9. Switch

9

SWITCH

I 'm not sure how I know how to do this. To hide, and yet keep targets in my sight. To use shadows for cover and the buildings to my advantage. I'm hoping it's one of the forms of memory I tap into automatically.

The corridor brings me out to the rear of the parking lot, allowing me to beat Sophia's brothers to their car by a fraction of a second.

I peer through a narrow gap in the fence. Her brothers turn the corner. Of course they are fucking twins so I can't tell one from the other beyond the color of their ties and haircuts.

A memory flickers. One I can't quite hold on to. But it features Saint and a tall building.

Sniper, maybe.

It's like a badly tuned television, and I squint. Am I thinking of him because a sniper on these two men would be handy right now? And what makes me think I'm physically in danger?

It must be my memory returning, because Saint arrived during the ten-year window I'm missing. But I don't have time to celebrate that right now.

"You going to Mamà's for dinner tonight, Luca?"

"I wasn't going to, but I will. We need to speak to Papà." Luca's voice is a fraction deeper than his brother's. His pace of speech, slower. Less excitable.

"About what?"

"It's bothering me. The urgency. He told us to convince her to go without mentioning the wedding. To get her there so we could persuade her to go through with it. But why couldn't it wait? She knows something is wrong."

Shit . I saw the stricken look on her face before I sent her in there. Luca must have noticed it too.

The footsteps stop. "How can she? She remembers nothing."

There's a pause. "I don't know. But she does. She could always read us."

"Are you saying she has her memory back?"

A hand slams the top of the car. "I don't know. But something was definitely off. We need to get her out of here. Tomorrow. Before she has the time to make other plans."

Thoughts begin to run riot in my head. How could they take her? Where could I hide her? How do I stop it?

"You're being paranoid, Luca."

"And you're too laid-back, Leo . Dad wants this solved. He thinks it's the answer to the family's prayers."

"We've done everything he asked. We've cut off most of her friends, so they won't ask questions about why she's gone. She has no finances in her own name anymore, so she'll be stuck in Sicily. She doesn't even have an apartment. And there isn't a hotel in any country she can check into without a credit card or without us knowing. And none of it feels good."

"I wish we knew what caused her to drive so erratically like that. It makes no sense. And I don't know why Papà is orchestrating all this deceit when we could just have an honest conversation with her."

Leo huffs. "Papà doesn't want to give her the opportunity to say no. He's worried that the person she is now won't be amenable. But a blood commitment was made and must be honored. It's the only way without Papà facing disgrace."

"It's not enough."

Both car doors slam, and soon I hear the wheels turn in the gravel.

Once the sound disappears into the distance, I go as quickly as I can back to my room. My shoulder aches, my arm physically hurts, and I feel a level of breathlessness that I'm uncomfortable with.

I hear Halo's voice in my head call me a toddler for some reason. But I can't place the situation nor context. The words are in jest, and people around us laugh.

By the time I make it to the room, sweat has beaded on my forehead. But for the first time in weeks, my first thought is not for myself.

It's for Sophia.

When I step inside, I find her asleep on the bed. Her eyes are red from crying. Her hair is mussed. She must have been running her hands through it. I can only imagine her sitting here trying to process her grief.

I feel it for her.

It's hard to explain amnesia to anyone who hasn't had it. People just want to resume their friendship with you. But you can't remember the first thing about them. Imagine how it would feel if a complete and utter stranger walked up to you on the street and began discussing your personal thoughts and feelings with you.

That's our world.

But the concern in Luca's voice troubles me.

He's correct in his assumptions. Sophia does know.

And he wants her out of here.

Tomorrow.

I'm not sure what would happen if she refused. There's a guard on the parking lot gate. But one bullet would solve that problem. And while Irv is a good watchdog, he's already seen his best years. The security here is to prevent patients from hurting themselves by wandering out of the facility.

It would be absolutely no deterrent to someone who wanted to get inside.

Especially if that person was armed.

Which means I need to get her out of here first.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch her for a minute. Her lips are lush and pink and slightly open. Long eyelashes rest against her cheeks. Her skin is smooth until it reaches her scars.

It would be too easy to be bold and tell her the scars don't mean anything to me. That I don't see them. Because I can see them, and they do mean something. They mean there was a point in her life when whatever she was fleeing was more important than her own safety. It shows that when she sets her mind to something, like her recovery, she gives it everything so she can live and function and not let it break her.

Wait. She's not wearing her eye patch. I look around for it and see it sitting on the small desk beneath the mirror.

Courage is an incredible thing. It's a well that needs refilling at the end of every day. And somehow Sophia has managed to do that.

The more I study her in the quiet of my room, the more I realize she's growing on me. She helped me when I needed it most. She's trying to be positive when you can see the whirlwind happening inside her.

And perhaps, more than that, I want to be the one to help her now when she most needs it.

Placing my hand on her knee, I shake her gently. She awakes with a start and then places her hand to her chest.

"Theo," she says quietly. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to, Sparrow. But we need to talk."

She places her hands on the bed and adjusts her posture so she's sitting straight. "Did you hear anything more?"

"Not much more than we already heard."

"You promise?" she asks.

"I'm never going to lie to you. Your brother, the one with the shorter hair…"

"Luca?"

"Yeah, Luca. He suspects something. He doesn't know exactly what. He wondered if your memory was coming back. But he said something about how you could always read the two of them. The guy you were promised to marry is rich and has connections that would help your family. They're worried you won't go through with it now because of your memory loss."

Sophia sighs and looks down. "They're right. I barely know what I'm doing with my life. Adjusting to this is enough. I don't want to marry a complete stranger in another country away from everything I know."

I take her hands. "Your father is furious about the delay. He needs the marriage to go ahead because it will give strength to the family and responsibilities to one of your brothers. Alessio. So, they want to get you out of here tomorrow before you have the chance to act on your suspicions."

She looks up at me. "I've got nowhere to go. I don't have my bank details. My phone was smashed in the wreck, but they got me a new one without all my old details. I've been so foolish and trusting. I've let people set up online accounts for me that I'm sure use their credit cards. I was told my wallet was lost, Papà thought someone might have stolen it, so I let him cancel all my cards. I never asked where the replacement ones were. I've been hiding from my life in here, and now I have no options. They have me right where they want me. Trapped."

The waver of fear in her voice tears through me.

"You aren't foolish. And you're supposed to be able to trust the people you think love you. But you are right in that it's exactly what they've done. They talked about how they've deliberately cut off your friends, finances, and home. They know you can't hide without money. My guess is, at best, they want you amenable to marriage with a wealthy older man. At worst, they can use it to force you."

"What would happen if I went to the police?" she asks.

The word police makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I see a snapshot. A group of old ladies sitting on the curb. A row of bikes. The police talking to us. But the fragments are gone before I can hold on to them.

"They haven't done anything…illegal yet. In fact, I'm sure they could make a good show of how they have done everything for you since you were injured. Worse, they might even be able to say the brain injury is making you see shit that isn't even there."

Her jaw opens. "Oh, God, they wouldn't."

I take a breath. "If we go too far down a conspiracy rabbit hole, we might never get back out. But I think it's enough that we know they want to take you from the country to marry someone. And you don't want to go under those circumstances, right?"

"I don't," she admits. "What do I do, Theo?"

I squeeze her knee gently. "Let's play it out. They're going to come and get you out of here tomorrow. I don't know exactly what that means. It could be as simple as them coming to pick you up because they think you have agreed to go with them, or deciding not to pay for your treatment anymore, in which case I guess you get evicted from your room. Or it could mean with force. Your brothers are obviously connected. I'm guessing Cosa Nostra, seeing as you are Sicilian."

How else could you be wealthy enough to fly a human being from one country to another without proper identification?

It dawns on me that I don't know what the club's relationship with the Cosa Nostra is today. King is deliberately keeping the current status of the club from me. If it's precarious, they may not help Sophia at all. Worse, they might even try to use her. I try to think back to my early days with the club, but like all prospects, we got told shit. But I do remember the docks were controlled by the Mafia on the New York side.

She leans forward, and her long dark hair falls over her face. It's cool where it touches my hand, and I can't help but stroke it. It's so soft. Like she is.

When she looks up at me, she looks stricken. "I searched online. About my family. There are news reports that suggest my father is a made man. They've never mentioned it. Not directly. You think they'll take me from here whether I want to go or not?"

I take hold of her hand. "I don't know what they're capable of. And I don't know what lengths they'll go to so they can keep whatever promise or contract they've made for you."

She takes a deep breath and looks up at me, fear etched into her features. "I hate to ask, but…can you help me?"

I sigh and squeeze her fingers. They are slender between mine. Pretty nails with a nude polish on them. "I'll do whatever I can. I don't know how helpful my club will be if they know who you are, though."

"Bikers and Cosa Nostra don't get along?"

I shake my head. "Never did. Doubt that's changed in the past ten years."

"So, what do I do?"

"Marry me." The words are out of my mouth before I have time to process them.

"What?" Sophia asks.

A plan formulates in my head. It's messy. Full of plot holes. But I think it could work. And, while it's reckless, marrying Sophia is something I can give my mom. The knowledge that this girl she heard about could be my everything. We can stay together long enough for Mom to get through her treatment, and then if she gets well…

When she gets well…

I can't think of that right now. In this moment, I have to think of Sophia.

"The biggest problem is that your family wants to marry you off to someone. They can't do that if you are already married."

I cup the side of her neck, allowing my thumb to stroke her jaw, and she leans into it like a pussy cat. "Thank you, but I can't let you do that."

"Why not?"

She shrugs, her expression exasperated. "For a million reasons."

"Name one."

"Fine. You don't just marry strangers."

"Apparently that's something your family does do."

Her mouth opens and closes for a minute. "That may be fair, but obviously the reason I am here is because I don't."

I recall some fact from high school. "Some countries have arranged marriages between strangers."

Sophia sighs. "Okay. You don't just marry someone so they can avoid having to marry someone else."

"That's fair. I'm not suggesting…for life. Twelve months, maybe. A contract." I drop my hand from her jaw and take hold of her wrist. My fingers fit around it easily. "Stop your family getting it annulled by…claiming you made this decision recklessly and without your full faculties. I doubt my club will help us if you are connected to the Cosa Nostra or Mafia. But they'll have to if you're my old lady. My wife."

Her eyes flare at the word wife .

"They'll know it's fake."

I shake my head. "They might think it's fake, but they won't know for sure. Especially if we act like it isn't."

"Why would you do this?"

I look over at the eye patch sitting on the desk again. Something deep inside me stirs at the idea of being noble. Of having purpose that's greater than the pieces of me. "I can't explain it to you, Soph, but I know it's the answer. It solves your problem. And my mom…she's got cancer, going through treatment, terrified she's not gonna live long enough to see all her kids settled and happy. It'll give her a boost to know I'm married to a nice girl."

Sophia looks humorously puzzled. "I'm a nice girl ?"

"Obviously. But everything about this feels like the man I used to be before all this happened. Maybe in doing this, I put the pieces of me back together."

Sophia sighs. "I feel like it would be disingenuous to say yes."

"Remind me what that word means."

"Sort of insincere because I benefit more than you do. And they are never going to believe us. They saw us at your party."

I rub my hand along my jaw. "And what did they see, Soph? You came in, and I introduced you to each of my friends. They saw the way I looked after you. I nearly kicked Saint's ass for knocking you over. Is it that much of a leap to believe we feel something for each other? That perhaps we were hiding our real feelings but couldn't wait any longer. That maybe we're carpe diem-ing life after trauma because happiness and life can disappear in the blink of an eye. Could you make it believable?"

"You want me to pretend it's real?"

"It's the only way."

"Seems that's not fair for you either. You have to know I have a crush on you."

A crush. The word is so sweet. Takes me back to high school.

I smile softly, then run my thumb over her thick lower lip. "Well, that should make faking our marriage a little easier, then. Shouldn't it?"

"Don't tease me," she says, her voice wavering.

"Like, what if I kissed you now, so you could be ready to fake it later?"

"I said don't tease me."

"Who said I'm teasing? Was that a yes or no, Sophia?"

Her mouth opens, and when she looks up at me and sees my smile, she nods. I lean forward and brush my lips over hers. Softly, at first. In case this wasn't what she was thinking.

"Do that again," she whispers, and I oblige.

Our mouths open, and my tongue meets hers. I feel her sigh against me as my body starts to respond to the fact I have a woman in my arms after all this time.

She's warm, soft, and utterly delicious.

I want more of her.

But gently, I pull away because time isn't on our side.

Her cheeks are pink, her eyes wide. "I'm looking forward to some more of those fake kisses later. But now we have to do something more important. We need to get out of here. Today."