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“Why are you wearing a bulletproof vest?” I don’t know why I bothered to ask the question. I really didn’t care to hear the answer.
It took a few seconds as if the unknown man was trying to process what I’d said before he looked down. “I… don’t know. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. This is my property that you washed up on.”
His face appeared contorted and the moment he tried to move to a sitting position, he gasped from the pain he was experiencing.
“Whoa. Take it easy. You’ve been shot. Now, who are you? I need to call someone so you can get some help.” I fought to jerk my arm free, but he held on fast, the quick shift of his heated gaze putting the fear of God into me. His eyes were so black they were almost violet in color, drawing me in as if blackened pools that were the entrance to his soul.
I’d certainly never been a romantic and wasn’t going to start now, but he was far too attractive, the thick cords in his neck likely a representation of what was hiding under his wet suit.
As his chest continued to rise and fall, I could clearly see he was confused, trying to piece together what was going on. “I don’t know.” He said the words with such clarity, so distinctly that my gut told me he wasn’t lying.
I glanced at the gash on his head, realizing he could have some effects of amnesia from hitting his head. “Do you remember what happened, who shot you?”
“No, princess. Maybe you need to tell me.”
“I don’t have any clue. Now, let me go. And don’t call me princess.” I had more venom in my tone than I’d intended.
In turn, as if it was part of some game, he wrenched the knife from my hand, tossing it into the muck and rolling over, pressing the full weight of his body against mine. I watched in horror as the knife sank.
Gasping, another horrific wave of terror immediately turned into a full-blown panic attack. I pitched my body, fighting with everything I had to get out from under him. “Please don’t.”
“Stop fighting me.”
He lowered his head until his lips were entirely too close to mine. I couldn’t breathe from both his weight the fear that was shooting through every muscle and tendon.
“Get off me,” I managed, hating the horrified sound of my voice.
“I told you,” he half whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to figure out what the fuck happened.”
“Yeah? Well, you could start by getting the hell off me.” If he wasn’t sent to kill me then it was possible that he was telling me the truth. I undulated again, but that only pressed my stomach into his groin. And I’ll be damned if he wasn’t rock hard. How could he be aroused at a time like this? When he dropped his head again, I turned mine, refusing to fall into some crazy spell he had over me.
He eased back, now glancing at the back of my house. “What is this place?”
He really didn’t know. “Smith Mountain Lake.” I kept my eyes on his furrowed face. He shook his head more for himself, narrowing his eyes as he continued to work through the fog. When he pressed his hand to the gash on his head, I exhaled. “You hit your head.” Blood continued to ooze from the injury and when he took his hand away, he stared at the spots of red for a full ten seconds.
The man wasn’t faking his confusion.
“You live here?” he asked.
“Yes.” There was no sense in lying. He’d know that I was.
When he patted his jacket, still wincing from the agony, I shook my head. “Did you take my identification?”
“No. I think you were in the water for some time. You don’t have anything on you but the vest. And that’s not normal.”
The mystery man placed his hand against the vest where the bullet was, his expression shifting to anger.
I managed to break free, scuttling backward on my hands and feet. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
“Where are we again?”
“Smith Mountain Lake,” I repeated. When he seemed even more confused, I narrowed my eyes. “Moneta, Virginia?”
The way he shook his head was as if he was trying to rid cobwebs from his mind. “Never heard of it.”
“Do you know where you’re from, because it certainly isn’t from around here.”
