Recover Me Read online

  “Researching what?”

  She shrugged. “He said he wanted to get more info on something.”

  They reached his car and he pressed the “unlock” button on his fob. He opened the passenger door and she slid into the leather seat. He hurried to the other side and hit the ignition button to start the engine.

  “Nice car,” she said.

  He nodded. “I think so.”

  The expensive Tesla roared down the quiet suburban road, purring under his hands like a well-fed lion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her examining the car.

  “You like?”

  “I guess.”

  “You sound unimpressed. Most of the time the ladies are creaming their panties riding in this car.”

  “You mean I’m sitting in dried pussy juice?” She scrunched up her nose. “Ew.”

  For the first time in a very long time, he laughed with genuine amusement. Even to his ears the sound was rusty and disjointed.

  “You have nothing to fear on a hygienic level,” he assured.

  They rode a bit in silence and Bishop couldn’t help the glances he kept sneaking her way every time he was stopped at a traffic light. She stared out of the side window, seemingly relaxed. The more he learned about her, the more she confused and fascinated him.

  “Tell me about this John,” he heard himself say, and then wondered what masochistic tendency he had that made him want to hear about a man she was enamored with.

  “Why? You won’t believe me.”

  “No, I probably won’t. But tell me anyway.”

  She didn’t say a word, only continued to look out the window.

  “Do I look like him?” he prompted.

  “Yes. Mostly. There are some differences. You’re bigger. More muscular. His eyes weren’t so intense.”

  “So you think I’m this John because I look like him?”

  “I’ll admit the resemblance made me follow you, but you asked me who I am and in your eyes I saw recognition. You can’t fake that look.”

  Bishop thought back to the night before, when he’d looked into her eyes and something stirred in his soul. What exactly, he didn’t know, and part of him was reluctant to explore the feeling further. He didn’t need her brand of confusion in his life. Yet as he sat next to her, talking, he almost felt … happy.

  “Did you know that there are over a hundred mining ghost towns in Nevada?” she asked, abruptly changing topics. “This state is considered the most haunted one.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Byron City was one of those ghost towns.”

  The name, coming out of left field, jarred him. For a moment, he thought back to the photos hanging in Groto’s waiting room, and didn’t like the shiver that went down his spine.

  “I know that name,” he murmured.

  She didn’t seem surprised by that revelation. “At the turn of the last century, a man by the name of Jedidiah Byron discovered a cache of silver. The ore was concentrated enough to be valued around six hundred dollars. He set up several mines, brought the law in, and almost overnight, Byron City was born. He had so many claims he couldn’t mine them all, so he rented them out for twenty-five percent of whatever profit came to fruition.”

  “Didn’t know I’d be getting a history lesson,” he muttered.

  “You asked about John.”

  “What does this now defunct town have to do with anything?”

  “Byron City still exists,” she corrected. “It changed its name after the gold and silver began to dwindle. In its heyday, however, those mines produced about two million a year.”

  Even in today’s standards, Bishop thought, that was a lot of money.

  “John was the only blacksmith in the town. He also trained horses.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bishop said, holding up a hand. “Are you saying John is dead? That you’re comparing me to a man who kicked the bucket a hundred years ago?”

  Sadness descended over her features. “Yeah, I guess so. I never thought of it like that before.”

  “Then think of this,” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he’d expected. “My name is Bishop Kain and although the arena tried to kill me several times, I’m very much alive. That dead guy isn’t me, do you understand?”

  She turned her head away, not answering and thus effectively ending their conversation. More than a little annoyed with her explanation, he completely avoided the unusual coincidence of her naming a mine that had haunted him for twelve years.

  ****

  Except for the occasional “follow me” or “this way” command, Bishop Kain ignored her, but that was okay with Evie because she tried hard to tune him out as well. She also tried to get her body’s response to him under control, but he was merging with John’s presence so much it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate the two men. Yes, she was aware they were fundamentally different, one from the past and one in the present, but she couldn’t forget the look of recognition she’d seen in his face. It was the only thing convincing her she wasn’t crazy.

  He led her to a waiting room painted in warm tones, but it wasn’t the expensive furniture that captured her attention, it was the photos arranged around the four walls. Large sepia-tone prints of old mines had her stopping in her tracts and her jaw dropping in surprise.

  “That’s the El Dorado,” she said, awestruck. “And the Delmar. I’ve gone hiking around each one.”

  One by one she wandered around the room, studying each picture and the miners proudly standing by them, until she reached the Recovery. She didn’t even need to read the name stamped on the silver plate underneath.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  She remembered the first time Eva-Ann had seen it, nothing more than a crudely dug-out hole in the side of an elevated peak. Nevada seemed to have a lot of mounds that were bigger than hills but not quite mountains. She didn’t know what to call them, but there seemed to be silver or gold in all of them.

  “Majestic in its simplicity.”

  Evie jumped in surprise, turning as Sherman Groto approached her. He didn’t look at her, however. He was focused on the framed picture. “I admit, I have a slight obsession with this one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was never mined. It had begun to be dug out, but the owner abruptly left it, so for a century it’s lain fallow.”

  She didn’t answer because she had the feeling he didn’t want an answer, but his presence made her uncomfortable. Sneaking a quick peek toward Bishop, their gazes met. Before he turned away from her, she saw churning emotions streak through his blue eyes.

  “Follow me, Miss Duncan,” Groto ordered, turning away and heading through a doorway she hadn’t seen before.

  Evie didn’t really want to follow him anywhere, but the desire to know why he wanted to talk to her prompted her to step into what looked to be an office. Groto gestured to a couple of leather chairs that rested in front of a large mahogany desk, indicating she should sit. Uneasy, she perched on the edge.

  Groto picked up a folder and laid it on the table top before smiling at her. “You don’t have much of a history, Miss Duncan.”

  It took a second to understand what he meant. She pointed to the folder. “Is that information on me?”

  “I always collect information on people.”

  “But why? I’m nobody.”

  “True, but you remind me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  He shrugged. “That’s the mystery I’ve yet to figure out. Have you ever had that feeling you’ve met someone before but can’t for the life of you remember when? Or where?”

  She didn’t reply. By now she thought she understood who Sherman Groto was, and that wasn’t someone who liked to be interrupted.

  “But give it time and I’ll figure it out.”

  He smiled and ice settled over her skin. She didn’t like him and she didn’t want to be there.

  “Is there something you wanted from me, Mr. Groto?” she asked, tryi
ng to further the meeting along so she could go home.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said, sitting back in chair.

  Put on the spot, she shifted uneasily. “What do you mean?”

  “You had a migraine last night. How are you today?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Irritation flashed across his face. “A woman of few words. You remind me of Mr. Kain.”

  She resisted the urge to look for Bishop. She had this feeling she shouldn’t look away from Groto. He tapped the folder.

  “This says you had an accident. Tell me about it.”

  She didn’t like talking about one of the worst days of her life, but one look at his face showed that he wasn’t going to let her brush him off.

  “I like to hike,” she said, deciding to be as succinct as possible. “One day I slipped and rolled off a cliff. I hit my head and ended up in a coma for a week.”

  “Thank you for the surprisingly void of informative explanation,” he said coolly. “Everything you said I had already gleaned from your medical records.”

  “How did you get my medical records?”

  “Money can get me anything, my dear, and when I want something there isn’t much that won’t let stop me from obtaining it.”

  “If you’ve read everything about me then why am I here? What do you want from me, Mr. Groto?”

  At that question, he narrowed his eyes to stare at her intently. Now she knew what a bug under a microscope felt like.

  “I want to know why you’re so familiar to me,” he finally said, echoing an earlier sentiment.

  “I can’t answer what I don’t know.”

  Irritation turned into anger and he banged his fist on the top of the desk. Alarmed, Evie jumped to her feet as her heart pounded in fear. The fight or flight syndrome was pumping through her veins and she was more inclined to flee.

  “I want to leave now,” she said. “Obviously I hold no answers for you. Perhaps you saw me in your casino at some point. Sometimes I visit my brother. Besides that, I don’t know. But I want to go.”

  Any civility about Sherman Groto disappeared in the blink of an eye. He surged to his feet, cold ferocious anger pouring from every crevice of his face.

  “Then get the fuck out of here, Miss Duncan. But know this, I won’t stop until I figure out how I know you. And when I do, we’ll have another little talk.”

  The way he said it was a threat, but Evie didn’t care. She turned and practically ran out of the room, away from the evil radiating off the man.

  Chapter Seven

  Evie ran down the long corridor that Bishop had led her through not that long ago, until she reached the elevator. Just as the door dinged open, Bishop took her arm and led her inside the car. She looked up at him as he pushed the button to the ground level.

  “You shouldn’t have mouthed off to him,” he muttered.

  “You shouldn’t have brought me here,” she countered.

  “I had no choice.”

  “So he tells you to jump and you ask how high?” She yanked her arm away. “You’re right. You’re not John. You’re nothing like him.”

  He turned toward her, moving in so she stepped back, until he had cornered her. He stood so close that the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest, causing electricity to flash between them. So sudden and potent, her response was immediate. Her entire body flushed as her breathing went shallow. Heart pumping, nipples contracting into hard nubs, desire pooled in her belly, fanning downward as an ache settled between her thighs. Her pussy grew slick. Like the last time she was this close to him, it was erotic and terrifying at the same time.

  “I’ve spent my life surviving,” he said harshly. “I’ve lived on the streets, I’ve had to fight for food. For my life. Don’t think you know a single goddamn thing about me.”

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know anything about you. So why do I feel like this? If we’ve never met before, why does my body crave your touch? If you’re a stranger, why do I feel like if you don’t kiss me, I’ll die?”

  His gaze dropped her to her lips and he leaned in closer, until every part of his broad muscles and strong body pressed against her, including his hard cock.

  “Tell me you feel this connection too,” she said. “Don’t lie.”

  “Damn you,” he muttered. “I don’t need this in my life.”

  Instead of answering, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, to pull his head closer.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  He used one hand to cup her face and the other he slid around her waist. With a tug that wasn’t quite gentle, but not exactly rough, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his. Her moan was swallowed as he deepened the kiss, twining his tongue with hers as she wound her arms around his neck. At first the kiss was raw, rough, but slowly he softened the assault until the kiss became souls blending together. When he pulled back, they stared at one another, breathing heavily. For a long moment, wonder transformed his face, but the elevator’s doors opened. They brought reality rushing back and Bishop looked up to where the camera rested. He frowned, grabbed her hand, and practically yanked her from the car.

  He led them through the casino, winding his way past flashing slot machines and high rolling tables. She had a little trouble keeping up with his much longer stride, but she didn’t protest because even though she couldn’t see Groto, she could feel him watching her. Cameras covered the entire casino floor and all she wanted to do was run as fast and as far as possible.

  Finally, they exited the building into the employee section of the parking lot. Bishop had a front-row spot and seconds later they roared out of the garage onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

  “God damn it,” he muttered, finally saying something. “The last thing that should have happened was that fucking kiss.”

  The stress of the afternoon finally sank its claws into her head and a headache blossomed behind her eyelids. With shaking hands, Evie rubbed her temples, trying to fight off the pain. She needed her pills and she needed to lie down.

  “Take me home,” she said, leaning back on the head rest. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in hopes of keeping the nausea at bay.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Headache.”

  Placing her trust in his memory of where her house was located, she concentrated on breathing and trying to avoid the bright sunlight peeking through the window tint.

  “Are you gonna puke?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s just a headache, not a migraine.”

  “Warn me if there’s a change in status.”

  Evie let her mind drift, hoping that would break the cycle of pain gathering like a gale-force storm brewing off the coast. Of course the first place her thoughts drifted toward was the kiss, and she couldn’t help but compare his with John’s. One thing Bishop had gotten correct was the fact he was fundamentally different than John. They might look alike, but that was where all similarities ended.

  When the car came to a stop, Evie opened her eyes and saw her house. Without saying a word to him, she exited the car and hurried into her house, heading straight for her bedroom.

  “Evie,” her brother called out from the kitchen area. “I’ve found out some info you’ve just gotta—”

  She shut the door on him, cutting him off. She locked the door and headed into her bathroom, where she removed the back of the toilet and retrieved a plastic baggie containing some different sleeping pills. She didn’t want to waste time looking for the red capsules, and although these pills weren’t as potent, they’d do in a pinch. Popping two in her mouth, she ran the faucet, cupped her hands, and brought a handful of water to her mouth to wash them down.

  Her brother banged on the door. “Open up, Evie!”

  After putting the lid back on the tank of the toilet, she flushed it to keep Chris’s suspicion at bay. She opened the door. Right over his shoulder, Bishop watched her.

  “I want to go to sleep,” she told
them. Already, her headache was fading as the drug rushed through her system.

  Chris frowned. “Did you throw up?”

  “Yes,” she lied.

  “Evie—”

  “What? I have a headache!”

  “Okay, okay. When you wake up, I have some interesting news.”

  Ignoring Bishop altogether, she closed the door and headed for her bed, not caring in the least that she was still fully clothed. She closed her eyes and let the drug carry her into dreamland.

  ****

  “Does she do this often?” Bishop asked.

  “Since she came home from physical rehab she’s mostly slept,” Chris muttered, his hand still on her door.

  “Her hands were shaking in my car and she barely waited until I stopped before she hightailed it into her bedroom. She’s addicted, isn’t she?”

  Chris sighed. He turned and headed back down the hallway toward the kitchen, gesturing for Bishop to follow. “I think at this point the headaches are more a signal for the pills than actual pain. Not that her accident wasn’t serious, but I think she needs psychological help. Has she told you about her so-called other life?”

  “Yeah,” Bishop replied, although he decided to keep quiet about most of what she said.

  Chris opened the fridge and took out a soda. “She just told me about it last night, before the fight. I didn’t believe her but I did some research at the library.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “Some things she got factual, some things I couldn’t verify. Nothing that reading over the Internet couldn’t explain. Before the accident, Evie hiked every weekend with a group of friends, exploring the trails all over Nevada. I’m sure someone in that group had to do their own research, maybe even talk about the history of the places they hiked. Right?”

  “Seems logical.”

  Chris frowned at him. “By the way, why are you here?”

  “Mr. Groto wanted to meet Evelyn.”

  Chris stiffened. “Why?”

  “Not sure,” Bishop replied. “I think he thinks he recognizes her, but he can’t figure out from where.”

  “He had to have seen her in the casino. That’s the only social circle they both have been in together.”