Camilla followed Beth to the front porch and settled onto the big swing. Covered with a thick cushion and lots of pillows along the back, she snuggled into the softness and sighed. Her muscles slowly unclenched, partly from the long car ride, and partly from tension she’d been carrying since leaving New Orleans. Being around the Boudreaus, Beth, and Jamie, she felt safe enough to let her guard down.
The gentle back and forth movement of the swing was almost hypnotic, the barely there squeak from the chains holding it up a soothing lullaby. The silence stretched for almost a full minute, then two. She wondered how long it would take for Beth to finally explode with questions. Biting her bottom lip to hold back a chuckle, she started counting. When she hit five, Beth swiveled on the swing, facing her.
“Are you really okay? You’re not lying to keep me from worrying?”
“I swear on a stack of my books, I am not lying. I’m fine. My arm barely hurts. It twinges a bit if I move too fast without thinking. I didn’t even put a bandage on it today after my shower. The one on my forehead comes off tomorrow.”
Beth grabbed her hand, squeezing tight. “I was so scared, Camilla. When I got the call from the hospital saying you were in the emergency room unconscious and you’d been shot, I lost it. Brody’s my rock, and I love him to pieces, but I was ready to drop everything, race straight to the airport, and catch the next flight to Charlotte.”
“Well, I’m glad he talked some sense into you.”
Beth shook her head. “He didn’t. I think he’d have been right beside me on the plane. Heath’s the one who took charge. He started making calls, reservations, everything. Got me calmed down. Told me he’d take care of you.” Leaning her head against Camilla’s shoulder, she whispered, “He cares about you. More than he’s willing to admit.”
Shock rolled through Camilla as she contemplated Beth’s words. She couldn’t be right. He’d been sweet and kind. Funny. Sensitive to her needs. Could it be something more?
“He’s taken good care of me, I’ll give you that much. He took charge immediately. Kind of rolled over me like a steamroller, but he got things done.”
Beth giggled, the sound infectious. “A typical Boudreau male. They can’t stand to see a woman in peril. It’s the whole damsel-in-distress thing. These men learned it by example. Nobody can ever accuse Douglas Boudreau of standing on the sidelines when a woman or child is in trouble. Look what he did when Jamie was kidnapped.”
“They’re all larger than life. More like the men I write about, but never seem to find in real life.” Camilla started the swing moving again, her toes against the porch, the subtle movement soothing her deep inside. “Heath overwhelms me sometimes. I’m afraid…”
“He’d never hurt you!”
Camilla gave Beth an exasperated look. “Not that kind of afraid. I’m worried if I open myself up to him, it’ll make me vulnerable. He overwhelms me, you know? Not in a bad way, because I know he’d never hurt me. It’s—if I let myself, I could fall in love with him.”
“What’s wrong with that? He’s a good man, one of the best besides my Brody. Strong. Compassionate. Loves his family and his friends. I know he flirts a lot, but personally I think that’s a defense mechanism. It keeps him from letting anybody get too close.”
“He doesn’t really flirt with me. Oh, there’re subtle little things, but nothing like I’ve seen him do with others.” Camilla’s protest was barely above a whisper.
Beth leaned back and met Camilla’s gaze. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s attentive and pays attention when I talk. He tells me I’m beautiful. On the plane ride to New Orleans, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. It was magical. But I wouldn’t really call that flirting, right? Unless you count the endless times he’s tormented me. Like the first time I visited here and he swiped my laptop.” Her lips curved at the memory, though at the time she’d wanted to rip his head off.
“Don’t you find it telling, that his attentions are casual with other women, but with you…”
“With me what?”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Hello? Ms. Romance Writer, are you being deliberate obtuse? He likes you. He really likes you. Shoot, he’s probably halfway in love with you.”
Camilla’s eyes widened at Beth’s statement. “I think you’re reading far too much into this.”
“And I think you’re being deliberately ignorant. For somebody so smart, you are oblivious to what’s right in front of you.” Beth shrugged. I’m just saying. I’ll stop pushing—for now.”
“Good. Because you’re so far out in left field, sister, you’re practically outside the ballpark.”
“We’ll see. Anyway, I meant to ask earlier. Do you still not remember anything about the shooting?”
Camilla wrapped her arms across her middle, a shiver running down her spine. “Nothing. No matter how hard I try, there’s nothing there. From Saturday night after I left my parents’ house, until I woke up in the emergency room is a total blank.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine having a chunk of my memories missing.”
“The doctors said I might get bits and pieces, or I may never remember at all. It’s called retrograde amnesia. Nothing else is missing. It’s driving me crazy, because I know stuff happened and I don’t have a clue.”
“I wish there was something you could try to jog the memories loose. Like hypnosis or regression therapy.”
Before Camilla could answer, another car pulled up the driveway, a silver hybrid, and screeched to a stop. Nica bounded from the driver’s side, sprinting toward the porch, her long blonde hair pulled high in a ponytail. She was clad in jeans washed to almost white, with holes in the knees that were from wear and not from a designer label. She bounded toward the swing, plopping herself down between Camilla and Beth with a grin. She did a little judicious wiggling to fit between them, and then she flung her arms around their shoulders.
“Am I late? Did I miss all the juicy details?”
Camilla looked at Beth and burst into laughter while Nica smiled. Beth wiped tears from her eyes before winking at Camilla.
“You didn’t miss anything. Your father and brothers are being their normal, gallant, overprotective selves. Your Uncle Gator has gone to North Carolina to figure out who’s trying to hurt Camilla. And Heath’s trying to act all cool and manly, but he can’t keep his eyes off Camilla.”
“Beth—”
“What? It’s the truth. He watches you like you’re a juicy T-bone steak and he hasn’t eaten in days.”
Nica leaned back and sighed. “Man, I love this family.” She used her foot to propel the swing back, starting the softly swaying motion again. “When Momma called, I dropped everything and headed here.” She reached up and gently touched the bandage on Camilla’s forehead.
“Really, I’m fine. Doctor gave me a clean bill of health. I need to finish my antibiotics, but other than that, I’m good.”
Nica’s gaze hardened. “Except somebody shot you. Let’s not forget that.”
“It’s kinda hard to forget. Of course, it’s not like I can remember it happening.”
“I heard you have retrograde amnesia. That stinks.”
“We were talking about that when you came roaring up the drive.” Beth grinned when Nica stuck out her tongue. “I asked Camilla if she’d considered getting hypnosis or something like that.”
“Might not be a bad idea.” Nica eyed her up and down, and Camilla wondered if this was what a bug felt like under a microscope. “Have you considered meditation? We covered it in one of my classes.”
“Meditation? Like in yoga?”
Nica rolled her eyes at Beth’s question. “There’s more to meditation than yoga. Some meditation can be used as a type of self-hypnosis. Others work with regression or trying to delve into your past lives. What I’m suggesting is simply sitting quietly, letting everything around you fade, and allowing your mind to relax. No specific focusing on pinpointing a specific event, or worrying about why you can’t remember.”
Camilla let Nica’s words roll around in her brain and couldn’t come up with an argument for not giving it a shot. What was the worst that could happen?
“I’m game. What do I need to do to get ready?”
Nica chuckled. “First off, we need to get Heath out of the house, preferably off the ranch. He means well, but I can’t see him sitting idly by while you tried meditating. No offense, but my big brother can be a pain in the butt, especially when he’s trying to help.”
“He’s not that bad,” Camilla protested.
“Really? You’re telling me he hasn’t steamrollered over everybody and everything to keep you out of the line of fire since the minute he landed in Charlotte? He didn’t deal with the hospital, or the local police, or getting you here?”
Camilla didn’t argue—she couldn’t. Because he’d done exactly what Nica accused.
“Alright, we send Heath into town for something. We’ll figure it out. Now, when would you like to do it?” Nica climbed from the swing and turned to face her.
“As soon as possible. If I can remember something—anything—maybe I can get my life back. Because I’m sick of being scared all the time.” She pointed her finger at Nica. “Don’t you dare tell your brother I said that. He’s practically my shadow now. If he thinks I’m afraid, he’ll be attached to my hip and I’ll never have any privacy. And, personally, I like going to the bathroom by myself.”
Nica and Beth laughed until tears ran down their cheeks, and Nica held out her hand, pulling Camilla off the swing.
“Come on, let’s grab Momma. She’ll get Heath and the rest of the men out of the house before you can say boo.”
Still laughing, they headed into the house.
“Have you found her?”
“Not yet,” the gravelly voice on the other end of the phone replied. “I followed her phone’s GPS to right outside the French Quarter in New Orleans. Unfortunately, her phone hasn’t been turned on since that last signal.”
“What’s she doing in New Orleans?”
“No clue. I searched her place thoroughly and found nothing. Her computer is gone. Looked like she left in a hurry. I trashed the place, took some stuff to make it look like a robbery. Which is exactly what the police report will show.”
“What about the man who showed up at the hospital? What have you been able to find out about him?” Anger simmered beneath the surface when he thought about Camilla Stewart. The wretched woman had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now she could ruin him. Destroy everything he’d carefully worked for. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’ve got my people working up a profile on him. His name is Heath Boudreau, at least that’s the name he gave at the hospital. Flashed an ATF badge.”
He straightened at that revelation. “He works for the government?”
“If it’s a true credential. Might be as real as the ones I flash when I need information. A good one can be faked for about fifty bucks.”
The squeezing pain in his chest eased a little. “Boudreau? The name’s not familiar. Should I be concerned?”
“Don’t know. I’ll know more by this evening. He seems intuitive if he’s the one who’s keeping her off the phone. And looks like he’s got friends in New Orleans, because there’s no hotel records under his name or Camilla Stewart. Unless they’re camping in the bayou, or going incognito, they’re staying with somebody.”
“Any other Boudreaus in New Orleans?”
There was a long pause before the other man answered. “It’s a common name here apparently. A couple of different spellings, but it’s like Smith or Jones. It’ll take a while to see if there’s a familial connection, but I’m assuming we’ll find one.”
Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, trying to contain his rage. “Find them. Take him out if you have to, but bring Camilla Stewart to me.”