The Fall Girl

By Amarinda Jones

Why am I standing over this gurney anyway? She could barely make out his facial features. Maybe it was because her vision was slightly blurred. Maybe it was due to the crushing headache that seemed to have a vice-like grip on her head. Or maybe it was because the man looked so still and gray, and all the blood hadn’t been cleaned from the cuts on his face. Tosh felt a deep concern for him but she couldn’t say why. He was a stranger to her. Or was he? Was it just a simple reason like compassion for another human that had her standing there? It felt like more than that. Why couldn’t she remember why she was there? Who was he? And what was he to her?
Am I losing my mind? For some reason Tosh felt like she’d run a marathon and only just now was coming to the end—but she couldn’t see the finishing line. Or is this a dream? She pinched herself hard to see if she was awake. The pain made her believe she was. “So who the hell are you?” She searched the face of the man on the gurney as she spoke. A vision of storm-gray eyes came to her mind. His eyes were closed. So why gray and why would I think that color to be the same shade as a storm?
Tosh moved in closer to look at him. Even though her vision was scratchy, she noticed the fine laugh lines around his eyes and the classic planes of his cheekbones.
A handsome man who laughs, she mused Good deductive reasoning, Tosh. That tells me absolutely nothing. She searched her mind for clues to her connection to him. There was something that drew them together. Tosh was sure of it. Was it the wavy wheat-blonde hair or the shape of his lips that made her stare at him as if she was trying to work out a puzzle? There was something between them. But what?
Tosh tentatively ran her fingers over his brow, taking in the old roughly-healed scar over his left eyebrow. She would have been reluctant to touch a conscious man in such a way. She wasn’t a tactile person by nature. But his stillness and the fact she needed to unlock answers that were pushing to escape her mind, made her bold. The crusted blood on his face and the darkening bruise on his jaw bespoke pain. Whatever had happened to him would have hurt. Had he been in a car accident? Had he been mugged? Even lying down, this man didn’t look like someone who couldn’t defend himself. His clothes, though torn in places, were casual but they didn’t hide the strength of the body beneath. Her gaze moved to his hands. Large, capable hands with knuckles bloodied by whatever had happened to him. Tosh slipped her hand in his and felt strangely comforted by the warmth she found.
So what happened to you, gorgeous man and more importantly why do I care? Was she just being a caring stranger-passer-by or did she know this man? Her heart said “Yes.” Her mind said “Stop and think.” She massaged the hand within hers unconsciously.
“Tosh,” a warm, male voice called from behind her.
Mackintosh McRae turn around. “Yes?” She felt foolishly relieved she could at least remember her own name. Tosh looked at the other man, who came to stand on the opposite side of the gurney. He was dressed completely in black. Yet there was lightness about the man that seemed to belie the blackness of his hair and clothes. That can’t be right. He’s never lighthearted. She gasped. Why do I know that yet I don’t know who this dark man is? She watched as he looked down at the man with concern.
“He’ll be okay,” The dark man’s dark eyes were full of knowledge. “He’s been through worse.”
“Yes.” Tosh wondered how she knew that, but somehow she just did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlet Harlot Publishing
• Release date: Sep 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301832859

Amarinda Jones

Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.

Book preview

The Fall Girl

By Amarinda Jones

Published by Amarinda Jones at Smashwords

Copyright© 2013 Amarinda Jones

Smashwords Edition

The Fall Girl

Amarinda Jones

Prologue

Present Day

The hospital was like any other. White, clean and smelling of antiseptic. Macintosh McRae stood beside the gurney and wondered who the man was on it.

Why am I standing over this gurney anyway? She could barely make out his facial features. Maybe it was because her vision was slightly blurred. Maybe it was due to the crushing headache that seemed to have a vice-like grip on her head. Or maybe it was because the man looked so still and gray, and all the blood hadn’t been cleaned from the cuts on his face. Tosh felt a deep concern for him but she couldn’t say why. He was a stranger to her. Or was he? Was it just a simple reason like compassion for another human that had her standing there? It felt like more than that. Why couldn’t she remember why she was there? Who was he? And what was he to her?

Am I losing my mind? For some reason Tosh felt like she’d run a marathon and only just now was coming to the end—but she couldn’t see the finishing line. Or is this a dream? She pinched herself hard to see if she was awake. The pain made her believe she was. So who the hell are you? She searched the face of the man on the gurney as she spoke. A vision of storm-gray eyes came to her mind. His eyes were closed. So why gray and why would I think that color to be the same shade as a storm?

Tosh moved in closer to look at him. Even though her vision was scratchy, she noticed the fine laugh lines around his eyes and the classic planes of his cheekbones.

A handsome man who laughs, she mused Good deductive reasoning, Tosh. That tells me absolutely nothing. She searched her mind for clues to her connection to him. There was something that drew them together. Tosh was sure of it. Was it the wavy wheat-blonde hair or the shape of his lips that made her stare at him as if she was trying to work out a puzzle? There was something between them. But what?

Tosh tentatively ran her fingers over his brow, taking in the old roughly-healed scar over his left eyebrow. She would have been reluctant to touch a conscious man in such a way. She wasn’t a tactile person by nature. But his stillness and the fact she needed to unlock answers that were pushing to escape her mind, made her bold. The crusted blood on his face and the darkening bruise on his jaw bespoke pain. Whatever had happened to him would have hurt. Had he been in a car accident? Had he been mugged? Even lying down, this man didn’t look like someone who couldn’t defend himself. His clothes, though torn in places, were casual but they didn’t hide the strength of the body beneath. Her gaze moved to his hands. Large, capable hands with knuckles bloodied by whatever had happened to him. Tosh slipped her hand in his and felt strangely comforted by the warmth she found.

So what happened to you, gorgeous man and more importantly why do I care? Was she just being a caring stranger-passer-by or did she know this man? Her heart said Yes. Her mind said Stop and think. She massaged the hand within hers unconsciously.

Tosh, a warm, male voice called from behind her.

Mackintosh McRae turn around. Yes? She felt foolishly relieved she could at least remember her own name. Tosh looked at the other man, who came to stand on the opposite side of the gurney. He was dressed completely in black. Yet there was lightness about the man that seemed to belie the blackness of his hair and clothes. That can’t be right. He’s never lighthearted. She gasped. Why do I know that yet I don’t know who this dark man is? She watched as he looked down at the man with concern.

He’ll be okay, The dark man’s dark eyes were full of knowledge. He’s been through worse.

Yes. Tosh wondered how she knew that, but somehow she just did. And who is this dark man? He looked at her as if he knew her. How does he know me when I seem to know no one? Tosh moaned softly. My head hurts. Her free hand gingerly went up to assess where the exact location of the pain was. She felt a lump at the back of her head. Oh crap. Source of killer headache identified.

I’m not surprised, Tosh, the man responded kindly. He moved around to stand beside her. You’ve been through a lot.

Have I? What exactly? And why doesn’t this man make me feel wary or nervous like a stranger normally would? He knew her so she must know him. And the man on the gurney? How did the three of them connect? This is so confusing. She looked down at him again, her hand stroking his. She definitely knew she’d held his hand before. But when? And why? Hand-holding suggested intimacy. Was she intimate with this man—or was she completely losing her mind? Tosh jumped as the hand she held curled into the warmth of hers as if seeking comfort. The rightness of his touch sparked a soft, warmth deep within her. The groan that sounded from his lips made her instantly want to comfort him. Tosh moved forward and whispered in his ear. You’ll be okay. Somehow she just knew that was true.

There’s nothing more you can do tonight. The dark man’s gaze was gentle. The doctor says you’re fine. Sore, but no serious concussion. I’ll take you home.

Home? He knows where I live? And yet this didn’t alarm her. Okay, she murmured absently, as she took a last look at the man on the gurney. Why couldn’t she remember who he was and what had happened? It felt like she should know, that it impacted her life in some way. She leaned over and looked at the still man’s face closely until they were nose to nose.

Oh, who are you? Somehow he was important to her. But how? Her lips instinctively brushed against his. Soft, firm and definitely kissable. Tosh didn’t go around kissing strangers. That she knew. She would only kiss those she loved. Did she love him? Or anyone for that matter? Tosh shook her head as if trying to shake her thoughts back into the right boxes in her mind so she could process them correctly. She pulled her hand from his. She didn’t want to leave him but she couldn’t give herself a logical reason to stay.

The other man gently led her away from the bed. I’ll let you know the minute he wakes up. He led her by the arm out of the hospital.

The night air bit into Tosh’s skin. It was then that she realized her clothes were torn. Pieces of bare flesh were exposed to the chill of the evening. Why are my clothes torn? Have I been in a car accident? Been attacked? Tosh wanted to ask the man but she felt silly asking something that was probably very obvious. Tosh McRae, who prided herself with always being in control, had lost the plot. And I don’t like it.

Frig, I just don’t know, Tosh muttered in confusion as she allowed him to lead her.

The man looked down at her with kindness. You’ll feel better tomorrow.

Crap, I’d better. I can’t live like this.

Chapter 1

A week ago

Fuck, fuck, fuck! With each word, Tosh McRae smacked her hands down hard on the steering wheel in frustration. She’d been waiting for the last fifteen minutes for another car to drive past but even if they had it was unlikely she would have seen them until it was too late. Fucking fog.

A normal person would have paid attention to her friends who told her not to drive home from their place in the foggy, dark conditions. They’d wanted her to stay and wait with them. Not Tosh. Puh-lease, I was already starting to gnaw my leg off as it was.

Standing around at the party from hell where the excitement was discussing baby puke and ‘How did Esther get this meringue so light?’ The answer? Who cares? I hate meringue and Esther really needs to find a man and stop making meringue. But then Tosh knew it had been her own fault for accepting the invitation to the party. How was selling plastic boxes a party anyway? But she’d been talked into it out of pity. That was what annoyed her the most. She’d given in to some sob story from a work colleague who was desperate to make a success out of her new part-time job. You’re an absolute sucker for a sob story. Tosh looked over at the plastic shopping bag she knew was filled with varying sizes of plastic crap she would store in her cupboard and never use. And despite the ardent sales pitch about this plasticware changing her life, Tosh seriously doubted that. If were true, all world leaders would be handed a plastic lunch box with a ‘handy snap lid’ and be told to make peace.

If her best friend Jontie had been there things most likely would have been okay, but she was off being all lovey-dovey with her new man, Gilbert. Tosh sighed loudly and turned the radio off. I do not need a flat battery as well as a flat tire. She blew out a deep breath. Great—perfect now you’re talking to yourself, Tosh. But the sound of her own voice made her feel less alone.

When Tosh had first heard the ka-thump sound of useless rubber she’d spat out every swear word she knew as she pulled over to the side of the dark stretch of the Bruce Highway and got out to investigate.

Fucking tire! She kicked it with a vengeance. Tosh reached back into her car and rifled through her handbag looking for her cell phone. Swear words tumbled out of her mouth once more when she realized she had no phone reception. Fucking fog. Fucking cheap-assed phone.

Fifteen minutes turned to thirty and Tosh’s patience was running out. The sensible thing was to sit in the car and hope someone passed by. But that’s just not working for me.

The stupid thing was to wander off in the dark and hope to find a nearby house. That may or may not have a psychotic killer inside nuking leftover pizza, waiting for some dumb-assed redhead to wander in looking for help." Tosh sighed as she considered her options. Stay put in the car and swear a lot or take a punt at wandering aimlessly, looking for help? She briefly contemplated changing the tire herself. Tosh was fairly certain she’d seen someone did it once before.

I must have a jack thingy. She’d never had to think about car maintenance because she paid