Sue Swift - The Ranger and The Rescue

“When are we going into town?” He picked up the sports section and began reading it. A puzzled look stole over his face.

“When your clothes are dry.”

“When do you s’pose?”

She shrugged. “Maybe this afternoon.” Ignoring his frown, she asked, “Granola?”

“Uh, I guess. You know, I don’t recognize any of the names here.” He waved the paper. “Who are the Dallas Cowboys, and why would anyone care about their player trades?”

Serenity grinned. Here was the perfect man: a stud with no memories and no love of football. If it weren’t for his mysterious origins, she’d keep him forever. “While we’re waiting, why don’t we try a traditional path to knowledge. How about a tarot reading?”

After breakfast, Serenity sat on the floor of the living room and spread out the cards with assurance. Though a dyed-in-the-wool skeptic, she knew she had a gift with the tarots. Time and again, customers returned to tell her that her readings had come true with uncanny accuracy.

Her life had delivered so many knocks that she didn’t believe in much. Not in the love of a husband or in the support of parents, and absolutely not in the kindness of fortune. Odd, but the tarots had never let her down.

Too bad she couldn’t use them to foretell her own fate, but the cards didn’t work that way. Otherwise, there’d be tarot readers winning the lottery and betting on the horses in every town. A pity.

Clearing her throat, Serenity flipped cards over onto the polished surface of her wooden coffee table. “The Hermit.” She raised her gaze to meet the stranger’s brown eyes.

He sat on the couch opposite her. His gaze still held a befuddled mistiness. Good.

“You seek higher knowledge,” she said.

His eyebrows pulled together. “Huh?”

“You are opposed by forces symbolized by the Seven of Cups. This is typical. We often become sidetracked by the things of the outer world—gold, riches, and so forth.” She looked up. The stranger had donned his blue chambray shirt. Half open, it exposed a set of sinewy pecs furred enticingly by a mat of dark, masculine hair.

She wanted to run her fingers through that sexy, virile pelt. Would it feel silky or rough against her hand? Shoving away the fantasy, Serenity shifted her attention to his face.

The stranger quirked his narrow, well-shaped lips. “Does that mean I have a lot of money?”

“Not necessarily. It means you want a lot of money, power, whatever.” She turned another card. “This symbolizes you. Hmm. Justice. That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

Serenity couldn’t tell him what she thought, but she guessed now that he was one of her ex-husband’s employees who’d gotten cold feet. She’d bet he’d tried to cross Hank. When Hank had found out about the stranger’s treachery, he’d been whacked on the head and left in the desert for dead.

After drawing in a breath, she let it out slowly. Stay calm. “Well, Mr. Justice, this card has an obvious meaning. You are a fair person, trustworthy and just.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” His eyes took on a hopeful, puppy-dog look.

She couldn’t help smiling, even though his arrival at her home meant complete disaster for her. “Of course.” She flipped over another card, then another. “These next cards predict the future.” Her gut clenching, she gulped.

“What’s wrong?”

“The Knight of Swords portends danger and violence. But it’s followed by The Lovers.” She stared at him.

His craggy, handsome face revealed nothing.

“Well, Mr. Justice, you’re in for a bad time.” Serenity swallowed hard. As she divined the meaning of the cards, her armpits grew damp and sweaty with tension. “But it looks as though everything is going to turn out all right for you.” Though not for her.

Sure as the sun rose in the east, Hank was going to come and get her. The reading favored the stranger, but the mere presence of The Lovers said nothing about her fate. The card could refer to his joyful reunion with his wife. Serenity loathed the notion.

Surprised by her jealousy, she stood, then shuffled the tarots together, even shakier than before.

The stranger grabbed her hand. “Wait. There has to be more than that.”

Serenity jerked away. The cards flew out of her chilled, stiff fingers. “There isn’t. I predict that you will recover your memories, but it will be a difficult process.”

“What are you so scared of?”

“I’m n-not scared.” She knelt to gather the cards, cursing them, the stranger, and Hank. Why couldn’t the world let her alone? Hadn’t she suffered enough?

“You’re terrified. Your hands are trembling and ice-cold. When I touched you, you pulled away as though I’d slapped you. What’s going on, Serenity?”

“Nothing’s going on. I just don’t like being touched, that’s all.” Standing, she put the cards on the table.

“You let me into your home. You saved my life. You obviously trust me. I’m…I’m Mr. Justice, right? Why can’t I touch you?”

Serenity fought back sobs. This was something that Hank, that beast, had done to her. Her throat threatened to close with unshed tears. “I can touch you. You can’t touch me. That’s just the way it is.” She ran to her room, overwhelmed.

Flinging herself onto her bed, Serenity rolled into a tiny ball, wanting to shut out the world. She’d cry herself to sleep even though it was only nine in the morning.

She wanted him, but she could never have him. What good would it do? She’d freeze up, just like the other times.

He stared after her. What the hell had just happened? Generally, Serenity Clare resembled the name she’d picked for herself. She reflected a clear, calm joy in living that he found very compelling, even attractive.

Now, a crack appeared in her tranquil facade. Walking down the hall, he contemplated the door she’d slammed then locked behind her, as though she were hurt or afraid.

Fear he could understand. Without a memory, he was scared himself. He couldn’t intrude, not even to comfort her. Nor could he probe further about her strange behavior.

What did her extreme reaction to the card reading mean? She obviously believed in the message of the tarots. Dumb to think that pieces of paper could predict anything, but Serenity wasn’t a dumb woman.

She’d been truly distressed by the Knight of Swords and The Lovers, and hadn’t wanted him to touch her.

Skittish. Was she on the run?

Returning to the living room, he picked up the cards and studied the Knight of Swords. A fearsome figure clad in full armor, his lips were skinned back from his teeth in a feral grin. This warrior relished the battle. Sword upraised as if to strike, he rode a racing warhorse through a barren landscape topped by a wind-whipped, stormy sky.

He shuddered. If the tarots told the truth, he was a killer.

Was Serenity his prey? Had unknown masters sent him to murder her?

Unacceptable.

He dropped the card, then found The Lovers. Adam and Eve, naked, stood in a grassy garden planted with a flaming bush and a fruit tree entwined with a snake. Surmounted by a glorious angel, the card’s symbolism was clear.

He didn’t wear a wedding band and couldn’t see a dent or a tan line to reveal that one had ever circled his left ring finger. But that meant nothing. Many married men didn’t wear a ring. All the better to cheat. He grimaced. He hoped he wouldn’t discover that he was the kind of man who’d two-time his wife.

His wife. Did she exist? Who was she? If he’d had such a powerful love in his life, why couldn’t he remember her, or any children they had?

What kind of monster was he?

He picked up Justice, the last of the cards. “Mr. Justice,” she’d called him. He hoped the silly moniker wouldn’t stick. But if he were a hired killer, the name had an intriguing irony.