Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(34)

My father’s funeral. A polished, onyx-colored coffin. My mother sobbing into a silky handkerchief, her mascara smeared. A reverend dressed in black, his words just a blur, an echo of regret and longing and well wishes for his soul.

Funerals are flipping traumatic when it’s someone you love. Everything comes back in dramatic snatches and half-memories with grief, and no, that’s not just my amnesia.

It’s the human condition.

There’s an emblem on his casket. I think Ray put it there. When I pass by for the last time, watching through a humid veil of tears, I can make out the little details. It’s...

My eyes snap open, and I struggle up, staring into Flint’s deep gaze. It’s blurry, but things are coming through. “Savanny’s collar! It’s my family’s bird, our symbol. King Heron. King Heron Fishing.”

Flint nods like his head suddenly weighs a hundred pounds.

I should be happy with my little breakthrough, but I’m not. And clearly, neither is Flint.

Somehow, I’m just chilled to the bone, even in his huge, welcoming arms.

“Why does that make you angry?” I whisper.

“I’m not mad,” he says. “Not at you.”

“It’s your eyes. They’re dark, stormy. Like...like you’re hiding something. What is it, Flint? What aren’t you telling me?” I don’t have a lot to go on but this odd hunch; everything’s still so blurred, like I’m stuck recalling bits and pieces.

Flint opens his mouth, but then closes it again.

“Savanny.” I twist to look at the cat who’s moved to the floor, licking one paw and brushing it over his ears. “I named him Savanny because he’s a Savannah cat. Half wild serval, half domestic breed, and...pretty illegal.”

“Yeah,” Flint says. “Your little boy’s an outlaw. He’s an exotic class that’s been totally illegal to own on the islands for years. It’s a wonder how he ever got imported here.”

My breath stalls in my lungs, and I look at Flint again. “My family. They’re into illegal stuff, aren’t they?”

“That what you remember?”

“Not really, I just...it makes sense. Dad gave me a cat he knew I shouldn’t have.” I swallow the lump in my throat at how dark his eyes have turned, how sad. “That’s what you’re keeping from me, isn’t it? What you’re hoping won’t come back?”

He cups my face with one hand, and I grasp his hand, keeping it there, needing to feel him, to know I’m safe.

“I don’t know all the details, but I’m working on it.”

Fear bubbles up inside me. “Working on it? No, you can’t. You’ll get hurt.”

It just flies out of my mouth. I know that’s a real possibility. People getting hurt. My hands start shaking.

Flint notices. He releases my cheek and takes my hands, squeezing them so tight it breaks my heart.

Holding on firmly, he says, “Hurt? No damned way. Same for you, Val. Cash and I worked security and rescue for years, high capacity. Kicking ass was all we knew before I sold my patent and he started up his practice. We might bicker like hell, but we’re tight as brothers. We know what we’re doing, and we’ll keep you safe.”

Safe. That’s exactly what I’ve felt with him near, but now, I’m wondering if it’ll truly be enough.

I shake my head.

“Look at me, honey. You’ve got to do me one thing.” He waits for my eyes, pressing his forehead against mine, those bright, beaming eyes waiting for my full attention. It’s like they already see through me.

“What?” I whimper.

“Trust me, Val. Give me that, and I’ll deal with all the rest.”

My heart nosedives. I do trust him. It’s what I can’t remember that I don’t trust.

Maybe that’s why I can’t remember more.

I don’t want to know about my family, the dirty stuff they’re involved in. There has to be more, a clear and present threat. Not just my dead father walking on the wrong side of grey lines.

My skin feels like it’s full of roaming spiders. I look at Flint, staring into his eyes, another uncomfortable question forming like a thunderhead.

If my family does bad things, illegal things, then...how on earth did I wind up married to him?





6





A Rare Bird (Flint)





Talk about a fucking dilemma.

Right now, I’ve got three parts to me, all warring with each other like a bad Kung Fu movie.

One part wants her to remember everything so we can expedite this charade to its spectacular end. Then I can focus one hundred percent on keeping her safe, and less on spinning bullshit stories.

Another part of me wants her to never remember anything. Forget what she’s already figured out, it’s scaring her to death. She’s gone pale again, and I don’t know what to do about it. I know how to fight with my hands, with weapons, with stealth tactics, but this?

This shit’s a whole new realm. Has been ever since I carried her into my house.

As for my third personality...let’s not even fucking go there. It’s the side of me that wants to make this worse. The part that wants to push this woman up against the nearest wall and have his greedy way with her lips, and then some, consequences be damned.