A Hero To Hold

“Where’s Elk Ridge?” she asked.

“Not far from Fairplay, about sixty miles west of Denver.”

She swallowed, realizing with a stark sense of dismay she hadn’t even known what state she was in. Oh, dear God, what had happened to her?

“What else can you tell me?” she asked, trying in vain to keep the desperation out of her voice.

His smile tightened into a grimace, and she got the distinct impression he was about to give her some bad news. But he didn’t. Instead he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a tattered piece of paper. “I thought this might be important. Buzz Malone, my team leader, found it in the pocket of the jeans you were wearing.”

An uncomfortable sense of vulnerability encompassed her when she remembered her clothes being cut away. She knew the men who’d saved her hadn’t had a choice; they were professionals and did that sort of thing on a daily basis. Still, the fact that she’d been so exposed left her disconcerted.

Hoping whatever was on the scrap of paper would help unscramble her memory, she reached for it, but the bandages on her hands stopped her.

“Sorry.” Unfolding the paper, John held it up for her.

Hannah, meet me at the shop at noon.

She stared at the words, waiting for a lightning bolt of memory, a flashback, anything that would tell her who she was.

“Ring a bell?” he asked.

“No.” The jab of disappointment cut her with the precision of a straight razor. Oh, how she wanted to remember. She needed to remember. She stared at the words in desperation, hoping against hope for a flare of recognition. Anything but the abyss of nothing her memory had become. “Do you think that’s my name? Hannah?”

“Could be.”

“Did I have identification when you found me?”

He shook his head. “No wallet. Not even a driver’s license. Just the clothes on your back, which were ruined—sorry—and that note in your pocket.”

Leaning forward, she pulled her knees to her chest. “This is nuts. I don’t remember…anything. How I got up on the mountain. Why I was there. Where I live. My entire life is just…blank.”

Her mind raced in circles, like a rat trapped in a maze with no destination, no way out. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she looked at John, wishing desperately he could tell her something, anything that would help her remember. “How can someone just forget their entire life?”

“It isn’t unheard of for head trauma to cause temporary memory loss.”

The word temporary took her panic down a notch. She clung to it with the desperation of a rock climber to a safety line. “How temporary?”

He shrugged. “I’m not an expert, but I’ve heard of cases where a head injury has caused amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” The sound that erupted from her throat was half laugh, half groan. “That sounds like something from a soap opera.”

“Last year we picked up a snowmobiler who’d gotten up close and personal with a blue spruce. He suffered a closed head injury. Took him two days to remember he was from Iowa. Missed his flight home and everything.”

“Two days?” she echoed hopefully.

“Look, Lake County may be a small hospital, but I did my training here. Doc Morgan is good. She’ll do what needs to be done to get you back on track, even if it means referring you to a specialist. But I’ll bet the farm your memory will return before you’re even released.”

It made sense, of course. Unfortunately not even cold, hard logic could make the situation less frightening. Sighing, she looked down at her hands. “What’s with the bandages?”

“You had some frostbite on your fingers and toes. There was some tissue damage, blisters mostly, but nothing severe. You’ve got some healing to do, but you won’t have permanent scarring.” Pulling the chair next to the bed, he straddled it and rested his chin on the back.

The scent of his aftershave drifted lazily through her brain, conjuring notions of piney forests and mountain air. Her sudden awareness of him caused a ripple of pleasure strong enough to make her stomach flutter.

“Was—was I in some sort of accident?” she managed after a moment.

“We didn’t find a vehicle. Not a car. Not a snowmobile. You weren’t dressed for skiing or hiking.”

“So what was I doing up on Elk Ridge?”

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. She got the distinct impression there was something he wasn’t telling her. Simultaneously, something dark and frightening jumped in the back of her mind, like a predator lunging out of the shadows, claws extended, fangs bared. The ensuing flash of terror sent a violent shudder through her.

“You’re not telling me something,” she said.

“Easy, Red—”

“I see it in your face. You know something, but you don’t want to tell me.”

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions on me.”

“Keeping secrets from someone who can’t even remember their own name is cruel.”

He arched a brow. “Look, you’re getting yourself worked up over—”

“Yeah, well, I tend to get a little worked up when I can’t remember my own name.”

She flinched when he leaned forward and put his hand on her forearm. Her first instinct was to pull away, but the gentleness of his touch stopped her. She looked down where his hand rested on her forearm. His fingers were thick and dark against her pale flesh. The man had fascinating hands, a doctor’s hands made rugged by the elements. Warmth radiated from him into her and spread throughout her body like a slow-moving current.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “You okay?”

Swallowing hard, she risked a look at him. The power behind his eyes jolted her all the way down to her toes—and made her remember what it had felt like to be wrapped within his embrace in the harrowing minutes they’d dangled from the helicopter.

“I’m just…scared,” she said after a moment.

“Everything’s going to be all right.”

Looking into the startling blue of his eyes, she almost believed him. She wasn’t sure why, but this man made her feel safe. Yet even with the warmth of his touch searing her, she couldn’t shake the sense of danger pressing down on her. A feeling that told her she wasn’t safe no matter how badly she wanted to believe it.

“I think something terrible happened to me up on the mountain,” she whispered.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t know…exactly. I mean, I don’t remember details. It’s like a dream. Or a nightmare—” An image flashed in her mind, cutting her words short. The ensuing grip of terror was so powerful, she flinched. Images played in her mind’s eye, like clips from a horror movie. She remembered snow. The silhouette of a man against the glare of headlights. The feel of cold steel in her hand. The blast of a gunshot.

Suddenly she knew why she’d been up on Elk Ridge—at least part of the reason. The realization settled over her as horribly as a handful of earth tossed over a lowered coffin.

“I remember…” Her voice was thin and breathless. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. She didn’t actually remember. But as she fought to keep her voice steady, her hands from shaking, she knew someone had been pursuing her. Someone who’d wanted to hurt her. Someone who wanted to…

John’s hand tightened on her arm. “What is it?”