by Lori Wilde
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I can’t do this without help. I’ve been here a week and I’m not any closer to finding Red than I was the day I rode into town, and I’m scared as hell I’m running out of time. If he’s hurt somewhere—”
“He might already be dead,” she finished.
“Yes.”
“How come you’ve decided to trust me and not Lars or Jasper or someone else?”
“Because,” he said honestly, “I know you didn’t harm Red. You’re too kind. Too honest.” His voice caught. Too good to be true.
“Well then, we better get searching for Red.”
“We can’t tell anyone what we’re doing. We don’t know who else we can trust.” We. That word that usually came so hard to him.
“I can’t believe anyone in Cupid means Red harm.”
“I’m not saying they do. I have to be cautious just in case. Do you have any ideas where we might start?”
“I packed up Red’s things in a cardboard box just before you drove up last Monday. Nothing in there meant anything to me, but maybe you can get a clue from it. C’mon.”
She led him to the carriage house and they climbed the stairs into the cramped, airless attic. She quickly located the cardboard box.
With sweat sticking his shirt to his body, Dade rifled through the cardboard box. What concerned him were the empty bottles of paroxetine and doxepin. On the surface, it looked like Red was taking his meds, but one glance at the refill date and Dade’s blood ran cold.
The pills hadn’t been refilled in two months, plenty of time for the therapeutic effects to wear off and for Red to be plunged into deep depression or a manic high. He swore under his breath.
“What is it?” she asked.
He told her.
Nervously, Natalie nibbled her bottom lip.
He turned back to the box and found the bus ticket stub. The destination was Marfa, Texas, and it was dated June 19, the day before Red had sent him the text. Ten days. It had been ten days since Red sent that text. He passed the ticket stub to Natalie.
“Red was fascinated with the Marfa Lights,” she said. “He visited them often.”
“Lars said Red was interested in the Indian custom of vision quests.”
Natalie nodded. “I heard him mention it a time or two. Do you think he’s gone on a vision quest in Marfa?”
“I don’t know, but I’m headed there.”
Natalie put her hand on his arm. “Not without me, you’re not. Red was my friend too.”
Chapter 14
If you’re going to dive into love, headfirst is the only way to go.
—MILLIE GREENWOOD
Natalie put Zoey in charge of the B&B and hurried to meet up with Dade again. She was still trying to absorb all that he’d told her. He was Red’s foster brother and they’d been in the Navy SEALs together. Dade was the buddy that Red had spoken so fondly of.
In fact, Dade was the only thing about Red’s past that he’d ever talked about. Red had just never mentioned his buddy’s name. She felt honored that Dade had decided to trust her with his secret, while at the same time, her worry for Red escalated. Could someone in Cupid have actually harmed Red? She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t begin to imagine who would want to hurt him or why. She still favored the theory that Red was in the grips of some sort of PTSD fugue state.
Outside, Dade was waiting for her astride the Harley, engine running. Heat radiated off the chrome pipes.
She hesitated. “We’re going on your bike?”
“Yep.”
“We could take the van.”
“What if Zoey needs transportation?”
“Good point, but I have a confession.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “Sounds intriguing.”
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”
“First time for everything.” He grinned. “C’mon.”
“Can’t. I don’t have a helmet.”
He settled his helmet on her head. “Now you do.”
The weight of the helmet was comforting and his scent surrounded her. When he reached up to tighten the chinstrap for her, Natalie just about came undone at the touch of his fingers on her skin.
“Wh-what are you going to wear?” she asked.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I don’t like the fact that you’re unprotected.”
“You have to take some risks in life.”
“Risks can get you killed.”
“If you never take risks, you’re not living.”
That was she. She never took risks, and her life was small and tight because of it. She hauled in a deep breath. “Okay. If I get killed at least I will have done something tonight that I’ve never done before.”
“You won’t get killed,” he said fiercely. “If the Grim Reaper comes for you I’ll kick his ass.”
If anyone could cheat death, Dade would be the one. Her heart fluttered.
“C’mon, darlin’,” he coaxed.
Oh, why not throw caution to the wind? She eyed the Harley. “Um, how do I do this?”
“Ever rode a horse?”
She patted her right leg. “No.”
He shook his head. “Poor thing, you’ve led such a sheltered life.”
“So unshelter me.”
He chuckled. “Just sling your leg over the seat.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my leg doesn’t sling so easily.”
“I’ve seen you mount your bike. You do it quite gracefully. It’s the same concept.”
“This seat is much wider than my bicycle.”
“It’s still just a seat.”
“Yes, but this machine is growling like it’s going to eat me.”
“If anything is going to eat you, it’s not going to be my Hog.” He smirked. There was nothing subtle about that innuendo.
Natalie willed herself not to blush. Tentatively, she slung her leg over the rumbling seat. Instantly, the vibrations went up her legs to settle into her groin. It felt highly charged and erotic.
“Now what?” she whispered.
“Wrap your arms around me, darlin’, and hang on tight.”
It sounded easy enough, but the second her arms slid around his waist, her body was in tumult.
“You ready?” he called over his shoulder.
Was she? She’d paid lip service to wanting adventure, but now that adventure was staring her in the face, fear crept in. “Yes,” she declared to keep herself from backing out.
He took off and the force of the launch had her squealing and tightening her grip. She hung on for dear life. This was most definitely not her bike. For one thing, on her bike, she did not have the most sumptuous man in the world to hang on to. His leanly muscled back had her nipples hardening. She felt every breath he took, and found herself falling into his smooth, commanding rhythm.
The wind whipped the sleeves of her shirt as they peeled off from the road leading to the marina and headed down U.S. Highway 90 to Marfa, thirty miles away. The moon was starting to rise. The light glimmered off the pavement, guiding their way.
Natalie rested her head against his shoulders, marveling to find herself here with this man. A week ago she hadn’t even known him, and now he seemed like destiny. The resistance she’d felt last Monday had, by Sunday, given way to acceptance.
If this was fated, she was all in.
His masculine scent tangled up in her nose and she imagined a million sexy things she wanted him to do to her. She thought about what Delia had told her and she closed her eyes.
Yes. She was ready for sex with him. She was ready for everything!
She let go long enough to slip her hands up underneath his shirt, run her fingers over his ribs to link her hands over his rippled abs. He gave a startled grunt that quickly changed into a growl of pleasure.
Dade kept a steady pace and stayed to the slow lane, which, in this part of Texas where the speed limit was seventy-five, wasn’t all
that slow. Tires strummed over the asphalt; the landscape of cactus, juniper, and mesquite trees whizzed by in a blur. Behind them, the Davis Mountains lay like slumbering elephants, gray and lazy. In the expanse of arid land to their right, a herd of leaping pronghorn antelope ran parallel to the highway as if challenging them to a race.
Smiling, Natalie heard the refrains of “Home, Home on the Range” reverberate in her head. This was her land, her country, and her man.
She was flying, having a real adventure. A Harley vibrated beneath her legs. Her arms were strapped around a handsome, hard-bodied man. She felt so alive, so vital.
Shot Through the Heart’s Letter flitted through her mind and in that beautiful instant she fully understood what the letter writer meant. Nothing was more exhilarating, nothing more exalted than falling in love. In that moment, everything was crystal clear. This was the man she was supposed to be with, and any lingering doubts she might have had vanished completely.
She was meant for Dade and he was meant for her.
Ten miles out of Cupid a pale yellow-green glow appeared on the horizon that brightened the closer they got.
Dade turned his head toward her. “Are those the Marfa Lights?”
“No,” Natalie yelled over the sound of the motorcycle.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
Dade slowed as they neared a lone square building that was the source of the yellow-green glow in the middle of nowhere, masquerading as a Prada mini-boutique. He came to a full stop in the middle of the straight-as-an-arrow highway across from the front of the building and stared at it, slack-jawed. The place had that effect on people. “What the hell is this?”
“Prada Marfa.”
“Huh?”
Natalie unstrapped the motorcycle helmet, pulled it off, and shook out her hair. She got off the bike, left the helmet dangling from one of the handlebars, and walked toward the building framed by an old barbwire fence made with aging, rough-hewn cedar posts. A large tumbleweed sat off to one side of the biodegradable building made of mud bricks. Across the road, endless train tracks stretched out, leading both everywhere and nowhere.
Cool, crisp white awnings shaded two large plate-glass windows flanking either side of an inset nonfunctioning door. Above the awnings were twin black signs with the Prada logo in large, white block letters and underneath in small type “Marfa.” Inside the building were twenty Prada left shoes, evenly, uniformly, and sparsely placed on the shelves, and there were six Prada handbags as well, three on one side of the store, three on the other. The interior was eerily backlit with a greenish-yellow light that instantly made people think UFO.
“But what is it?” Dade repeated.
“Art.”
“Art? A Prada store?”
“It’s not a real store. The front door doesn’t work.”
“I get that. What I don’t get is what’s it doing all the way hell and gone out here in the desert?”
“That’s the art of it,” Natalie said.
“What is Prada anyway?”
“Very high fashion.”
“Out of my realm of experience.”
“Mine too,” she said, but from the minute the art had been erected in 2005, Natalie had gotten it. The piece spoke to her in a way she couldn’t explain. In the same way she couldn’t explain why she bought designer shoes for herself every Christmas, shoes that she could never wear. “I’ve always wanted a pair of Prada shoes,” she whispered.
“But what does the art mean?”
“Art is in the eye of the beholder, of course. Interpret it any way you want. Juxtaposed against the barren Texas landscape, it’s ludicrous and yet infinitely compelling.”
“It feels . . .” He paused. “Lonely.”
“Yes.”
They stood like that, staring at the art, Natalie in front, gazing at the shoes, Dade standing directly behind her.
“What keeps people from breaking into it and stealing the shoes?” he asked.
“They have,” she said. “Three days after the exhibit opened, vandals broke out the windows and graffitied ‘Dumb’ and ‘Dum Dum’ on the walls, stole the shoes and handbags. Now the handbags have hollowed-out bottoms to house alarms.”
“It is definitely attention getting. I’ll give you that.”
“And thought provoking.”
“Prada is a fish out of water in the desert.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m getting it.” He slipped his palms into the back pockets of her jeans, his calloused palms cupping her butt through the denim, and he leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder.
“What does it say to you?” she murmured.
“There’s no telling what kind of beauty you’ll find out here.”
His breath tickled her ear and a thrill ran the length of her body. He wasn’t talking about the art and she knew it. He was talking about her.
Natalie could see their reflection in the glass of the Prada store. Dade’s face nestled against the side of her head. Such a ruggedly handsome face with compelling eyes the color of charcoal and those high, mysterious cheekbones. He spied her using the glass to study him, and a slow, one-sided grin lifted the corner of his mouth. Her heart stumbled, crashed.
“I’m beginning to see why Red was so enchanted with this part of the country.”
She turned into him.
Simultaneously, they put their arms around each other and he kissed her right there in front of Prada Marfa.
It was a sweet kiss, warm and tender. Natalie sighed at the taste of him. His five o’clock shadow scratched her chin pleasantly.
He pulled back, looked down into her eyes. A variety of emotions—many of them conflicting—flickered across his face. Obviously, he had no idea what to make of her or of the things he was feeling.
She smiled at him, nice and gentle. He was used to fighting his way through life. She wanted him to know that when it came to her, he could lay down his arms and stop warring.
“Maybe Red disappeared inside the Prada Marfa,” Dade teased lightly. “It would explain a lot.”
“It does kind of look like an alien mother ship.”
“Perhaps he just walked right into the store as if it were a painting.”
“It could be the portal to a whole new dimension.”
In unison, they turned to look at the store and then at each other.
“I’m worried about him,” Dade said. “Seriously worried.”
“Me too.”
“There’s a whole lot of isolated territory around here.”
“It’s not likely that he went on a vision quest, no matter what he told Lars. Not when he sent you that coded text message.”
“No,” Dade agreed. “Not the least bit likely.”
“The simplest explanation is that he went off his medication and started having delusions. That’s what Calvin thinks.” Natalie brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.
“Calvin?”
“He’s my cousin and a deputy sheriff. You met him at the hospital, and he was at Chantilly’s for the Life Saver relay.”
“Oh yeah, I remember meeting him now, but I don’t know if I agree with Calvin’s theory.”
“What if he . . .” Natalie swallowed, not knowing how to bring up her greatest fear about Red to Dade.
“Killed himself?” Dade read her mind.
“I hate to believe it.”
“I refuse to believe it. He survived a helluva lot. There was no reason for him to take his own life. None at all.”
“We can never fully know the demons other people face and what they’ll do to be relieved of them.”
“Hell, Natalie, the last time I talked to Red he was the happiest I’d ever heard him. He sounded so happy with his life in Cupid that I was actually jealous.”
“Okay, let’s rule out that he’s having delusions and hiding out in the desert from demons in his own mind or that he committed suicide. What happened to him?”
“The Mayday
text he sent tells me he thought he was in serious danger.”
“Tanked,” she said. “That was the word?”
“Yes.”
“You care about him a great deal, don’t you?”
“He’s the brother I never had.”
She reached up to touch his cheek and his eyes darkened. “There’s something deeper between you.”
“Red is the only person on earth I trust one hundred percent.”
You can trust me. I would never hurt you. Trust me, Dade!
She looked into his eyes and she could see that he wanted to tell her something so badly, but didn’t know how to start. She waited patiently.
In the distance, a lonesome coyote howled. The sun was completely set now and in this dark corner of far west Texas, the constellations caressed the ground. In the foreground of the absurdly incongruous Prada Marfa, Dade begin to tell her the story of how Red had saved him from a child-molesting foster father named Tank and the act of bravery that had set their relationship in cement.
Dade couldn’t believe that he’d told her the story. She hadn’t pried. Hadn’t even asked for it and he spilled like an oil well, gushing out a torrent of dark, turbulent words. Telling her the grim tale he’d never told another soul.
They were on the motorcycle again, continuing their journey to Marfa. He had no idea what they were going to do when they got there. How was retracing Red’s steps ever going to help them find him? He had no answer, but one thing was certain, he felt relieved to have Natalie with him. When she was around he felt stronger, and it was comforting to have her in on his secret.
At last someone he could trust.
They reached Mitchell Flats on the east side of town and pulled into the Marfa Lights View Park located right next to the site of a World War II army airfield. There were a handful of cars in the parking lot, and a couple of RVs had set up camp. Dade parked and they got off the motorcycle. The graveled path led to a sheltered viewing area that also housed restrooms for travelers. There was a plaque in front of the viewing shelter explaining that Apache Indians believed the mysterious lights to be fallen stars.
Beyond the viewing park, the desert stretched out wide and flat.
“The chances of seeing the lights tonight are pretty slim,” Natalie said. “Most of the lights that people see are cars on Highway 67 going from Presidio to Marfa. If you see lights off to the southwest, it’s car headlights.”
