A Forever Christmas(9)

“No!”

The single word tore from her lips. There was terror in her eyes and she gave every indication that she was going to jump out of the truck’s cab—or at least try to. Surprised, Gabe quickly grabbed her by the arm with his free hand, pulling her back inside the vehicle and into her seat.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” he told her.

The fear in her eyes remained. If anything, it grew even larger.

“Who are you?” the blonde cried breathlessly. She appeared completely disoriented.

“Gabriel Rodriguez.” Since he knew the name would mean nothing to her, he added, “I’m the guy who pulled you out of your car and kept you from becoming a piece of charcoal.”

Her expression didn’t change. It was as if his words weren’t even registering. Nonetheless, Gabe paused, giving her a minute as he waited for her response.

But the woman said nothing.

“Okay,” he coaxed as he continued driving toward Forever, “your turn.”

The world, both inside the moving vehicle and outside of it, was spinning faster and faster, making it impossible for her to focus. Moreover, she couldn’t seem to manage to pull her thoughts together. Couldn’t get passed the heavy hand of fear that was all but smothering her, pushing her deep into the seat she was sitting on.

“My turn?” she echoed. What did that mean, her turn? Her turn to do what, go where?

“Yes, your turn,” he repeated. Then, because she looked no clearer on the concept than she had a second ago, he elaborated. “I told you my name. Now you tell me yours.”

Her name.

The two words echoed in her brain, encountering only emptiness.

The silence stretched until it was a long, thin thread, leading nowhere. Finally, just before he repeated his question again, she said in a small voice, hardly above a whisper, “I can’t.”

She was afraid, he thought. She didn’t trust him. He could accept that. Considering what she had just gone through, there was little wonder at her reaction.

He did his best to reassure her.

“Look, I’m a deputy sheriff,” he told her, adding, “I can protect you. You can tell me your name.”

Suddenly very weary, she strained very, very hard, searching, waiting for something to come to her.

Anything. A scrap.

But nothing did.

Not so much as a fragment, not the smallest of pieces occurred to her.

Nothing but darkness and formless shadows.

The terror in her sky-blue eyes grew as she turned them on him. She wet her lips before speaking. It didn’t help. The dryness went down several layers, into her very soul.

“No, I can’t,” she repeated hoarsely.

This job would take more patience than he’d initially thought. Patience and skill. It certainly was different from what he’d imagined.

He owed Alma an apology, Gabe decided, for saying that being a deputy in this county was a very slow-paced, boring job.

So much for that, he thought sarcastically.

“We’ll protect you,” he told the woman again, but he could see that no matter how he said it, it made no difference to her. Her expression—confused, frightened—didn’t change. Obviously his assurance had no effect on her. He peeled back another layer, approaching the problem from another direction. “And why can’t you tell me your name?”

“Because,” she began, then stopped herself. She could feel bars going up, safeguards rising out of nowhere, intended to keep this man out.

Why?

Was she like that with everyone, or was it just him? And was he really a good Samaritan who’d been passing by, at the right time, in the right place, just in time to “rescue” her, or was that a story he’d made up to lull her into a false sense of security?

And why would he do that?

Exactly who was he to her?

More importantly, who was she to her?

She felt suddenly hollow and incredibly empty with no clue how to remedy either.

“Because—” Her voice broke. Taking a deep breath, she pushed on again and this time finished her sentence. “Because I don’t know who I am.” Anger and frustration echoing in her voice.

She was kidding, right? Gabe thought. When she said nothing more, he pressed, “You’re serious? This isn’t some kind of a joke you’re playing?”

When she made no answer, he spared her a glance, thinking to coax the answer from her, or at least search her face for a clue as to whether or not she was actually telling the truth—although, when it came to reading people, Joe Lone Wolf, the sheriff’s other deputy and coincidentally also his brother-in-law, was a lot better at that than he was.