“I wondered if I was going to have to leave this on the porch,” he said innocently.
“What are you doing back here?” Christy asked rather coldly.
“I was hoping to find someplace to put this package inside the house. You know, an open window or door. You locked up real tight though, and I was just about to give up. How’s your sister?”
“About the same. She is conscious, though. What are you doing here? Why are you carrying that around?” she questioned, motioning to the package. “You could have left it on the porch.”
“I guess I could have,” Curt admitted. “But I planned to stick around and talk to you, so I figured I’d just look after it as well.”
Christy remained aloof, but motioned Curt to the back door. “Very well,” she managed to say in an even tone, “bring it inside.”
Curt followed her into the house and waited for her to instruct him as to where she wanted the package.
“Just put it anywhere. It doesn’t matter,” she said, finally realizing that he was still holding the box.
Curt placed the box on the kitchen counter. “You look as though it’s been a rough day. Would you like to tell me about it?”
Christy wanted to say no, but in truth, she really did want to talk to someone about Grant’s cold indifference to his own child.
As if seeing her inner struggle to decide, Curt pressed the matter home. “Good friends listen to each other’s woes,” he said softly. “I’m just offering a listening ear.”
Christy seemed to heave a sigh of relief, as though Curt’s words made the decision for her. “All right. We can talk.”
“Have you eaten today?” Curt questioned.
Christy deposited her purse on the counter and began unbuttoning her coat. “No, not really. I haven’t been hungry.”
Curt came to her and held her coat for her as she removed it. “I’d be happy to fix you something,” he offered.
Christy turned back around and reclaimed her coat. “Is that your way of begging a meal?” she asked, forcing herself to sound lighthearted.
“I guess I could force myself to share a meal with you. That is, if you let me fix it.”
“I can cook, Mr. Kyle.”
Curt frowned. “Don’t call me that. We’re friends, remember?”
Christy nodded. “All right, friend, what’s your choice of eats?” She opened the refrigerator and leaned inside. “I have sliced roast beef, turkey, and chicken. I also have leftover potato salad from a luncheon I did yesterday.” Christy continued to name off several things and turned around, only to smack his chin hard with her head.
“Christy!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
Christy shook her head as if to clear the fuzz. “I think so. I’m so sorry. That must have hurt you more than me.”
“Naw, I’ve always been hardheaded. Come sit down and let me take a look and make sure you aren’t hurt.” He led her to a chair and pushed her gently into it.
Running his hands through her hair, Curt examined her scalp for any wound. Christy forgot all about the pain, however, as his fingers kept methodically sweeping through the layers. His hand was warm against her, and Christy nearly came up off the chair when he touched her cheek.
“Looks like you’ll live,” he declared.
“Of course I’ll live,” she said, trying her best to be irritated with his concern. One upward glance was Christy’s undoing, however, when she met his eyes and felt her mouth go dry. “I, uh, I…” She couldn’t find the words. This has to stop, she lectured herself. This man is engaged to be married.
Curt smiled, ever so gently, and reached out to brush back a bit of brown hair from Christy’s forehead. “I see it’s knocked you speechless, so I’ll fix us a bite to eat. You get no choices. Go sit down and behave and answer my questions when I speak to you and come to the table like a good girl when I call.”
Christy stared after him completely flabbergasted. No one had ever thought to order her around in her own house, much less a client. But, she reminded herself, he’s more than a client. She opened her mouth to protest, but about that time, Curt shrugged out of his own coat, tossing it aside. Christy’s eyes fixed themselves to his broad back when he reached up to open the cupboards. Muscles strained against the blue material of his denim shirt, and Christy was helpless to look away.
The time slipped by, and soon Christy found herself sitting in front of her fireplace, lap blanket tucked around her wool slacks, and a tray of delicious-looking food on her lap. Curt busily stoked the fire as though they were husband and wife, enjoying the late afternoon alone.
“You’d better eat,” Curt said, taking a seat beside her. His own tray of goodies balanced precariously on one leg while he got comfortable.
Christy picked at the food, still not knowing what to think of this man. He barged into her life like nothing and no one she had ever known before.
“So what had you so upset when you came home? I know you were crying.”
Christy tried to sound nonchalant. “I had a run-in with my sister’s husband.”
“A run-in?”
Christy nodded. “We exchanged some rather heated words. Well, I guess I was the main one exchanging them. I also hit him.”
Curt nearly spewed out the coffee he was drinking. “You what?”
“I hit him,” she said with a “So what?” look to her face. “He was asking for it, and I couldn’t help myself. Look, I don’t expect you to understand.”
Curt laughed. “I didn’t say anything about not understanding. I just couldn’t imagine you, in all your prim and proper form, hitting anyone.”
Christy frowned. “I’m not usually given to violence.”
“So what did he do that made you hit him?”
“He touched me.”
“I guess I’d better make note of that one for future reference.”
Christy scowled. “He’s slime, and I wasn’t about to let him put his hands on me after what he’d just said.”
Curt’s expression softened. “What did he say, Christy?”
“He waltzed into the hospital after a six-day hiatus to who knows where, announced that he bet my sister’s care was costing a fortune, and then told me he wanted nothing to do with his own child when Candy dies.”
“What do you mean, he wants nothing to do with the baby?” Curt probed.
“He told me he couldn’t be a single father. He said he had never wanted to be a father in the first place, that he was just humoring my sister.” Christy put the tray on the coffee table and pulled the lap blanket around her as though it could offer her protection from Grant’s cold words of indifference.
“I’m sorry, Christy. That must have been a terrible thing to bear alone.”
She turned and looked at him. Really looked at him. He was incredibly handsome, at least to her way of thinking. His dark brown hair still held reddish glints from days in the sun, and his face bore a tanned, healthy look that Christy was certain hadn’t come from Denver living.
“Where are you from?” Christy suddenly asked. She composed her shaken nerves and forced herself to continue looking at him.
“I just moved here from Florida,” he replied casually.
“Why?”
“You look so healthy, so alive. I just couldn’t imagine that you’d gotten that way here.”
Curt’s eyes sparkled at the compliment. Christy’s seeming indifference and hostility were falling away in bits and pieces.
“Denver’s not so bad. It can be a really great place if you have the right person to share it with,” Curt offered softly.
Christy appraised the man and his words for only a moment before getting to her feet. “Debbie is a lucky woman,” she murmured and left the room.
five
The next evening, Curt thought of Christy’s words regarding Debbie’s good fortune all the way to his sister CJ’s house. The long drive to the north of Denver gave him plenty of time to remember every detail about Christy Connors
. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to haunt his every thought?
So she thinks Debbie is lucky, Curt thought smugly. If only he could tell Christy the truth and cut through the walls that separated them. Curt shook his head. There was too much at stake to blow his cover.
CJ Aldersson lived near the Tri-County Airport. Correction—she lived at the airport. The strip had been built to accommodate an unusual housing arrangement where wealthy pilots could taxi from the tarmac right up to their front doors. The houses were beautiful, with the snow-covered Rockies in the background. Curt pulled up to the house, checking the address against the one written on a piece of paper. This was it.
After parking the car, he made his way slowly up a fashionable cobblestone walkway. Before him, the three-story native-stone house rose up to greet him like a welcoming beacon. Lights shown from several of the windows, giving a warm glow of home. Curt stopped for just a moment in order to take it all in.
At the door, he hesitated. He had not seen his sister in nearly five years. It had been a long time since he’d deserted her, and now he felt guilty for the distance he’d placed between them. Of course they’d talked on the phone from time to time, but he knew he had sorely neglected her. CJ was all he had left in the world, and now she was married and living happily with a man he knew very little about.
Finally getting up his nerve, Curt pressed the bell and waited. A tall man with brown hair answered the door and gave Curt a good once-over before a smile broke across his face.
“You’re the spitting image of Doug O’Sullivan. I’d say that must make you his son, Curt, the long-lost brother my wife has been frantically searching to get in touch with.”
Curt smiled sheepishly. “That’d be me.”
The man extended his hand. “I’m Brad Aldersson. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Curt shook Brad’s hand and glanced past his shoulder toward the sound of a feminine voice.
“Who is it, honey?” The voice had to belong to his sister.
Curt put his finger to his lips and motioned Brad to let him surprise CJ. Brad nodded and quickly backed out of the way in order to let Curt pass.
“Brad?” the voice came louder as a redheaded woman appeared in the hall. “Curt!” she exclaimed with a squeal of excitement. “Curt, is it really you?”
She ran to her big brother’s open arms and held him as though she’d never let go. “I was so worried. I’ve tried to call you for days, but the operator said that your number had been disconnected. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? Are you hungry? Is anything wrong? Where are you staying?”
Curt started laughing so hard that CJ pulled away and stared at him for a moment with a quizzical look on her face.
“Maybe if you’d slow down and give the man time to answer one question at a time, you’d get more information,”
Brad suggested.
CJ laughed in spite of herself. “I’m sorry.”
“I expected an enthusiastic reception, but nothing like this,” Curt admitted. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”
“Not at all,” CJ replied. “We were just about to eat. You’ll stay and have supper with us, won’t you?”
“Sounds good to me,” Curt replied. Then with a mischievous grin over his shoulder, he asked Brad, “Can she cook?”
“She makes a mean pot of pilot coffee, but her curried beef tips could use some work. I’ve been helping her along, however, and she’s going to make a good wife someday,” Brad replied.
“I can cook, Curt. Just ignore this man. He thinks just because we’ve been married more than a month, he knows it all.”
“That’s not true,” Brad said in his own defense. Then, leaning over, he whispered to Curt, “I knew it all before the month was up.”
Curt put back his head and laughed, while CJ jabbed Brad in the ribs with her elbow. “Men!” she exclaimed and left them both to follow her to the kitchen.
Dinner passed much too quickly for Curt. He’d not been a part of a family for longer than he cared to remember. The last time he’d seen CJ, she had been recuperating from the accident that claimed their parents’ lives. She had certainly recovered from the sullen, moody child of sixteen who he’d run from in despair.
“Why don’t we have coffee in the living room?” CJ suggested as they got up from the table.
Curt took a seat on the couch and the smile suddenly left his face. How could he possibly say what he had come to say?
“You’ve come here with a purpose,” CJ said suddenly. Her statement stunned Curt.
“I guess there’s no use putting it off or pretending that you aren’t right.”
CJ smiled and took a seat beside him. “Go on,” she encouraged as Brad joined them.
Curt ran his hand back through his hair and eased back against the plush sofa. “I wanted to talk to you about the crash—about Mom and Dad.”
CJ swallowed hard. “Go on,” she repeated her words, this time less enthusiastically.
Curt watched as Brad lovingly rubbed CJ’s cheek with his fingers. He seems to adore her, Curt thought, and suddenly he felt better about what he had to do.
“What do you remember about the crash?” he asked.
CJ frowned. “I remember most everything, I guess. The way the plane rocked and then dropped from the sky. The feeling of falling forever. Daddy fighting the controls to land the plane and Mom praying.”
“Did Dad say anything?”
“Daddy told Mom, ‘He’s done us in.’” CJ trembled, and Brad put his hand on hers. “What’s this all about, Curt?”
“Do you remember the air show before the crash?” CJ and Curt had grown up as members of the O’Sullivan Flying Circus. Their father, along with his best friend, Ben Fairchild, had formed O&F Aviation and sponsored air shows all across the country.
“Of course,” CJ whispered. “We were all together. Even Ben was there. You left early to get back to school. Yes, I remember it all.”
“Dad called me,” Curt replied. “I had just gotten back, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and it was Dad. He must have been just about to fly out. He was pretty upset, CJ.”
“Why? What had happened?”
“He’d found cocaine in one of our planes.”
“You mean you’ve known all this time and said nothing?”
CJ’s voice was clearly upset.
“You were in no shape to learn that the crash was no accident. How could I tell you that Mom and Dad had most likely been murdered?”
“Murdered?” CJ sounded as though she might faint. “But all this time—all these years, you’ve never said anything. Murder?”
“I’m sorry. That’s why I came tonight,” Curt offered apologetically.
“So what do we do about it?”
“We don’t do anything. You have to stay out of it,” Curt replied. He put up his hand at the look that crossed his sister’s face. “Don’t get started; just listen. What I have to say isn’t going to come easy, and you must swear to keep it confidential. My life and the lives of other people depend on my ability to maintain my cover.”
“Your cover? What are you talking about?” CJ questioned, easing away just a bit from Brad.
Curt met Brad’s eyes before returning his gaze to his sister. “CJ, I know this is going to be difficult for you to accept, but I work with the Drug Enforcement Administration. The DEA. I’m here in Denver undercover to try and break a ring of drug dealers. I believe they are the people responsible for Mom and Dad’s deaths, and I believe whoever is in charge is someone inside O&F Aviation.”
CJ fell back against Brad in complete shock. The look on her face told Curt he’d expected too much. Her eyes were huge in surprise, and her mouth had dropped open to speak but remained unmoving, in mute dismay.
“Have you been at this very long?” Brad questioned when CJ seemed unable to collect her thoughts.
Curt nodded. “From the moment the plane crashed, I just knew it was related t
o what Dad had found. I figured someone wanted him quiet and that a plane crash was the best way to take him out. Unfor-tunately for them, but fortunately for me, they had no idea that Dad had told me about the drugs.”
“The FAA investigation had always seemed a little rushed, as far as I was concerned,” Brad commented. “It seemed strange for the accident of an international flying hero to be so quickly stamped ‘pilot error’ and moved over without so much as a single protest.”
“I couldn’t protest it then,” Curt admitted. “Although holding my peace was difficult. I knew I needed proof. Also,” Curt said, nodding toward his sister, “CJ was in no shape to take the controversy, and I couldn’t risk that whoever was responsible would think she knew something about the drugs and come after her.”
CJ shuddered from head to toe, and Brad wrapped his arms around her tightly as Curt reached out to pat her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sis. If I could have found an easier way to tell you, I would have.”
“I thought this was over with,” she whispered weakly.
“I know.” Curt wondered if he’d done the right thing.
“How can we help you?” Brad questioned. “What can we do to make your job easier?”
Curt frowned and dropped CJ’s hand. “I don’t know. Right now, I just need discretion and sound judgment. I could also use a few prayers,” Curt admitted.
“Of course, you’ll have that,” CJ said, seeming to recover from the shock. “Brad and I will pray continuously for you.”
“Good,” Curt replied. “That means all the world to me.” He glanced at his watch and saw the hour was getting late. “I’d better go, but I’ll be in touch.”
He got up, and CJ jumped to her feet and nearly flew at him. Throwing her arms around him, she let go of her tears. “Oh, Curt, please be careful.”
Curt wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her auburn hair. “I promise to be especially careful, just for you.”
Wings Like Eagles Page 4
