White Raven

by J. L. Weil

  “Your safety is my main concern,” she added.

  “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

  She took a breath and held it. Released. “Until the men responsible for hurting my family are brought to justice, I will make sure nothing happens to you or TJ.”

  Finally. Emotion. Anger. That was one I was very, very familiar with. Yet, I had to wonder if she knew something I didn’t? Were TJ and I in danger? “Have you heard from my dad?” I tried to keep the hopefulness out of my tone. But failed. Maybe he had called with information about Mom’s case. It had gone cold, but…

  Her emerald eyes softened. “No. I am sure he is carried away in his art.”

  My heart sunk. No matter how many times I told myself that I’d hardened my heart against disappointment, against hope, it struck back like a venomous viper. “Why did she leave here?” I blurted. Let’s get to the heavy stuff. Why stop, when we were on a roll?

  There was a soft rap on the door. Annette strolled in with a tray of fruit kabobs, pretzels, and beer dip. My taste buds danced. This was my kind of “tea time.” It was more tailgate than tea party.

  Rose smiled. “What were you expecting? Cucumber sandwiches?”

  Bull’s-eye. “Sort of,” I admitted, popping a pretzel in my mouth.

  “You remind me so much of her. Your spunkiness. Your fearlessness. Your recklessness. And your appetite. I bet she was so proud of you.” Her chest rose in a deep sigh, and there was a glint of regret in her eyes. Unexpected. “Your mom did not want the responsibility and the stress that came with her name. Being a Morain comes with a price. Letting her leave was the second hardest thing I’d ever had to experience.”

  I assumed her death was the first. It was for me. The single worst day of my life, and I still lived through the pain every day. “You never answered my question. Why did you let her go then?”

  Rose might be old, but her skin still had this beautiful glow about it, almost unearthly. Her eyes held a sad smile. “For love. What else?”

  The stick of strawberries and bananas was suspended halfway to my mouth. “My dad.”

  She gave a slight nod of her head, her white hair falling over one shoulder. “I always thought she would be back one day. How wrong I was. Never did I imagine the last time we said good-bye it would be forever.”

  There was pain inside her, hidden behind a tough wall, but it was there nonetheless. I didn’t know how I felt sharing the loss of my mother with her. We had more in common than I thought. We had both thought we would see her again, only to have that chance stripped from us by a couple of ass-faces. “Life’s a bitch.”

  Rose gave a sophisticated chuckle. “That it is.” She plucked a kabob of fruit. “Well, this turned into a much heavier discussion than I had planned, but I guess with both needed it.”

  I still ached, and no amount of beer dip was going to help, but it didn’t stop me from popping pretzels like crack. “I guess,” I agreed, still uncertain what had happened. On one hand, misery loved company. On the other, it felt sort of fake. I didn’t trust Rose, and my gut instinct told me there were things she was hiding from me.

  And I wanted the truth.

  “You’ll be the matriarch of this family someday, Piper.”

  “Matriarch? What is this, a feminist protest?”

  “The females in our family have run things for generations. It isn’t to be taken lightly. Like I said, there is a great amount of responsibility that will be yours,” she informed me.

  My ears perked up. I wasn’t a fan of responsibility. “Like what?” Let it be known, that no one even asked me. She just assumed I would take her place. Boy, was she in for a rude awakening. I had plans for my future that did not include slumming it in this mansion.

  She set aside her half-drunk lemonade, her sharp eyes on mine. “You will learn soon enough, when you’ve had time to get adjusted.”

  Hmm. I pursed my lips, unhappily. Patience was not one of my virtues. Neither was doing as I was told.

  Uncrossing her legs, she stood up. “I’ll see you tonight. Chef is making a special dinner. TJ’s request.”

  “Great,” I grumbled, slouching into the back of the wicker chair. “Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Can’t wait.”

  Her lips lifted. “You know your brother well.”

  After a riveting dinner, complete with a meal I barely managed to swallow, in a dining room that couldn’t have felt emptier, I retreated to my suite. The air was easier to breathe as soon as I walked in, surrounded by things that were mine.

  I ignored the unmade bed. Why make it when you were just going to mess it up again? Clutter never bothered me. It meant I was christening the room as my own, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted, to be comfortable here, which only furthered my bitchy mood. Without a second thought, I closed myself into the mammoth bathroom.

  As I walked passed the mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself, the soft light from the chandelier catching the glittery pink of my tiny nose ring. Look at me. Unbelievable. A few days away from my life and already I could see the changes. It wasn’t my outer appearance, but what was inside that was changing. I twirled the little stone on the right side of my nose. I am still me.

  What I needed was a hot, steaming shower to loosen my tense muscles. I stepped directly under the waterfall spray, letting the beads of water rain down my upturned face. Time ceased. Even after the water began to run cold, I didn’t want to leave. Pink-skinned and polished to a shine with some French soaps, I turned the water off and slid the glass door open. The entire bathroom was filled with the mist of steam. There was a white terry cloth robe hanging on a hook just to the right of the shower. I hadn’t noticed it before. My fingers touch the material. Not just terry cloth, but something silkier. Three violet letters were stitched at the breast. P.L.B. Those were my initials. Piper Lynn Brennan.

  I didn’t know whether to be touched or creeped out.

  A robe seemed personal, almost like buying me panties, but it didn’t stop me from slipping the cloud of fluff on my skin. The indulgent material quickly absorbed droplets of water. After I braided my damp hair, brushed my teeth, and put some moisturizing gunk on my face, I curled up on the bed. Tugging the covers to my chin, I lay there trying to get snuggly, but the sheer size of the room made it nearly impossible to have that cozy feeling. There was too much space with me in the bed. My back wasn’t butted up to the wall. It felt more like sleeping in a hotel. I stuffed the extra pillows alongside me, cocooning me. Then I wiggled to get comfortable and closed my eyes.

  It didn’t help.

  My mind wandered as it often did when I was alone with nothing but my thoughts. Why couldn’t I be one of those people who dropped off to sleep the moment their head hit the pillow? I was restless, and this time I knew whom to blame. Thank you, Zane.

  Never had I been so boy-crazed. There was something about this particular guy that drew me in. I was attracted to him, but I didn’t want to be. He was pigheaded. Deplorable. Arrogant. Disreputable.

  While counting all of Zane’s flaws, and there were many, I drifted off to sleep.

  It was pitch black, and for a moment I didn’t know if I had opened my eyes or not. A dark whisper called my name. Piper.

  “Zane.” His name tumbled from my lips.

  The balcony door was open, white lace curtains dancing with the whistling winds. My eyes darted over the room, searching the shadows for movement, a burglary, or the boogieman. That door had been firmly shut when I had gone to bed. I was sure of it.

  I don’t know how long I lay there with my heart in my throat, just waiting to switch into ninja mode. When nothing jumped out at me, I slowly swung my feet over the side of the bed. As I padded over the cool tiles toward the open door, a familiar scent tickled my nose—fresh rain and a hint of mint, a refreshing combo. My feet moved soundlessly, only murmurs of the balmy wind and the swishing of the tide.

  But I swore I had heard my name.

  Under the twinkling stars, I looked out over the grou
nds, nightfall blanketing as far as I could see. Through the darkness, a speck of winter blue stood out.

  I stumbled, and that was all it took for the little light to vanish. My eyes scrambled to find a trace as I refused to believe I was imagining things. I gripped the doorway for support, the thundering of my heart throttling in my chest. The second I felt a tingle crawl down my back, I closed the door, bolted the lock, and drew the curtains shut.

  Sleep was out of the question.

  Chapter 8

  I managed an entire week without one run-in with Zane. That took skill. This small island was impossible to roam about without bumping into a Hunter at every corner. Lucky for me, none of them were the six-foot, moody, perfect male specimen.

  Then why was a part of me bummed each time it wasn’t him?

  I blamed it on lack of sleep.

  Since that night, I’d been not only avoiding Zane, but also sleep. It was a lot harder to do than it sounded. My eyes and my body refused to cooperate, but that night had triggered a new nightmare where a masked man loomed over my bed. And it was the moon glinting off the gun pointed at my head that caused pandemonium to set off inside me. The paranoia might all be in my head, yet it was very difficult to wake up in a dead sweat, your heart hammering in your throat. I wouldn’t recommend it night after night. It wasn’t a look I rocked well. Baggy eyes. Dark circles. Bloodshot eyes.

  There was one other explanation my brain mulled around, but it was just as frightening as the masked man. It kept me up as well, but it a different way.

  Zane had snuck into my room.

  Crazy, right?

  It made very little sense. What reason did he have for creeping into my room in the middle of the night? I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, but that scent… It was one I knew well, and it was doubtful I’d ever forget it. I might have inhaled the material of his sweatshirt until I was high on Zane. That exact smell had been lingering in my room. Explain that?

  On the seventh day, I gave in. There was an unexplainable urge to see his face, even if all we did was bicker. My heart and my head needed a reminder why Zane was bad news. Time had lessened the volume of his douchery. As I headed to Josie, keys spinning on my finger, I contemplated going the straightforward method, but asking him if he was sneaking into my room sounded nutso, even in my head.

  Of course, I still had to find him.

  Whenever you were looking for someone, they were nowhere to be found, but when you wanted to avoid someone, they were everywhere.

  He wasn’t at work. I checked. The boardwalk. Nada. This casually bumping into him idea was turning out to be a bust. Maybe I should have just texted Zoe. It was sounding a whole lot easier, but I didn’t want to appear desperate, because it was most definitely not like I had to see him or I would die. Short of stalking him at home, which posed a problem in itself, I would actually have to know where he lived, and I didn’t.

  I figured that was a sign.

  Today was not the day I would run into the dark and mysterious Zane Hunter. There was always tomorrow. It’s not like I had any idea what I was going to say if, by coincidence, I found him.

  I cut around a corner, taking a shortcut down a one-way street I was pretty sure led back to my jeep. The very last thing I needed was to lose my car. That would just make my day. The sun was slowly receding behind the horizon, and I didn’t want to be roaming around in the dark, for obvious reasons.

  At a walk just short of a run, I came to the parking lot where I was darn sure I’d parked. Searching the lot, I found Josie easily enough, except my jeep had a new ornament that hadn’t been there earlier. A body was lounging against the rear bumper, and for a heartbeat I thought it might be Zane, but as I got a clearer look, he had shaggy blond hair, not raven black. He wore torn jeans with a muscle tee. Thick leather strands hung around his neck. His face looked slightly familiar, and I wondered if he had been at the bonfire. A curious gaze aimed my way in a not-so-friendly way. He sucked on a long drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips. The tattoo of a red hawk on the inside of his wrist captured my eye.

  “Smoke?” he asked in a husky voice that led me to believe he had been puffing away since birth.

  What a way to end what was turning out to be a shitty day. Let’s be real. I was having a shitty year, and today of all days I was letting it get to me.

  I shrugged. “Why the hell not.” I was going to give rebellion a run for its money while I was still young. Truthfully, I didn’t want the cancer stick. I hated smoking, but I thought if this guy had been at the bonfire, then maybe he knew Zane. Okay, he definitely knew Zane, as everyone here knew everyone, but he might be able to give me an idea where I might find him. It didn’t make sense, but suddenly it became important that I found Zane.

  And something told me this guy hadn’t casually ended up using my car as a resting spot. This guy knew who I was. The question was what did he want with me? I fumbled with the strap of my crossbody bag, taking little comfort that I never left home without my mace.

  With a coolness as fake as my smile, I took a cigarette from the pack he held out.

  “Piper, right?” he asked.

  I was getting tired of walking around with a giant nametag stamped on my forehead. “And you are?” I prompted since he wasn’t offering.

  A ring of smoke escaped his lips, traveling up and still keeping its shape. Cool trick. “Names really aren’t important.”

  I positioned the smoke between my fingers like I’d done it a million times before. “It just seems a little unfair. You already know mine.”

  “Life’s a bitch.”

  He wasn’t going to get an argument from me. “And so am I.”

  Bad-habit guy leaned forward, interest lighting his smoky eyes. “I hope so.”

  If he wasn’t going to volunteer information, then I was going to cut to the chase, put him on the spot. “You’re a friend of Zane’s, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t go as far as to say we are friends.”

  The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end, and a chill had moved though my blood. I had a horrible feeling that I was treading into a slippery slope with bad-habit guy.

  He flicked his lighter, the orange-yellow flame jumping to life. I put the slim paper between my lips, leaning forward, never taking my eyes off him. Just before the kindle reached the tip, I heard a voice that had my skin sparking.

  “I would think twice before taking a puff. It’s probably laced.” Zane stepped out of the shadows.

  I blinked a few times as his form came into focus. Words couldn’t express what was happening inside me. Seeing Zane caused a chain reaction of fireworks, booming and sizzling. The cigarette I’d been holding between my fingers slipped, tumbling to the ground, forgotten. I had not taken one drag from the nicotine stick, yet I was short of breath.

  Then his words registered in my brain, and my eyes bulged. Laced? I tore my eyes from yummy Zane to glare at bad habit guy. “Did you—?” Dumbfounded, I couldn’t even complete a sentence. I’d hung around some questionable people before, but this was a first. Drugged?

  What would he possibly gain from drugging me, other than violating me? My mind went off on a tangent, envisioning all sorts of slasher-quality scenarios.

  He pushed off the frame of my jeep with his foot, closing the distance between us. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, little Raven. It’s not personal.”

  I flinched.

  Personal?

  I’d say trying to slip me a drug was kind of personal. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, mortified that I had been naive enough to trust this asstard.

  He leered. “How much time do you have?”

  Smartass.

  Zane growled at my side. “I’d back up, Crash. Unless you want me to break your nose.”

  “Interesting.” He threw the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, smashing the cherry out with the heel of his boot. “Took you long enough,” he said to Zane.

  The two of them sized each o
ther up, clearly not BFFs. Zane stiffened and tension crackled between them, thick and volatile. No long lost love, that was for sure. Sandwiched in the middle quickly seemed like a bad place to be.

  “Since when did the hawks give a rat’s ass about our summer girls?” Zane barked.

  My mind couldn’t process the situation, Zane’s close proximity screwing with my already confused brain cells. And don’t get me started on what the texture of his voice did to my innards, until he called me a summer girl.

  That really ruffled my feathers, so I pinched him. “I am not some summer girl,” I snapped.

  Zane groaned. “Will you just keep your mouth shut? I’m trying to help you.”

  Crash laughed. “No, little Raven, you are most definitely not one of those flighty summer girls. Is she Zane?”

  I gave them both my best bitch face.

  “Why don’t you get the hell out of here before I make you eat that pack of cigarettes in your hand?” Zane suggested very persuasively. Or more like threateningly.

  My hands flew to my hips, irritation spiking. “How about one of you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  They ignored me, only fueling my temper. I was Irish. It didn’t take much to stoke that fire.

  Whatever was going on between them, I couldn’t help but feel like I was involved, which made absolutely no freaking sense.

  “How cute. She doesn’t have a clue, does she, Hunter? Afraid I might spill the beans?” Crash pushed.

  Zane flashed in front of Crash, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him off his feet. Zane’s eyes darkened.

  And Crash’s…

  Crap on a graham cracker.

  Just when I didn’t think things could get any more f’ed up, I noticed something on Crash that my mind couldn’t explain. His eyes… I blinked. And blinked again but his eyes looked the same.

  The veins around them darkened a deep crimson like blood, spidering down his cheeks. “Should I tell her or…?”