Bombshell: A BWWM Billionaire Amnesia Romance Suspense Novel (11 page)

Chapter Eighteen

“Oh, Merrick, it’s incredible,” she said as she walked into the room. “Do we really get to live here?”

Her eyes were big as saucers, and it reminded him of that childlike way she’d reacted when he’d first shown her around his cabin. And even though she was clearly exhausted, the way her face lit up made his heart thump.

The doctor’s appointment wasn’t for another few hours, but he was still glad to get her away from the surprise party. He was hungry, and he let Bombshell roam around the room as he ordered room service and mulled over how to change up his story so as not to upset Mama G. When Bombshell closed the door to the bathroom, he grabbed his cell phone and called Tony.

“You’ll thank me later, bro,” Tony said as he answered the phone.

“What the hell are you talking about? Do you realize how this screws up my plans?”

“What plans? You haven’t told me squat, bro—but I can tell by the way you look at her that she’s more than just talent for the performance center. You really like that girl. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

Merrick gulped. Tony was right. Tony had always been able to read him like a book. Was there more to it than just an insane physical attraction? Was he falling for this woman?

“Merrick,” Bombshell said, “Oh, Merrick—look, there’s a piano. Can I play it?” she said.

Despite himself, and his pain-in-the-ass brother on the other line, he said, “Sure, sweetheart, play away.”

“See—I told you. Listen to you, you’re in love, bro.”

Merrick stepped into the hall, leaving the door ajar as he whispered into the phone. “Look, Tony—I don’t appreciate you messing around with my life like that. Did you get the identification like I asked? Does she have an insurance card?”

“Yeah, yeah—got all that. You want me to bring it—or do you need a little ‘alone time’ with your diva?”

“Damn it, Tony—I don’t. As a matter of fact, I’m not planning on putting my hands on her again. After she gets done with seeing the doctors, I’m going to tell her the truth, then you and I are going to sit down with Mama G tonight and I’m going to let you explain to her why we got her hopes up.”

“So, you want me to bring the identification now, or what?” Tony said.

“No, bring it to the lobby. We’ll be down in thirty minutes. You can give it to me then.” He hung up and walked back to the room. She was playing the piano, and then she was singing. His heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. He didn’t recognize the song. God, her voice is incredible. Standing inside the hotel he’d turned around with grit and determination, even before he’d come into his unexpected wealth, his business mind kicked in as he listened to her sing. He held his breath on every note—expecting for something normal to occur at any minute, for him to become bored with her skills. But it didn’t happen. Every sound she made, only made him want more. She was mesmerizing, a true phenomenon. He had to keep her around long enough to share her gift with the world. And for his performance center to have her as its debut performer—that would put them both on the map.

Maybe, Tony was right. Not about him being in love—that was silly—but about him being hasty. Maybe he should just let things play out. If he told her the truth this early —before she’d had a chance to bond with him—she might get too upset. She might even leave.

He gulped and opened the door for the steward who was rolling in the breakfast tray.

~~*~~

Bombshell’s cheeks were flushed with happiness. She sat down and started playing. Then stopped as she realized that she couldn’t remember ever playing before. It seemed so strange to know how to do something that seemed so unfamiliar. She stopped playing and got up. And started to pace around the room, feeling uncomfortable, avoiding Merrick’s eyes. Room service arrived with breakfast and she excused herself to wash her hands and touch up her lipstick.

When she returned, Merrick was standing near the table, waiting for her like a gentleman. She noticed for the first time how tall he was. He had to be close to seven feet tall, yet because he was lean, she’d never realized what a giant of a man he was. And then she remembered the feel of his cock inside her. Oh, yeah—that part of him was giant, alright. Moisture pooled inside her, and she had a sudden desire to rip off her clothes and drag him onto the king-size bed and have him for breakfast, but a part of her held back. He’d seemed a bit standoffish, a bit broody, and a bit unhappy with things. It was as if he was angry that there’d been an engagement party at all. Eyeing him surreptitiously while she put her napkin on her lap, she wondered if maybe he’d intended to break things off with her—and he was upset because whoever had planned the surprise party hadn’t gotten the word?

They dug into their food, more out of a desire to not speak than real appetite. As she buttered the flaky croissant with half a ball of butter, she pondered her memory loss. She suddenly remembered laughing just after they’d had sex. Apparently, right after that, she’d had some kind of fit—according to Joann. But she didn’t remember any of her fit, but she remembers giggling. But why? What had been so funny? Suddenly it all came back to her in a flash.

She’d laughed because it seemed so ludicrous that she could forget having had sex with him before. That was it. The idea that a cock that big could be ever be forgotten, only reinforced the severity of her amnesia. And, yet she was remembering some things. The song she’d just played on the piano, for example. It seemed so strange that she couldn’t remember meeting the man she’d obviously fallen so hard for.  Maybe, if he could just tell her everything from the first moment they met and fill in the blanks for her, she wouldn’t feel so lost and confused.

“Merrick,” she said, holding the croissant before her open mouth.

“Yes.”

“How did we meet?”

Merrick’s eyebrows went up into his head and he started choking on a piece of melon. He recovered himself, then grabbed for his phone. Bombshell looked at him. She hadn’t heard his phone ring. He pressed a button on his phone and moved towards the door.

“Sorry, honey, business, got to take this.”

~~*~~

Bombshell stared at him as he went out into the hall. A moment later, he poked his head through the door. “Listen, sweetheart, I’ve got to deal with this. Why don’t you rest and I’ll come back for you in thirty minutes—then I’ll take you to the doctor, okay?”

Bombshell didn’t know what to do, other than nod at him. Her stomach ached, and not just from hunger, although she’d barely eaten a bite. He was avoiding her for some reason. Then her mind went back to the note in his pocket. Tina and her twin sister. Was that the business he had to take care of? She wanted to be angry and jealous, but she was too tired, too confused. The pain where she’d hit her head was starting to throb again. She pushed away from the table, got undressed, and climbed into bed in just her panties. She closed her eyes and fell immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.

~~*~~

Merrick practically ran out of the room. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t anticipated those types of questions. He was a man of planning and detail. He was a designer of buildings and builder of empires, for Christ’s sake. How could he fall down on the job so hard when it came to that girl?

After taking the stairs to the floor below, he made a call for real.

“Tony, do you have the identification yet?” Merrick said to his brother as soon he answered the phone.

“I told you I had it.”

“Well, bring it to the lobby. I need to talk to you.”

When Merrick spotted Tony, he kept his mouth shut and motioned him outside. Walking out of sight of the bell captain and other guests, Merrick led Tony to the front of an idling but empty casino bus.

“Why all the James Bond shit?” Tony said.

“I want to see the paperwork, her ID.”

Tony handed him the envelope. Merrick examined everything without pulling each card out of the envelope. As ordered, he had a driver’s license, a hotel and casino ID, and a health insurance card for one Mona Lisa Van Dyke. Merrick marveled at how authentic the driver’s license looked. Then he noticed the address.

“That’s the wrong address. What the fuck?” The license listed his Atlantic City beach house address, the place he shared with Tony. They’d put down the bachelor pad, not some address in Florida, as he’d originally asked for.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t have time to come up with another, so I told my connect to make one up. I didn’t expect him to use ours.”

“Too late now,” Merrick said, trying to not get upset. “But how am I supposed to explain that to Bombshell? I told her she’s never even been to New Jersey before. I told her that I met her in Florida.”

Tony and Merrick stood silent for a moment, pondering. Tony snapped his fingers. “Tell her that, since you didn’t know her old address, and she was going to be living with you from now on anyway, you had them use your future address as her actual address.”

“Okay. That works, but also reminds me of the other thing I wanted your help with.”

“Will this ever end, big bro? I have a life too, you know.”

“Shut up, or I’ll fire your ass and you can go start a limo company, or maybe that gigolo service you’d always wanted. Ouch,” Merrick yelled, pulling himself away as Tony tried to give him another charley horse. “Sorry, bro—I know I’m asking a lot of you. I really appreciate your help.”

“Sure, Merrick—so what else do you need?”

“Two things, actually,” Merrick said. “One—I need help coming up with a story. She keeps asking me questions I can’t answer. Like, where we met, and where I proposed, you know—questions like that.”

“Well, yeah—she’s a chick. That stuff’s important to them. What’s the second thing?”

“I need you to take her to the doctor while I come up with a believable backstory.”

A long stretch limo pulled up.

“I get to take the limo?” Tony asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Absolutely,” Merrick said.

“Okay—hey, wait a minute. What do I do if she asks me the kinds of questions your still dreaming up the answers for?”

“Tell her you don’t know,” Merrick said.

~~*~~ 

Bombshell lay in the machine, trying to be as still as possible.

On an overhead speaker, a technician sitting behind a glass window in the other room told her, “This will take about fifteen minutes. I need you to be as still as possible.”

She’d removed all her jewelry before lying on the cold table.

The machine lit up and hummed with power. She tried to still her breathing. Lights flashed overhead and the scanning commenced. A searing pain ripped through the back of the skull causing her to jerk her body and scream in agony. Unable to tolerate such pain, her mind shut down, and took her to another place.

She lay on her back, strapped and bound to a bed. Outside she heard a car on the gravel. Heart thudding, she tried in vain to pull free. The front door opened, and water ran in the kitchen. Blindfolded and gagged for so long, all she could do was feel, hear and smell. Hope faded as she recognized the rhythm of his steps. No one had found her. No one could save her. Bile rose in her as she caught a whiff of his stench as he entered the room. He hummed a two note tune. She could tell where he was as he moved about the room, setting up his equipment, turning everything on. When the studio lights came on, she was blinded beneath her blindfold. Instinct fought against futility and she tried to shrink away --but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Any minute he’d be touching her, the way he’d touched the other girl. Bile rose in her throat, when the bed moved, and the bed springs creaked under his weight. God, please help me. She screamed through her gag, when she felt his skin graze against hers. His hands were groping at the back of her head, taking off her gag. Panic flooded her. The gag was off. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn’t get enough air. He was saying something to her. Asking her a question. She tried to listen. “Are you ready to be a star?”

Jana Peters came out of her nightmare, screaming and panting, and gasping for breath. Only the vaguest memory of what had happened lay at the tip of her thoughts, but when she tried to recall it, her mind refused to cooperate, and for her own good, she slid back into unconsciousness.

Chapter Nineteen

After another sleepless night worrying about her friend, Holly showed up to work at the diner ten minutes late. She almost called in sick, but changed her mind. The diner was the hub of all news and gossip in town. If anyone knew about Jana, that was the place to hear it.

The front door bell chimed and Sam walked in. For a moment her hopes soared. Maybe Sam’s wife had come home. Maybe he remembered something about the night Jana disappeared. But as soon as she saw the slump of his shoulders and the defeated expression on his face, she knew he hadn’t received any good news.

Holly poured him a coffee, and tried to sound up beat. “Hey ya, Sam, how are you? Any news?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Holly said nothing. Silently honoring his pain.

“What’ll it be, Sam?”

Sam pushed the menu towards her. “You decide…”

Holly put in an order for the meatloaf. A middle aged couple had taken the two seats at the counter between Sam and the cash register, when she returned with his dinner. They were busy still studying the menus, so Holly went back to talk to Sam.

She wanted to ask him, if she could make him a flyer for his missing wife, but hesitated as she watched him toy with his meatloaf. The front door bell chimed and Holly looked up, as someone left. As the door swung closed, Holly suddenly realized that there was something wrong. She stared at the door for a long moment before she understood what was wrong. The flyer wasn’t on the door any more. Someone had removed Jana’s missing person flyer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw the couple motioning her, signaling that they were ready to order. She didn’t make eye contact and hurried to the back room.

She found the box of flyers and brought it back out front. She put it on the counter, still avoiding eye contact with the couple, as she rummaged under the cash register until she found some clear tape.

“We’re ready to order, young lady,” the women of the couple said.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Holly snapped. She pulled two flyers out of the box and went out front. By the time she’d put them up she’d used all of the tape.

“There,” she said to herself, satisfied with her work.

She went back inside, prepared to apologize to the couple for being just a little bit rude. She’d explain about her friend and give them a flyer. They’d understand.

But, when Holly spotted the couple, she could see that they’d already helped themselves. The woman was folding the canary yellow page and stuffing it in her purse.

“So, what will it be?” Holly said as she regained her spot behind the counter.

“Can’t stay,” he said nervously and tugged at the women’s arm. “Come on, Joann, let’s go.”

Holly caught a glimpse of the women’s eyes. She knew something about Jana.

“Hey, don’t go. Come back.”

But they were already out the door hurrying to their car.

Jana ripped off her apron and tore around the corner.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

By the time she got outside, the couple was in their car, on their way out of the parking lot. With a gasp, she recognized the car. Her eyes locked in on the license plate.  She pulled out a memo pad and a pen and wrote it down, then walked over to the flyers on the door and updated the partial plates.

When she walked back into the diner, she was fired on the spot. She didn’t care. She took her box of flyers and drove home. Then she called Jimmy, who called his cousin who worked for the DMV in Litton and owed him a favor.

Holly was closing in on Jana’s kidnappers.

~~*~~

Joann grabbed the flat of petunias and yanked it out of the back of the utility vehicle. She walked up the road to the edge of Merrick Flynn’s house, where her husband sat as if nothing had happened. She pursed her lips as he calmly troweled holes for the flower bed. She dropped the petunias from a foot in the air, almost hitting his boots as potting soil spilled from the tray.

“Damn it, woman, what’s wrong with you?”

“You know what wrong. What’s wrong is letting people like that poor girl in the restaurant continue to be worried sick, thinking the worst about a missing friend, and you and that boss of yours not giving two shakes about other people’s feelings.”

“He’s your boss too,” Charlie retorted.

“Well, not if I can help it. I’m calling him—I’m telling him that people think she’s been kidnapped. And if he doesn’t do the right thing and call that girl on the flyer, than I swear to you, Charlie, I will.”

Joann yanked off her garden gloves and threw them at her husband, hitting him on the back.

“Joann!”

But she didn’t listen to him. She got in her car and drove back to their house. He needed to know about that flyer.