Page 4 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)
CHAPTER
FOUR
A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later Atlas stepped back inside.
Despite her growing confusion about her own identity, seeing him immediately eased some of the tension in her shoulders. Something solid about him made her feel anchored even when everything else seemed to be shifting.
“How are you feeling?” He settled into the chair next to the bed.
“Confused. And scared. Atlas, I’ve been looking at my injuries more carefully, and I . . .” She couldn’t finish her statement.
His green eyes sharpened. “You think someone did this to you?”
She showed him her wrists, then carefully lifted her shirt to reveal the bruising on her ribs.
“I don’t know what other conclusion I should draw. It looks like I was in a fight or . . .” She swallowed hard. “Or someone was hurting me, and I was fighting back.”
Atlas remained quiet, studying the marks with the trained eye of someone who’d seen violence before.
When he looked up, his expression was gentle but serious. “You’re right. Those aren’t injuries from an accident.”
The confirmation should have terrified her. Instead, it brought an odd sense of relief.
At least she wasn’t going crazy.
“Where am I exactly?” she asked.
“You’re on Lantern Beach, a small island off the North Carolina coast.”
The name didn’t ring any bells. It felt just as foreign as her identity.
“So what happens now?” The question that had been gnawing at her finally emerged. “If I’m not from here, if I have no identification, no memory of who I am . . . where do I go? What do I do?”
The vulnerability in her voice surprised her. She didn’t feel like the kind of person who admitted weakness easily. Yet here she was, completely dependent on the kindness of a stranger.
Atlas leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between them. “Dr. Spenser wants to keep you here a few more hours for observation. After that, we’ll figure things out. One step at a time.”
“But I have no money, no insurance, no way to pay for any of this—” How did she remember those things even? She had no idea of her name, but she remembered she needed insurance to pay for her medical needs?
It seemed ironic, but she supposed the brain was a mysterious thing.
“Don’t worry about that.” His voice carried a quiet authority that made her believe him. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
A lump formed in her throat. “That’s so generous of you, and I don’t want to alienate the one person who’s been kind to me. But who are you even?”
He offered a compassionate, lopsided smile. “Like I said earlier, I’m Atlas Manning. I work for a private security firm called Blackout.”
“Private security firm?” What exactly did that mean?
“We do contract work for the government as well as individuals. Most of us are former military.”
Something sparked in her eyes. “Are you?”
“I served several years before working for the CIA.”
Her gaze widened. “The CIA?”
He nodded but offered no more information. Instead, his eyes steadily held hers. “And I promise you, I’ll keep you safe while we figure out what happened to you.”
I’ll keep you safe.
The words settled into a place in her chest that felt hollow and aching.
When was the last time someone had made her that promise? She couldn’t remember, obviously, but something deep inside her responded to the certainty in his voice.
“Why?” she asked softly. “Why are you helping me? You don’t know anything about me. I could be anyone.”
She needed to know. She needed certainty about something .
Atlas stayed quiet a moment, and she sensed he was wrestling with something internal.
Finally, he said, “Because whoever you are, whatever brought you here, you deserve to have someone in your corner. And because . . .” He hesitated then seemed to make a decision as he lowered his voice.
“Because when I look at you, I see someone who’s been through a nightmare but hasn’t broken. That’s worth protecting.”
Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Get some rest.” Atlas stood. “I’ll stay close in case you need anything. And as soon as you’re out of here, we’ll start working on getting your life back.”
As he headed for the door, a terrible thought struck her. “Atlas? What if I remember, and I don’t like what I find out? What if there’s a different reason I can’t remember? What if I’m someone . . . bad?”
He paused at the threshold, looking back at her with those steady green eyes. “Then we’ll deal with that if it happens. But I don’t think you’re the villain in this story.”
“How can you be so sure?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Because villains don’t usually worry about being villains.”
She couldn’t argue with that. But she knew she’d still worry until she remembered who she was and where she’d come from.
After he left, she settled back against the pillows, her mind churning despite her exhaustion. Outside, she could hear crickets and the gentle rustle of wind.
Noises that should have been soothing. Instead, they felt ominous.
Somewhere out there, answers waited.
The question was whether she’d survive long enough to find them.