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Shelby curled her hand behind his neck and brought him closer, the movement so natural, she felt like she’d done it before.
The kiss deepened, his mouth claiming hers, his tongue pushing past her teeth to tangle and caress.
Shelby moaned, clinging to him like a life preserver in a swollen river, afraid to let go. Fearful that, if she did, the river would take her down like the bayou almost had.
When at last Remy raised his head, he met her gaze, a frown forming on his forehead. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.” His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Damn,” she said. “Deputies don’t cry.”
“You nearly died. You’re allowed.”
“That doesn’t bother me as much as losing my memory.” She stared up into his eyes. “I know you. Don’t I?”
His lips quirked on the corners. “Do you?”
Her brow puckered. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t be vague. Either I know you, or I don’t.”
“I grew up in Bayou Mamba—”
She laid a hand on his chest. “Yeah, you said that before. It’s a small town. We would’ve run into each other, but that’s not what I mean.” She shook her head, suddenly dizzy. She leaned her forehead against his chest. “I know that kiss,” she murmured. “Like you said about knowing the bayou…muscle memory.”
His chest shook beneath her fingertips, a chuckle rumbling from within. “Muscle memory, huh?” He tipped her chin up. “When your mind is ready, you’ll remember what you need to know. And if you don’t, you can fill your thoughts with new memories.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Right now, we need to get you home. It was too soon to bring you here.”
Shelby shook her head carefully. “No. I had to see it. I hoped it would jog my memory. Apparently, I need those memories back in order to take down the bastards who tried to kill me.”
“Your body and head have suffered significant trauma. Give them a chance to heal.”
“They might try again before I have time to recover. I might not be so lucky the next time.”
“You have me,” he said. “I have your back. I won’t let them hurt you.” He cupped her cheek. “In the meantime, you need rest.”
She frowned, wanting to argue that she couldn’t rest as long as bad guys were out there, waiting for a chance to strike again.
But she just didn’t have the strength.
Remy turned to the motor, grabbed the handle and gave the engine enough fuel to set the little boat in motion.
Slowly turning the craft, he headed back the way they came.
Shelby leaned against Remy, glad he was there.
She didn’t like depending on anyone but wasn’t foolish enough to believe she could fight off a swarm of Colombian drug traffickers, even at her best physical health. The way she felt now, she couldn’t even defend herself against one.
She’d go home, go to bed and hope for a full recovery by morning. Tomorrow, she’d start her investigation with a vengeance. People couldn’t try to kill her and think they’d get away with it. She’d find whoever was responsible and make them pay.
Chapter 9
The trip back to the marina passed in silence, with Remy driving the boat, his gaze panning every inlet as he looked ahead for any signs of danger.
Like Shelby, Remy had hoped seeing the site where she’d been found and the surrounding area would trigger her memory.
In the hut, he could’ve sworn she’d had a flash of something that should have reminded her of the night they’d spent there during a helluva storm.
Alas, though the location had sparked something inside her, it wasn’t enough to clear her head and let those memories flow freely.
