Even more damning, Drew’s name had appeared many layers deep within the bank records, where nothing short of a thorough drilling down could find it.
With Drew involved, Michael had to stay away from Blair. But if things were different, if he were a different man, he’d walk into her room right now and love her.
The way he should have before. With more honesty than before. He’d passed up the opportunity to talk to her, to tell her what was going on with him. Back then he couldn’t face his brother’s death. Blair had been an anchor in a time of grief. He’d been afraid to voice his feelings. Instead, he’d tried to bury them.
And now, as he tried to forget, all he could do was remember that hot, bright day so long ago.
***
Six years earlier
The catamaran’s bright yellow and red sail fluttered in the breeze. Michael found pleasure in showing Blair how to take the sleek little cat skimming across the water.
He loved the way she leaned back against him, the way her hair blew about them.
But what he really loved was her faith in him, in his ability to guide the tilting cat. To have her trust him as they went tripping across the flat water.
By the time they got back to her grandmother’s it was dark. Alice Davenport’s car was gone and they found a note, taped to the door, explaining that a good friend had had a heart attack and that she would be gone overnight. She would call and let Blair know when she’d be back.
Michael instantly picked up on Blair’s nervousness as she let them into the empty house. Did she think he expected sex after barely two days? He nearly laughed, but sobered because he knew he’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her. Only he wanted to fan her hair out on a pillow and savor her, be gentle with her.
He groaned.
“What?” she asked after closing the door behind them.
Fighting to control the spiraling emotions he knew would destroy the hard won peace he’d found since meeting her, he said, “You need to soar, enjoy life, take chances. You were meant for it.”
“I had a wonderful time. How did you learn to fly and sail?”
“My stint in the Army gave me lots of opportunities all over. My brothers … and I all learned to sail and fly.” But even that response took him to places he didn’t want to visit. Dark places where loss and anger threatened to engulf him and destroy what he’d found with Blair.
“You said your family’s from Argentina. When did you move here?”
Safer ground. “I was fifteen. My father’s a mechanical engineer. He got a job with an American company. My mother was happy. She’s American.”
“How did you meet John?”
This one was too close. Michael looked away. “We met through his work. Before I went to work for the Bureau.”
“How long have you been with the FBI?”
“This is my second year.”
“Two years less than Drew.”
“Yes.”
“Why the FBI?”
“It seemed like a good fit after the Army.” He shrugged, trying to put distance between himself and his answers. “It worked out.”
Blair must have picked up on his reticence, because she changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” he replied, relieved they would move on to something else, some safer ground.
Blair opened the refrigerator, scanned the contents and turned back toward him. “How about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“There is nothing more awful than peanut butter and jelly.”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How can you not like peanut butter?”
“It sticks to the roof of your mouth.”
“But it’s good.”
“No, it’s awful.” He stepped behind her. “Let me see what you have.” He looked at the contents of the refrigerator, aware that he was trying too hard to make things light. “Here. I’ll make you dinner.”
He made an omelet full of tomatoes, onions and bacon, topped with grated cheese. They ate every morsel, laughing and talking over the old rock ‘n roll station Michael had found on the radio. When they finished, his better self decided he’d better leave. Fast.
Getting involved would be a mistake. Whatever happened between them would mean more than just being involved. He was in no position to give her anything but a good time. She was too young and too inexperienced to understand the limits of what he had to offer. He couldn’t afford softer emotions, not if he intended to deal effectively with David’s death, not if he intended to prove he could do the assignment he’d worked so hard to get.
Soft music filled the kitchen. Blair watched him with a combination of shyness and passion he sensed simmering beneath her caution. Every reason he’d given himself for not getting involved flew out the window. He could handle this. He could give her fun and pleasure, nothing more. Maybe it would be enough for her. It had to be for him.
“Dance with me,” he said, knowing she should refuse, afraid she’d agree.
She looked at him with slightly wary green eyes and he almost walked away. Then she stood, took his hand and slid into his embrace, the fit so perfect Michael nearly stumbled.
He should have known then what would happen, where it would end.
When he bent to kiss her, she melted against him. Rod Stewart belted out Tonight’s the Night and he was lost.
Chapter 7
The present
Blair peered into the starlit darkness and made out the shape of the canoe, still partially hidden by dried sea grass and tumbling vines. They’d agreed to leave the island early, but Michael had pulled her out of a restless sleep long before the agreed upon four A.M. For one betraying moment, she’d thought he’d come to finish what they’d started on the deck.
She watched him uncover the canoe. “We can’t leave now. There’s not even a glimmer of dawn. It’s crazy. We should wait until there’s more light. We’re likely to bump into the Marine Patrol on the bay.”
“Blair, they’ll have lights. We’ll see them a mile away,” he said. “Besides, if we wait, the tide will be against us.”
His assessment of the situation made Blair clamp her mouth shut. He was right, of course. She’d known that when she crossed, or rather she’d gambled she was right. Michael would know. She protested when he insisted on paddling, even though her arms were too sore from all the raking and her own trip across. But, as usual, there was no arguing with him. His only compromise was to say nothing as she picked up the spare paddle and helped. Moments later they were moving across the darkened bay, bouncing on the choppy water.
They could see anything coming at them. A tug pushed a barge a good distance away, its lights making it look like a Christmas tree.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he asked, echoing her thoughts.
“Yes, it is.” She wondered how either of them could think of beauty at a time like this. She should be terrified; afraid they’d drown, or worse, get shot by one of the men who wanted Michael.
Ahead of them, the mainland loomed dark and imposing, the curve of Sunrise Cove, where they’d parted so long ago, clearly evident even in the darkness. They paddled the canoe to the shore, the sounds of the lapping waves beating a rhythm that matched the steady splashing of the paddles. Once the canoe scraped the sandy bottom, they jumped out and pulled it up into the pines.
“Where’s the truck?” Michael asked as they donned shoes again.
“Over there.” She pointed further into the tangle of trees and storm debris.
“Good girl.”
She saw the white of his teeth when he smiled and felt unaccountably proud of getting his approval. They lifted the canoe and moved toward the hidden truck.
Once they’d loaded the canoe onto the trailer, they got in and Michael cranked the engine. The sound, so loud in the stillness of the trees, startled Blair. She searched the night, afraid of watching eyes. Michael let the engine idle a moment before shifting into gear, then pulled out from t
he protective cover of the trees onto the empty county road. He didn’t turn the headlights on until they’d gotten away from Sunrise Cove.
As they drove through the darkened neighborhoods of Emerald Bay, past the turn to Blair’s elementary school, she spoke. “I rented a car. You can take it.”
She saw Michael shift in the seat beside her.
“I’m renting it by the week, so it won’t be missed.”
“What will you do for a car?”
It took her only a moment to think ahead. “I’ll use this. My neighbor won’t mind.”
“Does Drew—”
“Drew doesn’t know what I’m driving. He won’t know what kind of car you’re in.”
He drove in silence until they reached an intersection with a still shuttered convenience store.
“Show me the way to your neighbor’s.”
Once there, Michael looked at the surrounding houses carefully, backed the trailer onto the driveway, and unhitched it from the truck. Blair walked to her house and opened the garage, where she’d left the rental. When he finished, they both stepped into the garage.
“What are you going to do now?” Blair asked, handing him the rental’s keys.
“Straighten things out.”
“How?”
“Better leave it alone, Blair. The less you know the better.”
She shook her head, wishing she could deny the obvious.
This was just like before. No answers. No explanations. She knew the plans he’d made didn’t include her, never mind that she’d spend the rest of her life wondering what if.
But that was pointless. She’d used all those emotions up years before. Michael did and thought as Michael saw fit. Explanations were not something he would give her, not really something she deserved. She had, after all, excluded herself from his life.
Morning sun breached the horizon, casting enough light so Blair could see Michael’s face, his beard stubble dark against the paleness of his skin.
“I can take care of myself, Blair.”
“You’ve done a great job so far,” she said before she could bite back the sarcasm.
He laughed. That rich laugh she sometimes still felt in the dark of night when she missed him so terribly she could find no solace.
“Good God, Blair,” he said, sobering, “I thought you were a sweet, compliant girl.”
“I haven’t been a girl in a very long time, and I’m far from compliant.” She wanted to be angry with him, to hate him, to rid herself of the memories. “I’m not sure I was ever sweet.”
She saw his eyes darken; saw the set of his mouth turn serious.
“No, Blair, you were sweet. Sweet as fire, burning hot.” He touched her cheek with a gentle hand. “Sweeter than I deserved.”
Before she knew what had happened, he stood before her, his face inches from hers. “You’re sweeter now. Richer since you let the fire come up for air.” His face descended toward hers, his strong, firm lips settled on hers.
Sweetness gave way to heat. The kiss consumed her, reminded her of so much. Of things she wanted to forget, especially her own weakness.
Then he released her, his dark eyes intent on hers. With his hands on her upper arms, he said, “Thank you, Blair. Thank you for blind belief.” He pulled her close again and gave her a quick, hard kiss.
He walked quickly toward the rental, slammed the door shut and started the engine. Blair leaned against the garage doorframe, fighting the urge to go after him.
Michael backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the street.
He never looked back.
***
Things had certainly gone to hell in a hand basket, Michael thought. Two hours out of Emerald Bay, driving north, away from the hurricane-ravaged coast, he tried to focus on what he had to do. He was going to have to get some rest. If he didn’t, he’d kill himself in a car wreck before he ever cleared his name. That would certainly be one way to finish this. If something else didn’t finish him first.
He tried not to think of his mother and father and of how worried they must be. They’d already lost one son to law enforcement. But he wouldn’t think about David now. Michael wished he could call and reassure his parents, but their phones had to be bugged. Unless his body turned up, Eddie and company would keep looking, as would Drew.
And there was Blair. Tempting him with lost possibilities. Another topic not worth broaching. Up ahead, Michael saw a small cinder block motel, a cheap wooden vacancy sign out by the dirt driveway. Across the road stood an old diner. As good a place as any to stop, sleep for a few hours, and grab a hot meal.
***
Blair sat down on her classroom floor and began sorting through the wet books on her bookshelf. She’d already gotten as many things as possible out of the way for the repair crew that would arrive tomorrow. Ellen Thompson had stopped by, looked helplessly into the rubble that had been her room, and had to be taken away, again, sobbing.
The sight of the first grade teacher had shaken Blair. Was she in danger of having so much of herself tied into something that could be destroyed so easily? Fear of just that had been part of the reason she’d refused Michael years ago. Now she wondered if she’d replaced Michael with teaching. With a classroom.
Angry with herself for even thinking about Michael again, she concentrated on the books.
“Miss Davenport?” Jason Petrie, the school secretary’s eight-year-old son hurried through the open door and called to her.
“Yes, Jason?”
“There’s a man looking for you.” The small blond boy pointed to the dark hall behind him. “Mommy says Miss Allen’s looking for you,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.
Assistant Principal Joanne Allen, a disapproving older woman waiting only for retirement, managed to make the wait awful for everyone.
Before Blair could get up off the floor, Miss Allen burst past Jason. “Blair, there’s a man here for you.” Slightly out of breath, she steadied herself against the doorframe. “You know you’re not supposed to have visitors.”
It wouldn’t matter to Miss Allen that Blair wasn’t really on school time. Rules were rules. She’d probably have a report in her file by tomorrow. She hurried to the door in time to see Drew moving down the hall toward her. He’d never come to see her at work.
Heart beating too fast, she refused to think about Michael. Drew would be able to see through her lies this time.
“Blair?” Miss Allen’s piercing voice got Blair’s attention. “Is this man your brother?”
“Yes, Miss Allen.”
Miss Allen harrumphed, then eyed Jason warily. “I’ll have to talk to your mother, young man. You’re not supposed to be here.” She turned toward Blair again. “You know you aren’t supposed to conduct personal business at school.” With that, she hurried off, Jason trailing behind.
“Is she always like that?” Drew looked at the retreating assistant principal.
Blair tried to laugh, but felt that it came out more as a gasp. “She doesn’t like people. She loves rules.”
“Rotten profession for her then.”
“Is Mom okay?”
“Mom?” He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. “Of course, she’s fine.” He looked over his shoulder. “Where can we talk?”
“In here,” she said, indicating her classroom. “Come on.”
Once inside, Drew shut the door behind them. He looked around, slowly turning, taking in the broken window, the desks, all stacked to one side. Then he turned back toward her. “Where have you been?”
“What?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling to check on you since yesterday.”
Blair blanked her mind of anything but what she must say. “I’ve been here.”
“I went by your house late last night. I called all day yesterday. Your phone rings and rings. Your cell phone, too.”
“The phone company doesn’t know when the house phone will be up. It’s the lines,” she explained. “The cell phone
works sometimes, but most towers are down.”
“I called the school and they put me on hold. I waited forever before I gave up. When I came by, I couldn’t get in.”
Blair thanked heaven that the front office had put him on hold instead of telling him she wasn’t there, and for the first time saw a good side to Miss Allen. “There’s not much staff here during the summer. The best thing to do is to leave a message.”
He looked at her pointedly, as if trying to read her. Blair struggled to meet his gaze.
“I wanted to see how you were.”
Breathing deep, she said, “Well, I’m fine. I’m going to find out when they’re going to let people on the island again. I’ll check on the house.”
“I’d rather you didn’t go alone—”
The shrill beep of Drew’s cell interrupted his words. He pulled out his phone. “Is there a land line phone I can use? I can get texts, but, as you said, calls are iffy.”
“The teacher’s lounge would be the best, I suppose.” She led the way down the hall, then through the office to the tiny lounge. They waited while another teacher used the single phone. When she finished, Blair ushered Drew past the vinyl-topped table. He picked up the receiver, then turned back toward Blair. “Can you shut the door for me, please?”
“It won’t keep anyone out,” she warned.
Impatience flashed across his face. “Make sure no one walks in on me.”
Of course. This was business. “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”
Blair walked through the doorway, pulling it shut. Then she leaned back on it.
She could hear what Drew said.
***
Michael pulled the baseball cap lower onto his forehead and stepped through the torn screen door of the diner next to the motel. He’d slept for four hours. Hunger had awakened him.
He nodded to the woman behind the cash register and walked into the dingy diner. Looking around, he saw a mix of people: those displaced by Nell, truckers, wanderers. This was his element, blending in something he’d learned long ago, before he learned to speak perfect English. Fifteen-year-olds named Miguel learned quickly to accept being called Michael and to be rougher and harder when necessary with schoolmates. Survival meant knowing when to give in, when to fight back.
Against the Wind Page 8
