“Want me to call Jackson back?”

“No!”

“Then start talking,” Blu demanded, leaning against the wall and blocking the only exit available to her. “I think being up all night with a headache entitles me to an explanation.”

“I’m sorry,” she repented. “I—I’m Kristen Harris… That is, I think I’m Kristen Harris.”

“You think?” Blu frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

She jutted her chin out stubbornly. “It means that I think it’s my name, but I’m not sure. I’ve lost track of some time.”

“Just how much time are we talking?”

Blu watched as she sat down on the stairs. She ran her hands through her endless hair, then settled them in her lap. “Everything up until three years ago. I’d like to go home, but…” She looked up, her brown eyes searching his face. “I was hoping you could tell me where that might be. Only it looks like that’s not going to happen.”

“Why me?”

“I found the photo, and I— This is going to sound weird, but I knew just by looking at you that you were a fisherman.” She paused. “And…and I knew it was a hydraulic winch.”

“What?”

“In the picture you’re repairing a hydraulic winch. I don’t know how I know that, I just do. I thought it could be a clue to who I was.”

She was right—it sounded crazy to know something but not why or how she knew it. But there might be something to it. A hydraulic winch wasn’t the kind of thing a woman would pay much attention to. “You think you belong here? Belong here with…me?”

The question caused her cheeks to turn pink. She lowered her head again and stared at her hands. “You don’t recognize me. No, I no longer think you and I have a connection, but I still think there is a strong possibility that you know Salva, even though you say no. Why else would he have your picture on his wall?” She sighed again, then stood. Brushing her hair away from her small face, she locked gazes with him once more. “I’m sorry for cracking you in the head yesterday, and for causing you more trouble today. I just wanted a clue so badly that I— Well, I’m sorry.”

When she started past him, Blu reached out and locked his hand around her tiny wrist. “Not so fast.”

“What now? I said I’m sorry. What more can I say?”

Blu jerked her arm up in the air. “You can explain these.”

Her face paled and she tried to pull away. “Let go.”

“These bruises are recent,” Blu insisted. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember who gave them to you or why. Is Salvador Maland your boyfriend? Did he rough you up? Are you on the run? Will he follow, or is he already close behind? Is he dangerous, or just a jealous hothead?”

“Stop it!” Suddenly she wedged her hand between them and pulled the derringer from Blu’s waistband. Jabbing it into his belly, she said, “Back off. I’ve had enough of big men thinking they have the right to man-handle me.”

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