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Her head throbbed and she stood up rubbing her temples. A face appeared in her mind. A man’s face. Blue eyes and a warm expression. He was smiling as he said with a shrug, “To the victor goes the spoils.” Gasping at the sudden clarity of this, she sat down on the bed. Tears streamed down her face and she was startled to feel them there. “What does this mean?” Who is this man?
“Good. You’re dressed.”
Her head rose up.
Harris noted her tears and rushed over. “What is it?”
“I-I had a memory.”
He sat down next to her. “Of what?”
“A man.”
His body tensed next to hers. “Just some man or…?”
Shaking her head, she explained, “He was smiling and he seemed so familiar, he said, ‘To the victor, goes the spoils.’ Why? Why would this be what I remember?”
Harris shook his head. “Did you feel anything when you saw him?”
She swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I was crying before I even knew it.”
“So he is important.”
Blinking her eyes, she gazed over at him. “You said there were only a few who knew that phrase. That knew about the tat. He has to be one of them.”
Harris nodded. “Maybe.”
She stood up. “You need to clue me in. You need to tell me what you know!”
He sighed. “I-I can’t. I—”
“Dammit, Harris! You need to help me here.”
He studied her. “Tell me what he looked like.” The green in his eyes had darkened.
Shrugging, she stared down at her hands. “Blue eyes, dark hair. Handsome I would say, and he was smiling.”
“And you say he had this tattoo?” Harris stood up as he asked.
“I don’t know if he does…” Her gaze rose to see his thunderous expression. “What is it?”
“The other people who had this tattoo, who knew our phrase…”
“Yes?” She stood up feeling excitement that he was finally going to tell her what he’d been hiding.
“They’re all dead,” he stated in a cold voice.
“What?”
He turned away. “All of them are dead.”
“B-but how do you know that?” Her stomach clenched and her chest hurt at this statement.
“Because I was there.” His voice was deadly quiet.
“NO! So he’s dead?”
He turned back to her. “I’m afraid so and the man you described that would be Tanner.” He watched her face closely.
The name wasn’t familiar. “I never heard the name before.”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been his real name.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t get it?”
“Exactly. You won’t either till your full memory returns. Now that you have had a bit of it return. It probably means you will remember all of it.” He went out through the doorway.
“Wait!” Ridge followed. “Where are you going?”
“To get a drink,” he growled.
She caught up with him at the bar. “But I’ve never seen you drink before.”
He grunted and slammed a bottle on the bar.
Jumping a bit, she stared at his still thunderous expression. “Tell me. Tell me about it!”
“I’m gearing up to do just that. It’s why I need a drink.” He unscrewed the cap and filled a glass. Then he filled another.
“Oh—I don’t know if…” Her eyes met his to see a glint in them and her voice faded away.
“To get the truth you are going to have to drink with me,” he stated in a tone that sounded final.
Letting out a breath, she nodded. “Okay. Have it your way, but whiskey?” She scrunched up her nose.
His expression changed to one of curiosity. “How do you know you don’t like whiskey?”
Shrugging, she shook her head. “It just sounds gross to me…I don’t know really.”
He sighed. “Okay, so you’re a wine spritzer kind of girl?”
Ridge rolled her eyes. “How the hell do I know?”
He fished around in the small bar fridge. Then plopped one of those orange juice bottles on the bar. Swinging around, he grabbed the vodka. “Screwdriver it is.”
She nodded.
“Cause I know you like OJ.” He poured the juice and added vodka. Pushing the glass over to her, he nodded.
“No. I need ice.”
His gaze rose to hers. “I’m not your damn bartender.”
She grinned. “I don’t know. By the way you move back there, I think you have bartended.”
“How did you know that?”
“I don’t… I mean you do move like one.”
“Interesting.” He produced an ice cube and dropped it into her glass. “There… princess.”
She huffed. “Just cause I wanted ice?”
He grinned at her.
Raising the glass, she blurted, “You have the most wonderful smile. I prefer it over that angry gloomy look.”
He stared at her. “You just say what you think don’t you?”
Shrugging, she replied, “I guess? I don’t seem to have a filter or stop sign. I bet I got into all kinds of trouble in my life.”
Taking a long drink of his whiskey, he then poured some more. “I bet. Look at where you are now.”
She laughed as she took another sip.
“Climbing a mountain, in a blizzard, with two hit men behind you.”
