Adam Then and Now

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Daphne gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, Mr. Truthfulness, there was no guy. If you must know, I was just hanging out watching movies and cleaning out the courtesy bar.”

  “The what?”

  Daphne shook her head. “Your education is sadly lacking, Joshua. Look here.” She crossed to the small refrigerator and flung open the door.

  Josh hunkered down and peered inside. “Not bad. That stuff comes free with the room?”

  “Oh, no. It’s all extra and costs a pretty penny, which is why I’m eating it. When I get through with this one, I’ll hit the one in Dad’s room.”

  “That’s kind of a bratty thing to do.”

  “I know. Care to join me?”

  “There’s a lot of booze in here.”

  “You can have that. I tried some of the wine, but I’m not into drinking.”

  “I’m not, either.” Josh stood.

  “So we can pour that down the sink.”

  He glanced at the price list on top of the courtesy bar and whistled. “You really are ticked off about him deserting you on your vacation, aren’t you?”

  “I haven’t even started on my room-service order.”

  “Sure wouldn’t want you getting mad at me. I couldn’t afford it.”

  “Dad can. Besides, I don’t get mad.” She winked at him. “I get even.”

  He chuckled and stooped down to grab some cookies and chocolate milk from the bottom shelf. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  An hour later, they sprawled on a bed littered with crumbs and empty cartons while they laughed at the latest Billy Crystal comedy.

  Her mouth full of crackers, Daphne glanced over at Josh. “Hey, you said you came partly because your grandfather said you couldn’t.”

  He grinned and tossed a pillow at her. “I can see chewed crackers. That’s gross.”

  She deliberately opened her cracker-filled mouth wider and he laughed. She liked making him laugh. “So what was the other reason you came over?”

  His gaze was open and uncomplicated, unlike the look any other boy had ever given her. “I thought you might need a friend,” he said.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned away. “Thanks,” she mumbled as Billy Crystal’s image blurred.

  * * *

  ADAM HAD SAID they were strong enough to take it. Loren guessed he was right so far, because somehow she’d made it through the night. She’d spent hours battling her twin demons: fear of what might be going on with Josh, and a guilty desire to creep into Adam’s room, beg his forgiveness and spend the rest of the night in his arms.

  At last the sky had lightened, setting her free from the imprisoning and tempting darkness. But the long night alone was child’s play compared to what lay ahead—a morning spent with Adam, an afternoon assessing the damage to her son.

  She washed her face and finger-combed her hair. Her clothes had dried during the night, but as she started to dress she couldn’t find her panties. Then she remembered where they were.

  She put on her shorts. Then, taking a deep breath, she tapped on his connecting door. Hers had stayed open all night; his had stayed closed. Had he been inclined to come to her, she hadn’t wanted any barriers. But he hadn’t been so inclined, it seemed. “Adam?”

  After a moment, he opened the door. He was fully dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day before. One quick glance into his haggard, unshaven face and intense blue eyes nearly undid her. She looked away before that haunted gaze could draw her in. “I, um, need my panties,” she said. “I’ll come in and check, if you”

  “Here they are.”

  She gazed down at his outstretched hand clutching the lacy garment, and her stomach plunged as if she were staring over a precipice. She remembered the way he’d eased the panties down the night before, and how he’d—

  “I figured you’d want them.”

  “Thanks.” She grabbed them from his hand and escaped, closing her door. She stood still, catching her breath as if she’d been running, the panties balled in her fist. “I’ll be ready in a minute,” she called through the door.

  “Fine,” he called back.

  But she was shaking so badly it took more than a minute to remove her shorts, pull on her panties and put her shorts back on. As she fought for composure, she wondered how in hell she would take pictures today. Maybe he’d changed his mind and she wouldn’t have to. Maybe they’d be able to fly directly to Sedona and end this agony.

  Surely that would be his decision, she told herself as she struggled with the button on the waistband of her shorts. They needed to find out what was happening with Josh and Daphne. Even though Adam had insisted nothing was going on between the two teenagers, he might have doubts he’d been unwilling to let her see.

  If they left for Sedona immediately, they could minimize the pain of being together with the wreckage of a doomed relationship scattered around them. Adam might be tough, but everyone had limits. She was very close to reaching hers.

  Finally, she was dressed and ready. She walked to the door with more confidence, half-convinced he’d tell her the picture-taking session was off.

  She opened the door. He was sitting by the window reading a magazine and didn’t look up. While he read, he pinched his earlobe. The familiar gesture reminded her of all the times they’d studied together—or tried to. She’d teased him about his habit of manhandling his earlobe while he read. He’d said he was a tactile person, and suggested if she was worried about his ear, he’d much rather work on various parts of her body, instead. It had become a joke between them, one she’d forgotten until now.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ready to go?”

  He glanced up and closed the magazine. “Sure.”

  When he stood, she faced him with brisk efficiency. “We can be in the air within a half hour. I’m sure you’ll agree we should skip the photo session and go straight to Sedona.”

  He rolled the magazine into a cylinder. “No, I don’t agree.”

  Her heart began to thud with more force. “But...the kids. You need to get back to Daphne. We should find out what”

  “I do need to get back to Daphne, and I will. But if we don’t get those shots today, I may not get them at all. Haskett must have realized that once the divorce proceedings were over, I’d start paying more attention to the steel shipments. He’ll wind up his operation any day now. I have to act or he’ll get away with his scam.”

  She stared at him. So the nightmare of pain would continue.

  His gaze gentled a fraction. “We’re only talking about a couple of extra hours. It shouldn’t make that much difference with the kids. What’s done is probably done. Our arriving home a little earlier won’t change much.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Are you too upset to take pictures? Is that the problem?”

  Pride reared up in her, refusing to allow him to be the stronger one. “If you can fly the plane, I can take the damn pictures.”

  An emotion flickered in his eyes; a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Then let’s go,” he said quietly.

  As they left the hotel, the sky arced over them like newly fired pottery with only a slight chip of white marring the rim. Loren knew that by afternoon that chip on the horizon could spawn a whole bank of angry clouds, but by then she and Adam would be back in Sedona. Sedona, where Josh and Daphne waited. Where she’d watch Adam walk out of her life forever.

  They worked together silently and smoothly readying 206 Whiskey Foxtrot for takeoff. As Adam taxied the Cessna onto the runway, Loren began cleaning the camera lens. Her exhaustion complicated the task, but she was glad the job took all her concentration. She was better off paying no attention to Adam.

  She’d made the mistake of glancing toward the cockpit as he gunned the engine and sent the plane hurtling skyward. With his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses, his chin stubbled with a day’s growth of beard and his expression grim, he looked like a renegade. If he’d ever feared she could manipulate him, he had noth
ing to fear now. He looked like a man nobody should provoke, a man who would be dangerous if aroused.

  And he is, she thought, her wounded heart aching.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE PLANE’S FLIGHT PATH followed the river, glittering like a strip of aluminum foil in the glare of the sun. Loren lifted her headset over her ears as the bridge site appeared, with construction equipment crawling over the riverbank and derricks swinging steel beams into place. She peered through the camera lens as they drew closer. “Tell me what you want,” she said into the mouthpiece.

  There was a brief hesitation, and she closed her eyes. Bad choice of words.

  “A normal grid, to start with,” Adam said finally.

  “Right.” Her reply was too curt, but she couldn’t help it. Although his words were innocent enough, the mere sound of his voice coming through the earphones conjured up images of their lovemaking, warming her skin and quickening her breath. No, dammit. She would not do this to herself. It was over.

  “The Scorpio trucks are red,” he continued, “so look for cabs of any other color. When we find one loaded with steel, we have our evidence. If you see one like that start to move, tell me.”

  “Okay.” She willed herself to forget everything but the job she had to do. “Start with the southeast corner and work your way north. And keep it steady.”

  “I will.”

  She shivered. Listening to that voice in her ear for another hour would be torture. She wondered how he was taking it. His profile revealed nothing. Maybe he really was stronger than she and had already closed himself off from her.

  She focused and started snapping. As the work began to absorb her, she was gently released from her preoccupation with Adam. Gradually, the identity of the pilot was pushed to the back of her mind, and she began issuing instructions automatically, without thinking who she was commanding. “That’s good. Like that. Perfect. Now, again.”

  His sharp intake of breath brought her crashing back to reality. She froze, missing part of the grid. He wasn’t closed off, after all. The radio connection that allowed them to murmur into each other’s ears was bothering him as much as it had bothered her. The thought shook her so much she almost missed seeing the truck.

  She noticed it just in time. “There!” she called, pressing the shutter button. “A different-colored cab. Deep blue. Pulling a flatbed loaded with steel.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yes.” Barely.

  “Was it moving?”

  “I think so. We’ll know when you come back across— Okay, there! Yes, it’s moving.”

  “I want a shot of whatever markings are on that truck.” His voice resonated with excitement.

  “Forget the grid?”

  “Yes. Just get that damn truck.”

  She fought to keep calm. She didn’t want to participate in his mood. Emotions could explode beneath her like land mines today, blowing her control to bits. “We should pick them up on the next pass. They’re moving north. This time go in lower, bank the plane and I’ll take an oblique shot.” She gasped as he dived beneath the five-hundred-foot limit. “Adam! Not”

  “Take the pictures.”

  She took two shots of the side of the truck before he swooped up again.

  “Get it?”

  “A little lower and I’d be able to count the bugs on his windshield. Dammit, Adam, you”

  “Then hang on. I’m going to act like I’m some crazy guy out for a joyride.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve already scared the daylights out of” She swallowed the rest of her sentence and held her stomach as he dived again, banked and dived. The river rushed up to meet them and then she was staring into the cloudless sky again, adrenaline pumping through her. It wasn’t really fear she felt. It was excitement, a stimulating rush, a curling tension not unlike desire. She suspected it had a great deal to do with the pilot, who was demonstrating that he flew with the same sense of daring as he made love.

  “Now let’s gain some altitude and find out where our fellow is taking my steel.”

  He’d said this in a conversational tone, but Loren picked up the controlled anger beneath the words. She wouldn’t want to be in Barnaby Haskett’s shoes when Adam confronted him. No doubt his days as a contractor were ended.

  “Can you see the truck?” he asked.

  She looked through the viewfinder and spotted it pulling a rooster tail of dust as it inched along a dirt road. “Yes. Heading for Highway 68.”

  “Guess we’ll hang around up here for a while. When he gets close to the intersection, so we can identify a direction, we’ll take a shot of that. Then we’ll follow him as far as we can.”

  She panicked. He was extending the time they’d have to be together. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ve got the incriminating shots.”

  “I do think it’s necessary. If I know where he’s hauling the stuff, the authorities may be able to arrest a whole network of crooks. I doubt if I’m the only one who’s had steel pirated.”

  He made sense. How could she argue, when a little detective work now might help bring criminals to justice? But the wire of tension within her was tight and humming. She needed to get away from this man as soon as possible.

  “Did you catch the name on the side of the cab?” he asked.

  “Ace Trucking. Has a big wind foil on top.”

  “Are you sure? Trucks that pull flatbed trailers don’t usually have wind foils.”

  “This one does.”

  “Then it probably means the driver’s free-lancing, somebody hungry for some quick money with no other connection to the operation. That’s okay. We have photographic proof that steel is leaving that site. If we can find out where it’s being delivered, that, along with the shortages Haskett’s been calling in, should be enough to nail him.”

  Loren wondered what would happen then. With Haskett exposed as a thief, maybe Anita wouldn’t want to marry him. Maybe she’d beg for Adam’s forgiveness. And maybe Adam, for Daphne’s sake, would grant it. If Loren had harbored any doubts about her decision to keep far away from Adam, they disappeared with that thought.

  “Truck’s at the intersection,” she reported, giving him the coordinates. He circled, guiding the plane lower. She took a shot of the truck making a right turn.

  “Might be headed for Kingman or Vegas,” Adam said.

  “Or Seattle,” she reminded him. “We may not be able to follow it all the way to its destination.”

  “I know. I’ll keep track of the fuel gauge.”

  “That would be nice. Running out of gas at ten thousand feet leaves a lot to be desired.” She sounded bitchy. Too bad.

  “I haven’t run out of gas since that time you and I got stranded at the Flagstaff Observatory.”

  Damn, he would have to bring up that particular night. Nobody had believed they’d really run out of gas, which in fact they had. But they’d also lingered in his Capri for quite a while before trekking to the gas station. She tried to stem the memories that flooded through her, but it was no use. She felt the strength of his arms, the hunger of his mouth, the urgency of his caress, old memories forming tributaries from the torrent of passion he’d given her last night.

  She grasped at the only distraction available, and peered through the camera lens, looking for the truck. She found it. “Our guy’s approaching the next intersection.”

  “Give me the coordinates.”

  She did, and then snapped a picture of the truck turning left toward Las Vegas.

  “I’m taking us up to about seven thousand feet,” Adam said. “If I throttle back to about sixty, we can follow him right down the road.”

  She didn’t like anything about that plan, but she didn’t have much choice except to go along with it.

  “You okay back there?” he asked.

  Just terrific. “I’m fine.”

  “We won’t need any more pictures until he delivers the steel somewhere, so you can take off the headset and relax awhile if
you want.”

  “Thanks. Guess I will.” Relax. Sure. She took off her headset and got to her knees to gaze out the side window. Beneath her, mountains rumpled the landscape like love-tossed sheets. A few innocuous white clouds settled against them like feather pillows strewn over a bed.

  She looked away, cursing the sensuous images. While she was at it, she cursed the capricious weather. If they’d had a morning like this yesterday, Josh and Daphne wouldn’t be a concern. On the other hand, Adam wouldn’t have made love to her. And despite the pain, she wouldn’t want to erase that memory. If she could go back in time and change the weather, change the outcome, she doubted she would.

  * * *

  FOR ANOTHER HOUR, Loren monitored the progress of the dark blue truck while Adam cruised above the highway. Eventually, the road slipped into the crevice that snaked toward Hoover Dam. Even from the air the dam was imposing, fitting into the canyon like a giant ax blade, cutting side up.

  To the left of the dam stretched the subdued Colorado River, its harnessed waters supplying electricity to cities as far away as Los Angeles. To the right, held in place more than seven hundred feet above the riverbed, the waters of Lake Mead flashed like liquid silver poured into the copper mold of surrounding canyon walls.

  Traffic slowed to a crawl going across the dam.

  “Keep an eye on him,” Adam called over the drone of the engine. “I’m taking us up to seventy-five hundred feet so I won’t have to deal with air-traffic control in Vegas.”

  Using the camera lens as a monocular, Loren did as he asked. There seemed little doubt that the truck was headed for Las Vegas. Once out of the twisting canyon, the road widened, becoming a main artery into the city, and keeping track of the semi became more difficult. Both she and Adam put their headsets back on for more effective communication. Adam slowed the plane as much as possible, yet they outdistanced the truck twice and had to double back to pick it up again.

  “What we need is a chopper,” Adam said. “This thing doesn’t hover worth a damn.”

  “Can you fly one?” Loren wondered if he’d done that in the war. She kept her attention focused on the road below them.