She considered that. “You think he’ll buy it?”
“Probably. Either way, he’s not going to borrow trouble. He needs a base of operations in the city, a place where he can get his bearings. We’ll give him that. Where he goes from there is up to him.”
Ryker watchedthe captain and Francesca from the corner of his eye as he stood at the wheel, though his attention was focused primarily on the beautiful sailboat. It was a luxurious craft—too extravagant for the average sailor. Then again, the man in charge of it was no ordinary sailor, he was almost certain.
Ryker was sure he’d known him before the crash, and equally sure the man realized it. The captain had to know Stefan Mihal as well, or he wouldn’t be allowed to dock his boat in the pricey marina of the equally pricey Asteri Island.
One thing was for sure, both Stefan and this man were treating him with kid gloves. Same as all the doctors. At first Ryker had thought it was to aid in his recovery—but now he wasn’t so sure. Now he wondered if they wanted tomanagehis recovery.
Which meant they had questions about what had happened that night as well.
Ryker scowled. He knew without doubt that his family was in danger. If that family thought him dead, they would remain safe. Stefan hadn’t told anyone of his existence, he thought, and this sailboat captain appeared to be trustworthy enough to keep his mouth shut as well. As long as Ryker followed their script, anyway. He wondered if he’d be tailed the moment he set foot in the capital city.
Probably.
His gaze shifted to Francesca again. He shouldn’t have involved her, but she had friends in the city, and he could lose her quickly enough. He’d guessed that bringing her along would make his passage easier, and he’d been right…but not for the reasons he’d suspected. He simply liked the idea of her with him. She calmed him despite the fact that he sensed she was hiding something as well. Maybe because of that fact. Two people with something to lose made good partners.
Ryker hailed the captain and handed over the wheel, noting how the big man remained polite, almost distant for all his easy manner. He also didn’t look into Ryker’s eyes. Definitely, this man knew him, and definitely, he didn’t want to push. But Ryker trusted him without any basis for doing so, which meant they had to know each other from before.
Perhaps this man was in danger as well because of him, but Ryker didn’t think so. There’d been that flash of pain, but it was definitely milder with the captain than with Stefan.
Ryker made his way over to Fran. She looked up with that searching concern he was getting used to seeing on her face.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he said, dropping down beside her on the built-in bench that lined the inner wall of the sailboat. “When we land, this captain will be watching us. I think it best if we split up—you go on to your friends at the palace, and I’ll find my way.”
“I have lodging, though—” Francesca began, but Ryker cut her off. Honesty came more easily with this stranger than the doctors, and certainly more than with Stefan.
“No,” he said. “I need to find my way without Stefan and whoever he may hire following me. Your lodgings may be safe but they’ll be monitored. I need to blend into the city.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly and she considered him with a shrewdness that seemed too sharp, too experienced for her normally calm, compassionate manner. “You want to hide in the city?” she asked. “Or to leave it?”
“I can’t leave.” He spread his hands. “Something happened to me here that affects my family. Something that occurred immediately before I boarded an airplane that crashed into the Aegean.” He gave her a devil-may-care wink. “I’m a very good pilot, I’ll have you know. I may not have my memory but I do know that. I don’t simply crash planes.”
She appeared unconvinced. “There was a storm.”
“And storms do not occur out of the clear blue sky,” he said. “There is always a predisposition, even if the weather patterns are erratic. I would have been prepared for that. The fact that I wasn’t…” he shook his head. “I have to learn more. Remember more. And I can’t do it if my family knows I am alive. With me essentially disappeared, Stefan will not notify them.”
“True…” Francesca made a face, her gaze raking over his face, his clothes. “You’re very tan right now, and your beard is growing in again. I don’t know what you looked like before—”
“I was clean shaven.” He nodded as her brows went up. “I remember that and I thought it odd. My clothes were very nice, as sodden as they were from the sea. I ditched the heavy flight jacket, but once I finally understood that I’d survived an accident of some kind, I took inventory. I had an unusual watch—very expensive, custom made. Good for trading. Bits of the plane washed ashore with me, all of it looking top-of-the-line. Whoever I was, I had money as well as skills.”
“So you need to reverse that,” Francesca said, surveying him critically. “Cheaper clothes, scruffy face, low-rent lodging. Lodging is the most important. You need to get off the streets to avoid being found, and move around at night.” She frowned at him. “What about ID?”
He spread his hands. “I have none of that.”
“I know, but—how necessary is it in Garronia? In the US, you need a driver’s license if you’re driving a car or getting a legit hotel room, but if you’re not…” she shrugged. “No big deal. At least not if you buy things with cash.”
“In Garronia, it’s law for everyone to carry identification at all times,” Ryker said automatically. Then he gave Francesca a broad wink. “You see? I’m remembering things—simple things, with no headache. I suspect greater understanding will come to me once I touch the stones of my homeland with my own feet and walk along her streets.”
Her smile matched his, but her manner didn’t lose its intensity. “My point is, you’ll need a fake ID,” she said.
“Ideally. If I cannot find one, though...” He shrugged. “A victim of a mugging, a man down on his luck, I could pass I suspect.”
“I’m American,” Francesca said. “If you were some boy toy I picked up, and I was paying the bills, would you be hassled?”
He quirked her a glance. “A boy toy?”
