Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(73)

It’s almost like...someone just dragged something up his whole body. Or punched holes in his skin, dangerously close to his spine.

Chills ripple through me from head to toe. An odd inkling tells me those scars have something to do with me. Somehow. Some way.

“Speaking of mothers,” he says. “We need to go see yours.”

“Wait, what?” Another chill arcs through me, so strong I rub my arms. “We do?”

“You heard me. I’ve had my contacts after Ray and his friends for days, but it’s gone quiet. We think he fled to Maui, possibly. I need to know more, Val. Only way that happens is you talking to the last person in your family who’s not an instant threat.”





*



Within the hour, we’re driving up to a sprawling beach house on the outskirts of Honolulu that feels vaguely familiar. Tiny hints of memories flash in my head. Images.

Mainly of the inside, of dark walls and dark rooms. Even though it’s next to the beach, there’s barely any sunshine inside this place. It’s a vortex of anxiety with the shadows to match.

“Are-are you sure she’s home? She’s here?” I ask, my insides shriveling up.

“She’s home,” Flint says, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?”

He puts the truck in park, turns to me, and lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not the only man helping you with this. I’ve hired some guys, trusted men who worked for me in the past. They’ve confirmed your mother’s around.”

“And Ray?” His very name makes me want to just fall into a hole in the ground.

“No. Promise. We wouldn’t be here if he was skulking around.”

A sense of relief has me freeing the air from my lungs.

“We should keep up the pretense of being a couple,” he says. “Otherwise, your ma will wonder who the hell I am.”

That also gives me more relief than it probably should.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Ready or not, I know he’s right.

We just need to get this over with.

Having Flint at my side gives me more strength than I think I’ve ever had.

Honestly, I’m not sure, because there’s still that pesky amnesia thing, but I sense it’s true.

I also, once again, remind myself there’s nothing romantic about this.

Most people would consider it creepy. Pretending to be engaged to a stranger? Ugh.

But most people haven’t had amnesia with lethal men stalking them.

If anything’s creepy, it’s that. So are the old images flashing in my mind, bits and pieces of a life that’s just too far gone to catch.

Flint gets out and walks around the truck, opens my door, and holds my hand as we walk to the house. Heavy black iron covers the screen door.

My hand starts stinging on the doorstep. There’s a faint memory, having my hand slammed in that heavy door, and Ray laughing his head off.

Flint pushes the doorbell. I wonder at the irony, ringing the doorbell to my own home.

I hear several locks being undone before the door opens, and I instantly recognize the thin, grey-haired woman.

Lorelei Gerard. My mother.

Tears threaten to form, but I hold them back. “Hi, Mother.”

“Valerie!” She shoves open the heavy screen door. “Oh, God, Valerie. I’ve been so worried.”

She practically falls out and hugs me tight.

I return the gesture, holding on longer because it feels good. Familiar. If she ever hurt me, I can’t remember how.

“What happened? It’s not like you to visit friends without telling me,” she says as we part. Her gaze jumps to Flint, and she lifts a brow, staring at me again.

“Uh, right. This is one of those friends. His name’s Flint.”

My mother’s eyes light up, just as bright and gold as mine.

“Well, no wonder you were being so secretive.” Holding out her hand, she says, “Hello, Flint, I’m Lorelei Gerard.”

He shakes her hand. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. It’s a bigger pleasure to meet you,” Mother replies. “Come in.”

We do, and just as I thought, the walls are dark wood, and heavy drapes cover the windows.

This place feels more like a castle or a New England hunting lodge, somewhere far colder and darker than Oahu. It’s oppressive.

Always has been. Same for the bigger house downtown, in Honolulu proper.

Mother gestures for us to sit on the regal wine-colored sofa.

We do, side by side, and although I know she’s my mother, I’m thankful for his presence. No one becomes the center of the room quite like Flint Calum.

“So you live on the Big Island, Flint?” Mother smiles at us. “Ray said that’s where you were staying the past few weeks. I still don’t recall you telling me you were going to the Big Island with him. You and Ray never go anywhere together anymore. He said your phone quit, and that’s why you didn’t return any of my calls.”

“It did,” I say, but unable to avoid the Big Island reference, I ask, “Did Ray say why we went to the Big Island?”

She glances at Flint and partially hides a smile. “No. But after meeting your friend, I have my suspicions...”

“Mother!” I can’t figure out whose smile cuts deeper, hers or Flint’s.