Blank Slate (6 page)

“Could
you get off me now?” she blurted. “You weigh a ton.”

Langston
sat up as though he’d been electrocuted, and Clarissa took the opportunity to take
a much-needed deep breath. The injury in her side gave a sharp pang and she winced.

“Who
were they?” Langston asked, glad to hear the usual detachment had returned in
his voice. He took the gun from the floor and tucked it in the back of his
jeans.

“I
don’t know,” she replied with a shrug, pushing herself to a sitting position. “They
said I’d stolen something from Solomon, wanted to take me to him, but I don’t
know what they were talking about.”

“Don’t
know or can’t remember?” he retorted, standing to grab a kitchen towel and run
it under cold water.

“Either.
Both,” she shot back. “I know you don’t believe me, but the first thing I
remember is waking up in the backseat of your car.”

Erik
used the towel to carefully clean the blood from her abused lip and where it
had trailed down her chin. She didn’t speak or protest while he did this,
instead just allowing him to help her.

Her
eyes were clear and guileless. A twinge of unease pricked him. What if she was
telling the truth? What if she really couldn’t remember her past?

No.
It was bullshit. All of it. She lied for a living. It shouldn’t surprise him
that she was good at it. Telling the truth would be more of a stretch for
O’Connell than lying.

“You’re
right,” he said. “I don’t believe you. And I don’t care. You just pulled a gun
on me. Why the hell would I believe you? What’s important to me now is getting
out of here before more of Solomon’s men show up.”

Something
akin to hurt flashed across her face and was gone. She nodded wordlessly.

 “You’ll
probably want to put a new bandage on that,” Erik continued. No way was he
doing it again. She could just learn to stand the sight of blood without
passing out. “I’m going to get your stuff out of the car.” It had occurred to
him, albeit belatedly, that her bags might have clothes that fit her.

“I
have stuff?” she asked, perking up.

She
looked so hopeful, it almost cracked his shitty mood. Instead, he snorted, going
to collect the gun from dead guy number two before heading outside. A few
minutes later, he was back.

“Here,”
he said, depositing her two duffels on the floor. He’d searched them and
removed two guns and a knife. No sense handing her another weapon to use on him.
“Don’t bother looking for your guns. I took them.”

O’Connell
glanced up from where she was crouched next to the bags. “Whatever,” she said
before resuming her examination of the bags’ contents. Erik watched for a
moment. She pulled out clothes and other items, electronics and a laptop,
looking at each as though she’d never encountered it before. Frowning, she
turned a gadget over in her hand, seeming unsure of what it was.

“I’ll
check the garage for snow gear,” Erik said, interrupting her perusal. “Just in
case.”

She
didn’t reply, so he left her sitting on the floor surrounded by her stuff.

As
he’d hoped, the cabin’s owner was well prepared for the climate. In short
order, Erik found a high-altitude tent, two down sleeping bags, snowshoes, and
other assorted items necessary for survival outdoors in a Colorado winter. While
he didn’t plan on having to use them, it was best to be prepared.

When
he came back into the house, O’Connell was gone. For a moment, he panicked,
then he heard the shower running in the bathroom.

Ten
minutes later, she emerged, dripping wet and wearing only a towel.

“Where
the hell are your clothes?” he snapped, watching as she crossed to her duffel
and began rummaging. The towel pulled up the backs of her thighs as she bent, stretching
tightly over her—

Erik
jerked his gaze away, hurriedly turning his back to her.

“I
didn’t like what I picked,” O’Connell said, matter-of-factly.

“So
you’re just going to prance around here half-naked?”

When
she didn’t reply, Erik chanced turning around, then wished he hadn’t. She was
facing him now, and his eyes were drawn to the little bit of towel tucked
between her breasts. One tug and the whole thing would fall. He swallowed.

“Prancing?
Really?” The dry sarcasm in her voice made his gaze jerk up to hers in time to
see her roll her eyes.

“Just,
hurry it up,” he barked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “We
don’t have all day.”

“Geez,
you’re a grouch,” she muttered.

Erik
breathed a sigh of relief when she disappeared back into the bathroom. It was
bad enough that he couldn’t seem to get the image of her out of his mind. He
didn’t need to add wet skin and a barely there towel to the gallery.

Jerking
on his coat, Erik loaded the back of his SUV with the supplies he’d found,
along with nonperishable food from the kitchen. By the time he was done,
O’Connell had reemerged from the bedroom, this time respectably clad in jeans
and a black, oversize sweater. She looked vaguely irritated as she pulled on boots
and a coat.

“What?”
he finally asked.

She
shrugged. “The mirror was disappointing. I have red hair and freckles.”

Erik
paused while holstering his gun, looking askance at her. Her deeply scarlet locks
and ivory skin contrasted markedly with the dark sweater, making her appear
striking. The freckles dotting her complexion softened the sharp bone structure
of her face.

“We
all have our crosses to bear,” he mocked. If she was searching for compliments,
she could damn well search someplace else.

She
shot him an irritated look, her lips curling in a smirk. “And yours is being a
complete jackass?”

Her
insult did nothing for his mood. “You bring out the best in me,” he shot back,
then turned on his heel, leaving her to repack her things while he went
outside. And no, he wasn’t running away so he could have the last word, dammit.

Searching
the SUV the men had arrived in yielded nothing of use, though Erik did grab the
cell phone one of them had carried. It had no signal, but he was hopeful it
would contain data that would help track down Solomon.

Erik
loaded the dead bodies into their black SUV, the sweat from the exertion
instantly freezing on his skin. The cold temperatures would serve to keep the
bodies from decomposing before he could get someone from the field office out
here to pick them up.

Back
inside, he saw O’Connell picking up her duffels. She winced, her face going
white, but didn’t so much as let out a peep as she endured their weight.

“Give
them here,” Erik said roughly, taking one bag from her and shouldering the
other one. God knew why in the hell he was being nice. She’d shoot him with his
own gun if he took his eyes off her or let down his guard.

As
they stepped outside, O’Connell paused, frowning at the sky.

“I
don’t know if leaving now is such a good idea,” she said uncertainly. “It looks
like it’s going to snow again.”

“It’ll
be fine,” Erik said, dismissing her. “It always looks like that here.” He
tossed the bags in the back.

“You
know this?” she asked, getting in the passenger seat and glancing his way.

“Trust
me,” he replied. The engine turned over immediately, the quiet purr reassuring
him. The snow began to squeak under their tires as they pulled out.

A
few hours later, his hands were white-knuckled as they gripped the steering
wheel, the blizzard of flakes falling from the sky a white curtain that
prevented him from seeing more than three feet in front of the car.

They
should have been out of the mountains by now. Erik was sure he’d know in the
daylight where they were going. But the storm obscured everything, and he had
no idea if he was getting somewhere or just traveling around in circles.

“Please,”
O’Connell said, her voice tight with stress. “Can we please go back? Just until
the weather clears. I swear I won’t try anything.” Her eyes were glued to the
windshield.

Erik’s
lips pressed tightly together as he maneuvered the SUV at a crawl through the
snow. Talk about forfeiting his man card. He was going to have to tell her that
they were completely lost, that he didn’t even know the way back to the cabin,
not in this storm. Hello, cliché.

At
least she hadn’t said “I told you so.”

Erik
brought the car to a stop. “I don’t think we can get back, not in this.” No
sense telling her just yet that they were lost.

“What
are we going to do?”

“I
brought some stuff that’ll get us through until the storm blows over. We’ll
just hunker down in here and wait it out.”

“Wait
it out?” The screech in her voice made him flinch. “You have no idea where we
are, do you?”

“It’s
a little hard to see right now.” He gestured to the storm raging outside.

“I
told you it looked like it was going to — ” she began.

“Don’t,”
he warned, holding up a finger.

Her
emerald eyes flashed at him, but her mouth closed, thank God.

“Listen,”
he said, “I have sleeping bags in the back, food, water. We’ll be fine. Once
the storm passes, we’ll get out of here.”

“Am
I supposed to ‘trust you’ about that?”

“Maybe
you could lose the sarcasm next time, rather than the memory,” he bit out. “It’d
be more helpful.”

“Go
to hell,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

“I’m
already there,” Erik muttered, turning off the car before climbing into the
back. They had to conserve fuel, so he couldn’t leave the car running. They’d
just have to use the sleeping bags to stay warm.

It
was getting dark, night came early this time of year, and the storm didn’t help
matters. Erik grabbed a glow stick from his stack of supplies and broke it,
filling the car with a weak golden glow.

“You’ll
have to come back here,” Erik told her. He’d laid the backseats down to have
room for the sleeping bags.

“Why?”
O’Connell asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Because
we need to conserve body heat,” he explained, striving for patience. “But if
you want to wait until you’re freezing, by all means, be my guest.”

Ignoring
her, he spread out the down-filled bags, climbing into one before rummaging
some more in the supplies.

Clarissa
watched Langston with apprehension. She hated this. The confines of the car
combined with the darkness felt like a physical weight on her chest. Snow was quickly
layering on the windshield, obscuring the view outside. As she tried to make
out the shapes of trees through the glass, it seemed to press in, making the
inside of the car smaller.

“I
have to…go outside first,” she stammered.

“Why?”
He sounded suspicious. As if she’d try to make a run for it in the middle of
nowhere, during a blizzard.

“Why
do you think?” Clarissa snapped back.

Langston
rummaged in the back until he produced a roll of toilet paper. “I’ll go with
you,” he said.

“Absolutely
not,” Clarissa argued. God, how embarrassing.

“With
the storm, it’s easy to get lost,” Langston replied, climbing back over the seat.

“I
am not about to have you watch me while I…I…” Good lord, she couldn’t even say
it.

Langston
seemed amused. “For a woman who walks around wearing only a towel, you seem
bizarrely shy about normal bodily functions.”

“That’s
different,” Clarissa spluttered. “And I don’t want to discuss it. Just wait
here. I’ll be back in a few.”

Before
he could say anything to further mortify her, Clarissa climbed out of the SUV.

“Don’t
go far,” he called out as she shut the door.

The
snow was a blurry mass of swirling white, making her squint against the onslaught.
She took a few steps toward the other side of the narrow road. Trees were
there. She could find a spot among them.

It
took longer than she would have thought to make her way against the wind, snow,
and drifts to reach the stand of trees. Luckily, once she did, the wind was
somewhat abated by the thick evergreens.

Clarissa
paused to catch her breath, glancing back at the car. If she could see it, then
Langston could see her. This was going to be a pain in the ass enough without
doing it for an audience.

Pushing
her way farther into the forest, she kept walking until she could turn and not
see the car. Good. Now, to find an adequate spot.

Clarissa
vowed to never again take indoor plumbing for granted. By the time she’d
finished, her ass felt like a block of ice and she was cussing a blue streak. Oh,
to have a penis at times like these.

Still
cranky, she’d just started to make her way back to the car when a noise made
her stop. Frowning, she turned, searching the woods.

Nothing.
It must have been her imagination.

Taking
another few steps, she heard it again. This time, the noise was unmistakable.

It
was a growl.

A
chill that had nothing to do with the temperature raced across her skin, and
the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Slowly,
Clarissa turned to face the direction the growling had come from. Eyes glowed
in the semidarkness. A wolf stood about fifteen feet away, staring at her.

Clarissa’s
breath caught in her throat. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Keeping
her eyes on the wolf, she took a step backward. It didn’t move. She took
another step. This time, it did.

As
it came into the clearing, Clarissa got a good look at it. The gray fur was
matted in spots, and it looked too skinny. Too hungry.

And
if there was one wolf, there were probably more.

Oh
God.

She
had no choice. She was going to have to make a run for it.

Before
she could change her mind, Clarissa turned and took off. Funny how panic and
fear could propel you through snow quicker than a full bladder.

The
wolf howled behind her. An answering howl to Clarissa’s right made the blood
ice in her veins.

A
branch lay on the ground ahead of her. It must have broken off from the weight
of the snow. Clarissa snatched it up, glancing behind her to see the wolf
coming at her.

She
screamed as she swung, a piercing shriek rending the air. To her shock, the
branch connected with a solid
thunk
. The wolf yelped and fell back.

Clarissa
stood her ground, the rough tree branch clenched in her grip. She held it like
a baseball bat.

The
wolf eyed her more warily now, its tongue lolling outside its mouth. Its teeth
looked sharp, and there were lots of them. It paced a few feet away, not
intimidated enough to retreat farther.

Suddenly,
it came at her again. Clarissa tightened her grip, ready to swing—

A
gunshot broke the quiet, and the wolf stopped, falling to the ground. Red
stained the pristine snow underneath its body. It didn’t move.

Clarissa
whipped around to see Langston standing a few yards away, gun still at the
ready. She let out a relieved breath.

“Come
on,” he ordered. “There’s probably more of them.”

No
need to tell her twice. Dropping the branch, she hurried toward him, surprised
when he took her elbow in a firm grip.

“I
told you to not go far,” Langston bit out, his eyes swiveling, watching for
danger.

“Can
you wait until we’re back in the car before you start yelling at me?” Clarissa
retorted. She’d nearly been dinner for a hungry wolf, and not the two-legged
kind.

They
were nearly at the car when another howl broke the stillness of the night. Langston
stepped up the pace, nearly dragging her through the snow.

He
jerked open the car door and motioned her to get in, keeping watch around them
as she climbed inside. Clarissa hurriedly scooted over to her seat, not
breathing properly until Langston was in the car and had shut the door behind
him.

More
howls sounded outside, sending a shiver through Clarissa. The sounds were
lonely, terrifying, and beautiful all at once.

Langston
sighed, swiping a hand tiredly across his face. It suddenly occurred to
Clarissa that she owed him a thank-you.

“Thanks,”
she said, glancing at him. “I think you saved my life.”

“I
know I did,” he snapped. “If you’d done what I’d said, it wouldn’t have been
such a close call.”

Now
Clarissa’s temper was rising. “It wasn’t like I was trying to get into trouble.
I didn’t know there’d be wolves out there. And it scared me out of my wits, so
I don’t need you yelling at me about it!”

Langston
looked at her, his jaw clenched tight and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Besides,”
Clarissa added, her temper abating somewhat. “I did something I’m going to
regret.”

“What’s
that?”

“I
dropped the toilet paper.” Which really, really sucked.

Langston
didn’t say anything for a moment, then made a noise. Clarissa looked up at him,
curious, and was stunned to see him actually grinning. He was laughing. At her.

“Yeah,
it’s just a ball of laughs for you,” she grumbled irritably. She couldn’t be
mad at him, though. It was the first time he’d smiled, and it took her breath
away. He had dimples. Hard-ass FBI Agent Langston had honest-to-God dimples. Clarissa
thought he probably had no problems at all getting women, not with those eyes,
that body, and his smile. She bet he just crooked his finger and they came
running.

Slutty
bitches.

Okay,
stop right there. Jealousy of imaginary women over a man who was more
interested in her rap sheet than her…feminine assets…was just ridiculous. Clarissa
shook her head in chagrin even as Langston seemed to regain control, his
laughter fading.

Shooting
her one more look, he climbed into the back.

“You
coming or not?” he asked.

Jerking
her gaze away from the windows, she turned to the back. Langton seemed blithely
unconcerned, ignoring her presence entirely as he chewed on something. By the
smell, it must be beef jerky. He was sitting inside a sleeping bag, another
laid out beside him.

The
seats being down made the inside of the car larger, but Langston’s size negated
that. He wasn’t a small guy, Clarissa guessed he was maybe six three, and he
had to slouch so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling.

The
cold had begun to seep into the car, and Clarissa shivered, eyeing the sleeping
bag with longing. She wanted to climb into it, but something held her back,
though she couldn’t put her finger on it. The light from the still-lit glow
stick reflected off the windows, making them appear opaque.

“Looking
at it won’t keep you warm,” Langston quipped, interrupting her thoughts.

Steeling
herself, Clarissa climbed over the seat, which was a hard thing to do. Of
course, Langston had made it look easy.

Clarissa’s
foot caught on the gearshift, and she lost her balance, toppling headfirst into
the back. With a muffled
Oof!
she landed sprawled across Langston.

“Ow,”
she muttered, wincing at the ache in her side.

Langston’s
arms were around her, and Clarissa realized he’d caught her to some extent, not
that she’d given him much choice.

“Sorry
about that.” She struggled to get up and suddenly found her wrist in a viselike
grip.

“Watch
where you’re pushing,” Langston said roughly.

Clarissa’s
face grew hot, realizing that in her haste to get off him, she’d accidentally
touched places she shouldn’t.

At
least, not without dinner first.

That
last thought made her giggle as he righted her.

“What’s
so funny?” he asked suspiciously.

Clarissa
shook her head. “Nothing.” Like she was going to tell him she’d had a flash of
an image of him like he’d looked this morning as he lay sleeping in bed. His chest
had been bare, rising and falling slowly with each breath. Hair tousled as
though from unseen hands. An arm crooked behind his head had caused his bicep
to flex and made Clarissa’s eyes linger.

Getting
those keys out of his pocket hadn’t exactly been a chore. Langston could be
quite charming…when he was unconscious.

Pushing
the thought aside, Clarissa went to climb inside the sleeping bag.

“Take
your shoes off first,” Langston reminded her. “And your coat.”

“You
have your shoes on,” she argued. “And won’t my coat keep me warmer?”

He
shook his head. “Too many layers and the air can’t circulate. And I have my
shoes on in case someone or something unexpected happens by.”

Clarissa
frowned even as she obeyed. “What are you? A Boy Scout?”

Langston
just looked at her while he took another bite of jerky.

“Really?”
she asked. “You’re kidding.” Though somehow, she wasn’t surprised. His whole
demeanor practically screamed “I play by the rules and do what’s right.”

“Always
be prepared,” he replied. A hint of a smile flashed briefly on his face. “Want
some?” he offered, holding a piece of jerky out to her.

“Um,
yeah, sure.” Clarissa took the jerky and chewed a bite, watching him out of the
corner of her eye. He got a water bottle out of a box and handed it to her
before taking one for himself.

“Why
are you being so nice?” she blurted.

Langston
looked at her strangely. “You’d rather I starve you?”

“No,
I just…never mind,” Clarissa stammered, looking away. She took a drink of
water. He was right. What a bizarre thing to ask him.

Clarissa
tried to see out the windows, but it was impossible. In the woods, far from
civilization, with a storm raging around them, the darkness was impenetrable. All
she could see was her own wavering reflection, which didn’t seem like herself
at all.

Absently,
Clarissa brushed a hand through her hair, watching the stranger in the glass
mirror her movements. It was unsettling, this feeling of being an unknown
entity to herself. And alone. She felt so alone. The only person she knew was the
man beside her, and he not only didn’t believe her memory loss, he actively
disliked the person she used to be.

It
was enough to depress anybody.

As
she stared at the window, the feeling of pressure, of the confines of the car
shrinking, began to rise again. Her breath came faster as she searched the
darkness, her gaze darting frantically for a glimmer of anything. God, it was
cramped in here.

“Hey.”

The
light touch on her shoulder startled Clarissa so badly she nearly dropped her
water.

“You
Okay?” Langston was watching her, the usual suspicion in his eyes replaced by
concern.

“Yeah,
yeah,” Clarissa replied hurriedly, surprised that she was breathless. “I’m
fine.”

Langston
looked dubious, but just took another drink of water, his eyes still on her.

Clarissa
focused on him. If she just didn’t try to look outside, she wouldn’t think
about it. She just needed to keep her mind off it. Luckily for her, she had a
prime piece of distraction, albeit a slightly prickly one. She was willing to
risk Langston’s temper if it meant she didn’t have to think about how damn
small this car was.

“So
you said you joined the FBI because of your dad,” she said. “Was he an agent
too?”

Langston
breathed a sigh.

“We’re
going to be stuck here for hours, we may as well talk,” Clarissa prompted
testily. For God’s sake, was she not even worth carrying on a conversation?

“He
didn’t work for the FBI, he was wanted by the FBI,” Langston finally said,
surprising her. “I didn’t know he was a crook until I was fifteen, when he left
me and my mom high and dry. Turned out he’d been embezzling for years, raising
the stakes by defrauding customers at the securities firm where he worked when
the embezzling wasn’t enough.” He paused, glancing her way. “Sound familiar?”

His
voice was hard and flat.

Clarissa
stared right back, refusing to be intimidated. He could be as judgy as he
wanted, but she was sure that if she really had done those things he’d said she
had, she must have had a really good reason. She just didn’t know what it was
yet.

“We
never saw him again,” he continued. “The people he’d stolen from sued his
estate and my mother. Eventually, we lost everything. Whatever he did with the
money, I don’t know, but we never saw a penny of it.”

He
told the story impassively, though Clarissa could hear the bitterness
underlying his words.

“That’s
really awful,” she said sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

Langston
shrugged. “It is what it is. I learned from it, and now here I am catching
criminals. One day, maybe I’ll catch him.”

It
was quiet for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Clarissa kept her
eyes slanted Langston’s way, however. No way was she looking at the windows
again. He must have gotten tired of sitting hunched over because he lay down
with a sigh, an arm bent to cushion his head, and his knees up since the SUV
couldn’t accommodate his height.

“Might
as well get some sleep,” he observed. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Clarissa
scooted down until she was cuddled inside the sleeping bag. It was warm enough,
and though the floor of the SUV was hard, it was better than being outside. She
turned on her side to face him, away from the windows. It was odd, yet
comforting, being here with him, a near stranger. Though she supposed everyone
was a stranger to her now.

The
light from the glow stick wasn’t bright, but enough for her to see Langston. He
stared up at the ceiling of the SUV, seemingly unaware of her eyes on him. Despite
his epically bad sense of direction, she felt safe, which was incredibly
foolish of her. Langston was a man who saw things in black and white, was
unforgiving of those who broke the law, and his entire sense of purpose was to
bring to justice the people who’d committed those wrongs.

 “Stop
staring,” he said, breaking the silence and startling Clarissa from her
musings. He turned his head, and their eyes caught.

“Sorry,”
she said softly with a slight shrug. “Nowhere else to look.” She hid a smile at
his disgruntled expression.

Langston
turned back to stare at the ceiling again. “So I told you my story,” he said. “Now
tell me yours. Why the life of crime? You’re a smart girl. You didn’t have to
choose your way of life.”

Clarissa
didn’t answer. After a moment, he turned to look at her. “Still sticking with
the amnesia thing?” he asked, his voice colder now than it had been.

“Langston,
I can’t — ” she began.

“Spare
me,” he cut her off. “I was an idiot to think maybe you’d stop lying to me.” This
time, he turned his back to her.

Clarissa
wavered between disappointment and anger. Just like a man to think he was
always right, and Langston seemed surer of himself than most.