Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  “What the hell are you boys up to?” demanded Mom. She was dressed for business in jeans and a T-shirt that strained across her bust. Both reddened fists were clenched. She leapt down the steps. Malik sprinted for his tractor pulling his baggy jeans up over his butt crack as he went.

  Mom’s punch landed on Shawn’s temple. He staggered sideways and went down on one knee. “Get up, you pussy,” she sneered. But Shawn knew better. Mom was never done until surrender was complete.

  Malik spat out the window of the tractor, and turned on the engine. He drove out of the lot leaving a trail of exhaust. Dustin sidled out from the shadows and evaded Colleen’s swinging fists. He blasted out of the lot in the second tractor making his right turn directly after Malik’s.

  Mom stood over Shawn, eyes narrowed to slits, fists on her hips, daring him to get up, daring him to remain in the dust. He was so screwed. No matter what, he was getting his ass whupped today.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Something pried her eye open. Tasha wriggled away. From opposite sides of the bed, two small faces peered into hers. Tasha smiled at Becky and turned to smile at Quincy.

  “We didn’t wake you,” announced Quincy importantly. “Daddy said we weren’t to wake you up.”

  “We’re going riding,” Becky said. “If you say ‘yes’.”

  Tasha struggled upright. She hugged Quincy first because she was closer. Becky crawled onto the bed and butted her head under Tasha’s arm. “Good morning,” Tasha said. She waited until they had remembered their manners and returned her greeting before she asked, “Who’s taking you riding and where?”

  “Daddy,” Quincy said in the same instant that Becky said, “Uncle Cam.”

  “Where?”

  There was a knock and Caroline put her head around the door. She sighed. “I thought I heard voices. These two had strict instructions not to wake you up.”

  “We didn’t,” Quincy said indignantly. “We only watched her until her eyes opened.”

  “We were quiet as anything,” Becky assured her. “She wanted to wake up.”

  Caroline joined in Tasha’s laughter. “How are you feeling?”

  “I slept, if that’s what you mean. No bad dreams.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  * * *

  Tasha watched the D’Angelos depart in a noisy group with her daughter and Quincy. Somehow they seemed to take up more of the world than most folks. As if they owned it. Of course this was their house and property.

  Cameron was piling the breakfast dishes beside the sink. “You gonna tell me why you stuck us with KP instead of a nice outdoor stroll in ninety-five-degree heat to watch the girls show off a pony?”

  “It’s hard to get any privacy in someone else’s house,” Tasha explained. She began to scrape plates. “Here, you do this. I’ll load.”

  “So what did you need privacy to tell me?” Cam bent over the garbage can.

  “I want you to tell me that I’m being an idiot,” she said.

  Cameron put down the plate he was working on. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “What exactly are you talking about, Sis?”

  Tasha sighed. She pulled off her rubber gloves and turned into the comfort of his embrace. “Someone is trying to kill me – or Becky – or both of us.” It was a relief to say the words out loud.

  Cameron rubbed her back. “How do you figure?” He did not sound dismissive, but neither was there any of the anxiety in his voice that Tasha knew was in her own.

  “Two accidents – two lemons – one right after the other. What are the odds? It’s only a mercy that the three of us weren’t killed on Thursday.”

  Cameron gave her shoulders a squeeze. “First,” he said calmly, “It’s more likely that you’ve had bad luck twice than that you are the target of malice. Second, you and Becky are perfectly safe here. You have me and the D’Angelos looking out for you. They are at least as dangerous as I am. Probably more.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  Cameron hesitated. For the first time he looked worried. “They’re phoenixes.”

  “They’re shifters too?” Tasha closed her mouth.

  “Keep it to yourself. You know the rule: Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “As in immortal birds?” she whispered.

  Cameron shrugged. “Birds anyway. Great big fiery birds of prey. Believe me, if the D’Angelos are around, they can handle a bad guy. Or six. Or twenty-six.”

  Tasha tugged the rubber gloves back on. She slid the scraped plates into the lower rack of the dishwasher.

  “So who do you think wants you dead, Tasha? Who benefits?”

  She thought as she had thought all morning. “No one.” They worked in silence for a few minutes. “Except you.”

  He grunted. “I hope you know that I prefer you alive?”

  Tasha laughed. “If I die, and Rebecca dies, my trust fund devolves to you. But if you had set up any of those accidents.” She made scare quotes around accident. “You would be accepting condolences and no one would suspect a thing.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “Fact.”

  He did not deny his lethality. “Blaine?” he suggested.

  “But why?” she asked.

  “When a woman is threatened, it’s usually the man in her life. Is there someone other than Blaine who might have reason to want to frighten you? You have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

  “Nope. Not a one,” she admitted. “I haven’t had a date since I left Blaine.”

  “Does Sutcliffe know that? Or is he telling himself that if he can’t have you, no one can?” He took the dish brush out of her hand and rinsed it and the sponge and cast a satisfied eye over the kitchen. “Sweep or vacuum?”

  “The broom is in that closet.” Tasha put the gloves away under the sink. “Blaine was having an affair when I left him. That is hardly the behavior of a man who wants to keep his wife.”

  “You’d be surprised how many fellows want their cake and eat it too. But I promise you this, if that SOB is behind this, I’ll make him sorry he was born.”

  “Don’t do anything rash.” Tasha pushed the chairs back under the table as Cameron replaced the broom. “He’s not worth going to prison over.”

  She did not find Cam’s toothy grin reassuring.

  * * *

  By the time Reynolds and his sister joined them at the corral fence, it was Becky’s turn. Quincy was yelling encouragement from her place beside Harrison, but as soon as Reynolds and Tasha appeared she abandoned him to run to them.

  His father was holding the leading rein but Becky had a firm grip of the pony’s reins and her feet in the stirrups. She was a little unsteady, but placid Princess didn’t stop plodding when Becky clutched her mane or pulled hard on her reins. Of course, that might be because Princess’ harness did not include a bit. But Harrison thought it was because the pony had taught lots of kids to ride. His dad had made a good choice when he bought that pony.

  “Mamma T,” Quincy caroled. “Look at Becky!”

  Tasha hugged the excited child and allowed herself to be pulled toward the fence. Quincy positioned Tasha beside him and squirmed over to Tasha’s other side. Her face radiated pleasure in her own cleverness. Harrison didn’t mind. He liked standing beside Tasha.

  But he was astonished as well as amused to realize that four-year-old Quincy was stage-managing the situation. She wanted them to be close enough to speak or touch. And what did it mean that she called Tasha, ‘Mamma T’? Tasha seemed oblivious, so presumably she was used to her nickname.

  The horse paddock was one of Harrison’s favorite places on the Grape Creek property. The smell of horse and grass was the smell of his childhood. Watching horses move was always fun. Now that they had been acknowledged and petted, Mom and Dad’s horses Onyx and Champ were placidly enjoying the pasture. Although she was being ridden, wise Princess was also enjoying herself.

 
Harrison could tell that she had become fond of the two little girls who were the latest in a long string that she had taught how to ride. And she had her own gentle way of correcting both Becky and Quincy when their inexperience lead them to do something they shouldn’t. In the last fifteen minutes Becky had visibly improved.

  Tasha was taking quiet pleasure in the scene too, but beneath the scent of approval and delight was the stink of fear. It had been more muted at breakfast. But now she was as worried as she had been last night when he had given her brandy. Something about her conversation with her brother had made her more fearful. They were obviously close. And Reynolds’ worry about his sister was genuine.

  As Tasha watched Becky walking slowly around the dusty training ring, her pulse settled down and she seemed to forget her fear. Reynolds came and stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She calmed down even more, so it wasn’t Reynolds who she was afraid of. Probably they had talked over those incidents and stirred up all her terror.

  Quincy turned her head and looked up at Cameron Reynolds. She shuffled along the middle rail of the fence until she was standing directly in front of Tasha. She leaned back trustingly and Tasha immediately crossed her arms over the child’s shoulders and steadied her.

  Out in the ring George quietly told Becky she could have one more circuit. Becky’s face was still alight, but her thighs were starting to tremble where they gripped the pony’s barrel belly. Yet she didn’t want to stop. She murmured a protest.

  “It’s time that Princess had a rest,” George said quietly. “You and Quincy have to give her a good brushing.”

  “Are you going to come and watch us, Daddy Danger?” Quincy asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Harrison assured her. Except of course he had missed it many times. Quincy grabbed his hand and hauled him off toward the stable. The rich scent of horses had impregnated all the timber. It was the smell of his happy childhood.

  Quincy wrinkled her nose at the horse apples in Princess’s stall. But she fetched a kid-sized shovel and a broom and began to clean them up. Harrison didn’t interfere. It was good to see that his little girl was growing up into a responsible and capable child. But it didn’t seem so long ago that she would have been unable to manage two tools at once. He was missing her childhood. Stephanie would have been disappointed in him.

  Quincy made three trips to the dung pile. Tasha stood beside the doorway and it was to her that Quincy spoke. “I dropped some,” she confessed. “And they bounced, Mamma T, all over the floor.”

  “Did you get them all up?” Tasha asked softly.

  “Yes!” Quincy filled her little shovel again and carried it off biting her tongue.

  Tasha chuckled softly.

  Her laughter went through Harrison and softened something inside his heart. “I can’t get over how coordinated she’s become,” he said. “She’s growing up so fast.”

  “It’s what they do. I can’t believe that Becky is old enough to ride a pony. George is talking about letting her and Quincy walk around without a leading rein. It seems too soon, but he doesn’t dare to talk about it in front of them because they’ll get too excited.”

  “He’s taught a lot of youngsters how to ride. He won’t let them go solo until they’re ready.”

  “Quincy’s already ready. I think your dad is holding her back so Becky can catch up.”

  “Probably. It’s good for Quincy to learn to accommodate to other people – other children. She’s growing up an only child. That can make for a lot of selfishness if you don’t work at it.”

  Tasha seemed to realize he was talking about Quincy’s missing brothers. Her face clouded briefly before she smiled. “I’m trying hard to see that Becky doesn’t become a spoiled brat because she’s an only.”

  Quincy came running back in without her shovel and broom. “I’m better than Becky at cleaning up,” she announced importantly.

  Tasha smoothed Quincy’s hair with a gentle hand. “You’ll have to help her to improve.”

  “Could my brothers ride?” Quincy swung from Harrison’s arm.

  Harrison tugged her up into the air until she was dangling off his forearm. Her humming got louder. She brought her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth until her hands could no longer support her weight. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet and Harrison shook his head. When had his little girl become so surefooted?

  “Could they?” Quincy repeated her question.

  “Harry and Willie could. Kenny was too young.” Despite his best efforts to keep his voice level, it shook with sorrow.

  Tasha put a light hand on his bicep but she didn’t say anything.

  “Meemaw Angel says I’m older than Willie,” announced Quincy importantly.

  Harrison cleared his throat. “That’s right. Three months older.”

  “Meemaw Angel says he’s in heaven. She thinks there are horses in heaven.” Quincy sounded worried.

  Tasha looked at him expectantly. But his throat was tight. And his chest ached.

  “I’m sure there are horses.” Tasha’s calm voice filled the desperate silence.

  “And will my mommy be able to look after my brothers?”

  “Of course. In heaven everything is perfect all the time.” Tasha hugged Quincy against her side.

  Quincy buried her face in Tasha’s waist. Her voice was muffled. “I guess they needed her more than I did. There were three of them and just one me.” She sighed.

  It was obviously his cue to speak. But Harrison couldn’t get words past the lump in his throat.

  “Luckily, you have your daddy, and your Meemaw and your Poppy to take care of you.” Tasha said calmly. She stroked his daughter’s back.

  George and Becky appeared with Princess. Becky had a firm grip on the lead rein, but from the lumbering pace the pony set, it was obvious the child was doing no leading at all. Which was just as well, for even a fat, old pony was far stronger than a four-year-old. In the confusion that surrounded the removal of Princess’s tack, Quincy forgot her distress. If only his own was as easy to disperse.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tasha grinned as she helped Caroline prepare lunch. Her hostess was too giddy to be as placid as usual. Her daughter Frankie and her youngest son Grant were supposed to show up any minute. Caroline was literally humming with joy.

  Tasha was brought back to the days when she and Mama would prepare for Daddy’s return from duty. They would spend days cooking and cleaning and shopping. Missing her mother was an ache that never went away. But now, standing beside Caroline and participating in her happy flutter, Tasha became aware of just how much she had missed those companionable domestic fusses and exuberant welcomes. This cheerful bustle felt like coming home.

  “Grant usually has an engagement on the Fourth,” Caroline explained to Tasha yet another time. “But he turned down his chance to sing the national anthem.”

  “It will be nice for you to have him home.” Tasha responded on cue.

  “Yes, it will.” Caroline added fresh herbs to the bowl of mayonnaise she was making. “I was hoping Beverly and Lincoln would come. I haven’t seen Hardy in weeks. But the Hernandezes take the Fourth seriously.”

  “More seriously than the D’Angelos?” Tasha was genuinely surprised. Every morning George ran up the stars and stripes but for the Fourth he had gone all out. Bunting hung at every window. There was a bonfire ready to go and fireworks under lock and key in a concrete bunker.

  Caroline nodded. “They rent a spot in the public gardens and have a family picnic and reunion. Lincoln says his father-in-law is going to let him help with the roast pig. And Beverly has been baking and baking and not letting him even nibble. They did invite George and me to come, but –” she shrugged and squeezed lemon juice into the sauce.

  Tasha laughed. “How many people will there be?”

  “Lots. The Hernandezes collect family the way other people collect stuff. Beverly has lots of cousins and lots of people she calls aunt and
uncle. Lincoln thinks that with the kids there will be over sixty people.”

  “It will be great for Hardy to grow up with two big families,” Tasha said.

  “Yes, it will,” Caroline agreed. “When you cut up all those potatoes, I’m going to pour the dressing over while they’re still warm and let them soak it up. Then it’s right into the fridge until they’re chilled and then we can add the peppers and celery.”

  “I’m on it,” Tasha said. She added the last few cubes to the big mixing bowl and dumped the dressing on top and tossed it.

  “Do you like pickles in your potato salad?” Caroline hesitated with one hand on the fridge handle and the other holding the big bowl of dressed potatoes.

  “Of course. But I thought Texans ate German potato salad.”

  Caroline laughed happily. “There are as many recipes for potato salad as there are families. I like a nice mayonnaise dressing even if it means we have to worry about keeping it cold. I never have a problem with it sitting around. But of course if you put German potato salad made with oil and vinegar and peas and carrots in front of my sons, it would also vanish in a nanosecond.”

  “My Mamma always used to say that Cameron and Daddy had hollow legs. Not to mention their friends.”

  Caroline pulled out a dish of hard boiled eggs. “Do you think twelve are enough?”

  “To add to the salad?” Tasha looked up and grinned. “Probably.”

  Overhead the sound of a small plane buzzed. Caroline jumped a little. She began to wash her hands and then shook her head. “There will be no room in the car,” she explained. “And everyone will want lunch the minute they walk through the door.”

  “Well, no matter,” Tasha said. “The chicken is ready. The potato salad is nearly finished. I can keep going if you want to go say ‘Hey’ to your daughter.”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Not a speck.” Tasha opened the pickle jar and began to dice gherkins.

  She had just started in on the eggs when Harrison spoke behind her. “Can I give you a hand?” he asked. He turned on the faucet and began to wash his hands.

  “I’m mostly done,” Tasha said. She felt her heart speed up as it did around him. She was sure she was blushing. At least she was fully dressed and wearing sandals this morning.