Colton On The Run. Anna J. Stewart

back into the chair she’d occupied earlier. “How can I know what amnesia is but not remember who I am? That doesn’t make any sense.”

      “It does if your amnesia is somehow connected to who you are.” Leo retrieved a bright white metal box from the back porch and set it on the table. Before he returned, he poured them each a cup of coffee. “The brain is a complicated thing. I told you, don’t push it. You’ll remember what you’re meant to remember when you’re ready.”

      “That sentence alone gives me a headache.” The pounding in her head wasn’t getting any better, but at least it wasn’t getting any worse. “I don’t even know where we are.”

      “Colorado,” Leo told her. “Roaring Springs. Well, the farthest edge of it.” He arched a brow as if expecting the information to open a floodgate of memories. “Nothing?”

      “Zippo.” The frustration began to eat at her. She just felt so...stupid! And it was not a feeling she liked. At all.

      “How do you take your coffee?” He set a flowered mug in front of her.

      “Cream. No sugar.” Her laugh sounded strained even to her own ears. “Would have probably taken a complete lobotomy to forget that.”

      “Everyone knows how they take their coffee,” Leo teased. “Ollie, you’re becoming a pest. Go get in your bed.”

      “He’s fine.” Jane pressed her hand into the dog’s neck. “I’m fine with him around.”

      “Good to hear it. Now, drink some caffeine and brace yourself. This is probably going to sting.” He swabbed a large cotton ball with rubbing alcohol and pressed in against the long gash in her hairline.

      She sucked in a breath, gritting her teeth as her eyes watered against the pain. “Oh, wow. Yeah.” But she didn’t pull away. It was something that had to be done. Besides, the comfort she felt with Ollie so close was nothing compared to how she felt around Leo Slattery. The man was...smoking hot. In more ways than one. She found herself transfixed by the muscles in his arm as he tended to her. He smelled amazing, too, like soap and wood with a hint of citrus that set her nose to tingling. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but that only set her head to spinning in a completely different way.

      “Why don’t you scare me?” Given what must have happened to her, she should be terrified of everyone and yet...

      He stopped, pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair. “What?”

      Jane’s cheeks flamed. “Did I say that out loud? Oh, wow.” She pressed a hand against her face. “My brain must have been seriously bashed. That was—”

      “Honest.” The smile that broke across his handsome face could have healed a thousand wounds. “I don’t have an answer for you other than I think it means you know I don’t mean you any harm.” It was the way he said it, not as a question exactly, but the inquiry was there nonetheless. Her mind raced for a response as Leo turned his attention to the welt on her upper cheek.

      “But someone did. Mean me harm,” she added as if needed. “Who?”

      “Again, I don’t have an answer.” He tossed the soiled cotton ball onto a napkin and retrieved three butterfly bandages from the kit. “I’m not sure we’ll know until you remember who you are. And it’s doubtful we’ll find that out without help.”

      “No police.” The protest was out of her mouth before she even thought the words. The very idea of talking with the police was enough to turn the coffee in her empty stomach to bile.

      “They might recognize you.”

      “Why?”

      Leo smiled, but for the first time, there didn’t seem to be any humor behind it. “You’re not from around here, Jane. Your clothes, your hands. Your hair. You. You don’t live a rancher’s life. And around this part of Roaring Springs, that would make you stand out. I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think you’re a country girl. There.” He pressed his fingers against the bandages. “Now, let’s see your feet.” He scooted his chair back and patted his thighs. “Up.”

      “Um. Okay.” She drew her feet up and did as he requested. The second his hands landed on her feet, she shivered. Strong, determined fingers examined the soles, pressing and checking for open wounds. “How bad?”

      “Not as bad as I thought. You’re going to want to stay off them for a day or so. Let them heal a bit.” He repeated the process he had with her head, cleaning the scrapes with alcohol before applying ointment and covering them with gauze that he secured with tape. “What’s this?” He angled her left foot to the side, narrowed his eyes as his fingers gently grazed her skin.

      She shook her head, that sick fear clogging her throat.

      “They look like finger marks.”

      Jane squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to shake. “I know,” she whispered. But that was all she could manage. Watching him, she took comfort in the shift of expressions over his face. Concern gave way to curiosity, which sharpened to anger at her words. But his touch didn’t change. The featherlight pressure of his fingers danced along her skin like a healing balm.

      “Those socks should help.” He picked up the pair of thick, white socks from the table. “Besides, you shouldn’t be moving around with a head injury. We’ll give it a day or so, see how you’re feeling, then discuss what comes next.”

      “What comes next?” Panic dropped over her again like a blanket.

      “People are bound to be missing you, Jane. They’re bound to be worried. If you aren’t going to let me go to the police or take you to the hospital, then we’ll have to find those people ourselves.”

      “Or I could just stay here.” Here, in this pretty little country kitchen with sunflower curtains over the windows and a collection of teapots behind one of the glass-door cabinets.

      “You mean hide,” Leo corrected. He slipped the socks on her feet, gave her ankles a quick pat, then placed her feet back on the floor. “Wrist, please.”

      “Lord, I’m such a mess.” She winced, remembering the feel of that saw blade scraping against her skin. “He was going to come back.”

      Leo’s hand stilled for a moment before carefully dabbing at the scratches. “Who was?”

      “He. They. Whoever left me in that shed.” And just like that, the anxiety and terror she felt when she’d first come to overtook the panic at the thought of leaving. “As soon as I woke up, as soon as I realized what was happening, I knew whoever took me was coming back.”

      “Tell me what you remember about where you were.”

      “Mmm.” Jane frowned and wished she’d get used to that stinging sensation coating her skin, but the pain was offset by Leo’s tender touch. “It was an old shed. One window. One door. I’d been tied up. Obviously.” She lifted her hand as proof.

      “Rope.” He traced a finger over the burns among the cuts. “Not duct tape. Interesting.”

      “Why? Duct tape might have been easier to cut through.”

      “Maybe. What was in the shed?”

      “Garden tools. A lawn mower, shovels. That kind of thing.” Her mind raced back there. “And old woodworking tools, too. The door wouldn’t open.”

      “So you broke through the window.” He reached behind himself for a pair of tweezers.

      “How did you—Ow!”

      He plucked a tiny shard of glass out of the side of her wrist and held it up for her to see. “Glad there weren’t any in your feet.”

      “Me, too.” She watched him examine every inch of her hands and wrists and forearms. “You sure you aren’t a doctor?” She felt her face warm again, and wished she didn’t sound like a teenager with a crush.

      “I