And the wound in his side had stopped aching. Which meant he couldn’t be that old—he’d bounced back pretty fast. His body had, at least.
His mind, not so much.
The only thing that seemed to linger from his past was his accent. He’d tried to ping it, and decided it sounded more British than Aussie. When he googled it, in conjunction with amnesia, he discovered that speech patterns were part of muscle memory, along with knowing how to walk, and couldn’t be erased with trauma.
So, in short, he wasn’t from around here.
Mack set the dishes into the sink and began to spray them off to put in the dishwasher, loading them onto the rack.
“Here’s the rest,” Raven said, coming in beside him. She set another tray into the sink, then loaded it into the automatic dishwasher and turned the machine on. “So, Neil Diamond?”
He looked at her. “Are you…are you asking me out?”
Her mouth opened, just slightly, and he was a cad, until—
“Um, yes. I think so.” She flashed a smile at him.
He expected more of a response, something inside him that might stir to life. Feelings, if not memories.
Nothing.
Still, she was pretty and he liked her, so, “Okay.”
She grinned, reached out and touched his arm. “I know you don’t remember anything, Mack, but maybe you don’t have to. Maybe you get a fresh start.” Then she winked and headed back to the dining room.
A fresh start. He mulled over the words as he loaded another tray. The previous tray came out of the machine on the far side, the dishes clean and dry, so he retrieved it, and started putting the dishes away.
Over the last month he’d spent hours searching for anyone with the name Mack missing in Washington State, his age, his build. Then Oregon and Montana, and finally the United States at large.
Found three men, none of them matching the mug he saw in the mirror. Two his age, one younger.
Apparently, he’d dropped off the planet.
Or, possibly, his name wasn’t Mack. But it was the only scrap of information still lodged in his brain when he’d flagged down a trucker four weeks ago on Highway 2 headed east. He didn’t know why, but he’d gotten off at Wenatchee and picked up another ride, this time headed north. The driver, a recent college grad with his wife, had parents in Shelly and talked about the place with such fondness Mack ended his trip here.
Mack wanted a life that he could talk about with fondness. Anticipation. And while he hadn’t a clue what life he’d left, the wounds on his body told him that maybe he didn’t want to return to it.
So yeah, a fresh start sounded good. With Raven, at least for one night under the stars listening to Neil Diamond covers.
Honestly, the artist’s name did sound familiar.
A crash sounded from the other room. “Did you drop something?” He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the clean, steaming tray. “Raven?”
He picked up a couple glasses with a towel, set them on the rack—
Another crash.
He dropped the towel and headed toward the front room. “Are you o—”
Raven stood in the main room, her arms pushing hard against the chest of a man who had his arm around her neck, shaking her.
“What the—?” Mack’s shout turned the man. Then memory clicked in and yes, he’d also seen him a month ago.
Raven’s ex-boyfriend. A man named Teddy, if Mack remembered correctly.
“Let her go!” Mack advanced on the man, but Teddy grabbed Raven’s arm and pushed her through the door, out into the patio area.
Oh no, he wasn’t getting away. Mack wasn’t sure where the rage came from, the sudden heat that boiled into his veins, but as he pushed through the door, he didn’t stop. Not when the guy turned, held Raven in front of him, threatening her. Not when the assailant picked up a poker out of the fire, the one used to stir the embers into the dark sky, pointing it at Mack. And especially not when Mack grabbed Teddy’s arm, bent it away from Raven, and smashed his fist full into Teddy’s face.
Mack shunted Teddy’s feeble attempt to smash him with the poker, squeezing his wrist so hard the poker fell away onto a chair cushion, then he kneed the man in his gut, pulled his head down, and kneed him again.
Blood. So much of it that it filled the cracks of the patio as Teddy went down shouting, writhing, Raven screaming in the background.
Somewhere in there, Mack found himself and turned to her. She was staring at Teddy, back to Mack, and then—
“Who are you?”
Mack stared at her, blinking hard. Adrenaline ratcheted his heartbeat to high, his entire body buzzing.
Teddy moaned.
Then something of sanity grabbed hold, and Mack stepped back. Looked at Teddy.
The man held his face—his nose destroyed, his lip split, maybe missing a couple teeth.
Oh.
“Are you okay?”
Raven’s question, and Mack looked up, thinking Raven was headed for Teddy, but she came up to Mack and backed him away from Teddy, her hand on his chest. “You’re bleeding.” She pointed to his side.
He looked down and only then felt the heat scurry into his side.
His movements might have reopened the wound. Raven drew up Mack’s shirt, completely ignoring Teddy, and yep, the stitches had reopened.
Now, wow, the pain burned through him. He grabbed her wrists. “Just leave it—”
“You need a hospital—”
“I need a hospital!” Teddy shrieked. He was on his feet.
Mack grabbed his shirt and directed him to a nearby chair. “Just sit down, Slick. You had it coming.”
Raven shoved a wet bar towel in Mack’s hands and he gave it to Teddy. “Call 9-1-1,” Mack said to Raven.
“I already did.” Jethro had come out of the bar. He’d been in the back office doing the books, last Mack knew, and now emerged with the look of murder as he stared at Teddy. “I told you last time you showed up that if you ever came back—”
“Daddy. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Mack said. “He had his arm around her neck.”
And with that, he had to step in front of Teddy to keep Jethro back. He might be in his early sixties and completely gray, but he was lean and bore the movement of a man who still worked out.
Teddy got up, a little wobbly.
“Don’t even try to run, kid,” Mack said quietly. “You can sit on the sidewalk outside to wait for the cops.” Mack glanced at Jethro. “I’ll wait with you.”
“Me too,” said Raven. “I probably need to give a statement, make sure you don’t get into trouble.”
Mack frowned at her.
“Anyone who handles himself like that has a past,” she said quietly.
He drew in a breath. But, yeah, that’s what he was afraid of.
Very afraid.
So much for fresh starts.
2
Mack couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu.
The police chief had hauled them all down to the station to record their statements. Now, with the moon high, the night dark, his entire body still buzzed with the eerie sense of familiarity, an old memory lying under his skin.
Like he’d spent time in a police station or being questioned.