Blank Slate Page 7

  The tension was still high when Langston climbed back over the seats, and he seemed to deliberately avoid looking at her as he pulled his sleeping bag up around him.

  “You should get inside your bag,” he said gruffly, glancing at her before quickly looking away. He began rearranging her bag, since it had gotten tangled in her mad scramble to get out.

  Clarissa obeyed, though the inside of her bag was icy cold. She’d had on her warmest clothes, so the long-sleeved shirt and cotton pants she’d put on weren’t much help against the chill. And her feet were freezing.

  As she hunkered down in the bag, she turned on her side to face Langston. He was flat on his back again, eyes on the ceiling.

  Should she say something? Thank him for helping her? Tell him she hadn’t minded his touch, had rather liked it in fact.

  Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t welcome that, so she said nothing, and neither did he.

  God, she was cold. Had she been this cold before? It seemed being temporarily warm from the heater only made it feel worse when it was shut off. A shiver wracked her. Clarissa huddled deeper in the bag.

  Having already slept, she now found she couldn’t turn off her brain enough to find slumber again. Worry ate at her. What was she going to do when Langston turned her over to the Feds? Would they put someone in prison who was suffering from amnesia? Or, like Langston, would they not believe her? Was there any way to escape before he turned her over? Any way to convince Langston to let her go? And if by some miracle he did release her, where would she go? The only thing she knew about herself was the name he’d told her, Clarissa O’Connell. She had no idea even where she lived.

  Her stomach twisted at her thoughts until she felt nauseated. Despair beckoned. She had nothing and no one. Her only family was in prison and she was wanted by the cops. The future seemed bleak indeed.

  The shivering began again in earnest. Clarissa clenched her teeth to keep them from rattling. If they got out of this, she swore that somehow she’d find a way to live someplace where it was always warm. A place with a beach, next to a warm ocean, where she could lie in the hot sand and feel the sun’s rays against her skin…

  “Come here.”

  Langston’s voice interrupted Clarissa’s fantasy, and her eyes popped open in time to see him reaching for her. He’d unzipped his bag and was now unzipping hers. With a quick tug, he pulled her close, leaned down, and zipped the two bags together.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m keeping you from freezing to death,” he replied curtly. “You’re shaking the whole car with your shivering.”

  “I’m fine,” Clarissa protested, the brisk tone of his voice telling her he didn’t want to do this, no matter what had gone on before.

  Langston ignored her, settling back down and pulling her into him, moving an arm under her shoulders to cushion her head while the other wrapped around her waist.

  Oooh, this was nice.

  Langston was toasty warm, and Clarissa couldn’t help but relax her body against his, absorbing the welcome heat. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with her arms, though, as their current position squished against his chest wasn’t all that comfortable. Squirming, she tentatively freed an arm, resting it on top of his. The bicep under her palm tensed, his fingers digging into her waist. But he didn’t protest, so Clarissa left it there and he gradually relaxed.

  This close, she could smell the spicy scent of his skin, feel the hard press of his muscles surrounding her. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach began to fade, and with a start, Clarissa realized it was because of Langston. Despite his antipathy for her, he had kept her safe, killing the wolf who would’ve ripped her throat out. He’d helped her with the claustrophobia, and now he was doing what he could to keep her warm.

  Despite what the logical part of her brain was screaming at her, Clarissa knew in her gut that she could trust Agent Langston. He wasn’t going to let anything hurt her, of that she was certain.

  As for the prison thing, well, maybe he’d come to see things her way, given enough time. She should be grateful for the storm. The more time she had, the more opportunity to convince him she was telling the truth and that he shouldn’t turn her over to the FBI.

  Langston was a good, decent man. He’d do the right thing once he realized she had no memory. He just had to. Clarissa had to believe that. She had nothing and no one else.

  The thought made her scoot even closer to Langston. She didn’t feel so scared and alone with his arms around her. Clarissa released a pent-up sigh, nestling her head against his chest. His arms tightened around her, and she smiled.

  Erik felt her sigh, her body pliant and soft against his. What the hell was he doing? His conscience was yelling at him, but he hadn’t been able to resist holding her, not when she’d been wracked with uncontrollable shivering. He was just helping her get warm.

  Yeah, right, that’s all this is, his conscience mocked.

  Choosing not to think about it, or anything else for that matter, Erik closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her in his arms. She was trusting, something he hadn’t expected of Clarissa O’Connell, and it unnerved him. And that wasn’t all.

  He liked her. Yes, he was attracted to her, that was a given. But he also genuinely liked her. She had a smart mouth and a comeback for everything, which kept him on his toes. There wasn’t a dumb bone in her body. Her very soft, very curvy body, which he only held back from exploring by sheer force of will. That, and the fact that he didn’t want to abuse the trust she’d placed in him. He’d used her being cold to touch her inappropriately earlier. Erik wasn’t about to use the same excuse to cop a feel now.

  Against all logic, O’Connell brought out his protective instincts. Not that she would probably thank him if she knew. He was curious about her and wished she’d drop the amnesia thing and be honest with him. Why would she choose this life? How had it happened?

  And if she could tell him these things while they were both naked and he lay between her soft thighs, that would be appreciated.

  Langston’s jaw clenched, the image making him choke back a groan. Why? Why did the one woman who intrigued him have to be a criminal? Where was the justice in that? It wasn’t fair, but that wasn’t a surprise either. Since when was life fair?

  He should just knock it off and quit trying to play the romantic hero bent on saving the self-destructive damsel in distress. They’d get out of here and he’d head to the nearest field office. He’d turn her in and they’d take her away in handcuffs to meet her fate.

  That thought kept Erik awake long into the night.

  When he opened his eyes, weak light filtered in through the opaque windows, a layer of snow once again blocking the view outside. The storm had finally passed. Morning had come.

  At some point during the night, he’d become even more entangled with Clarissa. She now lay half on top of him, straddling his thigh while her head lay cushioned on his chest. Her arm was carelessly slung across his stomach, her hair tickling his chin. Erik could feel the press of her breasts against his chest as she breathed. She made a slight sound, and he smiled a little. She snored. It was kind of cute, the little noise she made.

  A sound outside alerted him, wiping the smile from his face, and Erik knew that was why he’d woken.

  Someone was out there.

  EPISODE THREE

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Wait, Danny! Wait for me!”

  The little girl with an unruly head of fiery hair ran down the street after the teenage boy. The teenager paused in his rambling, turning to wait as bidden. He bent down to take her hand as she drew near.

  “Keep up, Rissa,” he chastised her. A thick Irish brogue colored his words.

  Clarissa beamed up at him, her gap-toothed grin one of adoration for her big brother.

  “Where we goin’?” she asked.

  “Into town, o’ course,” Danny replied, resuming his path down the cobbled street. Though evening was nearly upon the
m, the air chill and wet, people still bustled about, hurrying to get one last errand done, drink one last pint, before heading home.

  Clarissa didn’t care where they were going, just so it was away from home. Dad and Mary’s constant fighting echoed through the house, up into her small room with the purple walls. She’d been sitting on her bed absently playing with her dolls and trying to ignore the yelling when she’d heard the floor creak outside her door.

  Jumping down and hurrying to the door, she’d opened it to see Danny heading for the back stairs.

  “Can I come too?” she’d asked, causing him to stop on the top stair and glance back at her. A crash resounded downstairs, and Clarissa winced, knowing that dishes had started flying. She looked plaintively at her brother.

  After a moment, he nodded. “Getchyer coat.”

  Clarissa hurried to pull on her boots and grabbed her coat, tugging it on as she walked behind Danny down the stairs and slipped out the back door.

  They lived on the outskirts of the village, so it was a bit of a hike, but Clarissa didn’t mind. It was peaceful and quiet out here, unlike at home. She’d paused to try and coax a stray cat close for a pat and fallen behind Danny. Now that they were in the village proper, she caught back up.

  His hand was big compared to hers, as was he. Almost ten years older than she, Danny had taken care of Clarissa for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t remember her mother, who had died when she was a baby. Her Dad had brought several women home to stay since then. Mary had been there longer than the others.

  By now they’d reached the sweets shop. Clarissa didn’t have to say anything; she just looked up at Danny, who grimaced.

  “How can I say no to that look, Rissa?” he grumbled good-naturedly. He didn’t resist Clarissa’s tug on his hand to go inside. A few minutes later, they were back on the sidewalk, a lollipop stick protruding from between her lips.

  They meandered a while longer, peering into windows and whiling away the time. They stepped inside another shop, browsing the aisles. Clarissa watched as Danny picked up a pack of fags, looked around, then slid them into the pocket of her coat.

  “What are ya doin’, Danny?” she asked. She’d never seen him smoke before.

  “Hush, Rissa,” he said firmly, taking her hand.

  “But I don’t want these,” she protested again, pulling the pack out of her pocket.

  “Leave them,” Danny ordered, pushing the packet back inside.

  “But—”

  “I said, leave them!”

  “What’s goin’ on here?”

  Clarissa jerked around at the voice, having to tip her head back to see the shopkeeper looming over her. He was older, his wiry mustache gray, and was frowning as he looked at them.

  “You best not be thinking of shoplifting, boyo,” he warned Danny.

  “I didn’t take nothin’,” Danny protested. “Search me if you don’t believe me.”

  The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously. “Better get goin’ then, ’less you be buyin’,” he said.

  Danny just grabbed Clarissa’s hand and pulled her outside with him.

  Clarissa didn’t say a word. She knew it wasn’t right to steal and didn’t understand why Danny had done what he did. The fags seemed to burn a hole in her pocket, but she didn’t dare say anything.

  Her short legs struggled to keep up with Danny’s long strides, and he didn’t speak to her until they’d gone the length of several blocks.

  Finally, they stopped. The sidewalk was empty around them, night having settled in and with it, a thick fog.

  “Good job, Rissa,” Danny praised her, sinking down in a crouch. He took the packet from her pocket. “You did real good.”

  Danny tore open the cellophane and pulled out a fag. Putting it between his lips, he lit it and took a long drag. The heavy fog made his cap wet; the tufts of brown hair sticking out were also damp. He eyed Clarissa as he blew out a stream of smoke.

  “We make a pretty good team, you and me,” he said. “Would you like that?”

  Clarissa hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of stealing and wasn’t sure what Danny was asking. Did he mean he wanted her to do that again? If she said yes, did that mean she’d get to be with him more?

  Tentatively, Clarissa nodded.

  Danny’s lips split in a wide smile, and he took another drag. “Tha’s good, Rissa,” he said. “No one suspects the cute li’l ginger girl.”

  Clarissa frowned at him. “Danny, you said you wouldn’t call me that anymore,” she pouted. He knew how much she detested her red hair.

  “Sorry,” Danny said easily, standing back up. “I forget.”

  He pushed his hands into his pockets, and Clarissa did the same as they walked back to their house.

  When they arrived, it was to see Mary throwing a suitcase into the backseat of her car. She was muttering to herself, her movements sharp and jerky. When she caught sight of them, she froze. Clarissa saw a bruise on Mary’s cheek and a cut on her lip.

  “Danny, Clarissa,” she began, “I’m just…going to a friend’s for the weekend.”

  Clarissa didn’t say anything. She knew Mary was lying.

  “Yeah,” Danny said, his voice flat. “See ya, Mary.”

  Mary winced, then seemed to brace herself before coming toward them. She went to hug Danny, but he stepped back, thrusting his hand out instead. She stopped and awkwardly shook it before turning to Clarissa.

  Crouching down, she reached out, and Clarissa couldn’t stop the compulsion to step into her open arms. Mary was nice. She read stories to Clarissa, baked her cookies when it was cold outside, and braided her unruly hair into a soft plait that hung down her back. She’d been here for three Christmases. Clarissa hadn’t dared to hope Mary might stay forever, but it seemed her insides hadn’t gotten that message. Her stomach clenched in knots as Mary held her.

  “I wish I could take you with me,” Mary whispered in her ear.

  Clarissa wished that, too.

  When Mary pulled back, her eyes were red and wet. “I love you, Clarissa, don’t ever forget that,” she said fiercely. An expression of anguish crossed her face before she abruptly stood. In a few moments, she’d started the car and was driving away.

  It was then Clarissa noticed how wet her own cheeks were.

  “C’mon, Rissa,” Danny said gruffly, tugging on her hand. “Let’s go in.”

  That night as Clarissa went to bed without a bedtime story, she stared at the ceiling. She had slipped Mary’s pillow from Dad’s bed — he wouldn’t notice as drunk as he was — and now she hugged it to her chest. It still smelled of Mary’s perfume.

  She hated it, the hurt inside that tore her up. What was wrong with her? Why had Mary left her? She said she loved Clarissa, yet she’d driven away without her. Would Danny leave her too someday? Tears streamed unnoticed down her cheeks to dampen the pillow underneath her head.

  In the quiet silence of her darkened bedroom, Clarissa vowed she’d never let that happen. She’d do whatever she needed to do, be whatever he needed her to be, so he would never want to leave her.

  And she would never again trust anyone who said they loved her.

  “Mary…”

  She wasn’t aware she’d uttered the name aloud until a hand clamped down over her mouth.

  Clarissa’s eyes flew open. Langston’s face was inches from hers. She realized with a touch of embarrassment that she was lying on top of him. She tried to pull away, but his arm tightened around her waist, locking her in place.

  “Be still,” Langston hissed. “Someone’s here.”

  Clarissa’s eyes widened and her heart beat triple time. What if it was more of Solomon’s men?

  “Anybody in there?” The voice came from outside.

  In one quick movement, Langston rolled, pinning Clarissa underneath him. His hand was still pressed tightly against her mouth, and Clarissa could taste the slight tang of his skin.

  “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound,” he ordered, f
inally releasing her. He reached for his gun.

  “What about you — ” she began, only to clamp her mouth shut at the look he shot her.

  Without a word, Langston grabbed the sleeping bags and folded them over her, enveloping her in darkness and completely concealing her from view.

  She heard the car door open, and Langston call out.

  “Hey, yeah, I’m here.”

  Then the door shut and she could only make out muffled words as he spoke to whoever was outside.

  Clarissa chafed with impatience and dread. What if they hurt Langston? Killed him?

  She waited, sweating under the blankets and feeling as though she were slowly suffocating. Okay, she’d count to ten, and if he wasn’t back, she’d find some kind of weapon and go after him. One…two…three…

  “Oh, screw it,” she huffed, unable to take another moment with the walls closing in around her. She threw off the sleeping bags just as the door jerked open. Clarissa instinctively jerked back, then let out a breath of relief when Langston appeared.

  “You listen well,” he said dryly.

  “And this is a surprise?” Clarissa replied breezily, concealing her relief that he was unharmed. “So who’s the guy?”

  “Nobody we have to worry about, but he’s offered to lead us out of here.”

  “That’s great!” Clarissa forced a smile even as her heart sank. She’d hoped to have more time to convince Langston she was telling the truth, but now it seemed her time was running out fast.

  Langston caught her gaze and paused, looking like he was going to say something. Clarissa waited, hoping, but he seemed to think better of it, turning away and rummaging for a scraper.

  Clarissa put on her shoes and coat before emerging from the SUV. Langston had started the engine to warm it up while he pushed snow off the glass.

  “I’ll just be back in a few,” Clarissa told him.

  “Wait,” he said, making her pause.

  Oh lord, please don’t say he’s coming with me, she thought. Even after the wolves last night, she’d still rather take her chances on her own for this particular chore.