Suzanne Brockmann - Identity - Unknown

“Fifteen minutes, Brown.” He towered over her, but Becca didn’t back down. She stood her ground, chin raised, as if daring the man to raise a hand to her.

The man pushed past her, exaggerating his limp as he headed toward the guest cabins.

Becca turned, looking first at Hazel. “Did you reach the Aldens?”

The plump older woman nodded. “They’re on their way.”

“Call the sheriff, too—in case they want to register a complaint.”

“Already done.”

Becca’s gaze swept across the crowd and landed on Mish. He realized suddenly that he’d come all the way out of the barn, toward her, ready to jump in if Brown had tried to strike her.

“How’s Stormchaser?” she asked, heading directly toward him. “The poor baby’s going to have to go into therapy after this.”

“He doesn’t seem to want me to touch him,” Mish admitted, following her back into the barn.

She gave him an odd look over her shoulder. “ She doesn’t know you. She’s bound to be a little spooked.”

She. The horse was female. He hadn’t even thought to look. He’d simply assumed that since the animal was so big and powerful…Thou shalt not assume. He’d broken one of the biggest rules, and he’d given himself away.

Rules. Rules of what? God Almighty, it was back there, just out of his line of sight. All of the answers, dancing at the edge of his mental peripheral vision. He wanted to close his eyes, to somehow grab hold of the truth, of his identity. But Becca Keyes was talking to him.

“Why don’t you get her cooled down,” Becca said, obviously repeating herself as she gazed at him with her seemingly average brown eyes.

She was challenging him. Her words were a test—she wanted to know if he could do it.

But he couldn’t.

Mish met her gaze levelly, honestly. “I’m afraid that’s a little out of my league. But if you tell me exactly what needs to be done, I can—”

She’d already turned away from him. “Perfect,” she was muttering. “Incredibly, amazingly, stupendously perfect. ” She spun back to face him. “You’re telling me you don’t know how to cool down a horse, aren’t you?”

“I’m a quick study,” he said quietly. “And you’re short of hands—”

“Short of brains, too, obviously.” There was a flare of that hot-burning anger in her eyes, but the heat was weakened by her frustration and disappointment. “Dammit. Dammit! ”

The disappointment was hard to take. He would have far preferred her anger. “I didn’t intend to deceive you.” He couldn’t explain. How could he?

She just laughed as she took the saddle blanket from Stormchaser’s back. “Right. Go and make sure Brown’s packing his bags. He’s in cabin number 12. Walk him back to the office, finish up the stalls, then stay out of my sight for the rest of evening. I can’t handle this right now—we’ll talk in the morning.”

Mish may not have known a thing about horses, but he knew when a situation called for silence.

He turned and left the barn. He’d awakened again this morning with no past, no name, no sense of self. Yet somehow he now felt even emptier inside.

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