Wife With Amnesia. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ you heard the man. It’s just a precaution.”

      Ignoring Matt, she pressed on. “Detective?”

      “Call it the gut feeling of an old cop. I just think it would be a good idea if you’re not left alone.”

      “She won’t be,” Matt said, and started to usher the detective out of the room.

      “Detective, wait. Do you think he’s going to come after me again?”

      He hesitated. “He shouldn’t. From all indications you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, the victim of a random mugging.”

      “Is that what you think it is? A random mugging?”

      “What he thinks doesn’t matter,” Matt insisted. “No one’s going to hurt you again.”

      Dismissing the angry look Matt shot the detective, Claire persisted. “Detective Delvecchio, I’m asking for your professional opinion—that gut feeling you mentioned. Do you think the attack on me wasn’t random and that he might come after me again?”

      “Right now I have no reason to believe it was anything more than what it appears to be and this feeling in my gut is just indigestion. If that’s the case, the guy is probably long gone and won’t bother you again,” he informed her.

      “But?” Claire prompted.

      “But on the off chance that I’m wrong, and my gut is right, this wasn’t a random mugging, I’d rather err on the side of caution and make sure that you’re protected.”

      Claire could feel the color drain from her cheeks. She fisted her fingers in the sheets. A shudder ran through her as she thought of those cold eyes in the police sketch. “But you said he stole my wallet. What makes you think his goal was more than robbery?”

      “Delvecchio, why don’t we discuss this outside?” Matt suggested.

      “No,” Claire returned. Ignoring Matt’s scowl, she said, “I’d appreciate an answer to my question.” When he didn’t answer, Claire said, “Detective Delvecchio, I may have lost my memory, but I haven’t lost my brain or my ability to think. Since I’m the one who was attacked, I believe I have a right to know why you think I might still be in danger.”

      The detective sighed. “To be frank, ma’am, I find it strange that this guy would attack you as he did and just take your purse. According to the report from the hospital admitting clerk, you were wearing some pricy jewelry when they brought you in—jewelry that could have been fenced for a nice chunk of change. If fast cash was his motive, why didn’t he take it?”

      “Maybe he was scared off. You said that this Mrs. Williams witnessed the whole thing. Or maybe he didn’t have time to finish the job because she surprised him.”

      The detective scratched at his head. “That’s the other thing that’s been puzzling me. The man attacked you beneath a bright streetlight, where he could clearly be seen. Yet he made no attempt to conceal his face with a mask or a stocking. I’ve checked out the crime scene. It would have made more sense for him to make a grab for your purse before you reached the car. There was less chance of him being seen that way, and you were clearly more vulnerable.”

      “Maybe you’re dealing with a dumb crook,” Matt offered.

      “And maybe we’re not dealing with a crook at all,” Claire suggested. “That is what you’re suggesting isn’t it? That my attacker’s motive wasn’t robbery?”

      “Yes, ma’am. The truth is, the Gallagher name is fairly well known in the New Orleans area because of your husband’s family’s restaurants and the family’s social prominence. You folks are mighty visible. There’s hardly a week that goes by without some member of your family having their picture splashed across the society pages or on the TV news at some big to-do in the city. From where I’m standing, that makes any one of you a prime target for kidnappers.”

      “Kidnappers,” Claire repeated, stunned by the idea.

      “It is a possibility,” the detective replied. “One that I don’t think we should rule out. Maybe the reason this guy just grabbed your purse and didn’t go for your jewelry or your car was because it was really you that he was after. Maybe he intended to kidnap you and hold you for ransom, but was scared off when Mrs. Williams showed up. Hitting you and taking your purse might have just been a ruse to cover what he was really after—you.”

      “Oh, my God,” Claire murmured, both appalled and frightened by the scenario the detective had just outlined.

      “I’ve had about enough of your theories, Delvecchio. All you’re doing is upsetting my wife, so I’d appreciate it if you would leave and go find the man who attacked her,” Matt said, his voice clipped, his expression deadly.

      The detective didn’t argue. After exchanging a look with Matt, he nodded and left the room.

      “Hey, it’s all right,” Matt soothed as he sat on the bed beside her. He caught her by the shoulders. “Look at me, Red.”

      Claire tipped up her chin, stared into those compelling gray eyes filled with concern, with worry.

      “Listen to me. Even if Delvecchio’s cockamamie theory about an attempted kidnapping is right, and I’m not at all sure that it is, nothing is going to happen to you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. All right?”

      Claire nodded, but inside she had this sick, uneasy feeling. Was it possible that someone had actually tried to kidnap her? Suppose they decided to try again? Panic paralyzed her for long seconds as she realized that if someone did try to kidnap her, she wouldn’t even know what number to call to let someone know she was being held for ransom.

      “Claire.” Matt gave her a gentle shake. “Sweetheart, I know how hard this must be for you. You don’t remember me, the love that we shared. But I do love you. More than you can possibly imagine. All I’m asking is that you trust me. Give me a chance. Give us a chance. Will you do that?”

      “I’ll try.”

      He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, drew his finger gently along her cheek. “That’s all I can ask.”

      But it wasn’t all that he wanted. Desire still shimmered in his eyes as he caressed her jaw, stared at her mouth. A flutter of feminine heat flickered, spilled slowly through her system. While she might not remember Matt or her life with him, on some level her body remembered him.

      “Trust me,” he murmured, and pressed his lips gently against her own. He drew back a fraction, looked her in the eyes. “I know this is difficult for you, but promise me you won’t dwell on anything Delvecchio said.” When she nodded, he continued, “That’s my girl. I want you to just concentrate on getting better. Tomorrow, when I take you home, everything won’t seem so unsettling as it does now.”

      But how did she tell the man she was married to that it wasn’t just the detective’s kidnapping theory that had the nerves knotting in her stomach? It was the prospect of going home with a husband who was for all intents and purposes a stranger to her.

      He was walking a thin line, Matt conceded as he turned the wheel of the Mercedes and headed down the street toward home. And that fine line he’d been treading since СКАЧАТЬ