going to be all right, but I don’t want to hurt you further.” He pursed his lips as he looked at her, brow furrowed.
Natasha couldn’t help but stare at his arms, flexed and tense as he rested them on his knees as he crouched. Well-defined muscles stood out in all the right places, and his dark brown eyes shone with kindness and concern. “What is it? Should I recognize you? Have we met?”
“It’s okay if you don’t remember right now. Don’t exert yourself—we can discuss it later. Hang on a sec.” He stood and ran back to his blobby vehicle—her vision still hadn’t cleared up enough to make out a proper shape—and returned with a water bottle and holding a dark blue shirt sporting the bright yellow letters FBI. He uncapped the bottle and poured a splash of water on it. “This should help. It’s a little cold, but that will probably feel good. You’ve got a lot of blood and dirt on your face. You can use the shirt to wipe it off if you want, but you might also need this to stanch any bleeding that starts up again.”
“Is that likely?”
“I have no idea. I’m an FBI agent, not a doctor.”
What did she have to lose? She ran the garment across her face. The water was chilly and refreshing, which momentarily diverted her attention from the pain that kept leaping from one side of her skull to the other. She rubbed the shirt gently across her forehead and back, wincing as the fabric came in contact with the place where she’d drawn back sticky fingers minutes earlier.
“Let me help,” he said, reaching for the shirt as she pulled it away from her face. “I can turn it inside out and pour a little more water on it.”
She’d looked up at him as he moved forward to take the garment, now grimy with dirt and blood, but he remained still as a statue in his half crouch, mouth open and fingers brushing the edge of the material. He blinked rapidly, all color drained from his cheeks as he stared at her wrist. Her bracelet? She touched it, then glanced up to meet his eyes.
“I’m Natasha,” she said. “But you said something else. My last name.”
He nodded, gaze flicking back to the shiny bracelet. “Stark. Your name is Natasha Stark, you’re an astronaut with NASA’s Orion space program, and twenty-four hours ago, you disappeared.”
* * *
Christopher Barton hardly believed his eyes. It was nearly impossible to reconcile the woman sitting in the dirt with the memory of the last time he’d seen her. Twelve years ago, Natasha Stark had been a shrinking image in his rearview mirror as he’d driven away from her and the future they’d planned on having together, and for those twelve years he’d done everything he could to put the memory of his first and only love out of his mind.
And now here she was, tossed right back into it. All it had taken was joining the FBI and getting reassigned to Brevard County in Florida after his two-year probation as a new agent, combined with raising his hand on a missing person’s case that had come up early this morning. He should have asked who the missing person was before volunteering to spearhead the search. He should have also backed down the moment he realized that it was none other than Natasha Stark, his former fiancée.
He could still scarcely believe it, and yet here she was, sitting on the ground with a gun by her side, looking up at him as though she’d never seen him before in her life. Something was very, very wrong.
“Natasha...Stark?” she asked, voice wavering. He took the shirt from her outstretched hand, and sunlight glinted off the gold bracelet around her wrist. His breath caught, and he didn’t trust himself to say another word. “I believe you. Good thing I wore my bracelet,” she mumbled, and he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or trying to make a joke. “I’m fortunate you recognized me with a face this dirty. Or did the bracelet help with that, too?”
“It didn’t have to,” he said, willing his limbs to move. He poured more water on the shirt and pressed it against her head as gently as possible. His entire body had begun to tremble, and his ankles wobbled in the crouch. He’d thought he’d be fine, once he found her. That it wouldn’t matter. Twelve years was a long time. “Hold this here. Looks like you’re not bleeding anymore, but just in case.”
“What do you mean it didn’t have to?”
Was she playing with him? It would be just like Natasha to play a prank on him—like the Natasha he knew twelve years ago, when they were still kids. Well, technically not kids but teenagers, but it seemed like more than a lifetime ago. The way she looked at him now, though...he didn’t see any mirth. She looked nervous and scared.
He tried to put the pieces together. Head trauma, confusion and a gun within reach. According to NASA, she hadn’t shown up for an appointment yesterday morning and no one had been able to get in touch with her since, putting the timeline since she’d been missing at approximately twenty-four hours. He’d only searched this area of highway based on a tip a passerby had phoned in to local police. This wasn’t the kind of case the FBI would normally be called in on, but Natasha’s situation wasn’t normal. He’d never in a million years have anticipated that she would become, of all things, an astronaut. It meant working with other people from different walks of life, different economic backgrounds, in a more sensitive capacity than many other jobs. International partnerships were on the line, and occasionally crew members on the same team didn’t even speak the same language or more than a few common critical words and phrases. Not exactly the kind of thing her parents had been great at, and he’d thought their influence had rubbed off on her. They might still be together if it hadn’t.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped it against the palm of his hand. “Let’s try to put some pieces together while we wait for help to arrive. What’s the last thing you can remember?”
A shallow sigh escaped her lips. “I’m not sure. But what you said sounds right...feels right. NASA? Yeah. I think I went in for...a physical exam. No, I was on my way to a physical exam. A checkup.”
“That’s a good start. You’re doing great. Can you tell me anything about that appointment? What time? What building?” She started to shake her head but grimaced at the movement. A humming in the distance cut through the sounds of nature and the occasional whoosh of a passing car, but he focused his attention on Natasha. She definitely needed a doctor and fast. Head trauma wasn’t the kind of injury that a person could take their time getting checked out, and considering the important details she’d already forgotten... Well, the longer the delay, the more severe the injury could become. Right now, she didn’t even remember herself, let alone him.
“At work,” she mumbled. “Because I was in space.”
“Even better. See? You haven’t forgotten everything.” He tried to reassure her and keep her calm as the buzzing noise grew louder. Were they near an airfield? He didn’t think so. “Sit tight. An ambulance will be here soon. A lot of people have been looking for you, and they’ll be glad to hear you’re all right.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze shifted past his shoulder. She squinted, like she couldn’t figure out what she saw. “Is that a drone?”
Chris twisted to look as a sudden gust of air whipped past his cheek. Dirt kicked up in the small space between them.
She coughed. “What was that?”
“That’s definitely a drone,” he said, taking in the boxy shape and the rotating blades that whipped around at high speeds to keep the device aloft. “What is it doing out here?”
The
