would die rather than admit a
weakness. The nurse—Judy, her name tag proclaimed—smiled as she
plumped his pillows energetically. “Not far from the truth from
what I hear. Still, you had a very lucky escape, I’m pleased to
say.” She diverted her attention to Rae. “The tea trolley just
arrived on the ward, Mrs. Fyre. I’d hurry and grab something if you
want. Hot water doesn’t last long in this place.”

* * *

“Married, whoa!
You didn’t tell me we were married!” Logan’s eyes turned to her in
surprise.

I didn’t
tell you because it’s not true
, she wanted to wail, finding
herself pulled deeper and deeper into the deception. Instead she
shrugged and managed a small smile, trying not to fidget as Logan
looked her over with incredulous eyes, as though she were some new
species unknown to mankind.

“Bloody hell!”
He breathed after long seconds. “How the hell did an ugly bastard
like me manage to get with someone like you?”

What could she
say to that? Nothing. Deciding discretion was the better part of
valour, Rae stood and smoothed her hair down. “I’ll get us some
tea. Nothing better than a good cup of tea,” she said over her
shoulder as she grabbed her bag from the chair and made her
escape.

* * *

Married. Well
wasn’t
that
a turn up for the books?

Logan lay back
against his pillows, now fluffy and comfortable after the nurse had
gone. No doubt off to wake some other poor soul and abuse their
pillows as well. Married. Well, that was one thing he hadn’t seen
coming. Actually he hadn’t seen anything coming. That was the
thing. He couldn’t remember anything past his name.

Logan Fyre.

It was a good
name. Sounded strong, respectable. He approved, which was a damn
good thing since he was saddled with it. He probed the edges of the
blank spot in his mind. Most people would panic, waking up in a
hospital with no memory. Not Logan. Instead he approached the
problem like a puzzle, trying to slot the pieces into place.

“Analytical,”
he said aloud. Yes, that felt right. Whatever sort of person he
was, problem solving played a large part in it. Even contemplating
his own memory loss as a puzzle to be solved was exciting as a
concept.

“Yes,
definitely analytical. Competitively so?” He tried the thought on
for size, deciding that yes, he definitely had a competitive edge.
But as what? What did he do? Analytical and competitive was an odd
combination. Usually one cancelled the other out.

“Astronaut?” He
chuckled, remembering a childhood ambition. Odd he should remember
things from being a child and not the woman who had just been here.
The wife who had spent the night at his bedside, worrying over him.
Leaving the puzzle of who he was and what he did for a living for a
moment, he allowed his mind to settle on her.

She was pretty.
No, scratch pretty, the right word was
gorgeous
. He hadn’t
been joking when he’d asked how the hell someone like him had
managed to get together with someone like her. Sure, she wasn’t the
supermodel kind, but false tits and plastic Barbie doll features
had never been his cup of tea.

He preferred
real women. The ones who had curves in the right places. And from
what he could see of ‘Mrs. Fyre’ she definitely had curves in
all
the right places.

He shook his
head, then winced as the ache started up again. Okay, he needed to
remember not to move until he found a doctor and got hold of some
medication. The feeling his head was falling off his shoulders was
not a pleasant one. Logan eased himself back against the pillows,
the bed in a half raised position now, and glanced out the
window.