Ava shook her head no.

"Your leg?"

Ava shook her head again.

His hand traveled down her arm. "Where?"

"Here," she said, pressing her lips to his.

He stood motionless for a surprised moment before muttering a curse and deepening the kiss as if he'd never have the chance to kiss her again. Ava tasted a few glorious seconds of victory before Remy stopped, his forehead resting on hers.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"My leg is fine," Ava said. It itched like the devil in the sweltering sun, but otherwise, she could practically run a marathon-as long as Remy kept kissing her.

"I didn't mean your leg," he said. "There are things that I've done that I need to take responsibility for."

Ava didn't like the sound of that.

"Go home," he said, his words less harsh than they were when she'd arrived. They were saturated with emotion. "Please, go home."

If Remy were to take the knife he always had hidden and stabbed her with it, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much as his plea for her to go away.

"I'll go," she agreed, taking a shaky breath. "But not until you tell me the truth. Why are you pushing me away?"

He took a step back, giving Ava room that she didn't want. She felt the loss as if it were another stab.

He rubbed his jaw, looking at Ava as if she was the source of his conflict.

"There's a lot you don't know," he started. "Some things I just found out."

"How bad could it be?" she asked, reaching for him but falling short when he retreated again. "Remy, don't do this. Not again. We've been through too much. I just want to be with you."

"You won't, not after what I've done."

She crossed her arms, wondering if he'd tell her what French had hinted at. But it couldn't be true. She wouldn't believe it. And even for the sake of argument that he really was the man behind the attack, he didn't consciously do it. He was under the influence of drugs. He couldn't know or control what he was doing.

Remy stepped farther away, as if what he was going to say would inflict wounds.

"Is it about what happened at camp?"

Remy gave a short nod.

"French told me what he suspected," Ava clipped. "I don't believe it."

"French knows?" Remy asked. "But how? I only just found out."

"French knows too much for his own good," Ava said. "He wouldn't dare tell anyone what he suspects. It wouldn't change anything anyway."

"It doesn't matter either way. I have to turn myself in. I have to make amends to those I hurt."

Ava shook her head. Drugged or not, the courts would lock Remy away for something he didn't even remember. It wasn't fair. "No. You don't have to. It was a long time ago, and Boyer was lying. He wasn't even there. No one could prove that you were the gunman."

"But it was my gun. I'd know."

"You don't know anything. You were drugged. You can't plead guilty to something you have no recollection of."

"It's not up for debate," Remy stated, his voice nearing a growl.

"Haven't you been through enough? Haven't we all suffered enough?" Ava wanted to scream, "What about me?" But it wouldn't matter. She knew Remy too well. His sense of justice, while normally spot-on, was now working against him. There were so many sides to Remy that she both loved and hated at the same time. The only one who could knock some sense into him now was David.

David . . .

He was a witness. He could fix this.

Ava looked to the cave. "Is David in there?" she asked, not bothering to wait for an answer. With her crutches, she hopped the short path.

Remy's hand clamped onto her shoulder before she could enter. "Ava, please. Go home."

"I want to see David first."

With a great breath, Remy let go, allowing her to continue. Ava spotted David right away when she entered. The cave was shallow and a perfect fit for two. Too bad she couldn't kick David out.

She peered down at him, the afternoon light casting shadows on this thinning body.

"Have you been feeding him?" she asked, startled.

"Yes. I've been making broths and slowly feeding him."

Remy didn't do anything slowly . . . well, there were times . . . but this was different. He probably forced the broth down David's throat, cursing the whole time.

"Has he been unconscious this entire time?" Ava asked.

"I wouldn't say unconscious. He babbles and tosses about."

Ava bent over to touch David's forehead. He was warm, but it had more to do with the outside heat than anything else. "David, wake up," she ordered, nudging him.

"I've tried that already," Remy said.

"He needs medical attention," Ava said. "We can take him in the jeep."

"And what if he wakes up, still affected? Then what? Do we let the doctors lock him away, treat him as if he's crazy?"

"He needs help."

"I'm his help!" Remy barked.

Ava kept quiet. Nothing she could say would ease Remy's mind, his fears. She knew when she was beat.

"He'll be fine," Remy said. "I'll get him help if it lasts much longer. But it'll be night soon. You need to go before it gets dark."

A biting argument simmered on her tongue, but she held it in check. It was useless to argue with a man whose skull was as hard as concrete. If he didn't want her and would rather spend his remaining time in jail, then she would resume her life as if these past weeks hadn't happened.

Brock would remain dead.

She rubbed her stomach, feeling a wave of sorrow roll through.

"Ava," Remy started, but she shook her head.

"Don't." She didn't want to hear another word. His voice would stay with her, whisper to her during sleepless nights.

"Go home to French," he said, pausing. "He loves you."

French? Loved her?

She almost laughed out loud as she returned to the jeep. French didn't love her. For a time, he'd hated her. She was the compet.i.tion.

French had only loved one person, and it certainly wasn't her.

Remy watched the dust cloud grow behind the vehicle as it flew down the dirt road, obscuring his last look at Ava. He would never see her again. Having to send her to French was like swallowing tacks. It took every droplet of strength not to kiss her good-bye, not to tell her stay, not to keep her forever.

Remy wanted forever.

Turning away from the cave's opening, he looked down at David, who was tossing as if having a nightmare. He wished David would just wake up. His nightmares seemed to be getting worse. Remy didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. He hoped it meant that David was fighting to free himself, free himself from his own prison.

Startled, Remy sank down.

Scattered memories drifted in front of him like smoke curls. Something about this seemed so familiar and yet so very different. What was it that he couldn't remember? What did his mind keep searching for in his drug-addled brain?

Would David remember any of this? Remy hoped not.

Ava cleared out her desk at the CID and tossed the nearly empty box into the back of her car. When she had returned to headquarters, there were too many questions as to her whereabouts. She didn't dare answer any of them, especially if Remy was about to turn himself in. She refused to be summoned to court to testify against Remy. She wouldn't do it. While she couldn't change his mind, she sure as heck wouldn't add to his misery.

So, if Brock Remington could disappear from the world, so could she.

Ava turned the key just as a phone call came through. "What is it, French?"

"I heard you quit."

"What do you want?" she clipped, hiding her surprise that he knew. It hadn't even been twenty minutes since she'd given her notice.

"Come work for me again. Full time."

"No. I'm taking off for a while."

"Is this about Remy?"

"This time it's about me. I can't stop him, you know that."

"What if I could?"

"Then start working your magic, but I won't be around to help."

"You're giving up on him?" French asked.

No, she would never. But that didn't change anything. It certainly wouldn't change Remy's mind. "Good-bye, Jeremy," she said, ending the call. She turned off the phone and opened the car door. Smashing the phone on the asphalt, she gave it a final blow with her crutch, which seemed to keep taking on extra uses.

Leaving the broken phone behind, she drove away. This time, for good.

Chapter 20.

A few days later David's eyes finally fluttered open. Remy let go of a breath he felt like he'd been holding on to for weeks.

"David," Remy said, reaching down to touch David's arm. "How are you-"

David knocked Remy's hand away, his eyes wide open, scared as if Remy was going to attack. Breathing rapidly, David inched farther away.

Was he trapped in a nightmare?

"David, it's Remy. I'm here." He backed away, allowing David extra s.p.a.ce. "I'm not going to hurt you."

David blinked, his eyes seeming to come into focus as they darted through the cave. "Where am I?" His voice was rough and dry.

"A cave near Boyer's lab."

"Boyer?"

Remy handed a bottle of water to David. He took it with shaky hands, barely able to bring it to his mouth. While his wounds had healed, he had to be sore. Remy was about to jump in and help him drink, but he didn't think David would appreciate that. Besides, he seemed to be doing a decent job with only a few dribbles on his shirt, which was so encrusted with dirt and dried blood that a few drops of water hardly mattered.

"Do you remember anything?" Remy asked.

David shook his head and looked around the cave.

"Keep drinking," Remy said. "You're dehydrated."

David took another sip, his hands less shaky than before. He watched Remy with wary eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" Remy asked, fearful David might have lost all memory.