“That was Evan. He says Drew’s coming to town.”
***
After spending most of the afternoon raking Becky’s yard in a desperate attempt to forget, Blair borrowed Becky’s car and drove to the landing. As wind whipped around her, she could see Saint’s Island, now off limits to the mainland, across the dark bay waters.
“Did Abbott give you a business card?” Evan’s voice broke into the solitude.
Blair turned toward him, surprised to see him. His cruiser was parked in the landing’s lot. “No, he gave me a piece of paper with his phone number.”
“No card?”
“No.” She saw a frown on Evan’s face. “What is it?”
“Have you called him?”
“I have nothing more to add.”
Evan, his blue eyes worried, studied her. “Are you sure?”
“They’ve given up, haven’t they?”
“I’m sorry, Blair. They had to go look for some other people, but they’re pretty sure.” He watched her carefully before continuing. “Current was strong because the tide was going out.” Looking away, he pointed to a log floating on the choppy water. “See that? Well, this morning, that log would have floated to the island.”
Blair watched the log and tried to stop thoughts of Michael’s body floating on the bay.
“Is Kevin Johnson actually Michael Alvarez?” Evan’s question blew around them.
“That’s what I want to know, Blair.”
Startled, Blair turned.
Drew stood a few feet behind Evan, looking tired and haggard, his brown hair tumbling onto his forehead.
Blair took in the hard light of his eyes. Beside her, Evan shifted.
“Is he?” Drew’s insistent question cut across the sound of the breeze whipping the remains of the pier.
Blair couldn’t gather enough breath to answer.
“Is Special Agent Abbott real?” Evan asked Drew, hands on his hips.
Drew looked from Blair to Evan. “Who?”
“Guy was on the island. Came across with us. Said he’s FBI, investigating Alvarez. He flashed a badge. He’s vanished now.”
“What did he look like?”
Evan described him with a police officer’s attention to detail.
“I’m in charge of the Alvarez investigation. No one named Abbott or fitting that description is with me.”
Blair felt shivers on her arms. Abbott had to be Eddie. Michael had said he didn’t know if Eddie was a good guy or a bad. The FBI were the good guys.
Drew hadn’t hugged her. That, and the fact that he acted like a stranger, not her brother, stopped Blair from asking the questions that had plagued her from the moment Michael had asked her not to tell Drew that he was at Grandma Alice’s.
“We have to find Michael.” Drew’s voice had a harshness Blair had never noted before.
“Marine Patrol had to call off the search,” Evan said.
“Why were you after him?” Blair asked.
Drew looked pointedly at her. “He’s in trouble, Blair. Big trouble. The kind that will get him killed.”
It took a second for Blair to realize what Drew had said. “You believe he’s alive?”
“The report I have says that a Kevin Johnson is presumed dead,” Evan said.
Drew turned toward Evan. “Describe Johnson.”
Again, Evan gave an accurate description.
“You met Michael.” Accusation colored Drew’s words as he turned toward Blair.
“Yes, I met him,” Blair defended. “But only briefly, until that summer I was home. When you and Mitzi—”
“How well did you know him?”
“Well enough to know that whatever trouble he might be in, he did nothing wrong.”
Drew didn’t reply. For long moments he stared at her as if deep in thought, then he turned away. Evan ducked his head, moving his hat from one hand to the other.
Finally, Drew turned back. “Hell, Blair.” With that, he reached for his cell phone and punched in some numbers. Short moments later he put it away. “I can’t get through. There’s no signal.” He looked at Evan. “Can you help me get in touch with my office?”
“I can try,” Evan said, turning. “Come on and we’ll give it a shot. It’s not just the cell towers. Lines are still down all over the place. We can go to my house. For some weird reason, the phone there works.” He walked toward his parked cruiser.
“Blair?” Drew hung back, his gaze directed across the bay. “Was Michael here as Kevin Johnson?”
Her answer came from grief, confusion, distrust. “No.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. He bowed his head. Blair saw him take a deep breath before he looked up again. “When did you fall in love with him?”
The words to answer him wouldn’t form. She shook her head.
“Damn, Blair.”
“It had nothing to do with you,” Blair said defensively.
“Maybe not then, but it does now.”
***
Sleep eluded her. Blair tossed and turned in Becky and Evan’s guest room. Power had not been restored and the air felt damp, the bed linen limp.
She’d wanted to go home, to hide herself away in her own house, but Becky had insisted. And when they’d gathered around a candle in the living room, listening to Evan recount the amazing details of his day, laughing at the picture he painted of their pompous mayor, his Mercedes wrecked by a fallen limb, Blair had been thankful for the company.
But once alone, she couldn’t blot out Drew’s words, couldn’t stop the memories from rolling over her. Finally, she gave in, sat up, propped on several pillows, and stared into the darkened night, her thoughts on the man who’d changed her life with a few simple words.
***
Six years earlier
“I’m Michael. Remember me?”
Blair looked up from the margarita she’d just been handed. The surprise of looking into smiling, intense brown eyes made her slosh the liquid on her hand. “Hi.”
“I’m Drew’s friend,” he explained. One side of his mouth kicked up in a half smile, dark lashes accented the twinkle in his eyes.
Of course she remembered him. Who could forget? They’d bumped into each other for over a year, whenever he came home with Drew. Blair had always been on her way somewhere and only had a few moments to talk to him. Except for once, when he’d arrived in time for dinner. Afterwards, she’d been sure he had shown an interest, but the way he avoided her later, she was convinced she’d misread him.
“He’s over there,” Michael said, glancing toward where her brother stood talking to Mitzi Aldrich, the hostess of the party.
Blair nodded, unable to utter a word. This attitude was a complete about-face. She’d chalked up his silence during that one dinner to Drew’s analysis of Michael’s character as being one of the most dedicated new agents at his station, ex-military, not interested in anything beyond the job at hand. The man standing before Blair looked intent on picking her up.
“He won’t mind if you interrupt,” Blair managed, aware that Michael’s eyes were on her bare shoulders. She’d chosen a spaghetti-strapped sun dress for the party because the early summer weather was too muggy for anything else. She stopped herself from touching the bodice.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. She hadn’t noticed the rich timber of his voice before.
The slow rhythm of a recent pop hit filled the air. Blair tried to back away, aware of the power of Michael’s perusal. Around them, couples flowed together into the gentle beat and began dancing.
“Dance with me?” He held his hands out to her. Strong, long-fingered hands, with a sprinkling of dark hair on the tops. Blair’s eyes followed up the length of his arms beyond the white cotton of his shirt, to the strong line of his throat, to his jaw. To the incredible dark eyes.
She moved toward him despite a momentary caution born of some silent instinct. He smelled so good. Clean, with a spicy aftershave. He felt so good. Strong, gentle, not trying to bring her
any closer than her own comfort zone. If he knew how he’d destroyed the barriers of that zone with a single look, he’d pull her into the darkness of the night and—
“Are you here alone?” Michael’s question rumbled across her senses.
“I came with Becky Landers.” Out of the corner of her eye, Blair saw Becky, watching them.
“You have incredible shoulders.”
They bumped into another dancing couple. Blair pulled away slightly and looked up at him. He was looking at her shoulders. A shoulder man? She laughed.
He stopped dancing and held her at arm’s length. His smile, so far removed from the self-confidence he’d radiated only moments before, made Blair stare. She could almost see a flush across his strong cheekbones. “I usually do better when I make a pass.”
“Was that a pass?”
“I think it was meant to be.” He held her with his eyes. “But it’s the truth.”
She felt off balance. There was truth there. And something else. Something she’d never seen before. Something beyond the simple fact that Michael wasn’t treating her with kid gloves, the way he had before, the way other men treated her. Like a Davenport. She stepped toward him again, effortlessly fitting against him as they picked up the rhythm.
“Drew says you’re a senior at Hollins College.”
Blair wanted to deny attendance at the elite college. She wanted to be someone else for a man she thought would care little about such things. But she was who she was. “Yes.”
“Near Roanoke, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s home?”
“Mmhm.” She felt boneless, felt the movement of his body against hers. A picture of them, his dark head next to hers brought a heat to her cheeks. She pulled away.
“Okay?”
She cleared her throat. She couldn’t seem to control her reactions. Whatever poise she’d learned from dealing with the social life she’d been born to, fled the moment Michael Alvarez took her in his arms. “Yes.”
He pulled her against him again, this time closer. This time she went beyond her comfort zone and felt the warmth of his hand trace a line down her back to her waist. Blair pushed aside the caution she’d felt moments ago and flowed into Michael’s rhythm, closing her eyes against a dark foreboding lingering on the periphery of her consciousness.
***
Hours later, music wafted across the moonlit patio. Michael held her close, moving to the rhythm of the music. The party had spilled outside. Now a small group of couples danced in the warm night breeze.
“What would Drew say if he saw us?”
Blair laughed. “Drew left hours ago. With Mitzi.”
“She’s the hostess, isn’t she?”
“Mmhm.” She didn’t want to talk about Drew, about anything.
“What would he say?”
Blair drew back. The moonlight that glanced off Michael’s strong features gave a blue sheen to his black hair. “Does it matter?”
“For what I have in mind, yes.” His words sent hot shivers up her arms.
Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you have in mind?”
“This.” Blair saw him bend toward her, blocking the light with the beauty of his face, and felt the hot, soothing touch of his mouth on hers.
Blair had never been seduced by a kiss. Michael’s mouth coaxed her into want. Gentle pressure, the hot seal of hungry lips, the tantalizing pressure of hands holding her tight, all combined to spark desire.
And she gave in to it. Passion slid new, sparkling and alive, into her consciousness. When Michael pulled away, moonlight glistened on his lips, still parted. Drawn to touch, to feel, Blair reached up and rubbed shaky fingers across his lower lip. In the half-light of the patio, she saw his tongue touch her fingers, felt heaviness well in her stomach. She gasped and looked into his eyes, so hot, so full of wonder.
He bent to her again, taking her mouth in an erotic kiss that couldn’t end—didn’t end. The textures, the scents, the very essence of Michael Alvarez came to her in that single instant.
And she knew she was lost.
***
The present
Blair woke with a sob, trying to keep from crying out. She’d fallen asleep in Becky’s guest room, remembering. Her dream, which started out so sweetly, had become a nightmare when Michael jerked out of her arms, fell back and looked down at himself. Red had bloomed on his left side; confusion etched his face as he looked behind her. Blair had turned to see what he saw.
The dark shadow of a man stood at the edge of the patio, a smoking gun in his hand.
She held her hand over her mouth to stop the scream of horror buried beneath the knowledge that she’d betrayed Michael.
Because the man with the gun was Drew.
Chapter 5
Blair’s house had survived Nell, but it took her, with Becky’s help, all the next morning to rake up the storm debris in her yard. Afterwards, she’d asked Becky to take her to a car rental place. Now in her rental, she went back to Osprey Landing and walked around, hoping she’d find footprints, something, that would tell her Michael had made it to shore.
Because Drew seemed sure Michael was alive.
Because her dream had been so vivid.
But there were too many footprints. The Sheriff’s Department, the Marine Patrol and the Rescue Squad had all combed the landing. Besides, she had no way of recognizing Michael’s footprints among all of those.
She looked across the mile-and-a-half stretch of water, trying to figure out what to do. Inactivity would bring the memories back. Fidgety, too wired up to relax, she dreaded the thought of going back home.
If she could stay busy, maybe get to school and check on her classroom, she wouldn’t drive herself crazy. Going to Grandma’s was impossible. She’d checked with the authorities and she would not be allowed across. The Marine Patrol had been ordered to arrest anyone attempting to get to the island. Power lines were down, they said. It was a big, dangerous mess.
Wind pushed at her hair, pulled at her shirt and sent choppy waves crashing at her feet. Someone had disregarded orders and had a sleek, colorful catamaran skipping across the water. As it rushed toward her, she caught sight of the man struggling to keep the cat upright in the strong wind. What an idiotic thing to do.
She found she’d walked back nearly to the pier. In the parking lot, she saw Evan and one of the Marine Patrol officers who’d brought them over from the island the day before. They talked intently, then Evan pointed toward the bay.
Blair turned and saw a Marine Patrol boat cutting across the water, spraying foam as it roared toward Saint’s Island.
“What’s going on?” Blair shouted, hurrying toward them.
When she reached Evan and the officer, Evan said, “Drew’s on his way to the island with a search crew.”
“But I was told it’s too dangerous to go over.”
“It is for the residents.”
“Why is Drew going?”
Evan shook his head and shrugged. “He’s FBI. He can do whatever he wants.”
***
Blair drove away from Osprey Landing after refusing Evan’s invitation to stay with them for a few days. Blair assured him she was fine. But she wasn’t. Sanity lay in taking charge, so she drove toward the one place that had given her a sense of fulfillment.
Felled trees lay in pieces beside the road and, up ahead, power company trucks were lowering their ladders. A moment later, Emerald Bay Elementary came into view, and Blair saw lights inside. Power had been restored. As she pulled up in front of the modern brick schoolhouse, she saw a number of cars, all belonging to other teachers. The principal’s car was parked in its usual spot.
Under the afternoon sun, Blair searched the shady outside of the building for damage. It was only as she stepped out of her car that she saw it.
Two huge oaks had crashed onto the west wing of the school. Her wing. Slamming the car door, she ran toward the side of the building. Ellen Thompson, a first grad
e teacher whose room was next to hers, stood like a statue, staring at the rubble that had once been her classroom.
“Ellen?”
Ellen turned, her face pale and devoid of expression. “It’s gone, Blair. Nell took all of it. There’s nothing left.”
Mr. Adams, the principal, came from the side door of the building, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. Blair had never seen him dressed so informally, but then, nothing like Nell had ever befallen them.
“Blair,” he called. “You’ve got some damage.”
Blair felt her heart tighten.
“Your classroom’s not as bad as Ellen’s. I’m taking her home. There’s nothing she can do here. Bill Smith’s in your room, if you want to check things out. Fire department said we can go in.”
Blair hurried toward the building, then turned from the door to see Mr. Adams take Ellen by the arm. Poor Ellen. She’d been teaching for twenty years. She had no family. Nell had destroyed her world.
Bill, the art teacher who looked more like a basketball coach, was straightening some of the desks in her room. “It could have been a lot worse, Blair,” he said.
With a quick look around, she agreed. One of the windows she’d boarded up had been crushed by one of the trees. Rain and wind had come in, but over-all, it wasn’t bad. She’d have to throw away a lot of the extra material she’d collected. It would take her a few days to get everything back the way she wanted it once the repairs were done.
“How’s your classroom?” she asked.
“Fine. It’s only the two trees that landed on this side of the building that did any damage.” He straightened another desk. “Looks like you got some rain damage, but if we pull everything over to this side, you should be okay. The wind blew some stuff around, too.”
“I can take care of it, Bill, thanks.” She didn’t want to encourage Bill’s attention. Tall, blond and handsome, Bill had asked her out a few times, showing much more interest in her than she showed in him.
“You sure?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Bill left moments later, leaving Blair to reflect on her last words to him.
Against the Wind Page 5
