Free Remember Me by Sharon Sala Page A

widowed.
    A last angry tear slipped from under her eyelid and onto the pillow. But she wasn’t dead. She was alive, and she was back, and he was going to have to learn how to live with the holes in her life until she found a way to fill them.
    Las Vegas, Nevada
    The sleek, private jet taxied to a stop a few yards shy of the white stretch limo waiting at the end of the runway. Moments later, the exit door opened. Duke Needham appeared at the top of the stairs, waved toward the waiting limousine, then disappeared back inside the plane. A short while later, the driver exited the limousine with a wheelchair in hand and hurried up the steps.
    The scent of airplane fuel was faint upon the air, while overhead, a dull gray sky was dotted with gathering clouds, adding a bite to the wind. Minutes passed, and then Duke abruptly appeared in the doorway again, with the driver right behind him. Between them was Pharaoh Carn, wheelchair-bound, but bundled against the cold. They picked him up, chair and all, carrying him down the steps, setting him lightly upon the tarmac with hardly a bump.
    Pharaoh was arriving without notice, intent on escaping to his Las Vegas home to recuperate. He had intentionally concealed his identity with a heavy coat and blankets. The dark sunglasses he wore effectively concealed his expression, but though his skin was a warm tan, it was obvious by the pallor beneath that he’d been ill.
    Yet even in the wheelchair, his presence demanded attention. The tilt of his head, a wave of his hand, a sharp tone to his voice, and both men jumped to do his bidding.
    Duke leaned forward instantly, his behavior concerned and submissive. Words were traded. Minutes later, the limousine was gone, and there was nothing to mark their passing but a bit of paper that had blown out of the plane.
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    Moonlight reflected on the rain-washed steps, while inside Pharaoh’s Las Vegas home, he slept. But his rest was constantly disturbed by strange dreams. Twice he woke abruptly, believing that the floors were shaking. Each time he closed his eyes, he could still feel Francesca’s hands against his chest, fighting him, pushing him. And he could feel himself falling, rolling head over heels down the stairs. He groaned. Betrayal was the sharpest pain of all.
    At the sound, a woman’s voice was at his ear, her hand soft upon his brow.
    â€œMr. Carn, are you in pain?”
    He flinched. That damned nurse. If he was well enough to be released from the hospital, he was well enough to sleep on his own. Never in his life had he shared a room with a woman, not even Francesca, and he wasn’t about to start now.
    â€œOf course I’m in pain.”
    â€œJust a moment, sir. I’ll get your medicine.”
    â€œI don’t want medicine. I want some peace and quiet. Just get out. If I need any pills, I can get them myself.”
    â€œBut, sir, Mr. Needham said—”
    Pharaoh rolled over, and even in a prone position, his demeanor demanded compliance.
    â€œI gave you an order,” he said softly. “Get out of my room—and do it now.”
    The nurse scurried. It was the best way to describe the hasty panic with which she left.
    The moment he heard the door closing behind her, he began to relax. The air in the room seemed lighter, the walls less confining. Gingerly, he turned onto his side, wincing slightly as he accidentally put too much pressure on healing ribs.
    â€œDamn, damn, damn,” he moaned as a muscle suddenly went into spasm. But the nurse was gone, and there was no one here to help rub it out. He gritted his teeth, forcing his injured body to relax until the pain began to lessen. Finally he took a slow, deep breath, exhaling softly. The worst was over.
    Then he amended that thought. The worst wasn’t over. It was just beginning. He couldn’t rest until he knew what had happened to Francesca. The thought made him crazy. It wasn’t fair. She belonged to him. He’d