“I’m not sure but if you say I am, I’m going out on a limb and believe you.”
“Can you tell me what occurred this morning?” His laser vision attempts to bore a hole in my head but if he thinks he can magically extract information by staring, he’s going to be disappointed.
“Sorry, I got nothing.”
His gaze narrows. “Were you drinking? Drugs?”
“I would never. God, no. Why do you even say that?” As I try to think with a pounding headache a male voice speaks behind the curtain to my left.
“Don’t listen to them, girl, they’re fishing.” In the next bay over, fingertips curl around the fabric and a kind face appears.
“You’re his dad, right? Ah… don’t tell me… Mr. Montclair.”Oh my God. I remember something.My throat tightens at the wave of relief coursing through my veins.
“Pretending to have amnesia won’t save you.” When the first cop puts his hand on his weapon, I raise my arms. Holy Jesus? Is he going to shoot me?
“Enough! You two. Out of here!” Fists clenched, my doctor storms into my small area.
“Damn, for a little guy, he sure has bigcajones.” I didn’t mean to, but I must’ve said this out loud because the emergency staff busts out laughing.
Following the departure of Turner and Hooch, I turn to Dr. Young Balls. “Did you do a tox screen?”
He nods. “We’re still waiting for results.”
“I do remember those two.” I point at the father and the son. The holy ghost is nowhere to be seen. “They were my passengers,”
The doctor smiles. “Correct. More of your memories will return after you rest.”
“Did anyone die?”There’s no way I can sleep without knowing.
The older gent answers to my left, behind the curtain. “You saved us, as well as the people you might’ve hit in the harbor.”
A flash of recall hits my memory banks and I take a sharp breath.Mayday, mayday.My fingers release the throttle, the helicopter rattles uncontrollably, and I search the patches of blue for a safe place to crash. Spinning out of control, I’ll have to avoid a cruise ship, the Statue of Liberty, and a ferry full of tourists.
The first thing I notice as I regain consciousness in the private room is Dash. Snoring lightly beside me, he has his arms crossed and his butt is about to slide out of a miniature chair. Studying his handsome face, I recall more of our history.
In Seattle, he invited me to his hotel room. Whoa baby, that kiss. It was so hot, it welded together the pieces of my broken soul. He trapped me against the door, his swollen want below the belt buckle pressed to my wanton desire.
Then… What happened? Oh yes, yes. Now, I remember. The motherfucker sent me packing. I hate this guy. Why did I agree to fly him anywhere but straight to hell?
As he shifts his weight, I recall a party where he tossed out lame-ass excuses. If he hadn’t apologized, I never would’ve agreed to be his pilot. I almost didn’t, but things have been slow, and a buck is a buck.
His bird was almost new. No way should it have gone down.
And drugs? Alcohol? The Feds must be thinking I screwed up. Oh my fucking God. It isn’t bad enough I had to leave my beloved Marine Corp, now I may never fly again.
“Dash. Wake up.”
“What? Should I find a nurse? Are you okay?” He jumps to my side, so concerned, for a moment, I wonder if my recollection was off, and we truly are lovers.
“Stop. I’m fine. Just tell me if the tox results came back.”
Nose to nose, lit by the blue glow of the beeping monitor, he peers into my face. “Is your memory back?”
“Helicopter crashed. Back rotor failure. I dumped us into the ocean. From there, things get a little foggy. I’m an ex-marine. You asked me to fly you to Little Egg Harbor… said your dad wanted to see some land.”
“Yeah.” He rubs his red eyes, scratches the growth on his chin, and fiddles with his phone. “Is there someone I should call for you? Boyfriend? Parents?”
The thought of my sister freaking out almost sends me back into a coma. “No, no. No one.”
