Holiday Amnesia. Lynette Eason

What if it doesn’t?”

      He slid his hand from the wheel to grip her fingers. “We’ll figure it out, Robin. I’m here to help you, okay?”

      “Why?” she whispered. “What are you to me? Why can’t I remember you?”

      He drove with precise movements, showing his comfort with handling the large vehicle. For some reason that helped settle her. “You said you remember being hired to work at the lab. But you don’t remember anything after that?”

      “No. Why?”

      “Because we met about a month after you started working there.”

      “Oh. So, we’re friends?”

      “Definitely friends.”

      She sighed. “I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

      “It’s okay. Or it will be. We just need to get you somewhere safe until the authorities can catch whoever blew up the lab.”

      “I’m all for them catching them, but I want to know more than who it was.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I want to know who and why.”

      “Yeah, the why would be good to know.” He glanced at her. “I’m wondering if you know the answer to both of those.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean, someone obviously wants you dead. I overheard them talking in the woods.”

      “The woods,” she said. “We were in the woods?”

      “The woods behind the lab on campus. After you got out of the building, you ran into the woods and were hiding. Which is where I found you. Anyway, there were two guys talking. I couldn’t see them—or hear them very well. I just caught some snatches of conversation but definitely heard them say something about killing you. Tonight.”

      She rubbed her forehead and winced when she accidentally pressed too hard against her wound. “So what now?”

      “We get you some clothes and whatever else you need for a couple of days of hiding out.”

      “Hiding out? Where?” She had nothing but questions that needed answers.

      “First, a motel. Then we’ll work together to find a more long-term solution to keeping you safe.”

      “Like what?”

      “I’m working on that.”

      While he drove for the next thirty minutes, Robin dozed off and on. The silence was tense but not awkward. Tense only because she could tell he was thinking about their next move.

      “We need to fill your pain meds,” he said when she blinked awake.

      She frowned. “No. I don’t want them.” Her head and hands hurt, but the thought of a drugged unconsciousness scared her silly.

      “You will when the current ones wear off. I’ve had a concussion before and it hurts. It may take you a while to recover.”

      “But if we fill the prescription, whoever’s after me will be able to track us that way, won’t they?”

      “It’s possible. The fact that you’re thinking rationally is reassuring.”

      “Then we shouldn’t stop to fill it, right?”

      “By the time they show up—assuming they manage to trace it—we’ll be long gone.” He pulled off at an exit advertising food and lodging. “Let’s try here. It’s a small town off the beaten path. I think we’ll be all right here for a bit.”

      “Okay.” Robin had already made up her mind she was going to have to trust this stranger who claimed they were friends.

      “So, first, let’s get food. What do you want?”

      “Shouldn’t you know that?” She raised a brow. “If we’re friends like you say we are.”

      He barked a short laugh. “Okay, you’re not really picky. You don’t do fast food on a regular basis, but I know there’s no way you’re going to be willing to go inside a restaurant looking like you just survived the apocalypse.”

      Her jaw swung. “The apocalypse? Really?”

      “Okay, you’re not that bad, but am I wrong?”

      She huffed. “No.” His spot-on assessment greatly reassured her that he knew her. The fact that she remembered nothing about him wasn’t nearly as comforting. It was downright terrifying.

      “So, do you want a burger or chicken?”

      “Burger.”

      Once they’d ordered and received their food at the window, he pulled into a parking spot where they dug in.

      “We need to get you some clothes,” he said. “How do you feel about shopping?”

      “I honestly don’t know if I have the energy. Besides, what do you think after that whole apocalypse comment?”

      He groaned. “You’re going to hold that over my head, aren’t you?”

      She tilted her head and thought. “Yes. I think I am.”

      “All right. You can give me your sizes and I can grab a few things for you.”

      “I don’t have any money. My purse, my—” She paused. “Where do I live? All I can picture is my two-bedroom apartment in Houston, Texas.”

      “When you took the job at the university, they offered you an apartment across the street from the university.” He paused. “We live in the same building.”

      “Then I suppose all of my things are there.”

      “Except your cell phone. You always had that with you—usually in the pocket of your lab coat.”

      “I...don’t know.”

      “You weren’t wearing your coat when I found you, so you probably left it in the lab.”

      “Then the phone’s gone if the fire was as bad as you say.”

      He nodded. “It was. I can get you a phone. As for your purse, I don’t know where that would be. Sometimes you took it to the lab with you, sometimes you left it in your car—against my advice, I will say.”

      She’d always left her purse in the car when she didn’t feel like carrying it. “Where’s my car now?”

      “I had it towed to your home while I was waiting for you to get out of the CT scan.”

      “I need to get it then.”

      “No, you need to be safe.”

      “But it has everything in there. My wallet. I—”

      “Don’t worry about the money, Robin. You almost died. Let me help you. You can pay me back later if it means that much to you.”

      She sighed. What choice did she have? “Fine. Thank you.”

      “Of course. Now. What size are you?”

      She gave him her information and when they were finished eating, he found a large superstore and parked. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

      “I’ll be all right. It’s busy. People are all around.”

      He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

      “You think we were followed?”

      “I don’t, but I just have a bad feeling about leaving you here.”

      “Then I’ll come with you and just endure the sidelong looks I’ll be sure to get.”

      “I’ve got a better idea.”