Dusk

by Miller, Maureen A.

  Sizing Ray up, the man asked, “Are you a detective or something?”

  “Something like that. But I’m losing my target,” he said, his eyes following the black cab as it made a left at the next intersection.

  The taxi driver hefted his palm in the windshield of another cab making its way down the road. He issued an urgent exchange with the driver in a language Ray could easily translate. There were tentative assurances that Ray seemed credible, and embellishments that they would be compensated for the loss of their vehicles. With far too many minutes having passed, Ray was on his way down the road in pursuit of Willem and Amanda.

  Traffic interfered with his visual of Willem’s cab, and soon he felt that wrenching despair of losing sight of it. With one hand gripped around a steering wheel that was large enough to belong on a ship’s helm, he used the other to hoist out his phone and track Amanda’s signal. It was an erratic one, but it was strong—like the woman herself.

  ***

  “But, there is no diamond,” she stated with an icy calmness.

  Willem flinched, however, the gun did not waiver.

  “You’re not in a position to play games now,” he stated.

  “I’m not playing games. You already guessed that my uncle sold the smaller diamond when I was a child to help pay for my education, and as an inheritance of sorts from my parents.”

  “Inheritance,” he spat. “That was my diamond.”

  “Oh, please. Get over that. You’ve already admitted that my parents found the diamonds.”

  Amanda kept talking so that his focus would remain on her. Let him forget about Sam. Don’t let him use Sam as a tool for her submission.

  “And I just gave you a diamond that is worth millions of dollars. What did you do with it?”

  Perhaps it was her tone. Derision. Reprimand. Censure. Willem stumbled back a step as if he had been smacked. Shaking his head, he quickly corrected the aim of the gun.

  “No. I did not mess up!” he yelled. “I tried to grab it, but that guy—your boyfriend—” Distracted, he pounded the side of his head with the ball of his hand. “I tried, Father. I really did.”

  Knowing that she was playing a dangerous game, she persisted. “You didn’t try hard enough. You could never get a diamond on your own, could you? All those years, and you just couldn’t do it.”

  Willem’s head shook in denial. A tractor trailer passed by them, but did not slow down. Willem’s hair and shirt rippled in the backdraft.

  “I did try.” His hand came down to fist at his side. He seemed to regroup. Cunning eyes narrowed on her. “You’re playing games again, Miss Newton. Do you think you have me all figured out? You don’t know me, or what I’ve been through. You’ve lived a privileged life that you never earned.”

  He advanced a step and raised the muzzle of the gun from her chest to her face. “You have ten seconds to produce the second diamond.”

  “I can’t produce what I don’t have.” She swallowed down her fear. Don’t let him detect it.

  “Then, that’s a shame.” His finger jerked and the crack of a gunshot filled the air.

  ***

  With his eyes fixed on the GPS, Ray corrected the steering wheel after veering into the oncoming lane. Amanda’s signal had stopped and he was closing in on its location. The graphic on the screen revealed that her vehicle was pulled off on the side of the road. Looking away from the screen, there was still no clear visual on her through the windshield. He was approaching an incline. She had to be just over the hill.

  He slowed down and rolled the taxi onto the shoulder of the road. After the slight patch of gravel, the area was heavily grassed. Having passed a series of industrial parks, the hill marked a clearing of sorts. Climbing on foot to its crest, he immediately dropped down onto all fours.

  About a hundred yards away the blue van was lodged in a ditch. Pulled over directly ahead of it was the black taxi. Ray grabbed his Glock and locked his elbows on the ground. Approximately a hundred meters away, Amanda’s back was to him, her hands raised slightly in submission. Willem stood before her, his gun trained on her.

  Motion behind the van caught Ray’s attention. Sam had slipped from the rear door, stumbling, unstable onto the pavement.

  No, Ray warned futilely. Don’t spook Willem.

  The warning was needless. Amanda was doing her own job of spooking the man. Her arms lowered, landing combatively on her hips. Her demeanor was evident even from this distance. Composure slipped off her like a satin robe, and everything in her stance spoke of anger and resentment.

  Hitching his knee into the matted grass, Ray inched forward in a furtive crawl, but when he saw the shift of Willem’s arm, and that split-second recognition that the man was going to shoot, Ray locked on his target and fired.

  ***

  Amanda flinched as she heard the gunshot. She grappled at her chest, staring at her hand, expecting it to be covered in blood. Wildly, she looked at Willem who was staring back at her with his eyes flared. It seemed he was about to fire round two and this time she hunkered down, instinctively trying to minimalize herself as a target.

  Waiting for that bite of a bullet, she looked up when Willem fell down to one knee. He was still staring at her as he struggled to raise the gun, his body shaking with the effort. Another shot overpowered the noise of a passing trailer as Willem’s shoulder jerked back and the gun lurched out of his grasp, dropping into a bed of gravel.

  Tipping his head back, he howled in protest as he grabbed his shoulder and struggled to stand. Amanda quickly crawled to the gun, seizing it and pointing it at him, not sure if her hands would even cooperate if it came down to shooting the weapon.

  “Easy, Elena,” a deep voice soothed behind her. “I’ve got him.”

  Ray’s reassuring timbre returned a sense of stability in a period that had held nothing but chaos. It made her feel safe, but it could not lessen the anger that brimmed inside. She stared hard at the man on his knees before her. Even now she could see the hatred and madness in his glare. Graying beard. Wrinkles. Tarnished skin. These features all melted as the years receded and she pictured a desperate twenty year-old young man, looking to please his father−looking for an escape from his life. In his deranged attempts he took the lives of her parents.

  “I guess you’re happy,” he spat at her. Blood turned the fabric of his coat black. “You have your parents’ revenge.”

  “You’re not going to die,” Ray injected. “I aimed to debilitate you.”

  Amanda didn’t hear Ray. She stepped closer to Willem, staring down at him. “I’m not happy,” she whispered. “I’m sad. I’m sad for them. I’m even sad for you. But you will heal.”

  Sirens sounded, followed by the crunch of tires pulling onto the shoulder. Vehicles surrounded them as police poured onto the scene. Amanda pivoted around, searching for Sam. He stood next to the van, his palm propped up against it.

  “Mule!” she cried.

  Straightening awkwardly, he swiped at a tuft of rusty hair.

  “Well,” he said. “That wasn’t what I had on my agenda for this afternoon.”

  Amanda hesitated in front of him. At a very early age Sam had learned that she didn’t like to be hugged. Instead, he replaced each potential hug with a warm smile and sometimes a conspiring wink. Today she walked up to him and looped her arms around his neck.

  There was an awkward moment of hesitation and then she felt his arms link behind her.

  “That guy should have known better than to mess with my Mandy,” he whispered into her shoulder. “She can slay any beast.”

  It was a reference to a childhood game where Amanda insisted on being a Knight, and not a princess. She had slayed every plastic dragon Sam produced.

  “We’re getting more security at the Marquis,” she announced, once again in control of her voice.

  Sam settled back against the van. “Maybe he will stay.” He pitched his head. “That will keep us all safe.”

  Amanda followed the path of his
eyes until they landed on Ray. He towered over the pad and pen-wielding detective questioning him. Wet grass stains covered Ray’s pants and sweatshirt. Determination marked his profile, with a taut muscle running from his chin into the thicket of tawny hair that now ruffled in the path of passing traffic. His shoulder and arm looked like they were barely restrained, as if the weight of the event kept him on edge. For a man like this there was no downtime. He was prepared for any recurrence−any outbreak. She watched his amber eyes lock onto Willem even as he was being strapped to a stretcher.

  Indeed Sam was right. This man would keep them safe.

  At that moment those golden eyes connected with hers. She felt the heat wash over her. Though several law and paramedic personnel separated them, she felt the force of his gaze, and for the first time in her life, she felt like the princess.

  With a muttered word he left the detective and climbed the embankment. There was no deliberation, no hesitancy to his ascent. Before she could recognize his motive, she was wrapped in strong arms, clutched tight to a wide chest that smelled of earth and man. She drank it in, rubbing her cheek against the moisture and burrowing in as close as she could.

  “Are you alright?” he asked in a husky tone.

  She nodded into his collarbone. “Yes.” Once her voice returned, she added. “One second more, and−”

  “No.” He pulled her tighter. “If anything had happened to you−”

  “Ray, you have to accept that you’re not going to be able to protect all of your clients. Events beyond your control are inevitable.”

  Rough fingers set her back a step so that she could look up into eyes that were ablaze.

  “They’re not you,” he vowed. “They’re clients. They’re not you.”

  Chills and heat played tag across her body. “And what am I?” she asked meekly.

  “You−” the fingers on her shoulders gentled, “−are the woman I am falling in love with. What am I supposed to do about that, Amanda?”

  Before she could open her mouth to respond, Chief Inspector Miles stalked over, his finger glued to his chin.

  “So, Miss Newton, Mr. Gordon here states that this man was some sort of fanatical fan−that he had been following you in the news−had some sort of obsession with you−”

  Amanda’s throat constricted. Her eyes connected with Ray’s. Foreign sensations attacked her chest. Maybe the onset of a heart attack?

  By withholding his full disclosure Ray was doing more than protecting her. He was protecting her family. He was protecting her parents. He was protecting her heritage.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “He seemed to have some fascination with my ring too.” She held her right hand out. “He kept talking about diamonds.”

  The official raised a slim black eyebrow. “Yes, it is a beautiful gem. I can see his fanaticism.”

  Chief Inspector Miles studied her for an uncomfortable length of time. His sharp eyes then swerved to inspect Ray. Finally he gave a brief nod.

  “Very well, then. We’ll need a written statement later−after you have settled some−and then we’ll wrap this up and send this fellow back to his country with a big bow on him.”

  Watching the lanky man climb back down to his car, Amanda felt Ray’s arm loop across her shoulders. Instinctively, her head dropped into that shelter.

  “What do we do now?”

  Her question carried so much weight.

  “Right now,” that deep voice rumbled against her hair, “I get you and Sam back home. After that—we talk.”

  For all that she had just been through, only now did nerves wreak havoc with her stomach. His words didn’t bode well. They spoke of farewells and inevitability. She didn’t want farewells and inevitability. She wanted Ray. She wanted him with a passion so strong it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Hey,” he murmured against her ear. “Don’t cry. I have something for you.”

  She felt his arm slip down her back and curl around her waist. Discreetly dipping into her coat pocket, it then wound back around her hip, escorting her to an awaiting police car.

  Amanda reached into the pocket and her fingers curled around a familiar bulky item.

  “It belongs to you,” he said quietly.

  I don’t want the diamond.

  I don’t want riches.

  I want you.

  “I used to think that this rock represented my parents−that it represented their love for me. Their final act was to see that I had these diamonds.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I know that love is not represented by a rock. Memories do not exist in a rough excrement of nature.”

  “You have me swooning with your mushy narrative.”

  That she could be as candid and frank as she was with this man, in a manner she had never been even with her own family−that was how love was represented. That his humor was a means to put her at ease−that was how love was represented. That a mere connection of eyes could convey all their mutual hopes and fears−that was how love was represented.

  And that this man could stop on the shoulder of a busy highway, and turn her about so that he could softly caress her lips with his own…

  …that was how love was represented.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was a chilly morning. The soil was frozen, resisting the nip of the shovel. Amanda crouched down and stabbed at the turf with the gardening tool. Gradually her efforts paid off and a decent-sized hole began to form in the ground before her parent’s tombstone.

  She stood and glanced over her shoulder. She was alone in the cemetery. Come to think of it, in all the years she had come here, fellow visitors were few and far between. Most of them appeared on the weekends−on holidays. None of them came in the rain, or at night, or on an impulse on a busy workday morning. It was time for her to join their ranks and develop a more rational schedule. Her parents were resting easier now. Their disquiet had called to her over the years. Now their story had been told, and some form of peace was finally going to be restored.

  Amanda cupped the blue diamond in her bare hand. It was as cold as the wind that tickled her skin. She stared at the hole she had dug, an extension beneath the cup that was to hold flowers and plants.

  “This belongs with you,” she whispered.

  The wind talked back.

  Anxious, she surveyed the area again, but was confident that she was alone. Ray was on the street. He had driven her here, but he respected her request to be alone. She also knew she was safe with him close by. No one would enter this cemetery without him being aware of it.

  The wind talked again.

  Soft voices from the past fluttered through her hair. She tipped her head back and listened to them. A poignant smile tugged on her lips.

  “I understand,” she answered softly.

  Using the tip of her boot, Amanda kicked dirt back into the hole, eventually stomping the turf back into place. With a soft kiss blown across her fingertips she bid her parents farewell and began the hike back to the street.

  ***

  Ray watched a red bus lumber down the road. Quickly his eyes slid back to the wrought iron entrance to the cemetery. He could go in there. He could be invisible. He could secure with his own eyes that she was indeed safe.

  But, he had made a promise. She had looked up at him with those crystalline blue eyes as she declared that, this was something she needed to do alone. He respected her wishes, but for every second that ticked by, his nerves kicked up a notch.

  A car crept by. The creeping part was due to the reduced speed limit signs−not some nefarious plan to jump out and charge into the cemetery to harm Amanda.

  Ray paced before the gate until finally he heard the crunch of boots against frozen grass. He looked up and felt sucker-punched by the site of her. A smooth flaxen waterfall fell squarely across her shoulders. Smart eyes scanned the walkway, widening at the sight of him. A white wool scarf looped around her neck, dangling down to the hips of her sleek black pants. Her black boots slow
ed their pace as she approached.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’m all set.”

  Staring hard, he weighed those words for sincerity. There was a spirited blush to her cheeks, and a shimmer in her eyes. Under his inspection a hesitant smile rose on her lips. She looked so damn beautiful.

  “Good.”

  As hard as it was to manage, he avoided touching her. There was a conversation that had to take place−one that terrified him. If he touched her, the outcome could be all the more painful.

  Usually so composed, Amanda seemed uncertain. She hesitated at the passenger door of Ray’s rental car. “Are you−will you come back to my apartment?”

  He swallowed hard.

  “I mean, I understand if you have to get back−” she fumbled. “You have a new business−”

  “I’ll bring you to your apartment−and yes, I’ll come in.”

  Relief eased the faint lines around her eyes. She ducked into the car and their trip back into town was a silent one.

  When they finally stood in her living room, Amanda dropped her purse on the couch, and uncoiled the scarf, setting it on the coffee table. Her gaze jumped around the room, avoiding contact with his.

  “Can I get you some tea?” she asked, her voice strained.

  Ray watched her until he couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Dammit, Amanda.”

  In three steps he reached her, his fingers sifting through her hair as his mouth came down hard over hers. The kiss was hungry. It was angry and despondent—but it would not end. Neither of them would release it. Amanda reached up, cupping his face in her palms. Her lips parted and her throat made that hungry gurgle that drove him crazy. In passion, the poised businesswoman shed her glacial skin. She smoldered to the touch, and he clutched that heat, devouring it with aggressive kisses until both were left panting.

  He pulled back enough to tip his forehead against hers. “No, I don’t want tea.”

  A faint blue line eclipsed her pupils. Kiss-swollen lips dropped apart as the soft tip of her tongue tested them.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a husky voice.

  Such a simple question. So why was his heart hammering in his chest?