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I’m gaining on her but there are at least twenty feet between us.
“Hey, stop! Sweetheart, stop!” a male voice calls from behind me.
Just as I’m about to turn around and tell him I’ve got it handled, she trips.
The clutch purse in her hand flies into the air, her legs give out and she falls onto the wet pavement.
Two women race toward her to help, but she needs me.
I up my pace until I’m near her, and as soon as I can reach out to touch her, I’m down on one knee.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” The same male voice that was behind me is now next to me.
I glance up at a blond-haired man wearing an elaborate devil mask that covers half of his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell were you chasing her?”
“I think I know her,” he explains, his voice wavering. “I saw her in line at a club around the corner from here. I’m pretty sure she’s someone I used to know.”
I slowly turn Eloise over.
Her eyes fly open behind the mask she’s wearing. It’s the same mask she had on the night I first saw her in the club.
The man next to me leans down. I push him back with a hand to his shoulder. “Back off.”
“I’m trying to get a good look at her,” he snaps. “We hooked up once. I wanted another round.”
It takes all of the power I possess not to drive a fist into his jaw.
Eloise’s gaze searches my face. A thin trail of blood disappears under her mask from a cut on her forehead.
“You’re hurt, lamb.”
Her eyes widen. “You…you remember, me?”
“It’s not her,” the guy next to me announces. “You’re not Demetria. I ran all this way for nothing.”
I toss him a sharp look. “Go to hell.”
“I’m dressed for it.” He laughs. “I’m going back to the party.”
“Should I call 911?” A woman standing near us asks. “Does she need an ambulance?”
“No,” I say, glancing in her direction, before I level my gaze on Eloise again. “All she needs is me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Eloise
I’min shock and I can’t tell if it’s from the fall, or the fact that Dr. Morgan remembers our night together.
His gaze trails over me as he cradles me in his strong arms. I’m still on the sidewalk, but as soon as he announced that he’s all I need, he wrapped his arms around me as if he was going to help me stand.
I winced because a shot of pain ran through my knee when I bent it.
“You skinned your knee,” he whispers. “We’ll have to clean that up.”
I nod.
“Your hands.” He looks into my eyes. “Did you land on either? Are you experiencing any pain in your hands or your arms?”
