Jennifer Armentrout - Don’t Look Back

I nodded.

Del leaned in, kissing my cheek, and then he stood, bumping into the bedside table, jarring the music box. It kicked on, playing a note of the haunting melody. He stared at it, shaking his head. “I hate that thing.”

“Why?”

He just shook his head again. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

After he left, I went to my desk and picked up the card the detective had left me. It had his personal cell on it, and he’d left instructions for me to call at any hour if I remembered anything. I picked up my phone, debating. What if it wasn’t real? I’d just look stupid.

And crazy.

Sitting down on my bed, I stared at his number. Stupid and crazy were worth the risk if it helped them find Cassie. I dialed his number.

Detective Ramirez answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

I cleared my throat, clenching the business card. “Hi. This is … this is Samantha Franco.”

There was a pause, and it sounded like he muted a television or something. “Yes? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” It was now or never. Closing my eyes, I prayed I wasn’t making a mistake. “I remembered something, but I’m not sure if it will help.”

“Anything at this point will help,” he said gruffly.

I told him what I remembered—the darkness, falling, and the water rushing. At first he didn’t respond, and then he did. And I suddenly felt so heavy, so weighted down by his words.

“Up at the state park, there’s a lake that feeds into a waterfall. I’m assuming you don’t remember either of those things, but we’re dragging the lake on Sunday.”

Cops didn’t drag lakes looking for survivors. They dragged them looking for bodies.

I felt nauseated most of Saturday morning, having not slept much after the phone call with the detective. The rescue endeavors had turned to recovery. It was unspoken, but I knew it in my bones.

They didn’t expect to find Cassie alive.

A little before one, I snuck out. Not hard to do when Mom was still in bed and Dad was off on a golf course somewhere. Shoving my hands into the pockets of this really cute military-style jacket I’d found in my closet, I headed down the winding road. Chances were this trip would be pointless. Cassie’s parents might not even be home, but I couldn’t bring myself to call them, especially because they hadn’t contacted me once since I’d been back.

This could be bad.

Crossing the small yard, I stepped onto the tiny porch of the brick house and knocked on the front door. A crash sounded from inside, followed by a deep, husky laugh—Carson’s laugh.

The door opened, and he was looking over his shoulder. “I got it, Dad! I’ll be back in a little while.” Turning, he gave me a lopsided grin and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I repeated, stepping back.

Carson eased around me and then motioned me to follow him when I didn’t move. Red and blond highlights appeared in his shaggy hair under the sun. “Since you didn’t arrive in a car, I’m hoping you don’t mind my method of transportation.”

I’d figured he’d borrow his dad’s truck or something, but he stopped in front of the motorcycle, pulling the blue tarp off it. My stomach dropped. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been on a motorcycle.”

“Not with me. And I seriously doubt pretty boy would risk his face to ride one.”

I glanced at him. Del was a pretty boy, and while Carson was hotness incarnate, his features were rougher around the edges. Pulling out a hair tie, I wrangled my hair into a low ponytail. Shorter strands slipped free, curving around my cheeks.

Carson handed me a sleek black helmet. “It’s really easy. Just hold on tight.”

My gaze dropped to his narrow waist, and my insides turned to goo. I turned the helmet over slowly. “How … how do you know where Cassie lives? I never asked.”

He squinted. “She used to throw a lot of parties.”

I shifted from one foot to another, thinking about what Candy had said. “Did you guys … date or something?”

His eyebrows knitted. “Why are you asking?”

“One of the girls mentioned it. Said you two hooked up.”

Unexpectedly, he laughed. “I’m kind of curious as to why I’d even come up in conversation, but whatever.”

I couldn’t let it go. “So did you?”

He looked away, squaring his shoulders. “Yeah, we did.”

A red-hot feeling unfurled low in my belly, sliding through my veins like a snake. “Did we ever hook up?”

His head snapped back to me, and his brows shot up his forehead in astonishment. He choked out a “No.”

“Why not?”

A heartbeat later he gave me a close-lipped smile, and his eyes lowered. “Good question. I’d have to go with the fact that we didn’t get along.”

Made sense, and I really needed to stop asking questions, but curiosity had its claws in me. “Then why did you hook up with Cassie?”

Carson moved closer, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Honestly? I really can’t tell you why. I was at a party she was throwing. We both were drinking. You two had just gotten into an argument about something—I don’t know what about—and she came on to me. End of story.”

There was a name for what I was feeling. Jealousy . Something I had no ownership to, but it was there, boiling my blood. “So she came on to you, and you were all about it? Just like that?”

His eyes narrowed into lively, thin crescents. “That’s how it happens. If it makes you feel better, I don’t remember much of it. And she wasn’t with Trey then.”

I forced a laugh. “It doesn’t make me feel anything. I was just curious.”

“Sure you are.”

“What about Lauren?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Some of the amusement faded from his expression. “Lauren and I didn’t hook up. We went out on one date, much to all of her friends’ shock—including yours. She didn’t want a second one.” He grabbed the helmet out from under my hands. “Are you done with the personal Q-and-A?”

“Yeah,” I said, embarrassed. Along with amnesia, I must’ve lost any and all filters. Worried that he’d changed his mind, I went for the helmet, but he stepped back. “What are you doing?”

He flipped it. “Helping you out.”

I stood still and waited. Carson moved forward again, and with one hand, he tucked back the shorter strands of my hair. Tingles shot across my skin as his knuckles brushed my cheek. My lips parted as he did the same to the other side. His hands were large but incredibly gentle. I wondered if he’d touched Cassie like that, but I pushed that thought away.

Carson slid the helmet on, buckling the straps under my chin. Each time his fingers touched my skin, I shivered.

“There,” he said, his gaze lingering below my eyes. “You’re ready.”

Before he could slip the shield down, I grasped his hand and had the worst case of verbal diarrhea known to man. “I had you listed as my security question.”

Carson blinked and let out a tight laugh. “What?”

“On my e-mail account, it asked who my childhood friend was,” I explained, nervous and wishing my mouth had a stop button. “It was you.”

“Interesting,” he said, pulling his hand free. Without further explanation, he moved the shield down. “Let’s go.”

Not the reaction I’d been hoping for, but then again, I had no idea what I’d wanted him to say. Confused, I watched as he climbed onto the bike and patted the seat. Swallowing, I swung a leg over and sat. When the motor roared to life, I tentatively placed my hands on his waist. Under the sweater, his muscles were hard and toned.

My mouth went dry.