A Trace Of Memory. Valerie Hansen
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Travis shook his head. “No. I’ve been waiting for you to get up so I could show you a few things I found already.” He pulled up some sites he’d saved. “Does any of this promo look familiar?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
As she leaned closer she rested one hand lightly on his shoulder, sending a shiver zinging from his toes to the top of his head.
Travis ignored the pleasant sensation to ask, “How about this one? The band’s name is similar to the one you used to sing with.”
She was shaking her head. “No. Sorry.”
It wasn’t until the fifth photo spread that he heard Emma’s sharp intake of breath and felt her hand grip his shoulder more tightly as she set her coffee cup aside.
“Wait. Go back. That guitar player on the left looks familiar.”
“I thought he might,” Travis said. “When you described your captor last night I immediately thought of Blake.”
“Who?”
“Blake Browning.” Travis pointed at the screen. “He’s the guy you chose over me and went to Nashville with.”
“I did?” Her brow was knit, her eyes narrowing as she stared. “I can’t believe it. Him? Over you?”
Apparently realizing how her comments could be misconstrued, Emma immediately straightened and backed away from Travis, giving him room to turn and look up at her.
“It was probably the chance to become a star that swayed you. I can see that now. But at the time it seemed awfully personal.”
“I can understand how it might,” she replied somberly. “There’s a lot I don’t recall, but I’m positive I was never romantically involved with that man. Just looking at his photo makes my skin crawl.”
“I guess that’s a good sign,” Travis said. “I tried to trace him and the Browning Brothers band and came up empty. We’ll probably have to let Harlan take it from here.”
The lack of enthusiasm showing on Emma’s still-bruised face told him she didn’t consider his suggestion to be a good one.
“You and I can do more research later if you want,” Travis promised. “Right now, I need to have breakfast and get ready to take the sheriff and his deputies to where I left the four-wheeler. They’re supposed to be here at eight.”
“I’m going with you,” Emma declared.
Travis had not expected that. Therefore, his retort was less than diplomatic. “No, you’re not. You’re staying in this house with Cleo.”
Judging by the way Emma’s hands were fisted on her hips, he realized she had not taken kindly to his forcefulness. All she said was, “Oh?”
He pushed away from the table, stood and closed the laptop before reaching for her hand. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Think, Emma. Whoever was out there last night may still be hanging around. If it was Blake, he’d know you and I used to be close. This is one of the first places he’d look for you.”
“There’s also nobody who knows what he looks like as well as I do.”
“I thought you didn’t remember.”
She shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line as if sorting her thoughts before speaking. “I don’t remember many details of being kept prisoner, but I do know what it feels like to look into that man’s eyes.”
“Do the two go together?” Travis asked.
Emma blinked rapidly. “I’m not sure. The person I see when glimpses of a face come to me seems darker, more menacing. But it could just be shadows I’m remembering. Nothing is clear.”
“Okay. I’ll buy that. Aunt Cleo’s nurse friend is coming over this evening and maybe she can help us all understand what’s got your thoughts so scrambled.” He gave Emma’s hand a gentle squeeze. “In the meantime, will you please stay out of sight? For Cleo’s sake, if not for mine?”
“Well, when you put it that way...”
Before she could change her mind he smiled, took his half-empty coffee mug to the sink and headed for the back door.
Keeping that headstrong young woman safe was far more important than taking time to eat a proper breakfast. He’d grab a bite later, after he’d shown Harlan the damaged ATV and hauled it back to the barn.
As a last-minute act he once again grabbed the pistol off the top of the kitchen cabinet and securely clipped its holster to his belt before pulling on a denim jacket.
Travis was far from certain that his enemies had abandoned their attempts to do harm. Even if they didn’t happen to be lurking in the woods anymore, they were around. He felt it all the way to the marrow of his bones.
And he didn’t intend to give them any advantages if he could help it.
One final glance at Emma was all he allowed himself. The sight of her standing there, arms folded and looking so forlorn, was nearly enough to make him backtrack and give her a parting hug.
That would be a really stupid move, he decided in seconds. The best way to keep his wits about him and succeed in protecting her was to remain aloof and encourage her to do the same.
He huffed. He was already so emotionally involved with Emma Landers he could barely see straight. And that could prove fatal. To both of them.
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