14
Rolling his eyes, Drake strolled through Zeke’s home. The house seemed a fitting dwelling for the geeky computer tech. Whitewashed, boring, and bland.
He’s vanilla. Drake sneered scornfully. Not even vanilla bean—straight vanilla.
He picked up an exquisite, wooden horse that had obviously been carved by Ryan Adams. His lip curled. TEMCO acted like such a perfect, happy family—but in reality, it was a den of snakes. Swinging around, he slammed the sculpture against a doorpost. The horse’s head snapped from its body. Smiling, Drake set the decapitated horse back in its place.
Dropkicking a picture of Jesus across the room, he remembered the day Zeke had talked to him about God. Of all the stuffed shirts he’d known, Zeke was the worst. Zeke was so sure that Jesus was real. It was pathetic.
Drake fingered the blade in his pocket. He’d see how deep Zeke’s religion went when he felt the bite of a knife at his throat. Playing with Zeke was going to be fun. He wondered how much pain it would take before Zeke could be encouraged to talk. His smile grew.
Strolling through the rooms, Drake’s smile wavered. He’d been lying in wait for Zeke to get home, but looking around, he could tell his plan wasn’t going to work. Zeke’s house had the unused feel that a home acquires when it hasn’t been occupied for days.
Irritation rose within him. He had no idea where Zeke was staying, and he’d have to find him in order to question him. With deliberate maliciousness, Drake slashed Zeke’s sofa cushions and scattered the stuffing around the room. Pulling books from the bookshelves, he ripped pages from their bindings.
Preparing to slash the painting over the fireplace, he paused. The painting’s gemlike colors glowed bewitchingly. He read the gold plaque on the frame: Peace Prevails—Nicole Cunning. It surprised him that Zeke had a Cunning painting. They were worth a small fortune.
He chuckled. The painting’s destruction would be painful to Zeke. Poking his knife into the canvas, he again paused, looking at the photos on the mantel. There were pictures of several old ladies, a group photo of a bunch of kids, and photos of Zeke’s friends at TEMCO. But the most prominent photograph was of Zeke and a lovely brunette.
Drake grabbed the picture. The woman was smiling at Zeke with love in her eyes. He gave a long, low laugh. Anyone who lived in D.C. knew that woman was Nicole Cunning.
If I find her home, I find Zeke.
Suddenly, he heard cars pulling up next to the house. Cursing, he glanced out the window. Agent Ruthford was leaping out of the lead vehicle. Sprinting to Zeke’s bedroom, Drake climbed out the window.
Running through the shrubbery, he grumbled. Ruthford was becoming a persistent pain. If the agent kept bothering him, he’d have to send a message his way—a message that couldn’t be ignored.
~*~
As Marc dressed for the evening’s festivities, he was seething inside. Remembering Nicole’s words, he squirmed. As he knotted his bowtie, he paused and wondered if he were somehow being played. A woman like Nicole Cunning was quite capable of setting him up to look foolish if she thought he deserved it, but he didn’t think Crystal would know how.
Marc finally shook his head. I don’t know what exactly is going on, but one thing I do know—I’m going to look my best and give Crystal an unforgettable night.
~*~
Sitting on Alex’s porch swing, Phoebe snuggled one of her new bunnies in her arms. That afternoon, Alex had driven her to Creekdale to buy rabbits. She was still uncomfortable around strangers, so she waited in Alex’s pickup while he selected several rabbits for her to choose from. When he brought them over for her inspection, she decided on two—a fuzzy French Lop and an English Angora.
After Alex made arrangements for six white ducks to be delivered, he’d disappeared into a shop. When he returned, he had a stuffed giraffe. He’d said “Humphrey” would prove he was a man of his word.
Phoebe sighed in contentment. It had been a perfectly lovely afternoon. She looked down at her bandaged arms, but rather than seeing them, all she saw was the warm fur of her bunny—a bunny Alex had given her. Looking across the meadow at the mountains, she watched as the sunset turned the sky a soft pink. Sighing again, she smiled.
Coming out of the cabin, Alex sat next to her and picked up the French Lop. Stroking its soft ears, he asked, “Any idea what you’re naming these guys?”
She rubbed her nose in the English Angora’s fur. “This one is Bigwig, and the one you’re holding is Fiver.”
“A Watership Down fan, eh?”
She grinned. “It was one of my favorite books growing up. When I was nine, my dad read it to me every night after supper. We used to pretend the rabbits lived behind our house. We were so engrossed in the book that we called our car a hrududu and the neighbor’s cat a pfeffa.” She giggled. “That summer, whenever we went on a picnic, Daddy said we were going to silflay. Mom and Dad even debated on whether or not it was OK to say hraka when things went wrong. They asked me to be the judge, and I told them they could say hraka as long as they didn’t say embleer hraka.”
Alex gave a spurt of laughter. “You were a wise little Solomon, weren’t you?” His eyes twinkled at her. “It sounds like a happy time.”
She smiled again—a bit sadly. “It was a beautiful summer—the last I had with them. They were killed by a drunk driver.”
“I’m sorry.” Alex put down Fiver. Running a gentle hand down her cheek, he asked, “Shall I go fix us some flayrah?”
The sadness in Phoebe’s eyes turned to laughter. “Flayrah? Alex, you would’ve fit right in with us. Daddy would’ve loved you.”
“Flayrah it is then.” He grinned. “So how do you like your lettuce?”
“As a side dish, not a main course. I’m starving.” Covering Bigwig’s ears with her hands, she whispered, “Don’t tell these guys, but I’m feeling decidedly carnivorous tonight.”
Alex threw back his head and laughed.
~*~
Spewing a stream of curse words, Drake ducked into an alley. He splashed through greasy puddles before hiding behind a dumpster. Within seconds, he heard footsteps running past his location.
“Fan out,” Agent Ruthford shouted. “He can’t be far.”
Drake’s jaw tightened. Ruthford had been chasing him for blocks, and he was exhausted. His lips curled into a snarl. He was beginning to hate Ruthford just as much as he hated the leaders of TEMCO. The overbearing agent needed to be taught a sharp lesson.
Nothing teaches lessons quite like fire.
Peeking cautiously from behind the dumpster—and seeing the coast was clear—Drake sprinted down the alley. Half of his mind was concentrating on evasive maneuvers; the other half was planning on how to wipe the smug, confident grin right off Agent Ruthford’s face.
15
Marc’s sports car purred to a stop in front of Nicole’s house. Flipping down the sun visor, Marc stared at his handsome reflection and nodded. He not only looked impeccable, he looked as if he could give Brandon Fairbanks a run for his money.
Putting some swagger in his step, he sauntered up the sidewalk and rang Nicole’s doorbell.
Zeke opened the door and smirked. “Hello, Marc.”
Marc forced himself not to squirm. He knew Zeke was relishing the fact that Crystal had taken him down a peg. Trying to distract his friend, he asked, “New suit?”
Zeke nodded. “I needed one.”
Giving a noncommittal grunt, Marc strolled over to a mirror and straightened his tie.
“The ladies are upstairs,” Zeke said. “I’ll call them.”
Marc looked at Nicole’s sleek furniture and artsy décor with approval. He smiled when he saw evidence that Zeke was making himself at home. The coffee table held Zeke’s shaving kit and pajama bottoms, and the sofa was made into a comfortable bed.
Walking to the foot of the stairs, Zeke called, “Nicole? Crystal? Marc’s here.”
Sauntering over to join Zeke, Marc saw Nicole skipping down the stairs. She looked love
ly in a maroon dress.
He saw Zeke smiling. He didn’t blame him. Nicole was gorgeous.
“Marc,” Nicole exclaimed. “You managed to rent a tuxedo. I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it.”
Before Marc could respond, Zeke groaned. “Not the spiky, black stilettos. I thought we agreed they belonged in the trash.”
“I know.” Nicole laughed, dancing to Zeke’s side. “These shoes are horrible, but they’re so pretty. My poor toes can recover later in the slippers you gave me.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Zeke shook his head. “I don’t know much about women’s fashion, but I do know those shoes pinch you something awful. The last time you wore them, you limped like crazy. Do you have another pair you could wear? I won’t be able to enjoy myself if I know you’re uncomfortable.”
Nicole straightened Zeke’s already straight maroon tie. “I’ll change shoes after we send Cris and Marc on their way, OK?”
Nodding, Zeke kissed her forehead.
Turning to the stairs, Nicole called, “Cris, the shawl I promised to lend you is in the coat closet down here, you won’t find it in my bedroom.”
“OK,” Crystal said from somewhere above. “I’ll turn out the lights and be right down.”
Standing resignedly at the foot of the stairs, Marc waited for Crystal to make an appearance. No matter how many men were courting Cris, and no matter how badly he wanted to prove to Nicole that he was a worthy escort, the thought of Crystal Stuart in high heels was bone chilling. He was positive that in the next few minutes, he was going to be picking her up after she fell down the stairs.
Marc was inspecting his cuff link when he heard the quiet tap of high heels and a sharp gasp from Zeke. Glancing over at his friend, Marc saw Zeke’s face frozen in astonishment. Feeling curious, he looked up—and completely forgot how to breathe. Crystal was standing at the top of the stairs, and she was more than beautiful—she was a vision. Marc rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Crystal’s blonde hair was cascading down her back in a riot of shining curls. Her brown eyes were brilliant, and without her owlish glasses, he could see them clearly for the first time. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips were red. She looked radiant, and her skin seemed luminous. She had a necklace clasped around her throat and its lowest winking stone rested just above…
Marc swallowed convulsively as his heart began to pound. He might not be enormously good with numbers, but he was exceptionally good with measurements, and he knew that Crystal’s spectacular figure was one that would make most women cry with envy.
Crystal was in a form-fitting, strapless, black dress. The bodice clung tightly to her upper body and hips and then fell in swirling folds to the floor. As she started to go down a step, a slit cut to her mid-thigh fell open, revealing a generous expanse of shapely leg.
Marc swallowed again. He couldn’t believe this stunning woman was mousy Crystal the Campus Klutz. Simply put, in that black dress, Crystal was every man’s fantasy brought to life.
Putting her lips to his ear, Nicole whispered, “Baggy sweaters hide a lot, don’t they?”
Marc nodded. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t take his eyes off Crystal.
Beside him, Nicole gave a giggle of pure delight.
Clearing his throat, Zeke said in a suffocated voice, “Wow.”
Crystal started to go down the steps again. Her slit fell open, she paused, and then she withdrew her foot. Standing still, she bit her lip. Suddenly, Marc knew that she was terrified of going down those stairs. She was as much afraid of falling as he had been of needing to catch her. He started to go to her, but Zeke had obviously figured out Crystal’s trouble too and was sprinting up the stairs two at a time.
When Zeke reached her side, he murmured, “Cris, you’re radiant tonight. I can’t escort you to the dance, but can I escort you down these stairs?”
Crystal’s eyes were twinkling brighter than the rhinestones at her throat. “I sure wish you would. I just know that I’m going to tumble down them.”
Bowing slightly, Zeke tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. Together, they made their way down the staircase. Halfway down, they both started laughing. Turning around, Marc caught Nicole standing behind him, pantomiming that his eyes were bugging out. He decided he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping his eyes on the glorious woman walking toward him.
When Crystal reached the bottom of the stairs, she went with Nicole to the coat closet. As she was walking away, Marc realized that her dress was not only strapless but also backless. He swallowed hard. Crystal Stuart in that sassy dress was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Keeping his eyes on Crystal, Marc felt Zeke drawing him aside.
“Cris is stunning in that dress,” Zeke whispered.
Marc nodded—still watching her.
Zeke groaned. “Every wolf at the dance will try to get at her tonight.”
With difficulty, Marc turned his attention away from Crystal and gave it to Zeke. “What are you trying to say?”
Zeke pulled at his collar. “I knew Cris was going to look pretty tonight, but I didn’t expect… Marc, you’ll need to keep a close eye on her. She looks so lovely the wolves will be swarming. No matter what you may’ve been led to believe, Crystal doesn’t have much experience with men. If a wolf gets her in a secluded corner, she won’t realize she’s in danger until it’s too late.” Zeke looked tortured. “Please, keep her safe. She’s like my little sister, you know.”
With a rush of insight, Marc suddenly knew how much Crystal meant to Zeke. If he’s comparing Crystal with Robyn…
“I won’t let the wolves get close,” he promised. “Trust me. I’ll keep her safe.”
Zeke sighed. The tension left his face.
With a musical tap of high heels, Nicole and Crystal walked toward them. Crystal had a gauzy shawl around her shoulders and a tiny, black bag in her hands.
“Ready?” Marc asked.
Nodding, Crystal took his arm.
~*~
Sticking to the shadows, Drake ran through Agent Ruthford’s backyard. The fuel he was carrying sloshed in its cans. He grinned. Nothing was quite as festive as a good bonfire.
~*~
Sitting next to Liz Anderson in the back of his armored Cadillac, Andrew tried not to wince. He’d asked Liz to accompany him to the charity ball, and he’d been regretting it ever since. If Charlene had been too quiet, Liz was definitely too loud. Intimidation wasn’t a word in her vocabulary, and she was spending the drive quizzing him not only on his political policies but also on his private life. He didn’t mind answering questions, but she was shooting them at him like a machine gun.
Liz was facing him. Her eyes were intense as she asked probing questions about his sister’s car accident. He stared over her shoulder at the streetlights blazing through the bulletproof glass. Feeling a distinct throbbing behind his temples, he knew he was headed for a migraine. He was too polite to look at his watch, but wanting to know the time this early in the evening was a bad sign. As Liz’s voice droned on, he suppressed a sigh and wondered if his violinist was playing tonight and if she was still in Ireland.
~*~
Nicole watched as Marc helped Crystal into his car.
“I hope Cris has a good time tonight,” Zeke said as Marc’s taillights faded in the distance.
Nicole laughed. “If you’re this nervous about a friend going on a date, what are you going to be like when we have children and our daughter starts dating?”
A mischievous grin pulled at Zeke’s mouth. “Children? Miss Cunning, you’re taking a lot on yourself. We aren’t even engaged.”
Recognizing that Zeke was parroting the comments she’d made when they’d started dating, Nicole gave a spurt of laughter and responded as he once had. “Zeke, I’m a farseeing woman. I know exactly where this relationship is headed, and so do you.”
Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head.
As they
went inside and closed the door, Zeke said seriously, “When our daughter starts dating, I fully intend to shake the boy’s hand, climb in the backseat of his car, and chaperone the date personally.”
“For our future daughter’s sake”—Nicole giggled—“I’ll try to change that agenda a bit.”
“It won’t do any good. I’m pretty protective of the women I love, and if my daughter is as pretty as her momma, I’ll be sitting between her and her boyfriend at the movies.”
“If we do have a daughter, she’s sure to be pretty with a father as handsome as you.”
“How can you call me handsome?” Zeke chuckled. “Especially with my big, ugly honker?”
Putting her hands on Zeke’s shoulders, Nicole kissed the tip of his large, crooked nose. “Don’t say bad things about your cute, old schnoz. It’s such a handy place to plant a kiss that I’m beginning to think it’s one of your best features.”
Zeke laughed in a triumphant way. “Now, that is progress. If you’re starting to like my nose then you must be falling in love with me a little bit.”
“There’s no little bit about it,” Nicole said seriously. “I love you a great big bit.”
Lowering her eyes, she studied his mouth—particularly the delicious dent above his upper lip. Slowly, she ran her hands down the lapels of his suit jacket. She heard his breath catch. Nestling close, she nuzzled his chin.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Zeke kissed the top of her head.
Nicole’s ear was pressed against his chest. She heard his heart thumping wildly. She knew that at any moment, Zeke would be initiating their first kiss. She waited for it.
Very gently, Zeke pulled himself away and fell back a step.
Feeling a mixture of love and exasperation, she cocked her head and considered him. After a moment, a dimple trembled in her cheek and she invaded his space deliberately. As she cuddled close, he held her tightly for a few seconds and then pulled away.
Nicole saw that he was having trouble breathing. With a flirty smile, she stepped forward and drew a circle on his chest with her finger.
Time Search (The Time Counselor Chronicles Book 3) Page 13
