by Jenna Ryan
Running his penlight over the corpse, Aidan replayed the scene.
George had fallen on his stomach. Now he was lying on his side. He’d been dead when he’d hit the ground. His facial expression hadn’t altered, and the blood flow indicated a major arterial strike. Obvious answer? Someone had moved him.
Aidan regarded the now-quiet clearing. If a camper had discovered the body, Rooney would have heard the furor three miles away in his seaside cottage. This movement was the killer’s doing.
He located George’s wallet. There was one debit and two credit cards inside. He had a Milky Way zipped into his jacket pocket, along with a factory-sealed pack of condoms. He also had the photo of Raven that Aidan had kept front and center on his work desk.
Okay, well it wasn’t like he hadn’t known. Didn’t have to like it, but he’d known.
He turned the body back to its original position and only spotted the small tear in the fabric because the collar of George’s jacket was turned up.
The sight of it brought to mind another time and place—and another torn collar.
Four summers ago, he and Gaitor had discovered a man buried in a Milwaukee Dumpster. The man, a police informant, had worked for Johnny Demars. A fresh round of information concerning one of Demars’s hit men had been passed to Gaitor earlier that night.
Further investigation had turned up a listening device. According to forensics, the clip that had attached the device to the dead man’s collar had caused the tear.
All of which added up to a probable second listening device, likely planted on an unsuspecting George by Demars’s sharpshooter, and removed in a rush later.
George had called the guy Weasel. George had also done an about-face and come to warn them, or at least warn Raven, about what he’d done.
Demars didn’t trust anyone, and he didn’t give second chances. George had been toast the minute he’d opened his mouth to them in the woods.
Exhaling slowly, Aidan stood. He’d wanted to know why only one person had died tonight, and now he did.
He just wished it hadn’t been the worst possible answer.
Chapter Seven
The dream slid through Raven’s sleeping mind in much the same way as the night fog moved through the Cove—with insidious purpose and a serpentine quality that chilled her blood.
Red-rimmed eyes watched her; she felt them on her skin like points of ice. Looking up, she spied Hezekiah in bird form. He was perched in a tall tree, waiting, she supposed, for another death. Reverend Alley also watched her, but he was farther away, standing alone among the high ridge rocks, and not an active threat at the moment.
Danger resided ahead of her, in the form of two male silhouettes. One wore a black executioner’s hood, the other wore black everything.
She recognized Aidan instantly and tried to call his name. But no sound emerged from her throat, and her feet had taken root on the stony ground.
“An eye for an eye.” The hooded man’s whisper was as clear as if he’d spoken the words directly into her ear. She saw his mad smile through the hood even as something long and sinuous began to twine around her frozen limbs.
“How selfless of you, Raven, to want to save your husband as he attempted to save you. Do you recall your great-grandfather’s telling of ‘The Soldier’s Tale’?”
Only her throat muscles loosened. “A convalescing World War I veteran killed the man he believed to be responsible for the death of his brother.”
“It should have been a brother for a brother dead. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way.” The smile became a hideous parody. “In our time, however, that minor problem can be set right. My son is dead, and I mourn the loss. Your husband tried and failed to protect you. Now you’ve come to save him. An intriguing trade-off, and one you’ll ultimately win. I stand by my plan. Aidan mourns the loss. An eye for an eye.”
As if levitated by a magician’s hand, Raven began to float toward the edge of the cliff.
She struggled but couldn’t break her invisible bonds. She’d almost reached the rim when someone knocked her from the air. She landed on a body and was quickly rolled onto her back.
Aidan, looking dark and dangerous, stared down at her. “Whatever this part of the legend was supposed to be, Raven, I won’t let you die. If we have to play it out, we’ll play it like ‘The Soldier’s Tale.’ Not a true eye for an eye.”
She fisted the front of his shirt. “I don’t want to lose you again, Aidan. Don’t make...”
Like a light snapping off, the ridge went dark. Everyone and everything winked out. Every sound disappeared. Until all that remained was the frantic pulsing of her heart and a wispy voice that echoed in her head.
“Death is not the end of this evil journey, Raven Blume. In this place, death is the beginning....”
* * *
THE FOG BURNED OFF by midmorning. Which was about how long it took Raven to relegate the lingering effects of her dream to the realm of fantasy where they belonged.
Because he knew and understood her, Aidan made coffee, then waited across the room while she drank it.
“I can’t hide in an attic and play solitaire until this nightmare is resolved.” Unsure why her frustration was building instead of diminishing, she frowned out the dormer window. “How can a sunny day give such a strong impression of dark?”
“There’s another cloud mass moving in.” Aidan’s lips twitched as she rooted through her suitcase. “Until it arrives, I’d go with short shorts and a really skimpy top.”
To her surprise, and minor relief, Raven’s insides trembled. Apparently she wasn’t as disconnected from her emotions today as she had been last night. Now if the danger would only blow away or at least drop to an acceptable level, she might be able to encourage her feelings instead of pushing them back.
The temperature had fallen substantially overnight. In response, Raven drew out a pair of skinny jeans, slouchy boots and a snug-fitting white cotton tee. It wasn’t until she was safely behind the bathroom door that she released a breath and looked in the mirror.
Pale, hazy features stared back at her. She hadn’t seen this version of herself since Aidan’s funeral. Going with that, she let her mind drift past his “death,” to a less turbulent time in her life.
They’d lived in a downtown Milwaukee apartment after their wedding. Just the two of them and Dublin, a black cat Aidan had found at the end of a long shift.
Those had been happy times, for all of them.
Aidan had touched her in a way no other man ever had or could. He’d stared at her with his hypnotic eyes and kissed her with his amazing, inventive mouth. He’d run his hands over her body and electrified her skin. He’d made her fall so deeply in love with him there’d been no way out. Then he’d gone to a ball game with friends, stopped at a convenience store—and been forced to die.
The color of her world had altered the moment Aidan’s partner had arrived on her doorstep. She remembered how he’d stood there, a gray, brittle man, so much older than he’d been the day before.
“They didn’t tell you, either, did they, Gaitor?” she murmured. “And now you’re somewhere—I hope you’re somewhere—probably still blaming yourself for an explosion that never happened.”
An explosion that never happened, her brain echoed....
Aidan wasn’t dead. She’d been granted a miracle. So why did the lie behind it hurt so much?
Because no matter how miraculous the discovery, Raven knew that if she hadn’t come to Maine, she might never have learned he was alive. She would have lived her life in various stages of mourning. Moved on eventually, but that huge, hollowed-out part of her would have remained empty forever.
Knowing Aidan would knock soon and check on her, she turned on the shower in the tiny stall. Rolling the tension from her neck, she waited for hot water, then hung her robe and stepped under the spray.
They’d had sex in stalls much smaller than this. Truly great sex that made her knees turn to rubber and her ni
pples go hard.
Not helpful, Raven, she thought. No matter how tempting, she couldn’t allow the prospect of phenomenal shower sex to top her priority list. Even the recollection of it had no business being there.
A hired killer was the priority here. And a dead friend—or, well, not really friend, but still—dead.
Out of the shower and dry, she slathered on a layer of body cream, left her long hair damp and seriously hoped a second cup of coffee would make things clearer to her.
“You look like a woman who wants to bite someone’s head off. I’m guessing mine, since we’re alone.” Aidan masked the grin, but not quite the humor in this tone. “Tells me you’ve been thinking too much.”
Raven controlled an urge to snarl and refilled her mug. “Did you know that neither of Gaitor’s ex-wives has any idea where he is?”
Before he could respond, she gave a false smile and said at the same time as him, “Yeah, I heard about that.”
He cocked his head. “You have a very spooky talent there, angel. Not only do you nail the words, but you also hit the timing dead on.”
She drank and felt marginally more cheerful. “Rooney says it’s a quirk that goes hand in hand with my ability to diagnose unusual medical conditions. He thinks I pick up on seemingly insignificant physical signals. In this case, the barely perceptible change in your expression as I finished making the statement.”
He stared. “Jesus, Raven. That theory’s as spooky as the quality.” He nodded at her purse. “I used your iPhone to check something out. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“Because part of you is still pissed at me, and Dublin’s claws have nothing on yours when they’re out.”
She sent him an artless smile. “Dublin’s good, if that was your way of asking. He’s visiting my mother, who swears he’s the reincarnation of one of our less infamous Blume ancestors.” Another sip did the trick. “Who did you call, and why not use your own phone? Never mind. Leopard, spots. You forgot to charge it. But I’m still curious about the who part.”
“You could say I was playing a hunch with reference to an old friend.”
“Meaning Gaitor or Captain Beckett... Oh, God. You called George’s number, didn’t you?”
“His cell phone was missing when I went back last night.”
“Okay.” She considered that. “Any luck?”
“It was a shot in the dark. Unfortunately, I wasted a bullet.”
“A no would have done there, but speaking of shots and darkness, is it possible that Weasel got hold of the bearded hippie guy’s Mason jar before he pulled the trigger, and that’s why George is gone and we’re not?”
“More likely, George was simply a lackey who’d served his purpose.”
“Terrific. So when’s it our turn?”
Pushing off from the half-shuttered window, Aidan walked slowly toward her. His dark eyes were steady, his movements smooth, the hair that framed his gorgeous features much longer than it had been two years ago.
“I figure soon. Demars will want to finish this in Raven’s Cove.”
Raven held her ground, but tipped her head back when he stopped in front of her. “Seeing as that’s what you want, too, wish granted, it appears. On both sides.”
He slid his thumb over her chin. “Except both sides can’t win, and we’ve already forfeited more than our fair share.”
She wasn’t breathing properly, Raven realized, wasn’t thinking at all. The look in his eyes said he wanted her. But even something as simple as a kiss would lead straight to the bed she’d slept in last night. And she wasn’t there yet, in her head. Almost, but not all the way. “Aidan, I need...”
“I know.” He lowered his mouth to hers. Didn’t touch, but she felt the warmth of his breath and, under her hand, the uneven beat of his heart. “If you could forget a two-year nightmare in less than a day, you wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with in a grungy city alley over a bunch of dented trash cans.”
Because it was the last thing she’d expected him to say, she laughed and gave him a light push. “We did not fall in love over trash cans.”
“Maybe you didn’t, but that’s when I took the plunge.”
“Love was the last thing on my mind that night. I’d just lost my purse and laptop to a junked-up little creep.”
“You might have lost a whole lot more if Gaitor and I hadn’t witnessed the robbery.”
“The creep mugged me and took off. There was no suggestion of rape.”
“I think you whacking him with a metal trash can lid might have factored into that.”
She widened expressive eyes. “It was a brand-new laptop. Plus, I’d already seen you and Gaitor at the back door of the bar. When my friend screamed, Gaitor waved his badge and shouted that you were cops. Of course I was going to try and bash the guy. Okay, credit where it’s due, two minutes later, you had the mugger pinned to the ground, and I had my purse and laptop back. I was grateful, yes, but not in love.”
Grinning, he let her nudge him back another step. “I heard you, Raven. You told your friend you wished it was you on the ground instead of the junkie who’d robbed you.”
“Your ego needs a hearing aid, pal. My classmate said that, not me.”
“Like hell.”
She wouldn’t laugh, she promised herself, but she had to swallow to keep it from slipping out. “She said it, Aidan. I only thought it. Once. Briefly.” She gave in to a smile. “All right, fine, maybe I was a little smitten, but, come on, seriously, do the math. Gorgeous cop, major rescue, impressionable med student...”
“Beautiful med student.”
“Uh-huh.” Still smiling, she crammed her iPhone into the pocket of his jeans. “I heard you and Gaitor talking afterward. That takedown was pure cop reflex. You saw me and everyone else through a fog that night.”
With amusement still hovering, he returned to the window and glanced at the courtyard. “You have a mean memory, sweetheart.”
“I do, and the scary thing is, it’s nothing compared to Steven’s.” The humor faded. “Or Johnny Demars’s, apparently. Aidan, tell me the truth, why didn’t we die with George?”
“I’d say either Weasel’s a crappy shot or he has a different agenda than the one we anticipated.”
“That’s only half an answer.”
“If you’re smart, you’ll take it and be satisfied.”
“If I was smart, I’d have listened to Steven and become a cosmetic surgeon. Look, I get that Weasel shot George and let us go because those were his orders, I just don’t understand why...”
It slammed into her, like one of the previous night’s lightning bolts, hard, fast and with a jolt that raced from her brain straight to her nerve ends.
“Those were his orders,” she repeated. “To get rid of George and leave us alone. My God, it really is a spin on the eye for an eye adage. You pulled the trigger that killed Johnny Demars’s son.” Her head came up. “In return, Johnny Demars is going to pull the trigger that kills me.”
* * *
AIDAN UNDERSTOOD RAVEN’S need to move. He also knew she was going to fire a stream of questions at him while they did.
The first came when they reached the third floor hallway. “Does Beckett know where Demars is?”
“Someone suggested Bangkok.”
“Better than Bangor, I suppose. Do you have even a vague description of the man?”
“Gort,” he replied. “Cold, faceless, powerful—it’s all we know.”
“Age?”
“Somewhere between forty and sixty is the going guess.”
“Is Demars his real name?”
“No.”
“I’m sensing a dead end here. New direction. Why was his kid such a screwup?”
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” Her hiss had him setting his hands on her shoulders and directing her toward the staircase ahead. “Jason’s bad wasn’t the same as Johnny’s. He came out of a black hole twelve years ago. We’d hoped to
use him to locate his father, but no luck there. Jason stayed out of the hole and caused trouble. Johnny stayed in it, and did what he could to keep his kid from doing any hard time.”
Raising her hands, Raven started down the stairs. “I give up. Faceless, ageless, possibly in Bangkok, had a screwed-up kid he couldn’t control. Do you want to hear something totally crazy?”
“You’re going to give up medicine and cast runes like your mother?”
He saw her smug amusement. “My mother makes good money playing to her strength. And if you say her strength is being spacey, I promise you, when this nightmare’s done, I’ll get her to show you one of her less male-friendly talents.”
“Not a promising prospect, I’ll admit, but I’m glad you think we’ll live long enough for a threat like that to be carried out.”
“Call it my faith in your strength. As for the crazy something I mentioned...”
“You want to have sex in a shadowy stairwell?”
Her smile sent a surge of blood straight to his groin. “Well, duh, Aidan, that’s not crazy, it’s just us recreating a scene from our first vacation together in Istanbul.”
“It was an elevator in Istanbul.”
“It went up and down like a stairwell.”
“It was a hundred years old. It got stuck more often than it ran.”
“Making it the perfect setting for a sex-hungry couple to use as a launching pad for the wild ride that their lives ultimately became. Can we go back to crazy?”
“If the sex thing’s a bust, yeah.”
They emerged into a first-floor utility room that smelled like old roses. Long, narrow shadows became wide, angular ones. Raven continued to lead, which suited Aidan fine since walking behind her gave him an excellent view of her truly superior ass.
“I’ve been weighing it out,” she said over her shoulder. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m as curious as I am terrified to see Johnny Demars’s face. Because, really, how many people who are alive can claim to have done that? I know many have, but how many of those many can say they knew who it was they were seeing?”
Aidan rested his shoulder on a wall while she jiggled an ancient key in an even more ancient lock. “Wading through all of that, I’d speculate not many. Rumor has it Demars’s wife disappeared a dozen or so years ago, and he only had the one kid.”
