Remember Ramsey by Cynthia Eden

Chapter Seven

Observation notes: The people in Ramsey’s world are dangerous. Not just the individuals I’ve watched in the bar, but the ones in his inner circle. I had a friend at the police department show me their rap sheets. The people who smile at me so easily when I am with him hide pasts that are scary and brutal.

Can people change? I’ve always believed they could. When I look at Ramsey, I have to keep believing that.

***

He scooped Whitney into his arms and ran away from the flames eating up her den. He’d seen attacks like this before, usually in turf warfare when someone wanted a message received. If he ran out the front door, an attacker could be waiting.

He wasn’t about to risk Whitney. So he tightened his grip and rushed toward her kitchen. He knew exactly how to get to the rear door of her house—to the door that led off her laundry room. “Cover your mouth, baby,” he urged her. He didn’t want her inhaling the smoke. And he sure as fuck was not about to let the flames so much as touch her skin.

As he raced with her toward the laundry room, she jerked in his grasp. “No, wait!” Whitney cried. “My laptop. I have to get it!”

Was she freaking serious? “The house is on fire. We just need to get you out.”

“Ram!”

He could see the laptop. He snagged it with one hand and pushed it toward her. “Hold it tight.”

Then he had her in the laundry room. He swung the door that led back to the kitchen shut, then he carefully lowered Whitney to her feet.

She clutched her laptop like the thing was made of gold.

His hands flew over her.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re not hurt.” Fury pounded at him.

“I’m not.”

She could have been, though. She could have been killed. Someone would be paying—in blood. “I’m going outside. He’s probably in front, waiting for us, but if I’m wrong and he’s waiting near the back door, you stay behind me, got it?” He yanked a knife from the sheath he’d strapped to his ankle.

Her wide eyes followed the movement.

“Whitney, promise to stay behind me.”

A jerky nod. Then… “And promise you won’t get hurt.”

“I promise that I’ll be the one doing the hurting.” Then he yanked open the back door. He rushed out, looking to the left and the right for a threat, but he didn’t see anyone. The growling roar of an engine reached his ears. “Sonofabitch.” He rushed toward the front of the house just in time to see taillights vanishing down the road.

The attacker hadn’t stuck around. He’d fled.

Like that was going to save him. Ramsey would find him. With his resources, there would be no escape.

“Ramsey?”

He whirled toward her. The knife was still gripped in his hand. He immediately shoved it down and away from her. “He ran.”

“My house is on fire.” Her voice was low and sad. She clutched the laptop to her chest. “We need to call the fire department.”

Yeah, they did. But first…

He sheathed the knife and scooped her into his arms and ran for his ride.

“Uh, Ramsey?”

His grip tightened. “We’re getting the hell out of here.” If the attacker came back, she wasn’t going to be anywhere near the scene.

“Whitney!” A shrill cry from her neighbor. “Whitney, are you all right? What’s happening?” And the woman was rushing toward them. A roller fell out of her hair and hit the ground.

“Call nine-one-one, Jenny!” Whitney yelled at her. “And stay away from the fire!”

Ramsey lowered Whitney near his motorcycle. He’d be ditching that bike at the first opportunity and getting a different ride. Whitney and the baby would need something different. For now… “Climb on and hold on tight.”

She looked at the bike, then at him. “We should wait for the cops.”

The fire was crackling.

He put her laptop in one of the saddle bags. Then he carefully settled the helmet on her head and secured it beneath her chin. “We should get the hell out of here,” he told her. “Now.”

She bit her lip. Looked at the burning house. Looked at him.

“Time is kinda of the essence here,” he murmured as he climbed onto the bike.

Whitney slid on the bike. Wrapped her hands around his waist. He revved the motorcycle and shot them away from the scene.

The heat of the flames seemed to follow in his wake.

***

“We fled a crime scene.” Whitney paced in front of the massive floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the beach. Waves pounded and the glitter of stars shone in the dark sky. “Why did I do that? I’m a law-abiding citizen. I always do what I’m supposed to do.” She turned and marched back toward him. “What was I thinking?”

“That you wanted to stay alive?” He lounged on the couch. His pose was deliberately relaxed…when relaxed was the last thing he felt. Fury pumped through his body, and all he wanted to do was go out and hunt.

Destroy.

Kill.

Because that was who he was. At his core, he was a monster. A killer. An eye-for-an-eye bastard who did not stop until he’d gotten vengeance on those who had wronged him.

Someone had gone after Whitney. Made the worst mistake possible.

And isn’t this what you feared would happen? Isn’t this why you tried to stay away? But it was too late for all that now. “I’m sorry.”

She squinted at him. “Was that an apology? Because it kind of sounded like a curse.”

It had felt like a curse. “I brought the danger to your door. That’s on me.”

“Uh, you have no idea that you caused this! You don’t have a monopoly on danger. In case you’ve forgotten, I had killers after me before, and from what I learned, you had nothing to do with all that.” She glanced around his den. “Where’s the phone? I need to call the cops.” Then she spied his cell and immediately rushed toward it.

He rose and stepped into her path. “Sorry, that’s gonna be a no.”

“What?”

“You’re not going to call the cops.”

“But—but we can’t just—” She sputtered to a stop.

“We can. We did. It’s handled, don’t worry.” His gaze swept over her. He’d been doing that over and over again. Checking her out. Ramsey wanted to be absolutely certain that she hadn’t been hurt.

“Handled? How?”

“I made some phone calls.”

“When?”

“When you were in the bathroom.”

“I was in the bathroom for all of two minutes.”

“And my calls were very fast. I’m amazing like that.”

Her head cocked to the right. “Who did you call?”

He wanted to touch her. Because he wanted it so badly, he backed up and put more space between them. “The police. Happy now?”

“No. I want more information.”

Ramsey let loose a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I called one of my many contacts at the PD. I informed him of the events that had happened, and I told him that I had removed you from the scene for your safety.” He thought that all sounded very reasonable. How could she have a problem with that? “See? I handled things. Now you don’t have to fret that you did something wrong by fleeing. Your good-girl complex is maintained.”

She rushed to close the space between them. Whitney jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “First, I do not have a good-girl complex.”

“No?

“No.”

“Then do you have a bad-girl complex?”

“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.”

“Absolutely, you are.” The woman of his dreams. Not time to address that situation, though. “My mistake. I forgot, you have a bad-guy complex. You know I’m dangerous, but you just can’t turn away from the wicked thrill that I give you.”

She jabbed him with her index finger again. “I have never had a bad-guy complex in my life!”

His brow furrowed. “No?”

“No.” Adamant.

“Then how do you explain us? Some would say I’m the baddest of the bad…”

“Oh, and someone sure is bragging right now…”

He fought the smile that wanted to spread over his face. There you are. The strong, snarky woman who’d obliterated his world. The hell she’d lived through hadn’t dampened her fire. He didn’t think anything could. Whitney always said and did the unexpected. She’d never been intimidated by him. And she could throw him off his guard—or get way under his skin—with just a few simple words.

But her hand suddenly jerked back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” His voice had gone gruff.

“Like you want to kiss me.” Hers had turned soft.

Ramsey nodded. “Fair enough. I’m looking at you this way because I want your mouth.” A pause. “I want you.”

He noticed that her breaths heaved out faster. “I don’t know what you think our past was about—”

Lots of hot sex. A desire that could never be sated, no matter how many times he had her.

“But I wasn’t with you because I wanted some kind of danger high. I’ve interviewed plenty of criminals. I’ve gone in maximum security prisons and had one-on-one discussions with some of the most infamous killers out there. Do you remember Murphy the Monster? He sat down for a heart-to-heart with me.”

He knew full well about all of the work she’d done. When it came to criminal behavior, Whitney was at the top of her game. She’d written several best-selling books and gone on speaking tours across the country as she lectured about the criminal mind and motivations for criminal behavior. He knew all this about her because he’d made a point of knowing everything.

And when he’d discovered just how close she’d been to some of the most brutal killers out there, it had chilled his soul. Very little scared him. Whitney sitting down for a fun chat with a convicted serial killer?

Fucking terrifying.

“I’ve had the chance to get close to plenty of dangerous men,” she continued doggedly. “I never slept with any of those others. I studied them.”

“Because they were your experiments.”

Pink tinted her cheeks. “No, that’s—that’s not the right word.”

He thought it was. “When you started getting…close…to me, I asked if I was an experiment to you.”

“You’re not.” An immediate response.

That had been her response back then, too.

“I’ve had lots of women sleep with me because they liked the thrill of screwing the bad guy.”

Now she surged toward him. “It’s not my fault you have bad taste. You should try sleeping with women who want to be with you because they think there is something more to you than just that tough, criminal persona you present to the world.”

He could not look away from her mouth. “I tried that.” Got addicted to it. “It pretty much ruined me for everyone else.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“In case you don’t quite get what I’m saying, I’ll try again.” He released a long breath and then confessed, “There has been no one else for me since you.”

“But…but I vanished…”

“There has been no one else.” There couldn’t be. No one could fill the hole she’d left in his life.

Her gaze searched his. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Whatever the hell you want.” He wasn’t going to pressure her. “I didn’t bring you back here so that you would have to sleep with me. Though, let me just go ahead and make sure you know, sleeping with you—fucking you—is always at the top of my to do list.”

Her cheeks flushed even darker. “Good to know?” Her words were tremulous. A question when they should have been a statement.

But he let that go, for now. “I brought you here because you’re a target.”

“Me?” Her mouth gaped. Then closed. “Why am I a target?”

“Because your house was just set on fire?”

“But I thought that attack was about you! You arrived at my place and then just minutes later we hear the revving engine, and the bottles came hurtling through my window. Someone followed you!”

But Ramsey had to point out, “You received the mystery rose deliveries.”

“Yes.” Grim.

“I’m thinking your place was scoped out.” Full disclosure… “And, yes, it could damn well be due to our connection.” He could have put her in the crosshairs. “Maybe I was followed to your place—”

“But you just came by last night! And I received the first rose—”

Tell her. “I came to your house before last night.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “You mean that you came to my home before I lost my memory—”

“I mean I’ve been by your house every damn night since you’ve gotten back to the area. I would drive by on my way home from the bar and just pause to make sure everything looked safe.” He hadn’t been able to stay away from her.

She didn’t speak.

Was she shocked by his confession? Freaked out? He had to trudge on. “I came by every night, so if I was followed one of those nights, then, yes, I would have led the bastard right to you. He would have easily seen what I valued most, and now he could be targeting you as a way of hurting me.” The sonofabitch. “Know that this is the last thing I wanted. I tried to protect you, but because I want you so fucking badly, I did nothing but put you in harm’s way.” He spun from her. Started to head toward the mantel.

Her hand closed around his arm. “You came to my house every night?”

A jerky nod.

“Why didn’t you ever come to the door? I mean, last night you did, but…”

“Last night, you’d come to me at my bar.” That had changed things. Broken through his already weak control. “When I want something too much, it’s dangerous. You should know that there is nothing I want more than I want you.”

But she shook her head. “I’m supposed to buy that?”

Yes, because it was the truth.

“I was alone for weeks. I was pregnant and I kept thinking…surely, if I was involved with someone, he’d be here. Only you weren’t there. And you only told me the truth when you found out about the baby.” Her hand dropped to protectively rest over her stomach. “So pardon me if I don’t trust what you’re telling me. I think you want this baby more than anything else. I think you brought me here to protect the baby, not me. I think—”

“I want the baby,” he growled. “Make no mistake. I want the baby because the baby is yours. There is no part of you that I don’t want. Staying away isn’t an option any longer. Protecting you and the baby is my priority.” Which was why… “I want you moving in here.”

“Uh, no.”

He’d expected an argument. That was why he already had his defense ready. “Your house was torched. Hardly a safe place for a pregnant lady.”

Her delicate jaw hardened.

“I’ve got top-of-the-line security. I will make sure that you are safe twenty-four, seven.” He would eliminate all the threats to her. No sense in telling her that he would have to get violent with his enemies. That news could come later. Or never.

“Am I supposed to become your prisoner?”

Prisoner wasn’t the right description. Cherished lover was way better. “You will be free to come and go as you wish. I’ll just make sure you have a bodyguard with you when I’m not close.”

“What?”

He winced. Her voice had gone shockingly high.

“Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” Whitney demanded. “For all we know, the cops could be hunting down our pyro right now!”

“When it comes to you, I am over the top.”

“I have a job! I can’t have a bodyguard trailing me when I’m lecturing! I can’t—”

“Please.”

Her head tilted. “You think that is some kind of magic word? That I’ll just cave when your voice gets all low and sexy and you say please to me?”

“A guy can hope.” He made a mental note that she still found his voice sexy. That was a good sign.

“Look, let’s not worry about bodyguards yet. How about we just focus on getting through the rest of the night, hmmm? Can we do that?” She nodded resolutely as if she’d made her own plan. Knowing Whitney, she probably had. “I’ll stay here tonight. As you pointed out, my place was torched. And, obviously, there are a million rooms here.”

Not quite a million.

“So I should be able to stay out of your way.”

Why do that? “You’re welcome in my bed.”

“Yes, slow down. That’s not happening. I’m staying here. We’ll see what the cops turn up, and in the morning, we’ll go from there.” Then she yawned. An adorable little stretch of her face.

It was late. She probably was tired, no, exhausted considering the additional strain of her pregnancy and—

He yawned, too.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Her tone brightened. “Your odds of being a psychopath just plummeted.”

“Come again?”

“Catching a yawn like that is linked to empathy. Psychopaths often don’t experience empathy. They can’t. They can fake it, but not actually feel it. There was a study conducted a few years back that said if you scored high on a checklist for psychopathy, you would have a lower chance of responding to contagious yawns.”

“So I’m not a total psychopath. Good to know.” His fingers tapped against his thigh. “Any other tests you want to perform on me?”

“No, because you aren’t my experiment.” She turned on her heel. “And I’m very tired. If the cops arrive and want to question me, please wake me up.”

If the cops arrived and she was sleeping, he damn well would not disturb her. She needed her rest.

Whitney disappeared down the hallway.

She’d given him that yawn test before. He’d known how to pass it because they’d had that exact discussion before.

Did she remember? Was the past coming back for her, too?

His gaze trekked to the laptop that she’d left sitting on his couch. He was curious about just why it had been so important to her. When she was asleep, he’d be sure to check it out.

For now…

He crept carefully down the hallway after her. He just wanted to make sure she was settled comfortably and—

A door shut on the right.

He stilled. She’d picked her room for the night.

A slow smile spread across his face. She’d picked his bedroom. Satisfaction flooded through him.

He had gotten her back in his bed, after all. Just where he wanted her to be.