Rob lunged back toward Libby, as she listed to one side. He caught her arm and steadied her. “Are you sure, Libby? This is April Archer, Border Patrol agent Clay Archer’s wife. She’s the one who loaned you the clothes.”
April charged forward. “Rob, she needs to sit down. She needs water or a stiff drink. We can sort this out inside.”
Rob knew better than to get into a struggle with April over taking care of someone. She was the pro.
Libby let April curl an arm around her shoulders and guide her to the house, so Rob sprang ahead of them to open his front door.
April walked Libby to the couch and patted a cushion. “Sit and tell me what’s going on. Water? Tea? Whiskey?”
“Maybe some water.” Libby rubbed the side of her head where her external wound was healing nicely. Soon there’d be no outer sign of her memory loss—just the vast emptiness inside her head.
“Rob.” April snapped her fingers. “A glass of water.”
Rob rushed into the kitchen and filled a glass with filtered water from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, April was seated next to Libby, whose face had returned to its normal shade.
April asked in a soft voice, “You think you know me from somewhere? Why does that worry you? Do you think I know your ex?”
Libby dropped her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Rob told you that story?”
“Story?” April glanced at Rob. “Is it a story? Whatever your story, you can tell me. No judgment.”
Libby closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I don’t have an abusive ex, or at least not that I know of. I was in a car accident the other day outside Paradiso, and I lost my memory. Rob’s been helping me, and we’ve pieced together a few things.”
“A car accident?” April tucked one long leg beneath her. “That burned-out wreck off the highway?”
“That’s the one.” Libby opened one eye.
“The accident found with the drugs?”
“Not hers.” Rob perched on the edge of the chair across from them.
“Is that why you didn’t report it? Get help?”
“Not at first, but those drugs haven’t made it any easier.” Libby launched into an explanation of the accident and the two men who set fire to the car.
“Oh, my God. You poor thing.” April grabbed Libby’s hand. “You still need to get checked out by a doctor. Rob, what were you thinking?”
“Don’t blame Rob.” Libby’s gaze shifted to him, and his heart melted around the edges. “He was trying to protect me.”
April asked, “So, where do I fit in? How do you know me, or how do you think you know me because I don’t know you, Libby.”
Rob hunched forward, his elbows digging into his knees.
Libby massaged her left temple. “I’ve never met you. I’ve never seen you in person, but I’ve seen a photograph of you.”
Sitting back, Rob rolled his shoulders. “You probably saw a picture of her that I had somewhere. I told you. She’s married to a fellow agent—my boss.”
“That’s not it, Rob. I didn’t see a picture of April since I’ve been here in Paradiso. I saw it before...before I lost my memory.”
“You saw a picture of her somewhere in Rocky Point, Mexico?”
“Rocky Point? That’s where you’re from?” April rubbed her chin. “That’s cartel country. I wonder if my ex-fiancé...”
“Your ex-fiancé is a drug dealer?” Libby blinked her wide eyes.
“Was. He’s dead.” April waved her hand in the air. “Long story. Why did someone plant drugs at the scene of your accident? My husband told me those were packaged to sell.”
“I hope I don’t have an ex-fiancé who’s a drug dealer, but I am mixed up somehow with those people.” Libby pinned her hands between her knees and hunched her shoulders. “The two men who set fire to my wrecked car mentioned something about some guy called El Gringo Viejo. I’ve since discovered he’s some sort of broker for the cartels.”
April’s lips formed an O, and she clutched her midsection. “El Gringo Viejo?”
Rob raised his eyebrows. Clay must share everything with his wife. He’d remember that the next time his boss got on his case. “Clay mentioned him to you before?”
“Not just Clay.” April jumped up from the couch and did a circle around the room. “My brother, Adam, mentioned El Gringo Viejo to me long before I heard about him from Clay.”
“Your brother.” Rob cleared his throat. “He’s the one who, yeah, had some problems with drugs?”
“He had a lot of problems, Rob, not just with drugs, but you know my history in this town, don’t you?”
“I know your brother murdered your mother and let your father take the blame for it.” Rob ignored Libby’s sharp intake of breath. “I know your father disappeared after the murder and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Do you also know that Adam was convinced our father was El Gringo Viejo?”
“What?” Libby pushed up from the couch and grabbed April’s arm. “Are you serious?”
“Wait, wait.” Rob dragged a hand through his hair. “I never heard that your father, C. J. Hart, was suspected of being El Gringo Viejo. We don’t know who he is. Nobody does.”
“That’s because I’m the only one, except Adam and he’s dead, who suspects it. Clay dismissed Adam’s rantings as wishful thinking, and, of course, he strongly advised me against going to Mexico to investigate the matter.”
“What makes you think he’s your father?” Libby dropped her hand from April’s arm and stooped to grab her glass of water from the coffee table.
“Besides my brother telling me he was?” April flicked her hair over her shoulder. “The timing of my father’s disappearance matches the emergence of EGV. Authorities are convinced my father slipped across the border after my mother’s murder. My father had been dabbling in the drug trade before the murder, which is how my brother was able to convince him to go on the run. And, well, he’s an old white guy.”
“And now
