Crash Into You

by Ellison, Cara

  He abruptly stood up. “I’ll take a shower. When I get out, we’re going to Whitefish to celebrate Larissa’s birthday. That fucker isn’t going to interfere with our plans or our relationship.”

  Her color turned hectic; pink wings colored her cheeks. “Relationship?”

  “Whatever this is. You’re leaving eventually and I’m cool with that. But while you’re here, there is not a man alive who can touch you. Certainly not that piece of shit coward, Seth. We can talk about what to do with the FBI and crash investigators. But I’m done talking about Seth tonight.”

  Aimee sat on the bed, staring at the place Mark had been just a few seconds ago. She felt crushed. You’re leaving eventually and I’m cool with that. The sentence kept rolling through her mind, tearing at her heart with every repetition.

  What the hell did you expect, she demanded of herself? She’d made it clear that she wasn’t staying. She had a life to live in Portland, with her sister and her sister’s husband. What did she expect? That he would complain, beg her to stay? Sheesh, it wasn’t as if she even wanted that.

  It would be nice for him to ask anyway.

  So why did she feel so upended?

  She chose a pair of underpants, then slid open the second drawer. The blue canvas bag was still there, exactly where she’d left it.

  The shower turned off in Mark’s wing and she shut the drawer. She dressed in some of the new clothes she’d bought at Flowers Vintage, a pair of palazzo pants and an off-the-shoulder top white top with a black flower on the shoulder. She slid on a pair of patent leather maryjanes with three inch heels.

  She dried her hair, trying to avoid the feral little secret scratching at her. That money. If she sent it back to Seth, maybe he’d leave her alone. And then what? She would be able to stay here in Montana with Mark and live happily ever after? That was the thinking that had gotten her into so much trouble in the first place. Staying here was not an option, it was the only possible way to experience the life she wanted. The big world, glowing with promise and possibility, would have to be experienced first hand.

  And yes, she did in fact want the money. Wanted to punish him. She was keeping it.

  She walked downstairs. When May didn’t come bounding up to her, she checked out the window and saw Mark throwing a ball for her. Strength and kindness, she thought glumly. He had the daunting, lethally attractive combination of strength and kindness.

  May ran to him, delivering the slobbery blue ball to his feet. Mark bent down and pet her.

  Aimee walked to the front door and opened it.

  It was late afternoon; the sun was starting to go down, casting an eerie glow over the tall craggy mountains. Mark turned and looked at her. May ran to her, and she pet her ears. “Sweet puppy.”

  “You look pretty,” Mark said as he approached.

  “Thank you.”

  They were being too polite, a mask for the rawness that had been exposed between them, and she hated it.

  She followed Mark inside. He turned on some lights for May, set the alarm, and led Aimee to the garage.

  As he opened the door for her Mark caught her by the waist. Aimee gasped with surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was low and injured.

  “Me too,” Aimee replied.

  He kissed her, awakening her body again under his molten sexuality. Too soon, he broke the kiss, told her to buckle up, and shut the door.

  Aimee waited until they were on the road toward Whitefish before speaking. “The fact is, Mark, I don’t know what I’m doing. I am scared of Seth and I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”

  He let that sit for a while. She expected him to offer a platitude about confronting her fears or whatever, but he just kept driving. He reached over to squeeze her hand.

  “The investigators know you’re here, Aimee,” he said gently. “I told them I hadn’t seen you but they know there was a passenger on the plane whose DNA was not accounted. So we need to figure out what to do about that first. You’ve committed no crime, so they can’t arrest you. But they aren’t going to leave you alone.”

  “It isn’t a crime to walk away from a plane crash?”

  “No, sweetheart. Of course not.”

  Mark looked up ahead. “There’s the Whitefish mall. Let’s stop there and get Larissa a present.”

  “What does she like?”

  “Cooking, and apparently yoga.”

  Whitefish Shopping Center definitely wasn’t Tyson’s Corner or the chichi Georgetown waterfront, but it was indeed a place to shop. Mark was utterly indifferent to it, which was no help at all, not when Aimee really wanted to find a good gift for Larissa. She had been a good friend and Aimee wanted to find something that would delight her.

  “I can’t believe I’m just now finding out it is her birthday. Some warning would have been nice,” she said.

  “John forgot.”

  Aimee gasped, as if he’d said something so scandalous she couldn’t bear it. “What? No!”

  Mark laughed at her response.

  “That’s sad,” she said, shaking her head.

  Mark shrugged. “It happens.”

  She knew first-hand that it happened. Seth had been shocked every year on June 1 when her sister would call to say happy birthday and Seth was caught flatfooted, with no present, no card, nothing.

  She supposed that Larissa and John’s relationship might be strong enough to withstand little snafus like that, but for Aimee, Seth forgetting her birthday had always been an indication of the low regard he had for her.

  Aimee was surprised to see a Coach store amid the Gaps and Marlene’s Crafts. It smelled richly of leather and perfume. She was drawn to a sexy metallic leather bag. She thought of Larissa’s life at the Glacial Outfitters, the harsh Montana winters of snow and tire chains, her busy homelife taking care of two kids.

  It was an escape – a trifle, an indulgence, something Larissa would never buy for herself. It was perfect.

  And it was something that Larissa would remember her by.

  Aimee took it to the check out. Mark opened his wallet, but Aimee shook her head. “I have it. I want to buy it.”

  He looked at her queerly.

  “Really,” Aimee insisted. “I really want to buy this myself.” Her sincerity was plain. “It is the least that I could do.”

  They arrived at Latitude 48, a stylish, modern bistro, and immediately spotted the boisterous crowd seated in the back of the room. They had pulled tow tables together to accommodate Sarah and Robert Reid, Carrie, Jane Flowers, and sundry others who had come to spontaneously celebrate Larissa’s birthday.

  Mark and Aimee ordered some appetizers and drinks while conversation swirled. Mark felt tension emanating from her, and wished he could explain to her that she wasn’t going to be arrested or in trouble if she would just talk to the investigators. Despite her angst, now was not the time to discuss it anyway, he supposed. Not amid the festive atmosphere of a party. Larissa looked happy and rather sexy in a plum-colored dress with a plunging neckline. Maybe Aimee was right about that ridiculous bagatelle of a gift. Perhaps it was perfect for Larissa.

  He watched Aimee drink and chat with her girlfriends. How naturally she fit in. She’d been accepted by his friends with open arms. How she belonged here. And she couldn’t see it.

  Her scared bunny energy was undetectable among the others, but Mark saw it. She shook Robert Reid’s hand over the table, saying she liked him in In The Light Of Day, her smile radiant. But there was a distractedness, and a tightness around her eyes that she could not hide from him.

  They would talk later, he thought. They would get it worked out.

  Fifteen

  Mark left Aimee sleeping and wandered downstairs. He felt stiff and annoyed; they’d fallen asleep without resolving anything. Aimee had slept in his arms, but he had the feeling she wasn’t really sleeping – just like him, she was lying awake, ruminating about the plane crash investigation and what it would mean.

 
Tromping outside, May followed him to the stables where he fed the horses then led them out to the paddock to graze and exercise. The sun had just come up, bathing the valley in amber light, but the temperature was still in the forties.

  Despite the chill, he thought it was a good time to start working on the cabins. He needed some space and wanted to do something physical, work with his hands.

  Back in the house, made some pancakes, bacon and a fruit salad. His knocking around the kitchen, or perhaps the smell of the cooking cakes, drew Aimee downstairs. She wore one of his sweaters and yoga pants. Even annoyed with her, he found her unspeakably beautiful. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she replied. She pet May and fed her.

  “I was thinking we could head out to the cabins and start making some plans,” he said.

  “I think I’ll stay here, if that’s okay with you.”

  He set a plate of food in front of her and they walked to the table. They ate in silence for a while.

  “Do you want to talk?” Mark asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I get really upset when I think about the FBI. I don’t know what to do about it, so talking about it is only going to scare me some more.”

  “Alright then. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

  She mustered a small – but genuine – smile.

  After breakfast, Mark dressed in work clothes, then went downstairs to find Aimee outside, throwing a ball for May. Her back was to him, her vibrant body in a t-shirt and the yoga pants she wore constantly. That was probably his fault; it was all he’d bought for her at first. She’d gotten hooked on the comfort of stretchy cotton, and he was just fine with that. She looked great in them, and free. Her hair blew around in the stiff Montana wind, and she tried to move it out of her face with her shoulder, so as not to get the slobber from the ball on her face.

  He felt weirdly like he was seeing her for the first time again. Except this time she was totally healed, strong and whole. He felt a wobbly feeling of affection and lust and love that was so pure it threatened to knock him to his knees.

  He walked up behind her, grabbing her around the slender waist. She jumped with surprise, then relaxed into him. “I love you,” he said into her neck.

  She stiffened, then turned in his arms to face him. “What?”

  “I love you. I will never do anything that puts you in harm’s way. I will never embarrass you, or hurt you. And I know the one thing you need right now is to feel free to leave anytime. I will never hold you back. The world is big. I understand you want to explore the world after having been rather sequestered by Seth and I support that. So don’t think I’m trying to guilt you into staying here, or giving more than you want to give willingly. Just know that I love you and that means as long as you are here, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. Do you understand?”

  Her awed, goggle-eyed stare nearly drew tears from him. She blinked, then her cheeks flamed with a beautiful pink hue. “I love you too.”

  She flung her arms around his neck. He burrowed his face in her neck, smelling her delicious girl skin, her sweetness, holding her close. He felt poised on the edge of a knife, in a dangerous area. Loving her was easy. Being loved by her… that was daunting.

  “I don’t know what it means for the future. Let’s just…”

  “As I said,” Mark cut in, “you’re free to leave anytime you want.”

  She nodded and slid from his embrace. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry I was exasperated last night.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay. I’m going to the cabins. You sure you don’t want to come along?”

  “No, I think I just want to hang out here today. Take it easy. Maybe when you get back, we can ride Bess and Millie.”

  “That sounds great. I’ll be home in two hours or so.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re positive you don’t want to come with me?”

  Aimee cracked the first smile he’d seen on her face all day. “I’m sure. Go.”

  “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

  He kissed her, feeling her soften and melt a little with the warm contact. Then he walked back to the door and paused. He watched her pick up May’s ball and throw it out toward the wild grass. May and Aimee. His girls.

  Mark arrived at the resort with a yellow legal pad and a pen. His main task today was just to compose a comprehensive things-to-do list. It was so late in the season, he doubted any work was going to get done on the cabins or the inn, but he wanted to at least know where he was on the project.

  At the convenience store, he’d picked up some bear repellant, and he carefully stalked through the lower floor of the inn, ready to fight off ursus horribilis. It looked pretty clear of large animals, thankfully.

  He stood at the large reception desk, trying to envision what he wanted. He wrote a couple of notes, then walked up the staircase, checking out the long golden corridor of meeting rooms and ballrooms. He walked inside the grand ballroom, noticing the old fashioned wall coverings. The crystal chandeliers were lovely, though filthy. And for a grand ballroom, it felt cramped. He imagined it at night, with soft candlelight, the mountain looming outside the windows. A wedding. Maybe his and Aimee’s wedding.

  He had never in his life willingly considered marriage with anyone. Shelby’s strident pleas to marry had completely put him off. But now, with Aimee’s words still in his head and the impression of her strong little body in his arms, he suddenly saw what marriage was for.

  Not that he was going to spend a great deal of time thinking about it. She was leaving. He could love her, but he had to be willing to let her go.

  He turned and walked out then jogged back down the stairs.

  And there, a man was waiting for him.

  Mark paused, looking down at the man. He was bald; built large, and wore an expression of amusement. Mark felt an urge to punch him in the face.

  “What are you doing here, Fraller?” he growled and walked down the stairs.

  “How have you been?”

  “How did you find me here?”

  “Your lady at the ranch told me I’d find you here.”

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Mark said.

  Fraller shrugged. “You know how these things are.”

  “What things?”

  “I was asked to invite you to a meeting with the Director.”

  “Not interested.”

  “It wasn’t really a request.”

  Mark squinted his eyes, sizing up the man, the real purpose behind the visit. Mark had always found him too much of an inside man, someone who loved the Agency because it was a means by which he could feel important. That need inside him was dangerous. It made him untrustworthy. “I’m still not interested.”

  “I’ve been assured that what happened at the Salt Pit is not material to the agenda.”

  Salt Pit, a placid Orwellian term for the CIA black site north of Kabul. It was a former brick factory, and had been the site of the murder of Abdullah 10.

  Just hearing the name spoken so casually sent a wave of black sickness through his mind, his gut. He despised everything about Adam Fraller and everything he stood for. Mostly he despised the memories that flooded back to him. Some things he wished he could un-see.

  “It is material,” Mark said evenly. “And I’m not interested.”

  Fraller shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Look, Spanner, I can’t go back to Washington without you. If you want to tell Director Castanetta to go fuck himself, feel free. Hell, I’ll probably join you in that sentiment. But I have to take you back.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  He shook his head slightly. “You can’t refuse.”

  Mark understood what was happening. If he refused, subpoenas would be issued. Scandals would ensue. Because he was no longer an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency, he would not be protected; his identity would become known. He remembered other occasions when supposedly-classified identities were le
aked to the media. Those people’s lives were destroyed.

  Mark’s fingers curled into a fist; he wanted to punch Fraller in the face. He didn’t like being compelled by anything, whether the forces originated from inside him or out. Being manipulated by Fraller or Castanetta was bad enough. Being jerked around by the shadow parts of the US intelligence apparatus was intolerable.

  He was cast in the wrong role in this fucking Greek tragedy.

  There was only one way he could make his past go away for good. One way to stare it down and absolve himself of all obligations. It was the only way he could make the memories go away and become clean.

  “When?” he asked.

  “Now.”

  Aimee jogged up to her room with May on her heels. She yanked open the bureau and pulled out the canvas bag of money. Sitting on the bed, she dumped the cash out, and began to count it. One hundred thirty-four thousand dollars.

  About half a million had blown away in the plane crash. But Seth didn’t know that and he would still come look for her.

  She separated three thousand dollars and folded it into the black envelope purse that she’d purchased at Flowers Vintage. May looked at her curiously from beside the cedar chest and Aimee averted her eyes. “Don’t judge me,” she mumbled.

  Aimee dressed quickly, then ran downstairs. She poured some kibble into a bowl for May then refreshed her water dish.

  Lugging the canvas bag over her shoulder, she rifled through the drawers until she found a key to the old Jeep.

  Aimee drove the speed limit to Whitefish, careful not to draw any attention to herself. Fears of being pulled over by a police officer and reported to Seth kept her driving just under the speed limit.

  At the Whitefish Shopping Center, she walked casually through the hallways to the large ice rink across from the Coach store. Aimee approached the front desk and shellacked on a big smile.