Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles)

by Allen, Shauna

  Beau quirked a brow and slowly dropped the papers he held. “Who?”

  She sighed. “Eli!”

  His face registered surprise. “Eli?”

  “Yes.” She glanced around to make sure no one was around. All clear. “He said . . . he said . . .” She dropped her gaze, unable to continue. She couldn’t say it. It was too preposterous. In all the time she’d spent with him—dinner, movies, planning the benefit, swimming . . . kissing—Eli just didn’t strike her as crazy. But . . .

  “What did he say, Naomi?” Beau stood, his body language protective. No wonder he was such a wonderful sheriff. “And why do you think he’s dangerous?” He rounded the desk toward her. “Did he hurt you?”

  Hot emotion flooded her body. Had Eli hurt her? Not the way Beau meant, but, yes, he had. And he was obviously mentally unstable. God, she was an idiot. She glanced away, ashamed.

  Beau tipped her chin back toward him. “Naomi. Did. He. Hurt. You?” The words held an unspoken threat against Eli.

  She swallowed and shook her head. “No.”

  He sighed and dropped his hand. “Then why do you think he’s dangerous?”

  She couldn’t say it. It was too ludicrous. “Please. Just listen to me. There’s something suspicious about him and I don’t trust it.” She let her eyes plead her case. “Can you check out his past? Find out where he’s from? If he’s, I don’t know, wanted for anything?”

  He studied her for several agonizing moments. She felt him weigh his decision. “Please,” she begged. “I know you have the resources to do a thorough background check.”

  He glanced away, probably thinking of the career he would be throwing away if caught doing something illegal for her. Her heart began to pound uncomfortably.

  “Beau.”

  He turned back to face her.

  She pulled out her only trump card. “As a public servant, isn’t it your duty to protect the citizens of this town by checking into him?”

  His shoulders loosened just a touch. He was gonna cave. She suppressed her smile. “Isn’t it, Sheriff?” she prodded.

  “It would help if you’d at least give me a clue as to why you suddenly think a man that most of the people in this town think hung the moon is a Froot Loop.”

  She grimaced. “Let’s just say I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to, and it sounds like he’s on the run from doing something awful.” She paused, hoping he’d let it go at that. By his expression, obviously not. “When he figured out I heard him, he said something that I won’t repeat, but trust me, it wasn’t rational. So either he’s crazy or on drugs. Maybe both. But, either way, you need to look into him.”

  They had a stare down, arms crossed, neither saying more.

  Beau finally relented. “Fine.”

  “Thank—”

  “But, only for public safety,” he interrupted her. “Not for you.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Well, maybe a little for you. I know you liked the guy.” He rounded the desk again and picked up his pen. “What’s his full name?”

  She snapped her mouth closed. Yes, she’d definitely liked him. More than liked him, actually. But she’d have to get over it. “Um, I don’t know. Eli Smith I think.”

  “Eli short for something?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe ask Sharla. He would’ve filled out an application.”

  He glanced up. “Yeah. If he was truthful.”

  Her heart sank.

  I think I may be falling in love with her.

  God, had he been truthful about anything?

  Chapter 31

  He must’ve lied about everything.

  Naomi had pretty much convinced her mind, if not her heart, two weeks later. And, still, no word from Beau. What was taking so long, anyway? Red tape, computer glitches, business hours, blah, blah, blah . . . he always had an excuse.

  “I want you to steer clear of Eli until I know something definitive,” he’d said to her before she left his office.

  No problem. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Eli Smith. Or whoever he was.

  But two weeks was a long time in a town as small as New Destiny. She’d had to resort to some pretty fancy footwork and some diversionary tactics. And twice, she could’ve sworn the big dishwasher, Michael, was orchestrating things so she and Eli were shoved together. But she’d managed to get away.

  She’d even heard through the grapevine that his car was nearly ready down at old Troy’s place. So maybe he’d be leaving soon.

  Why was her heart so conflicted about that?

  Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair and spun around to study the view that had been the refuge of her trying college days.

  Monument Valley.

  The craggy sandstone buttes and shale rises in the muted browns and elegant reds and oranges of the desert called out to her dry soul.

  She’d always loved the spiritual nuances of the earth in the Navajo Nation. The land, the people.

  Today, she needed the peace.

  She’d been unsettled ever since Ben Simon left town. The benefit had been a success. Ben seemed pleased with everything. He’d insisted on taking her to dinner before he left town, tried to steal a kiss—which she managed to avoid—and promised his article would be out in a couple of weeks.

  That was any day now . . . and the wait was killing her.

  She strolled around a bit more, feeling melancholy as she eyed the few couples embracing, the children skittering around, the general feel of belonging—except for her. She was alone. Heart and soul.

  She swallowed, determined to be okay with that.

  She sat on a bench and focused on one of the protruding buttes and its multicolored layers. Her cell phone chirped from her purse. Pulling it out, she read the text from Delaney.

  OMG article out! U rocked it sister!

  Naomi’s heart automatically started beating triple-time. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to her car. She needed to get home and read it. Her mind raced with the possibilities. What could it mean for Vi and the bakery? More importantly, what could it mean for repaying some of the debt Naomi owed her?

  She sailed down the freeway, her brain spinning, her heart thrumming. About ten miles from town, her gas light came on.

  “Damn it!”

  She debated pushing it and heading home, but common sense prevailed and she stopped at the next gas station. A few minutes wouldn’t make a difference, after all.

  She went inside to pre-pay and grab a drink. She smiled at the gap-toothed cashier and handed over her cash with a glance at the row of magazines. Her breath seized up when she spotted the Arizona Country Times and scanned the front cover until she found what she was looking for.

  New Destiny—Food, Fun, Small town charm and hospitality—It should be your Arizona Destiny!

  Her eyes darted back and forth between the magazine and the clerk, hardly believing they’d made the cover. “I’ll . . . I’ll take one of those, too.”

  “Sure.” He plopped it on the counter and finished ringing her up.

  She left in a daze and sat in the car staring at the cover, a beautiful, full-color photo of the bakery morphed with the ‘Welcome to New Destiny’ sign. Holy Moses.

  She finally got it together and flipped to the article. Tears filled her eyes as images of the town came alive on the pages of the magazine. Emma. Maura’s laughing face as she served at the diner. The festival. Several surrounding attractions. But, by far, the centerpiece of the article was Vi’s Sweet Spot.

  Naomi wiped her eyes and focused.

  . . . Ms. Stevens and her assistant, Naomi Evans, have created a Mecca of delectable delicacies, including the best chocolate chunk brownies I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. You simply have to stop by and have
a sweet treat on your way through this delightful town. It would be sacrilegious, in my humble opinion, if you did not.

  In a shocked stupor, Naomi set the magazine down, pumped her gas, then set off for home.

  She’d done it. She’d really done it.

  Her mind continued to spin with the thought. The possibilities, the wonder. The what’s next?

  Without realizing how she’d gotten there, she pulled up in front of the bakery and studied the front window. She’d poured so much of her heart and soul into the place, and yet so much still felt . . . unfinished.

  Why?

  Behind the glass, she saw Vi move behind the counter, smiling to herself. She wondered if Vi already knew about the article. Naomi hoped it made her happy. She deserved a slice of the love that she’d brought her, and she hoped this was one small step toward repaying the debt she owed her.

  Sighing, she slammed out of the car and pushed into the bakery, an automatic smile lifting her heart at the musical reminder of Paul’s love.

  “Hi, darlin’.” Vi grinned at her after placing a tray of sugar cookies in the case. “How was your morning off?”

  “Okay.” She steeled herself. “Did you hear? The Arizona Country Times article came out.”

  Vi nodded and tugged off her apron. “I saw it.”

  Something tumbled in Naomi’s gut. “You did?”

  “I did.”

  “You don’t seem very happy about it. He just about painted Vi’s as the next best thing to sliced bread. It should hopefully bring a lot of business to New Destiny. To the bakery.”

  Vi pinned her with a gaze. “Is that what you want?”

  “I . . .” She studied her. “Isn’t it what you want?”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  Silence descended as the scents of sugar and vanilla, the familiar, filled the air. Crowded Naomi’s heart. She searched Vi’s eyes for any clue as to what she was thinking. What was happening here? “I don’t know what to say,” she finally admitted. “I did it all for you.”

  Vi’s face softened. “Oh, sweetie. Why?”

  Naomi sagged against the counter. “I just wanted you to be happy, that’s all.”

  Vi sighed and rounded to her, placing an arm around her shoulders, enveloping her in her own lavender scent. “I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been, in fact.”

  Naomi shifted and met her eyes. “You are?”

  Vi’s gaze dipped. “Honey.” She met her eyes again. “I’m sorry if you felt you had to work so hard to get some kind of imaginary success for this place. I wish I’d known because I could’ve saved you the trouble.”

  That tumbling in Naomi’s gut became an avalanche. “What do you mean?”

  “Baby, Sam and I are getting married and I’m retiring . . .”

  Naomi felt the blood drain from her face and the world shifted under her feet. She gripped the counter behind her for support when her knees threatened to buckle. But her bones seemed to liquefy as Vi’s words began to truly sink in.

  “. . . and I’m selling Vi’s Sweet Shop. I’ve already got an offer.” She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t honestly tell me you have any desire to keep Vi’s yourself, can you?” She waited several beats.

  Naomi’s silence must’ve been telling as she searched her heart for an answer. Vi’s expression softened and she took her hand. “Honey, I’ve had a good life here for a long time, but it’s time for me to move on. You, too. Life’s too short, and I won’t let you waste another day being miserable here.” She caught and held her eyes in an impenetrable, no-holds-barred gaze. “I know where your heart is, and so do you. Go. Fly the coup. It’s time, young lady. You owe me nothing, do you hear me? Nothing but your happiness.”

  Chapter 32

  Two agonizing weeks, and only one thing was miserably clear to Elijah. He loved Naomi. Hopelessly.

  He may have severed all ties with her in the physical sense, not seeing her or speaking to her . . . but his heart and soul still yearned for her in a way that had never happened with Sarah.

  Why?

  He struggled daily through his prayers, his conversations with Pastor Donovan always at the forefront of his mind. Why, if Father were still angry with his betrayal, would He have prophesized his visit to Pastor?

  Forgive yourself.

  The words whispered across his heart like a balm. Not sure where they came from, he shoved them back as wishful musings.

  He sipped his coffee and leaned against his kitchen counter, gazing sightlessly around the tiny apartment that had been his home for the past few months.

  Home.

  Strange, he’d never thought that of any place other than Heaven since taking his fall. He supposed it was time to begin a search for a place to make one. Perhaps that’s what he’d been doing all along.

  His thumb caressed the handle of his NYC mug, reminding him of his tumultuous start on his human journey. The lobster magnet on the fridge from Maine told of his pit stop in that state. Not a good one. He had bits and pieces of his travels, all ending here in New Destiny.

  What would he take from here?

  He spun and dumped the now cold coffee down the drain and slammed the mug down. Nothing. He would take nothing from here. He was already leaving his heart behind. That was enough.

  He moved toward the bedroom, but stopped short at the furious pounding on his door.

  “Elijah Smith! Open up! Sheriff’s office!”

  His heart slammed into his throat at Sheriff Shanahan’s authoritative order. This could not be good. He swallowed convulsively and made his way to the door.

  If anything, the pounding got louder. “Elijah! Don’t make me get a warrant. Open this door. Now!”

  Something thunked in Elijah’s gut at the use of his full name. Nobody in town knew it other than Sharla. Slowly, he unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open.

  The Sheriff’s thunderous face greeted him. “Eli.”

  “Yes.”

  “We need to talk. Let me in.” When Elijah didn’t move right away, the Sheriff shifted anxiously. “I mean it, Eli. Don’t make me force the issue.”

  Elijah nodded and stepped back to open the door wide.

  Sheriff Shanahan stepped inside and eyed him like a cougar might eye his prey as he made his way into the small living area.

  Elijah closed the door and stood, frozen, unsure what to say. What to do. He knew he was guilty of many things, but his transgressions were of the Heavenly realm. What could the Sheriff possibly have to be so upset about? He waited, silent.

  The Sheriff paced a few steps, his gaze darting around the apartment as if trying to assess its contents. He finally stopped, his eyes riveted on Elijah. “Who are you, Eli?”

  His heart froze in his chest. Ice poured through his veins. “What do you mean?”

  Brows thundered down. “I think you know what I mean. Who are you . . . really? And don’t say ‘Elijah Smith,’ because I got that.” He paused, eyeing Elijah with deadly intent. “And think carefully about your answer, because it could determine whether I haul your ass to jail or not.”

  Elijah couldn’t move. Could scarcely breathe. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  The Sheriff ran an aggravated hand across his brow. “Can you explain to me why the first record of your existence is about two years ago in New York? How is it you just seemed to come out of thin air?” His eyes honed in dangerously. “And why does it seem like you’re on the run?”

  Elijah’s mouth fell open. So many things he wanted to say. So many things he couldn’t say. “I . . .”

  “Naomi thinks you’re dangerous.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Are you on the run, Eli?”

  He averted his gaze. “N
ot like you think.”

  “Then tell me. Because right now I’m thinking all sorts of crazy things, and all of them culminate in the ways you’ve hurt my best friend. And I’ve got to tell you that really pisses me off. So please tell me why I shouldn’t kick your ass then kick you out of my town.”

  Elijah sucked in a breath as the shredded heart he had left kick started at the mention of Naomi. And he’d hurt her. God.

  “I’m not dangerous. I swear it.” He swallowed and met the Sheriff’s steely gaze in a deadlock for several tense seconds.

  “Still, the whole thing is suspicious. And you—”

  Again, a knock sounded. This time, Elijah found the interruption a welcome thing. He waited a moment to see what the Sheriff would say, but when the man didn’t move, he went to answer the knock.

  He smiled in relief when he found Michael at the door. Then his smile fell when he saw the wad of cash Michael held outstretched in his hand.

  “Sorry, Brother,” Michael said. “Old Troy said your car was beyond hope. No go.” He brushed past him into the apartment and put the cash on the bar. “But—” He spied the Sheriff and Elijah froze, waiting to see what would happen. They all stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Sheriff,” Michael said.

  The Sheriff tipped his head. “Michael. How are you?” Though he didn’t seem at all interested in the answer. His tight expression spoke volumes and the air was thick with tension.

  “Fine.” Michael’s gaze darted between them. “Everything all right here?”

  Elijah nodded. “Sure.”

  “Just asking Eli here a few questions,” the Sheriff said at the same time.

  Something shifted in Michael’s gaze as he studied the Sheriff’s face. “I sure hope there isn’t any trouble. I think we all know Eli here is as good as they come. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He stepped closer to the Sheriff, his impressive size seeming to take up the room, his aura almost seeming to . . . glow? “Don’t you agree, Sheriff?”