Page 8 of Full of Wrath

“I don’t remember.”

“What?” There is an incredulous tone to Wallen’s raised voice. “You don’t remember.”

“I…can’t remember what they looked like. I…”

“You told one of the nurses they chased you, and yet you can’t remember anything about them. Come on, Chief. She’s clearly guilty of something. She’s probably covering for her accomplices.”

“I doubt an accomplice would have shot at her, Wallen.” Chief rolls his eyes.

“Let me take her in. Put her in protective custody until her memory comes back or she stops pretending she’s not involved in this. She needs to be watched by someone other than Wrath who can’t think past his dick where the girl is concerned.”

“You mother fucker.”

I would be on him if Waverly’s hand wasn’t in mine telling me to hold back.

“Alright, you're done.” Chief steps between me and Wallen just in case Waverly holding my hand isn’t enough to stop me from going for him. “The doctor has already said she might not remember what happened with a head injury like hers. She was chased, shot, and fell down a fucking hill. You wouldn’t remember anything if that happened to you, and don’t pretend you would. Get back to the station and start digging into Trace Kelly’s father’s finances. Have you heard back from him yet?”

By the look on his face, he has not. The chief takes Wallen by the arm and starts leading him out. “You mark my words, Chief. That boy is going to be thinking with his dick and get both of them killed.”

Chapter Eight

Waverly

You could hear a pen drop for far too long after that jackass left. It makes me worry what he must be thinking. God, does he think I’m trying to…did it show on my face that I was thinking about him like that, like I shouldn’t be? Is that why the asshole said what he did?

I try to pull my hand from his, so he doesn't think I’m trying to make a move on him when he’s just trying to do his job. It just so happens his job happens to be to…what? Watch over me? That sounds too much like he cares. Interview me? Is that what this was when I woke up, him just waiting on me to open my eyes so he can do his job and go back to wherever he needs to be?

Oh God! Have I kept him from a girlfriend? My eyes drop to his hand, but he’s not wearing a wedding ring, so I don’t think he’s married. The absence of a ring doesn’t mean he’s not married. Some men don’t like to wear one. Of course, some men cheat too or refer to their wives as a ball and chain.

I renew my efforts to release him, but he tightens his grip, and when I look up, those midnight blue eyes are staring down at me, making it hard to breathe.

“Um,” I try not to squirm under his blue gaze, but it’s not easy to do. “Can we do this tomorrow? I don’t...,” know what the hell I’m going to do. I clear my throat and try to find the words. “Really, Detective Wrath, I don’t…”

“Memphis. Call me Memphis.” Okay. “You did before.”

“I…,” a memory of low lights and his voice talking to me comes back in bits and pieces, blowing through my mind like wisps of smoke. “You asked me to call you that once before?”

He nods. “Yes, and you did. Do you remember waking up for a few minutes last night and talking to me?”

I remember arguing with someone about whether I was going to die or not.

“What time is it? I…I should, um, call…”

“Do you have someone you need to call? A parent or maybe a boyfriend?”

“No. I don’t have anyone like that. I have Sadie.”

“Good.” What now? Did he really just...? “That we didn’t forget to notify anyone about what happened to you.”

Oh. Damn. I lie to myself and say I’m not at all disappointed that for a brief moment it actually felt like maybe…well, it’s stupid but I actually thought he might be asking me if I had a boyfriend because he was interested in me as more than just a witness. Which would be so silly because he’s my friend’s brother and that would be totally uncool. Plus he probably has a girlfriend waiting on him.

“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure you have someone to go home to, and I really can’t remember anything; even last night isn’t all that clear, and thinking about it hurts my head.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no damned place I’d rather be.”

Sweetheart. Is that like how my grandmother used to call everyone darling? A pet name used interchangeably for everyone they meet. Maybe he even does it so he doesn’t have to remember names. Somehow that makes my stomach roll and my temper flare. I pluck at a thread in the hospital blanket so I don’t do something horrible like smack him. Not that I would have any reason to lay a finger on him. It just irks me that he would call me sweetheart when he calls everyone that.

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”