Hide My Memories: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Series (Hide Me Series Book 1) (2 page)
Read Hide My Memories: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Series (Hide Me Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Lisa Ladew
Sure enough, Jordan's voice filtered through the door. "Katerina, come on!"
She swung her legs out of the bed and padded down the hallway, not totally sure how she felt yet.
She unlocked the front door and pulled it open an inch, then plodded to her couch and sat down, scrubbing her face with her hands.
Jordan bounced into the room, put-together and gorgeous. Her long blonde hair cascaded in waves over the shoulders of a killer black dress.
"Hi Jordan."
"Katerina! You're not dressed. And your hair! Did you forget we're going out tonight?"
"Yeah, I did."
"I can't believe you. You always do this to me. Well not this time. You're going out and you're going to have a good time."
"I got sick today, Jordan. I didn't give any massages. I don't have any money to go out."
Jordan put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue at Katerina in a scolding gesture that reminded Katerina so much of Jordan's mother that she laughed.
"You weren't paying tonight anyway. I'm paying. It's not every day that my best friend becomes a paramedic and lands a job at the fire department."
Katerina smiled weakly. "I appreciate that, Jordan, but I don’t feel good.”
Jordan's face crumpled with compassion. "What's wrong?"
"I'm nauseous," Katerina said, at the same time realizing it wasn't actually true anymore. In fact she was hungry. "Well, I was nauseous, and I puked a bunch this morning, but I might be okay now." She got up and walked to the kitchen.
Jordan followed. "What do you mean you might be okay now?"
"I don't know. I slept all day but now I think I might be hungry."
"Perfect! I'll take you out to dinner."
Katerina pulled open the refrigerator and glanced inside. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. It wasn't like some magical food fairy came and filled it just because she’d had a crappy day. The same half eaten bowl of Ramen and Tupperware full of leftover rice were there that had been there when she left this morning. And that was it. What was she going to do? She hadn't made any money today, and didn't know how long it would be until her next paycheck. Well, she’d be getting her last check from the massage clinic in a few days. About $180. But the rest of her rent was due on the 1st and after she paid that she’d only have $20 left. She grimaced at the thought of eating three meals a day of Ramen until she got paid again. But then she reminded herself she’d be eating nothing until then, and she should be grateful for Ramen.
She closed the fridge, turning around to face Jordan.
"It's not that simple. It wasn't just nausea. I had –" as Katerina thought of the terrifying, disjointed images that had tortured her that morning, they sprang into her mind again. No – that wasn't quite correct. They had been there, running in the background, since she'd woken, but now they jumped to the forefront. No – that wasn't quite correct either. It hadn't been since she'd woken up. They'd been with her even in sleep. She’d dreamed about them. Her dream came rushing back to her and she put a hand on the counter to steady herself. It was fuzzy, the way dreams were, but she knew it was unpleasant. She pushed away from the counter and walked quickly into her living room, casting her glance around, looking for anything that would take her mind away from the dream. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to let it play out in her mind. She didn't want to know exactly what had happened.
Jordan followed again. "What's going on, Katerina? Tell me."
Katerina spun around and looked at Jordan. When she had left work, she hadn't said anything to Pam about the images, assuming they would fade and that they weren't relevant. If she talked about them, would they lessen? Fade? Fall apart? She had to try.
“Something weird happened. Before I even got to give my first massage.” Katerina shook her head, not sure how to convey just exactly how distressing these false memories had been. "I thought I was having a stroke. It's like I couldn't control my own mind. These… pictures were forced into it. Like I was watching a movie. A scary movie. And then I was puking. And I was trying not to think about the pictures but they just kept coming and they just got worse and worse."
Katerina felt a twisting in her gut and a dampening of her brow. She was sweating again. And the nausea was threatening to come back. No she couldn't talk about the pictures. She had to try to forget them.
"Katerina, what's going on? You're white as a sheet. Are you sick again?"
"I just need some air." Katerina pushed past her friend to the front door. She wrenched it open and walked outside, relishing the cool, evening air on her skin. She did feel better immediately.
Jordan followed her outside, her pretty face lined with worry. "Why don’t we eat in? I'll go get you some chicken soup."
"No, Jordan, you're right, I need to get out and celebrate. I'm feeling better now." Katerina wiped her face and willed what she just said to be true. Maybe if she went out she would feel better. Maybe if she had some fun she could forget about the images.
"Are you sure?" Jordan asked.
Katerina turned to Jordan and forced a smile that almost felt genuine. "I'm positive. Come help me get ready."
As she led the way back inside, she was aware of the images flipping through her brain.
Liquid brown eyes.
Blonde ponytail. Red lipstick.
She swallowed hard and willed them to fade.
Now that Katerina's plate was empty she would wait to see if Jordan wanted any more of the mozzarella cheese sticks or shrimp and if she didn't, Katerina planned to finish those. Her stomach felt comfortably full and she was enjoying the feeling for the first time in a while. Even as she tried to bask in the good feelings of a full stomach, the images played in the back of her mind.
Liquid brown eyes. Blonde ponytail. Red lipstick.
It was like a movie. A terrifying, horrifying movie. The last image of the third woman,
red lipstick
, abruptly stopped and immediately the first image of the first woman,
liquid brown eyes
, swam into view. Katerina wondered if she was going insane.
She looked around the restaurant wildly, trying to find anything that would distract her from the hideous picture show in her mind. Jordan had gone to the bathroom so she couldn't provide any relief at the moment. The restaurant itself was a large steakhouse with lots of brass railings and animal heads on the wall. She fastened her eyes on a life-like bear head with monstrous teeth and tried to imagine it eating her.
Katerina shook her head and groaned. Why would she try to paste one abhorrent vision on top of another? Because of the horror show in her mind. It was doing things to her. Bad things.
Finally, Jordan bounced back to the table and sat down, picking up a piece of mozzarella stick and nibbling on it. She smiled at Katerina and held out her drink for a toast. "Here's to you landing your dream job."
Katerina clinked her glass to Jordan's with a forced smile. Unconsciously, she made a face. Was being a paramedic really her dream job? Sure it was in the medical field, and it certainly promised to be interesting and exciting, but her dream job? No, that was –
Jordan correctly interpreted the look on Katerina's face and spoke again. "Sorry Kat, I know that being a doctor is really your dream job, but being a paramedic will be awesome until you get there, right?"
Liquid brown eyes.
Blonde ponytail. Red lipstick.
Katerina clamped her tongue between her teeth and bit down, trying to concentrate on Jordan's words. "Yeah," she said colorlessly.
"You can still go to school, can't you?" Jordan asked. "I know you said your schedule would be flexible."
"I can. But I don't know if I will. It'll take me a long time to save up that much money.”
"Can’t you get another scholarship?"
Katerina shook her head. "Since I lost the last one no one will give me another one."
Jordan's face tightened with concern. "But don't they understand? It wasn't your fault. Your mother was sick. You had to take care of her. And then when she died…" Jordan grimaced, realizing what she had just said.
Katerina waved it away. "They don't care. There are millions of students out there that need that money."
"What about student loans?"
A bolt of disgust shot through Katerina, but the strong emotion still didn’t dislodge the images stuttering through her brain. She leaned forward toward Jordan. "Did you know that my mother was still paying off her student loans when she got sick? Twenty years later? The loans plus her medical bills decimated her estate. So then they went after me.”
Jordan’s voice got small. “But I thought they couldn’t do that.”
Liquid brown eyes.
Blonde ponytail. Red lipstick.
"The government-backed student loans were forgiven when she died, but the private loans she had to take out so we could survive while she was in school? They weren't. I had to pay those."
Jordan clucked her tongue sideways like she did when she was irritated. "That sucks. That's not right."
Katerina sighed. "Right or not, that's what happened."
"Sorry, sweetie. You should finish off these mozzarella sticks." She pushed the basket towards Katerina, making her want to laugh. It was just like Jordan to try to solve problems with food. It was a wonder that she didn't weigh 300 pounds. But Katerina found she had a little more room in her stomach and eagerly grabbed the rest of the appetizers.
Once they were gone, Jordan paid the bill and they ventured outside.
Katerina, still trying vainly to control her mind, asked, "So where are we going now?"
"Oh you're going to love it," Jordan said. "It's this cute little bar I found a couple of weeks ago. We can even walk."
She took hold of Katerina's arm and pulled her to the sidewalk where she began walking at a brisk pace. A block away she turned right and motioned down the street. "See, there it is."
Katerina took it in. It was a squat black building that looked exactly like what it was, a bar. A red neon sign over the door read The Long Arm.
Katerina groaned. "It's a cop bar, isn't it, Jordan?"
Jordan giggled. "How can you tell?"
Katerina rolled her eyes theatrically, wishing she felt as jovial as she was trying to act. Jordan giggled again and pulled her towards the door.
Katerina felt disappointment spread through her body. She had hoped leaving the house and doing something fun with Jordan would cause the images to lose their intensity or their frequency but that hadn't happened. They were a steady drone in the back of her mind, threatening to make her lose her sanity. She took a deep breath and said a little prayer that maybe a few drinks would help, then pushed herself across the threshold of the small bar.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he told her.
She smiled quickly, giving him a look he knew well. "You did startle me. Make it up to me?" she said.
"Oh, well, uh," he stammered. He looked around for help. Finding none he returned his gaze to hers. "I'm just here with a friend."
Her perfect eyebrows came together in a sharp V. "Fine. Whatever," she muttered, and disappeared.
West breathed a sigh of relief and returned his gaze to his beer. His friend, back from the bathroom, slid onto the barstool next to him.
"What in the hell, West? She was hot," Blaise snarled.
West lifted his head. "She went that way if you want to follow her."
Blaise fell silent for several long minutes. West could almost feel the weight of Blaise's thoughts and dread built inside him.
Here it comes.
He'd wondered when this was going to happen.
"West, this is probably none of my business, and you have every right to get pissed at me, but I still feel I have to say this. As your friend. It's time to get over her. It's been two years. You're missing out on your life."
West gripped his beer bottle hard. "She was my life," he whispered.
"I know, man. I know she was. But she's gone. And she wouldn't want you to waste away like this. She would want you to go on with your life. She would want you to have fun. Stephanie was all about having fun.”
"We're having fun." West ground his back teeth together and started peeling the label off of his beer. He knew it had been two years. He knew two years was too long. But he also knew two years wasn't near long enough when you lost the love of your life. Especially in the way he'd lost her. He wasn't ready. Blaise was a good friend, but he'd never been touched by tragedy. He didn't understand.
Blaise took a long drink of his own beer and slammed it down on the bar, signaling the bartender. "I'm not having fun. We never do anything anymore. How long has it been since we've been out on our dirt bikes?"
"I sold mine," West said under his breath.
He could feel the weight of Blaise's sudden stare.
"You sold your dirt bike?" Blaise asked incredulously. "Why?"
"I don't know. I didn't want to see it in the garage anymore."
Several minutes passed. West didn't dare look at Blaise. He didn't know if he could deal with whatever was on his face. Finally Blaise spoke again.
"West, buddy, have you considered that maybe you're depressed? That maybe you should go see somebody? Get some help?"
Here we go
, West thought. "I did see somebody."
"What did he say?"
"The same thing you did. That it's time to get over it. That I'm depressed. That I should be taking medication."
West shared this information with no emotion. It was hard for him to work up any emotions anymore. Ever since his wife had killed herself the only emotion he'd been able to come up with was grief. Well, that was until the autopsy revealed that she had been four weeks pregnant. And then he felt rage that he didn't even know he was capable of. And once he burned that off, the grief settled back in to stay. But it was bigger than he'd ever imagined. Finally, a few months ago, he'd been able to wake up without the crushing weight of the grief sitting on his chest the moment he opened his eyes. But that didn't mean he wasn't still grieving. That didn’t mean he was
ready
. Whatever that meant. Ready for what? For a new girlfriend? To go on with his life? To try to forget that the woman he loved had taken her own life rather than become a mother? These were hard questions that he faced every day, and no, he just wasn't ready.
Blaise nodded wearily. "Yeah man, so are you going to take the medication?"
"I took it. For eight months. It didn't help at all. So I quit."
Blaise turned to him, a pitying look in his eyes. West decided he was done with this conversation. He’d had enough of being pitied. He held up a hand and changed the subject. "So what the hell are we doing here anyway? You hate badge bunnies."
Blaise looked around, a new light in his eyes. "Yeah, but sometimes I get lonely. That cutie over there has been giving me eyes all night long." He tipped his beer towards the end of the bar. West glanced that way and saw a quintessential cop chaser. Medium height, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, athletic build. Heck, she might even be a cop. "You should talk to her Blaise, I'm good."
Blaise gave him an appraising look. "You sure?"
West took a long swallow of his beer. "I'm positive."
Blaise tapped his beer bottle against West's beer bottle and ambled down to the end of the bar, flashing the woman his best smile. West watched him go wearily.
If only it was that easy
.
The door to the bar opened and the movement caught his eye. Two women walked in, one he'd seen before, here probably on another one of Blaise’s
outings
. Her friend caught his eye. Mostly because she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in this noisy bar. But also because she was beautiful and fresh in an innocent way. She was slim and petite, probably no taller than 5'5". Her lovely auburn hair flowed about her face in soft waves. She held herself with confidence and strength. But her eyes, her eyes were fascinating. They were haunted. As haunted as West felt. Instantly West found himself intrigued. Who was she? What was haunting her? Why was she here if she didn't want to be here? Well that last one was probably obvious. Her friend dragged her here. Her friend was into cops. But she wasn't? The woman walked straight in and sat down at the nearest table with her friend, with barely a glance around.
No, she wasn't.
West felt an interest pique inside him that he couldn't remember feeling in years. Certainly not since Stephanie died. And probably long before that.
He laughed suddenly at the irony. Was it finally long enough - only seconds after he’d declared it
not
long enough? Had Blaise done him a favor by bringing him here tonight?
Was
he ready to be interested in women again?
The thoughts flew through his mind as he watched the pretty young woman at the far table. Well, maybe he wasn’t ready for a girlfriend, but he could talk to her couldn't he?
The thought created a kind of anxiety in him. He hadn't dated in almost a decade. He wouldn't remember the first thing about it. She certainly was pretty though, and his desire to talk to her only increased when he saw her order a beer. The woman finally looked around the room, a kind of weariness in her eyes. West watched her, still fascinated. Almost immediately, her eyes found his, catching him staring at her. He could see her pain from here and it floored him. He wondered why and how it had come about, and for the first time in two years, the shadow of his own pain was lifted from him as concern for another took its place.
