The man on the floor massaged his jaw while glaring up at the blond man. Her attacker then focused on Priscilla. “I’ll get you for this. Just wait and see.” He stood and shouldered past, bumping her into the wall, as he stalked off.
“Are you okay?” Her rescuer handed her a handkerchief.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue.” As she vigorously attempted to erase all marks the man had left on her face with his sloppy kisses, she tried to lighten the moment with a question. “Who carries handkerchiefs anymore?”
“I do. You never know when you’ll need to offer one.” He looked more closely at her flushed face. “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want to see a doctor?”
“No, I don’t need a doctor.” She blotted underneath her eyes to clean up any smudged mascara. Her hand trembled but she concentrated on erasing any signs of the attack. Gerald, the pit boss, would have a fit if she went on the floor looking anything less than a million bucks.
“Here, you missed some.” Luc gently took the handkerchief from her hand and wiped something off her right cheek. He leaned closer as if to inspect the area, his body in front of hers.
She sucked in a breath to calm her nerves. “You look very familiar. Do we know each other?”
“My name’s Luc.”
Then it clicked. “Luc Langsdale?”
He nodded. “Priscilla Makin, right?”
It was her turn to nod. “I can’t believe it’s really you. How long has it been since that summer on the reservation?”
“I think about seven or eight years.”
“What’s going on, Priscilla!”
Priscilla jumped at the sound of Gerald’s booming voice.
The smaller, weasel-looking man stood at the end of the hallway, his ever-present clipboard tucked under one armpit. “I’ve just received very disturbing news from a Mr. Todd Smith, who claims you lured him back here and pretended you were interested in some hanky-panky.”
Priscilla couldn’t believe it. How dare that scumbag pin this on her. “What? I didn’t lure anyone anywhere. That man hurt me.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow. She cringed. Her boss always took the side of the customer, especially ones who threw around money. Not long after she started working at the Last Chance, she had stopped reporting customers who made her uncomfortable with their inappropriate comments after Gerald refused to listen.
“That’s the last time you insult a customer.” Gerald pointed his finger at her. “You’re fired.”
“Priscilla, it’s time to wake up.” Dr. Devins spoke softly, jerking her out of the memories.
Breathing hard, Priscilla opened her eyes, her heart pounding as the memories continued to pour through her mind.
“It’s okay. Take a few deep breaths.”
She obeyed, her racing pulse slowing down.
“What do you remember?” Dr. Devins asked in a calm voice.
Priscilla told him, the words spilling over themselves as she raced to get everything out in case the memories faded back into the recesses of her mind. “Gerald threw me out of the casino and wouldn’t even let me collect my things.”
“About what time would you say that happened?”
“Time?” Priscilla gripped her fingers tightly together. “Maybe near midnight? I think it happened close to the end of my shift.” She loosened her hands. “The casinos don’t have clocks and we’re not allowed to wear watches or carry cell phones while on the floor. The pit boss would tell us to take breaks and go off the clock. Management wanted its staff to honestly say we don’t know the time if a guest asked. Maybe Luc would know for sure.”
“We’ll ask him.” Dr. Devins jotted something down on the yellow notepad on his lap. “When did you run into Luc again that evening?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “That’s it. My mind’s back to being a blank page up until the shooting.”
“Don’t worry—that’s a great start. It’s likely that once you’ve started remembering, other scenes from that evening will become clearer to you.”
“You mean like this might have broken a logjam? That soon I’ll be able to remember everything from that night?”