Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2)

by R. T. Wolfe

  "Please let me get this out. Then, I'll leave and promise never to come back. I'm sorry to bother you at work. Sorry for... everything. I've lied to you. Kept things from you." She looked in his eyes, then her shoulders fell. "I'm not talking about the drugs. I was wrong to turn to that. I know that now. You know that I know that now. I lost everything and I'm tired, Dave. So tired." Her eyes dropped to her hands. "I lost you."

  She straightened in her chair and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I didn't know what to do. He, he killed my grandfather, said he would do the same to you—"

  "Who—"

  "Please. Please, let me finish. He said he would come for you," she repeated. "So, I gave him what he wanted." Her eyes darted up to meet his. "Never that. No. I was lucky... able to keep him from that. The money, I just gave him money. He really prefers using his fists anyway." She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Rosemarie is on television now. It's only a matter of time before he sees her. Recognizes her. Comes for her."

  Dave stood now. "Who? What are you talking about?"

  "Michael. Although I'm not sure that's his real name. I can't keep her hidden anymore. He'll come for her." She placed a fist to her lips.

  "Are you talking about Rainer? You know where he is?"

  "No. He comes and goes. I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do. He has pictures. Of, of other girls he's hurt, other people he's killed... murdered. I gave him the money. I didn't spend it on drugs. No, that's wrong. I spent some on drugs. A... lot on drugs. But it mostly went to keep him away. All he has to do is see her and he'll know. She has his eyes, Dave. The timing. He'll know. He's evil."

  Her eyes glistened as she took a tape recorder from the second pocket of her apron and set it on his desk. "I don't expect you to believe me. Or forgive me. But please listen to this. It's as much as I could get out of him—that I could get for you. Find him, Dave. Protect our daughter. I can't do it on my own anymore." She got up and turned for the door. Stopping, she closed her eyes and whispered almost inaudibly, "I love you."

  * * *

  Rose spoke about the Birds of Prey Action and Research Center, the latest east coast conservation efforts and, of course, about Gracie. She was uncharacteristically worn. Days with too much to think about and nights with even more. She wanted Andy to hurry and finish with the project. Or, was it that she wanted to drag it out?

  He knew. His reasons for not telling her made sense. Too much sense now, which obviously meant she wasn't thinking clearly.

  Grace stood next to her in her usual painted-on jeans with her own set of thick, leather gloves as she was being groomed as a handler herself. Rose demonstrated how to hold the bird away from her face and angle her arm so that when she stretched her wings for balance, they wouldn't tangle with the handler's head. Try as they might, so far Gracie wouldn't let anyone touch her except Rose. The wooden perch would have to suffice once again for this portion of the presentation.

  The middle-aged woman raised her hand and asked, "If it's a bald eagle, why doesn't it have a white head and tail?"

  Weary, Rose wanted desperately for some time to herself. How many times had she answered that question? A vacation would do the trick. Somewhere she could lie on a hammock and be alone. Working to sound sincere, she lifted her chin. "Bald eagles don't get their white plumage until between the age of four and five when they become sexually mature." Juvenile giggles rumbled through the crowd. She was relieved when a young man asked a halfway intelligent question.

  "Why do you tether her?"

  She looked toward the back and tried her warmest smile. "Area biologists recently held a virtual meeting to discuss that very predicament. The decision was that, due to the human intervention mentioned, Gracie here missed the stages of upbringing when she would learn to recognize those of her species and, in fact, learn that she herself is an eagle. Therefore, in order to best ensure her survival, she'll be trained as an education bird and spend her life in captivity. Since her aviary isn't finished yet, each time she is outdoors, we tether her."

  The young man leaned his head to the side before he nodded, then asked, "Did all of the biologists agree?"

  She chewed on the side of her cheek. "Biologists rarely all agree."

  Murmurs of laughter, once again, waved among the small crowd.

  "How did you—" He leaned farther before a hand appeared on his shoulder and nudged him aside.

  In the vacated spot, Andy stepped into view.

  Andy.

  Was here.

  Of course he was here. He must have been working on the aviary, the young man an employee of his. She noted the absence of the thousand-watt smile for the crowd or even a wink for her. Solemn and hard as stone, he spoke loudly and finished his employee's sentence. "How did you vote?"

  No part of her body moved as she played back the former questions evidently coached by him.

  The fog that had clouded her weary mind for weeks parted as if burned away by the sun. She looked to his ever-so-sincere caramel eyes. And she understood why he would ask a question he already knew the answer to.

  * * *

  Amanda sat alone at her kitchen table, staring over her cold dinner with a frozen bag of peas on her eye. She thought about cleaning up the mess in the garage. Other than the shambles left from where she flew along the top of the work cabinet, no sign of Michael's presence remained. Then, she realized Dave would likely send someone out to inspect the scene. Of course, he would. She just wasn't thinking clearly yet. There would be no prints. Michael was far too thorough.

  Charcoal stayed close to her feet. Her faithful watchdog. And ears and nose dog. She refused to be afraid in her own home. Dave had evidence and a voice print now. He knew to look across state lines. He would find him. He had to.

  Sitting at the kitchen table in the quiet, she wondered how her life became like this. The kitchen still had the same soothing yellow paint and the same small, square table, but she was alone. Charcoal growled low, sending her on alert. She'd set the alarm. The power hadn't been cut. The knock at the door made her jump anyway, tossing her chair.

  Charcoal took off for the door, barking cautiously.

  She knew she was likely just jittery from her day. As she walked to the door, she felt a relief in the fact that, even after her horrific day, she knew she would not turn to chemicals to get her through. Reaching for the handle, she gave the grumbling dog the command to, 'lay.'

  * * *

  Rose's croppy red hair framed her alabaster face, setting off the intense blue of her eyes.

  Andy could see that beautiful mind of hers racing. Making connections. He realized he was looking at the most incredible woman he would ever know in this lifetime. The conversation that took place between them was silent and powerful and long enough the crowd parted on the brittle grass to see who she was looking at.

  Her eyes began to fill as she answered, "I voted to let her go."

  Baiting her further, he asked, "Why is that?"

  Rose closed her eyes, allowing the first tear to spill before nodding with sentiment. "It would have been a risk," she said before opening her eyes. "I love this animal. I didn't want to let her go." Pressing her lips together, she kept her eyes on his. "She might have failed. Starved or been hurt, but I voted to give her the chance to live. To become what she was born to be."

  Tears flowed freely then and, as if watching a tennis match, the crowd moved their gaze back to him.

  * * *

  Charcoal sniffed the base of the door, then lay without protest. Amanda patted his head before looking through the spy-hole.

  Dave.

  Her forehead dropped against the wood. He came to look at the scene himself. Of course. He would do that. How long had it been since he'd been at the house? Instead of allowing her mind to continue down that path, she stood tall and opened the door for him.

  The look on his face frightened her. She'd never seen him look so worn. The color had drained from his face and was a direct contrast to the r
ed in his swollen eyes. Her brows pulled together. "What is it? Are you all right? The girls?" She lifted a hand to him, then let it fall to her side.

  He collapsed to his knees in front of her. Wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, clinging as he pressed his face against her.

  The years of walls she had meticulously built and guarded turned to instant dust and crumbled at his feet. She stood with her arms still at her side, squeezing her eyelids tightly. Slowly, she wound her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. In his hair. In his smell. She'd never forgotten one part of the dizzying scent of leather and metal and of the only love of her life. Tremors radiated from his body to hers as this large man shuddered in front of her.

  Forbidden tears flowed freely down her face, stinging the cuts on her bad eye. Pent up longing for the feel of his warmth, for the loving safety of his arms made her legs wobble, then completely give out. She had been so sure she'd never feel this again.

  His large arms took her in as she collapsed. He picked her up. He kicked the door shut behind them as he carried her into the living room. Gathering her, he sat and cradled her silently in the middle of the couch—their couch.

  For the first time in her life, she curled in a ball and forgot about everything in her life, letting the tears fall—buckets of them. Sobbing as he rocked her, he stroked her hair and whispered in her ear. She blessedly didn't think, only felt. Tears soaked his shirt, leaving smears the color of pink blood.

  Chapter 20

  Andy walked a few steps through the parted crowd, then stopped. Why did this feel like his last possible chance with... with her? Because it was. She knew everything now. Understood everything. That he could see on her face. What he couldn't see was her answer, her choice. It had been so long, too long? Patience and honesty was all he had left.

  "I never wanted to let you go." He waited where he stood. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I left my heart with you on that bridge. I left my best friend. Come home, Rosemarie."

  One hand covered her quivering lips, the other she used for speed as Rose ran toward him. A lifetime of memories sped through him as he watched her familiar jog: eating crawfish at his uncle's house, breaking the board at her black belt promotion, her valedictorian speech, her on TV, the feel of her under him, and the look on her face the night on the bridge.

  The crowd erupted into applause as she reached him, smashing her mouth to his. Ignoring the crowd, lips and tongues danced like they'd never missed a beat. Like riding a bike. He laced his fingers through her hair, lifting her from her feet with his other hand. After all this time, how could she taste the same? Like home. How could she smell the same? The peaches. He could feel her tears on his face as she wrapped both legs around him and hung on. It was a meeting of mouths, of minds and of hearts.

  When he let go, he slid her down, taking hold of the sides of her face, then pulled back to look at her. And found everything he'd been missing.

  The crowd silenced, and still neither he nor Rose looked around. Instead, he reached down and scooped her up beneath her legs. She held onto his neck, pressing her cheek to his shoulder and hanging on tightly in his arms.

  She left Grace with the eagle. He left his worker with his SUV. They walked in silence away from the crowd without so much as a wave good-bye.

  Reaching her truck, he kissed her forehead and hung on a few more lingering minutes.

  He slid her back to the ground between the truck and himself. When was the last time he saw tears on that beautiful face? Looking at her with hands cupping her cheeks, he used his thumbs to wipe them away.

  Her mouth trembled as she spoke, "PDA." She let out a half-laugh before pulling him in for a smooth, drawn-out kiss.

  He leaned back and smiled wide. "Mmm. True," and opened the truck door. "Come with me."

  * * *

  In his large ski boat, Andy and Rose slowly trolled along the coast of Seneca Lake. Rose snuggled tightly in front of him as he drove. His heart wild, his mind void of thought, the only feeling was of Rose tucked in front of him. She rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as the warm wind blew through her hair much like the new path their lives were headed. Trees whisked by at a steady pace. Rose tilted her face into him, eyes closed. She had never even asked where they were going.

  The sun lowered in the sky, causing lines of stratus clouds to appear orange and pink. The fresh smell of the water mixed with the aroma from the Tulip Poplar into a cocktail of atmosphere.

  With one hand on the steering wheel, one on the accelerator, he rested his cheek to hers. She fit just as perfectly as she always had, nestled in the driver's seat with him.

  He felt her head turn before she spoke over the noise of the boat and the wind. "Is this yours?"

  "For the next week or two. Here." He reached in his glove box and handed her a pair of sunglasses.

  Smiling, she put them on and rested her head against his shoulder again.

  He found the cove he was looking for. He dropped the anchor while she waited on one of the padded seats at the front of the boat.

  He gently pulled her forward, slipping in behind her much like he had at the wheel of the boat. He felt like it had been a lifetime since he held her like this. He pressed his lips just under her ear. Linking fingers with her, he whispered, "I feel whole."

  Every inch of her content, Rose smiled and sighed. "Why only a week or two?"

  "Hmm?" He tucked his face in her neck and chilled her when he smelled.

  "Why will you have this boat for only another week or two?"

  "That's when I'll unload her and the car."

  She pivoted to look at him. "You're getting rid of the Maserati?"

  He shook with bits of laughter. "Man toys." He pulled her back to him and ran his lips along to her collarbone.

  Closing her eyes in delirium, she focused. "Unloading?"

  He tugged slightly on the shoulder of her shirt, trailing his mouth down her freshly exposed skin. "I need the money for a down payment on a house."

  She shivered, sat up and this time turned to face him head on. "I can't think straight when you're doing that."

  "We've had enough thinking to last us a very long time. Can we just be for now? We're about to lose the daylight. You need to decide if you're all right with camping here for the night."

  Her insides woke, tightened, curled, and then everything traveled low in her stomach. "First explain."

  "Simple." He stuck his hand in a bag on the floor of the boat, pulling out two granola bars and trail mix and handed her some. "Dinner of champions, cheers." He sat on the seat across from her. "I can't marry you without a decent place for you to live and we're not staying in either of our apartments."

  She tried fiercely not to smile. "Don't I get a say?"

  "House or apartment? Sure."

  "No. Marriage." The smile took her over.

  He looked around, took a deep breath in, then blew it out, letting his cheeks expand. "Nope. Nope. You don't." He set aside the bag and stood, linked their fingers and pulled her up. "You will never get away from me again."

  Floodgates of emotion spilled around her. "I'm not hungry for food, Andy." She pulled his hands around her, then released to copy the movement around him. Her fingers still couldn't touch around his back. "I want to stay here for the night."

  Their mouths joined in a swirl of tenderness and anticipation. He led his hand up her back, over her neck and laced his fingers in the crops of red. Clutching a handful, he carefully tilted her head back to sink into the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. His hand on her lower back pressed her closely to him.

  She pulled his tucked Henley loose and her hands inside and up his back. Age had not taken him. She could feel his heart beat rapidly, and it made her insane with need. Sexy purrs of desire hummed low in her throat.

  "Down below," she said to him. "Take me down below."

  Andy didn't let go of her, just as he didn't from the time she'd ran to him tha
t afternoon. They twined and groped and twisted their way to below the deck of the boat.

  The warm, humid air felt much like their first time, and she felt much the same yearning. Only this time he was a man and she was a woman.

  Without letting go, he held onto her hands as he locked the hatch behind him.

  Patiently, she let him look into her, straight into her. Having an idea of what was racing through his mind, she watched the expressions change as he looked at her with flatter, then warmth, then seduction. The warm turned to hot and she braced. He grabbed her face, thumbs on her cheeks with fingers wrapped over her ears and into her hair. The rough feel of his hands was as sexy and male as the scent of him—clean wood, earth and twilight.

  Their mouths melted together, much like their bodies. He tilted her head farther, deepening the kiss. She would never live without this again and knew she would never have to. They dropped to the floor in a waterfall of need, toeing off shoes as they went.

  Andy attempted to rotate her out from beneath him, but this was no longer an inquisitive, reserved Rose. She drove her hands down his back and over the muscle of his legs, then traveled around to the front of him. He choked from her assault on his resolve, making him crazy with frustration from all the damned material keeping him from her.

  Impatiently, he tried to pull her shirt over her head. As it was too tight, she tried to help and fumbled with the first button. She barely had released it before he took her hands, grabbed at the line of buttons and muscled them apart. The sudden flash of creamy white skin shined in the light of the setting sun. He caught his breath and dropped his forehead to her chest. He could stay there, right there for a very long time.

  With eyes closed, he hitched one of her legs up and over his shoulder as he leaned to her and trailed his tongue over the swell of flesh that lifted above her lace. His insides shook. She was warm and slight sounds whimpered from her. He trailed a hand down her neck, over the lace and down the silky skin of her waist.

  Arching to him, she gasped, "Now." Sloppily, she tried to release her slacks.