Silent Run

Fuck ! He didn’t want to remember her in that way. He didn’t want to see his hands on her breasts. He didn’t want to remember what her skin tasted like, the way she moved restlessly beneath him, her soft mouth begging for release.
    He slammed the door shut.
    Sarah glanced over at him in surprise.
    â€œDon’t ask,” he warned. He walked into the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. He probably would have been better off pouring the cold liquid over his head, but at least the water was cooling him slowly from the inside out. Finally, composed, he refilled the glass and walked back into the main room.
    â€œI thought being here in my home would help me remember,” Sarah said in frustration a moment later. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the curls.
    Once again he was distracted by unwanted memories of wrapping the long strands around his fingers as he held her head to his. He blew out a breath and took another sip of water.
    â€œIt’s not working,” Sarah continued. “Maybe I wasn’t here long enough -- only a few months. What I need to know is who I was before I met you, where I lived, my name, everything. The trouble had to have started long before, because otherwise I wouldn’t have lied to you.” She sat down heavily on the chair by the kitchen table, as if her legs were about to give out on her.
    Sarah was exhausted, he realized, noting the dark shadows mixing with the bruises on her face. She was probably still hurting from the accident, and certainly her sleep the night before had been as restless as his. They’d had only a couple of glazed doughnuts for breakfast. As much as he wanted to keep charging forward, he knew she needed a break.
    â€œLet’s get some food,” he said. “You look like you’re going to pass out."
    â€œDo we have time? I feel as if every second that goes by means another second that Caitlyn is in danger."
    â€œYeah, I know, but your brain might work better if you eat.” He considered their options. “I don’t really want to leave here to go to a restaurant."
    Sarah immediately nodded in agreement. “I would feel too vulnerable eating out somewhere, not knowing if someone was watching us."
    â€œWhy don’t we order in some Chinese or pizza? What’s your pleasure?” He walked over to the phone and saw a couple of take-out menus on the counter. “Looks like you’ve done this before."
    â€œChinese is fine. I’d like --"
    â€œMongolian beef, cashew chicken, and fried rice,” Jake said, cutting her off.
    She looked at him in surprise. “I was going to say that."
    â€œI know. They’re your favorites."
    She cocked her head to one side, giving him a thoughtful look. “It’s strange to be with someone who knows me better than I know myself."
    â€œI don’t think that’s true at all,” Jake said with a sigh. “I know who you pretended to be when you were Sarah Tucker. But I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows the real you -- including you."
    * * *
    Dylan didn’t know what herbs Catherine Hilliard had put in his hot tea, but the drink had a kick to it. He was feeling energized and ready to get down to business. Unfortunately Catherine had told him that any further questions would have to wait until after she took her dogs out for their afternoon run. The dogs in question were two golden retrievers who apparently loved the ocean. From his vantage point on her deck, he could see her throwing sticks into the water, the dogs bounding in enthusiastically, with no regard for the rough, cold waves.
    Catherine didn’t seem to care when the dogs shook water all over her. She was certainly an earthy sort of woman in her paint-spattered clothes and her bare feet. He didn’t know what to make of her -- or her story about her friend Jessica, but he definitely knew that he wanted to learn more about both of them.
    As Catherine and the dogs moved farther down the beach, he let out a sigh. It was obvious they weren’t coming back anytime soon, which meant more waiting, and he hated to wait. The open door to Catherine’s cottage beckoned to him. After her initial wariness, she’d offered him nothing but hospitality. He couldn’t believe she’d left him -- a total stranger -- alone in her house without any concern for the security of her belongings. He could have stolen everything