Mystical Love (95 page)

“Take it easy. Do you know where you are?”

She attempted an answer, surprised to find her voice hoarse and strained.

“Hos … pi … tal.”

She heard him mutter, “Thank God,” beneath his breath. In the next instant, she found her fingers raised and pinched by the female doctor on her left.

“How do you feel? Can you remember your name?”

She didn't answer right away, stunned by the doctor's show of affection. The woman was holding her fingers as if she personally cared what happened to her. Did she know the woman? Her gaze scanned the beautiful face. She seemed familiar; however, she couldn't put a name to the face. The confident doctor spoke again.

“Stay focused, if you can. I realize the medicine makes your mind drift, but don't space out on us now.” Her gaze swam back to his, and he gave a sigh of relief. “Do you know who you are?”

“A ... manda ... Amanda King.”

Disbelief, shock, and disappointment flooded his face all in the space of a few seconds, and Amanda had the feeling she had said something horribly wrong. The doctor on her left dropped her fingers as if burned and took a step back. She saw the same dismay register on the woman's face, and then she was turning, looking off to the doorway at the figure just out of the range of her vision.

“Can you remember what happened to you, Miss King?” the doctor asked.

“Car ... accident ... Headlights ... Confused ... ”

Again, she saw disappointment flood the doctors' faces. What had she said to make them so worried? Unexpected tears pooled around her eyelashes, and the female doctor stroked her wrist.

“Don't cry, Miss King. You're safe. Your body's been through a rough shock, that's all. Can you tell us how old you are?”

Amanda stirred. The doctor was testing her memory. “Twenty-four.”

A gentle pat touched her hands.

“Good. That's enough talking for now. You just close your eyes and sleep. We'll talk again when you've rested.”

Once again, Amanda saw the confident doctor reach above her head and adjust her IV bag. A blissful euphoria invaded her limbs, and she floated away. As her eyelids flickered down, she heard movement around the bed. The doctors were leaving.

“I'm sorry. I wish the news could've been better. However, I did warn you.”

“Don't be sorry,” a new and deeply pleasant voice advised. “She's alive, her brain intact, and nothing else matters.”

Umm, a doctor who really cares,
Amanda thought, attempting to open her eyes. Was it the doctor at the door? She'd steal a peek; he sounded nice. Though her brain asked her to open her eyes, her eyelids remained shut. Once again, she floated on a cloud. Umm, they were giving her glorious drugs. She'd thank the nice doctor at the door tomorrow for such exquisite, mind-altering drugs.

• • •

The first call for boarding passengers pealed from the overhead speakers, and Logan sprang to his feet. The hour wait had been interminable. Reaching down, he hoisted his duffel bag to his shoulder. Half turning, he extended his hand to the man standing beside him. The lieutenant greeted the gesture with a frown.

“I wish you'd stay a bit longer, Reed. Sonny's making incredible strides in her recovery.”

“I've already overstayed my welcome. I'm needed back in New York.”

“Bullshit! The agency can stand another week or two without you. What's your hurry all of a sudden?”

Logan clutched his shoulder strap, lifting it to a more comfortable spot on his collarbone. “I've been assigned a new case—an empath missing from the Bronx.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Let the agency assign the case to someone else! You need to stay a few more days.”

The overhead speaker echoed a second boarding call, and Logan checked the crowded doorway. He wished he could tell the lieutenant the truth, that he didn't have the courage to stay a few more days. A hole as big as Texas had been punched in his heart the moment Sonny had roused with no memory of her life as Sonny Blake. The knowledge he had lost her for good was slowly eating away at him, and if he didn't leave today, he might never leave.

The cost of staying would be the loss of his soul, and perhaps Sonny's. Besides, he simply didn't have the heart to stay now that they were sure she would never recall anyone from her former life. It was ironic really; he had found his life again, thanks to her, but the cost had been the loss of hers. His gaze swam back to the lieutenant.

“You've got my number, right? In case she needs anything.”

“Hell, Reed, what else could she need? You've seen to it that her monies have been transferred from her old life to her new one. How did you arrange that, by the way? Not even Brad could circumvent the roadblocks being thrown at us.”

Logan managed a wry smile. It hadn't been easy. But, in the end, his money and Meta Corps' clout had talked in a gigantic way. His bank account had dwindled substantially, but it was a loss he was willing to take.

“The less you know about how it was accomplished, the better,” he finally stated.

The final boarding call blared, and Logan extended his hand again. This time, the lieutenant took it. A flash of humor crossed Logan's face.

“You have a home in New York City if you ever need one. You'd make a damn fine Meta Corps agent.”

Cutter's mouth twisted wryly. “Don't have the stomach for it. I like protecting John Q. Public.”

“Well, if you change your mind, Meta Corps could certainly use a rent-a-cop with scruples. By the way, I did a background check on
you
last week. You spent years off the radar. Down in some hellhole in Somalia, wasn't it?”

“What are you implying?”

“Not a damn thing. Blake was lucky to have you protecting him; so was Sonny."

The lieutenant grimaced. “A lot of good it did. I let Ned get away with assaulting our female guests for years. There'll be hell to pay for that—in this life or the next.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Cutter's mouth quirked with humor suddenly. “When you get back, tell Dresden I said you're not such a screw-up after all.”

Logan grinned, shifting the duffel again, and heading towards the steward collecting tickets at the entrance ramp. Left with only a boarding pass, he turned and sketched a wave, surprised to find the lieutenant close on his heels. He allowed a lopsided grin to surface.

“I'm a big boy, Cutter. I can ride a plane all by myself now.” Logan dipped his head. “Another time, another place, Lieutenant.”

This time, Cutter didn't move, merely nodded. Logan continued down the walkway, finally giving a last look towards the terminal doorway. The lieutenant had literally disappeared into the crowd. And now it was his turn to do the same. It was time to pick up the pieces of his life and move on.

Buckling his seat belt two minutes later, Logan glanced out the window. He wasn't sorry to see the last of New Mexico, but he wasn't all that anxious to see New York City again, either. He frowned, his thoughts drifting to Sonny. Just as her mind had been wiped clean and been reborn, so had his. Thanks to her, he had finally learned what it was to put someone's welfare above his own and not care. The love he had for her would sustain him in the long, lonely days ahead.
One day at a time, old man
, his inner voice piped up.
You'll forget all about her if you just take it one damn day at a time.

Amanda studied the scrub brush outside the window and wondered how much longer Dr. Ramsay was going to make her wait. She was tired of sitting, and certainly tired of having to engage in long, drawn-out therapy sessions. Had there been a snag in signing her discharge papers? The thought caused her heart to flutter, and she rubbed the area absently. Why did the thought of leaving the hospital fill her with such dread?

Ever since Dr. Ramsay had announced she was well enough to leave and resume her life, she had been deluged with sheer terror. What was there to be afraid of out there? Nothing. The flutter in her heart stilled. Driving wouldn't be an issue, either. It was something else. Something she couldn't put a name to.

She sprang from the chair, drawn to the wall mirror as if magnetized. She studied her reflection, surveying the spiky red locks. She had obviously wanted a dramatic change in looks before coming to New Mexico, and she had achieved it. The new color was vivid, and the cut flattering to her face; however, she couldn't recall which salon she had visited to have the work done. The new look was such a stark change that she couldn't help checking her image in every mirror she passed. She raised her hand and traced the outline of her face. Same eyes, same nose, same mouth. Yet, she had sensed, since her illness, it was not the same face. Why that was, she didn't know.

Dropping her hand, she turned from the mirror and sought the cushioned wingback she had just vacated. Dr. Ramsay had assured her any feelings of unease she had would fade away in time. And he had been adamant that her head injury was healing as it should. She had been relieved at the information, but sometimes she felt as if they were keeping something from her. Not telling her the whole truth about the accident. Did she remember the accident? Not fully. But Dr. Ramsey had assured her she would.

A light tingle brushed along her scalp, and she raised her fingers to her temple and rubbed it vigorously. These damn sudden splurges of head pain weren't helping, either. She hated to think they were a permanent fixture in her life. No, Dr. Ramsey had been adamant that they would stop in time, too.

“Another headache, Miss King?”

Amanda dropped her hand, turning to the doorway. “Only a slight one,” she replied. “All in all, the headaches do seem to be dwindling.”

“Good.” He proceeded to his desk and took a seat. “Don't forget to rely on your Tylenol tablets, though. They'll help immensely.” He flipped open the folder he had carried into the room. “I've been going over your therapy reports, and you've made excellent progress this last week. There's no sense dragging out your stay here. It's time for you to re-enter the world.” She saw him scribble his signature on the bottom of a sheet and felt that same prickle of fear. “I'm okaying your release for this afternoon, unless you have objections?” He paused, and hearing no reply, he looked up.

Amanda wondered what he would say if she told him she did have objections. That something frightening was waiting for her out there. It had no name, face, or form, but she knew it was stalking her.

“Are you having second thoughts about leaving, Miss King?”

She brought her wandering mind back to the present. “No, of course not. I'm feeling fine, only ... ”

“Only?”

“There are still so many unanswered questions.”

He settled back in his chair, dropping his pen and focusing on her face. “Let's hear a couple.”

“I have this odd feeling of not belonging anywhere. And I've developed an obsession with studying my reflection in mirrors, windows, anything that gives off an image. My hair ... ” She touched her head, her sentence trailing off.

“Head injuries often trigger memory lapses. We've talked about that. The important thing to remember is to let your mind and body heal at its own pace. When it's time for you to know the answers to the fears you are experiencing, your subconscious will let you know. What else is bothering you?”

“Why I was in New Mexico. Was I on vacation?”

A bewildered frown coated his features and then was gone, almost immediately. Once again, Amanda felt that odd stop in time. As if he was wracking his brain for an answer that would satisfy her, as well as keep her from asking any more questions about the accident. What was it about the accident that nobody wanted her to learn? His gaze caught hers.

“You're the only one who can answer that question, Miss King. Where you're from you've told us; however, who your friends and family are ... ” She saw him shrug. “We haven't a clue.” He saw the quick bite of her lower lip. “You mustn't worry over it, though. The answer is bound to come once you pick up the pieces of your life at home. It sounds harsh, I know, but four weeks ago, neither of us knew of the other's existence. I wish I could give you all the answers you need, but it's literally impossible. What I can do”—he reached over and pulled a business card from its holder—“is give you my card and tell you to give it to your regular doctor when you arrive back in Vermont. I'd like him to call me so I can be sure you're being properly treated. Hearing from your family would be nice, too.”

Amanda took the card and pocketed it, knowing she'd never use it. Once she left the hospital, it would be as if she had never been here. She'd return to the miserable existence of fending for herself at whatever job she could find. Why had she told Dr. Ramsay she had family waiting for her in Vermont? She knew why. Shame. He had been good to her. Plus, she didn't want him to know that she had had several flashes of young girls in an orphanage over the last several days. The image hammered at her brain and wouldn't let go.

“Miss King?”

She glanced up, noting the curious gleam in his eye. “What you really mean, Doctor, is that you need to relay instructions to my doctor on how to take proper care of a woman who's losing her sanity.”

“Now why would I let you out of here if you're insane?” He laughed.

“You wouldn't … or shouldn't.”

“Precisely.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the desk. “Being afraid to go back into the world after a horrendous accident is perfectly normal. I'd be worried if you weren't experiencing feelings of doubt, but you'll work through them. You're a strong, gutsy woman.” He closed the folder in front of him, and Amanda wondered how he had come to the conclusion she was gutsy when he barely knew her. “I've arranged for a limo to take you to the airport ... No, don't object. It's waiting outside, near the west entrance. Any fears about being in a car again?”