“I see.” She pulled her hand away from his. “And the men in the SUV behind us? Are they bodyguards too?”
“Yes.”
“Yours?”
“Ours.”
“I see.”
Her frustration was obvious. Gaia splayed her hands. “Do you care to elaborate on why we need a ‘security detail’ in the first place or do you want me to keep asking questions? I’m pretty certain run of the mill politicians don’t make the kind of cash that warrants needing bodyguards so what exactly is it that you do?”
His surprise appeared genuine. “The doctors… they didn’t tell you?”
“No. They thought it was best that I learned about youfromyou.”
He half snorted as he raked his long fingers through his short hair. “It would have been nice if they’d mentioned that fact to me,” he muttered.
His irritation-mingled-with-bemusement seemed to rival her own—a fact she found oddly calming. For once he was as unsure of himself and his surroundings as she was of herself and her surroundings.
“I’m not even certain where to begin,” Ryan admitted. “They really didn’t tell you anything?”
“I was told you were somehow involved in politics, but that’s it. I figured you were a city councilman or something on that level. So far this doesn’t feel like that level.”
“A city councilman?” He smiled without humor. “I wish.”
“Parks and Recreation? The local school board?” she huffed. “What?”
“Gaia…”
“I’m listening. I feel overwhelmed as all hell, but I’m listen—”
“Baby, I’m running for president.”
The earth seemed to stand still. Her breathing grew a bit heavy. “President of what?” she asked, hoping he didn’t mean what she thought he meant. This was just too much for any woman, much less a woman with amnesia who’d spent the past few months doing nothing more exciting than crossword puzzles and coloring in children’s books. “President of what?” she repeated.
His wolfish blue gaze clashed with her frustrated one. “For president of United Christian America.”
Gaia released the breath she’d been holding in. “Thank God. For a minute there I thought you were going to say president of the United States!” She grinned, showcasing both her dimples—a small act that seemed to mesmerize him. “So what is the UCA? And why are you running for the presidency of a religious organization?”
“I don’t think you understand.”
“So tell me.” She visibly relaxed for the first time during the car ride. A car ride, she noted, that was being greeted by people waving at them with big and little flags, placards that read “Evans for Life!” and other such political paraphernalia. Her smile began to dissipate. “Who are all these people?”
“Our supporters.”
“Our supporters?” Gaia’s eyes widened at the endless sea of faces being held back by blockades. She looked again at the flags they were wielding and realized she had no idea what they represented. Upon first glance the waving flags looked like those of the United States of America, but now she could see that in lieu of fifty little stars there was but one big cross where the individual states should have been represented. “Ryan?” She turned her head away from the crowd and toward her husband. “What is going on?”
“Gaia, I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Her pulse climbed again. “Tell me what?”
“There was a civil war.”
“I know that. I don’t remember it, but I know I was shot in the head during it.”
“Damn rebels,” he muttered.
She waved that away. “Forget that part for now. What happened? Who won? What’s going on?”
