a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

  “This is all speculation,” Adam growled. “It’s possible that Scott did this on his own. Probably wanted to scare you enough to keep you out of the way so he and Pestorelli could focus on finding those diamonds.”

  “Scott?” I asked, my voice tight, barely recognizable.

  Adam touched my arm, then pulled back and vigorously rubbed his palms together. Bits of dried mud fell to the floor. “The ID on Messy came through. Arnie Scott has a rap sheet longer than a double roll of toilet paper. Served time for armed robbery, fencing, transporting stolen goods. I could go on…” He tossed it off with a shrug.

  “Is he the one who shot me?”

  Adam shifted his weight, screwed up his face. “Can’t say. No proof, but it fits. Guy likes guns.”

  My insides shriveled.

  Mitch pulled me against his chest. “Time to wrap this up.”

  “But—”

  “You’re pale, Sunshine. Let’s get some sleep and tackle this in the morning.”

  “He’s right,” Annie said, her tone brisk, determination lacing through her words. “We’ll all do better with some sleep.”

  I pulled her aside while Mitch was washing up. “You introduced yourself to Sean Martin as Annie Stone. Doesn’t that increase the chances West will find you?”

  “Caught that, did you? I’m all about using myself as bait to draw West out. I want my life back.” She paused, a don’t-go-there message clear in her eyes. “Hey, do you want a t-shirt to sleep in? I don’t have much that will fit you, but a sleep shirt’ll probably do well enough for tonight.”

  “Yeah. Thanks,” I said absently, still focused on her intention to use herself for bait. Sounded like I should out her to Adam, but no, brother and all. Pierce would be a better choice.

  Fifteen minutes later, when I was comfortably wrapped in Mitch’s arms and floating on the edge of sleep, his voice whispered, soft against my ear. “How long have you known, about Annie and Adam?”

  “A while. The intensity of what we’ve been through since Tony’s murder has made the images I pick up clearer, harder for me to push into the background and ignore. I told Annie earlier today that I knew. Remember when I asked to see her alone? I try not to let what I learn from touch trespass into friendships, but it’s not always possible. Might be why Annie is my only friend.”

  “I’m your friend too, El.”

  Twenty-six

  I shoved the last bite of Annie’s special veggie omelet into my mouth just as the cleaning crew and glassier arrived. Coffee in hand, I let them in and then sat on the front porch in a hazy pool of sunlight, hoping the caffeine would hit my brain and push go. Preferably before I wandered into my backyard to face the damage in the light of a new day.

  Probably it would have worked faster if Annie had added some cinnamon to the French roast, or if I’d had time for a shower. I was lusting for a shower. Should have taken one last night, but exhaustion overruled cleanliness. When I got out of bed, I’d pulled on the only clothes I had—my dirty sweats from the night before. I looked, and smelled, more hazardous than the descriptive report Mr. Pete Williams from Williams Demolition and Construction was handing to me.

  “Miz Gray,” he drawled, “y’all are goin’ta have a piece of work here. What’s left of the deck is goin’ta have to be removed and rebuilt. So’s a part of the kitchen wall. We’re goin’ta take the deck off today, keep it from falling down by itself and pos’bly causin’ more damage. Won’t get to the kitchen ‘til day after tomorrow. The glass man can replace your winda’. We’ll be able to work ’round him since there’s no need to remove the winda’ fit’ins. Everything’s safe. Y’all can walk ’round long’s you don’t get near the door to the deck.”

  “From the south, are you Mr. Williams?”

  “Yes’um. Born and bred right here in Carolina. Y’all can check my references back a’fore my Gran’ Pappy’s time. Whole family’s in construction.”

  “Hey, El.” Annie called to me as she crossed the yard. She had a fresh pot of coffee in her hands and topped off my mug.

  “Thanks,” I said, pointing the mug toward the back of the house. “Walk back with me, would you? I have an idea.”

  We fell into step. “What’s up?”

  “I’m thinking we should build a deck that runs across the back of both our kitchens.” I pointed up and along my charred wall to her pristine, un-scorched back deck. “Maybe a gate between them, for privacy, you know. And I thought some stairs so we could have access to our living quarters without going through our offices. The driveways are long enough we can easily park back here. I don’t know. It’s just an idea since I have to rebuild anyway. What do you think?”

  She paced, hands jammed in her back pockets, neck cricked as she checked out the possibilities. Finally, she slid her sunglasses on top of her head and grinned. “Yeah, I like it. Why don’t we make it a two-level deck? The upper levels could be on the far ends of our houses, and a middle deck could be between? It would give us a break during the climb, which as we know can be tedious with grocery bags.”

  I nodded, following her train of thought.

  “The end decks would be more private, if we wanted privacy, and the middle deck would be like a gathering place. It’d be handy to walk across to each other’s back door without having to go downstairs, out the front door, and then upstairs to see each other.”

  We did a high five. It was a welcome break from death and destruction. A respite to give my mind and body a chance to catch up to the chaos my life had become.

  “Let’s run it by Pete Williams, get his opinion.” I took a healthy swallow of coffee as we approached him.

  Pete thought it was a great idea—I could tell by the dollar signs cha-chinging in his eyes. He agreed to have a preliminary plan ready for us that afternoon, and I escaped into the remains of my house for the long-awaited shower. The cleaning crew had done a great job, and already it didn’t smell as dreadful as it had last night. I dressed in jeans and a sexy tank with spaghetti straps, slid into some thong sandals, and checked the results in the bedroom mirror.

  Anything would have been an improvement from the way I looked on the way into the shower, but I was happy with what I saw—a woman with strength and confidence who knew exactly what she was doing.

  Sometimes mirrors lie.

  If I looked the part, it would be easier to become the part. At least, that was my theory when I chose the tailored jeans and tank. I checked my calendar, would have to reschedule any appointments into phone slots since it would be impossible to work with the construction going on.

  “El?” Mitch’s voice floated upstairs. “Where are you?”

  “Bedroom. On my way down.”

  He’d showered while I met with Pete Williams and looked all put together in gray slacks and a white shirt. Hold on. Slacks and a dress shirt. A hollow sensation crept into my belly. “Are you going to work?”

  “The call came in before I got in the shower. I have a meeting in twenty minutes. I’ll tell you what I can, but—”

  “I know,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to discuss my fingers and the security clearance issue. Not when I was still reeling from the attack on my home.

  He backed me up against the wall, captured my hands over my head, and ran his tongue along my lips. I shuddered with want, with a need to be grounded in his acceptance of who I am.

  I pressed against him, and he ran his fingers along the edge of my top, his lips against the sensitive skin of my throat. My thoughts went south and I freed a leg to wrap around him, to pull him closer.

  He came back for a hungry, not-so-gentle exploration of my mouth that sent shivers tumbling down my spine.

  “The house is full of people, I’m running late for a critical meeting, and all I can think about is how much I want to take off this scrap of…” His fingers slid under the hem of my camisole.

  “Hold that thought,” I managed, trembling. I let my leg slide down to the floor and pushed against his chest. “Workmen. Outs
ide the window.”

  “Later.” He left a trail of testosterone mixed with Black on Black. Hell of a distraction.

  I gave the inside of my house one last glance. Why didn’t my walls talk to me? Surely, if Tony’s walls talked, mine would. Had to have been a one-of-a-kind experience. I breathed out a sigh. Yeah. Okay it was good that my wall weren’t talking to me. Much as I could use the information, it meant that I really wasn’t all that psycho. Maybe.

  I slid out the front door, slipped into my silver Bug, and headed off, destination secret. I knew with prickly neck certainty what had happened to the stolen diamonds.

  When I’d parked my Bug outside Tony’s house, I phoned Annie. “Tony mailed the diamonds to himself, or maybe to someone else, I’m not sure, but I bet they’re caught in the postal system somewhere. What do you think? It happens that way in the movies.”

  There was a long silence. “Un-huh. Possible, not probable. This isn’t the movies so don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “Okay. I’m going to stop by Tony’s and check his mailbox. Can’t hurt to look. Then I’ll swing by and pick you up for our meeting with Pete Williams. That sound okay?”

  “Do I need to remind you it’s a federal offense to mess with the mail? And it’s probable the PD has put a hold on Tony’s mail.”

  “Huh. I never thought about them doing that. Still, I’m going to stop by. Maybe a hassled postal clerk didn’t get the message. Thing is, you should forget all about this conversation and my theory. It’ll go better for you when I tell Adam.”

  “What theory? Did you say something about a theory?” Her laughter sparkled over the line as she hung up.

  “What did you find at Tony’s?” Annie asked we headed back to the car after our appointment with Pete Williams.

  “You didn’t ask me that , right?”

  “Had to. Restrained myself on the ride to town, tamped it down through the meeting with Pete, and I’m about to turn into a gooey puddle of curiosity.”

  I could relate. “An empty mailbox except for pizza advertisements and credit card applications. I still think there’s something to my theory. I’m going to see what Mitch and Adam think. Mitch hasn’t called yet, wonder if they ever send him on assignment without giving him a chance to pack, let friends and family know he won’t be around for a while.”

  “He’ll find a way to let you know what’s going on. Mitch is a good man.”

  “He is. No argument on that front. All of our time together has been stressful, and we still like each other. We disagree well. I think that’s important, don’t you? To be able to disagree about things and still respect each other’s point of view? ‘Course the chemistry is pretty amazing.”

  “Nothing like a little chemistry to cheer a girl up. I could go for some of that myself.” There was something—a wistfulness that clung to her words.

  “Did you hook up with that fireman? What’s his name, Sean? There hasn’t been much time, but...”

  Frantic movement from the passenger side. Annie was blotting up the mouthful of water she’d spewed down the front of her shirt.

  “You have. You don’t miss your mouth unless I hit a pothole. Come on, give. How did you pull if off with the chaos around here?”

  “You’re imagining things. There’s no new man.” Cool. Calm. But her eyes had that glassy, moony look and there was a funny little smile making her lips twitch. Annie did not get glassy-eyed and moony.

  “Tell me or I’ll touch you.”

  She held me in a big-eyed stare. “You don’t intrude in people’s privacy like that. Well, lately you have been. But things haven’t been at all normal.”

  Her voice sounded sure I wouldn’t do it, but her body hugged the passenger door.

  “This is a Bug, Annie. Unless you actually melt into the door, there’s no way to avoid my touch. Now give.”

  “Well. Really it’s no big. Embarrassing, really. That fireman, Sean Martin. The one who carried me out of your house—it really wasn’t one of my better moments. Caught me by surprise. Really it did.”

  “Really?” I asked, biting my lip to keep from laughing, “Could have really fooled me.”

  Her eyes rolled up—as if she’d get any help from that quarter. “If you’re not nice…”

  It should have been a threat, but I’d pulled into the driveway and my attention abruptly shifted to Mitch. Cat-lazy, he sprawled on my steps, all coiled strength and male energy. In a single, smooth movement, he uncurled and strode toward the car. A move sexy enough to fine tune my lust-o-meter.

  He opened the driver door and lifted me against him. Heat flashed through me, tingled along my skin, and pooled deep in my belly.

  “Hello, Sunshine.” The greeting was punctuated with a kiss that left no doubt where his thoughts were centered.

  Mine were focused on an afternoon nap minus the sleeping part.

  A great idea, quickly dispelled. “Until I met you, I liked my job,” he ground out. “Now it’s becoming a pain in the ass. Will you drive out to my house with me? I need to gather some special equipment, get things together to fly out tonight.”

  “Ahem.” Annie gave us a quirky smile. Probably had something to do with my interrogation of her being interrupted. “Hi, Mitch.”

  “Annie, I apologize.” His gaze traveled between the two of us. “How was your meeting with the construction people?”

  “Good. We have a bunch of plans to talk about, decide what we like. You’re flying out again tonight?”

  “Looks that way. Usually my assignments aren’t so close together, or maybe I’m noticing it more since I’ve met Everly.”

  “I’m going to drive out to his place, keep him company while he packs. We’ll probably be back in, what, a couple hours, you think?” I looked at him for confirmation.

  “Won’t be that long.” He checked his watch. “Got a plane to catch.”

  Annie nodded, pushed a handful of blond curls behind her ear. “And security is a nightmare these days. El, let me know when you get back? With Pestorelli, Fingers, and Arnie Scott out there—”

  “Absolutely. Same goes. If you’re not around when I get back, leave a message on my cell.” I turned to Mitch. “I’ll zip upstairs for a quick progress check, and then we can leave.”

  Mitch and I had a lot of time to talk on the drive. I learned about his brother who still lived in New York, as did his parents. He and Jayne were the odd ones in the family, enjoying the warm climate of the south more than northern winters. He talked about loving photography since he was old enough to hold a camera. It was nice, normal, without guns and bodies and jewel thieves.

  “Have I told you I love your house?” I asked as we got out of the car.

  “No, but you did tell me you’re looking forward to stargazing from my bedroom window.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “And I’m looking forward to see you covered in nothing but moonlight. Come on up with me, most of what I need is on the third floor in my study. Since it’s too early for stars and moonlight, you can sit on the deck, enjoy the view while I pack.”

  “Sounds good, but first I want to touch…your study. If you don’t mind, I mean. Before you turned up at Western Wake, I’d planned to beg Jayne for a chance to walk through and, you know, touch things. See what I could learn.”

  “You’re shy about this. It’s cute.”

  Not the image I wanted to leave with him before he went on assignment. I dug for femme fatale, came up zilch. “So it’s okay, then?”

  “Go for it. I had a cleaning crew in, so I’m not thinking you’ll find anything but—”

  “There’s a possibility. We shouldn’t ignore it, not with Annie setting herself up as bait.”

  Mitch stilled, his hands fisting into the sweater he held. “Pierce know about this?”

  “It’s on my to-do list. I’m thinking I can catch him at the hospital, should have done it, but she distracted me with Sean.”

  Mitch tossed me his cell. “Now. He’s on speed dial.”

 
And if that wasn’t an interesting tidbit of information. It kicked to voicemail, so I left a brief message. “You want to tell me about the speed dial factor as it relates to Pierce?”

  He shook his head, resignation making the motion sketchy. “He’s as thorough as Annie with the background checks. We had a come to Jesus, traded numbers.”

  “Uh-huh. Why am I the only one left out of this stuff?” A twinge of jealousy flickered in my mind but was squashed when I ran through my meeting with Pierce. The secrets I hadn’t shared with Mitch about my home, my parents, the damn walls talking to me, my fear that West was a shape-shifter. Well, those last two would remain a secret. Can’t have the man I care about questioning my sanity. Again.

  He zipped his duffle closed. “Ready?’

  “Yeah. I skimmed most everything in here. Your cleaning crew is too good, didn’t leave a trace of anything but themselves.”

  I touched his hand. “The place you’re going, back to the Arctic it looked like. The scientists you’ve been working with found something else the government’s interested in. It has to do with global warming, this assignment. I wanted you to know what I picked up. I need there to be honesty between us even though I understand you can’t deny or verify what I’ve said. I needed to say it.”

  “I understand. When I get back from this trip we’ll talk about the impact it would have on your life to go through the security clearance process. My life, too. It may well be a choice neither of us is ready to make. I know which way I’m leaning, but we have to think about it. Talk about.”

  I snugged my hand into his and wove our fingers together. Affirmation that I was willing to talk about it. Later. “Mitch?”

  He raised his brows. “Yeah.”

  “When’s the last time you checked your mailbox?”

  Twenty-seven

  He stopped, dropped my hand. “My mailbox? I’ve hardly been here. All my bills are on automatic payment because of the travel. Most of the time the box gets filled with junk mail, so I don’t pay much attention.”