Michelle Bravo Playing With Fire Chapter 39

Michelle Bravo rearranged her dress, slowly. Although she kept her face impassive, inwardly she was laughing. She had wondered how Keller was going to get himself out of this predicament…now she knew. Should she continue to have a little fun with him? She picked up the rifle and returned to her chair, distancing herself from him.

“All right, Mr. Largo,” she said. “I’m a big believer in luck myself. Once you feel you’re luck has gone, it’s best to give up the job. So I’m going to let you off. I’ll even buy your ticket tomorrow.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Keller said. There was a trace of sarcasm in his voice that irritated her no end, and she hardened her heart. She was going to have some more fun with him, if that was the way he was going to be!

“I thought so,” she said, her voice hard. “So, where do you want to go?”

She stared at him, surprised, as an expression of confusion washed over his face. Suddenly he was saying urgently: “I want to go somewhere where you’ll go with me. Let’s get out of this, please. I tell you I’ve got a feeling, and when I get a feeling, it invariably comes true. We’ve both got to get out of this.”

Michelle gazed at him, really confused now. Why in the world would he want her to come with him?

“Jeez, you are in a funk, Mr. Largo,” she said. “This…this isn’t like you.”

Keller sat back on his heels. “What am I like?” he asked, in a defeated tone of voice.

To quote Joey Pants in The Fugitive, something was hinky here, Michelle thought. “What do you mean?” she asked

“I don’t remember who I am,” he told her, quietly.

Michelle felt a cold feeling go through her chest. Was he playing her?

“What?” she demanded?

“You remember …you remember, last week…or however long ago it was, I had that crack on the head? Well, since that time, I can’t remember anything. I don’t remember who I am!”

God, though Michelle. Could this be true? “And so, you don’t remember killing fifteen people in cold blood?” she asked.

His face twisted. “No, I don’t remember it!”

Michelle swore, inwardly. She’d known she should have disappeared several weeks ago. She’d known it. But oh, no, she had to play her little game, have her little revenge, and this was the result. Poor guy didn’t have a clue who he was. But…that meant…he didn’t remember who she was, either. That’s what had started all this, she’d reminded herself. The fact that he must have known her identity as Michelle Bravo – otherwise he would not have sought her out in that guise. She had thought he had blown her cover…he must have blown her cover…but now…he couldn’t remember it.

“You don’t remember who you are,” she said slowly. “So…you don’t remember who I am, either?”

“No,” he said.

Michelle laughed. She hadn’t intended to, but the ridiculousness of it all just hit her like a stroke of lightning.

She saw Keller’s face change to one of fury and he reached for her with violent intent. She reacted instinctively, placing her foot in his chest and shoving him backward. By the time he’d regained his footing she had the rifle cocked and pointing right at him.

He stood in front of her, calmly. “What are you going to do?” he asked quietly. “Kill me?”

That was a more dignified response than she’d expected of him, with a rifle pointing in his face from a mere six feet away.

“Not at all,” she said calmly. “And I’m sorry I laughed. I wasn’t laughing at you, believe it or not. So just calm down, and sit down.”

Keller sat down. Michelle eased down the hammer of the rifle, and propped it on the wall behind her. “It’s not even loaded,” she told him reassuringly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Keller said, and he sounded as if he meant it.

Michelle glanced around the room. “This is one time in my life I’m sorry I don’t drink. You look like you could use one.”

“I bet there’s a decanter somewhere in this house.”

“Yes…stay here, and I’ll go roust out some whiskey or something.”

She walked out of the room.

Once out of the room, she made a kicking motion with one foot, and then shook her hands skyward impotently. What complications in her life, complications that she could have well done without.

The game was off, that much was evident. And since he no longer remembered who she was, she could let him leave with impunity. But could she? He didn’t remember who he was - she’d always assumed he’d tracked her down during his vacation time but what if his vacation was up? What if there were people looking for him?

People who would also be looking for her? If not as Michelle Bravo, as Taran Tula?

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive, she thought, finally coming across a decanter of brandy and some glasses on a sideboard.

She couldn’t just buy him a ticket and send him on his own off to the States. She was a little bit responsible for his condition…

Michelle gazed contemplatively at the amber liquid in the decanter. And he had been acting odd, even given the amnesia. Why had he wanted her to run away with him? Why had he cared whether she went about her proposed assassination or not. He had seemed to care…not so much for preventing a murder…but cared for her…

It really was too bad she didn’t drink. She needed something to settle her nerves.

Something warm, and tender, and loving….and waiting for her in her bedroom.