TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

  “Yes, the poor man is beside himself. He has put out a Missing Persons Report throughout the country. He was here a few days ago. He is still very suspicious of you. The only thing that kept him from hauling you back to Illinois and putting you in an interrogation room with your hands tied behind your back and a bare light bulb in your eyes was he saw for himself you were laid up in bed. He is coming back this afternoon though, so you might want to start packing. I’ll order your lunch.”

  Giving her a speaking look for waiting until now to mention it, he headed toward the door then stopped and turned. “Does he know what happened?”

  Tamara nodded her head back and forth in a maybe yes, maybe no sort of way. “Yes and no.”

  “What did you tell him?” he asked his glance leery.

  “I told him you were in a car accident, here.”

  “He doesn’t know she may be in North Carolina.”

  “I could have made a mistake,” Tamara admitted, “but I can’t help thinking the poor man would just muddy the waters.”

  He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “You are a wise woman, Aunt Tam.”

  Eyes unfocused, Tamara stared into the distance. “Sergeant Bell is a good man. But I don’t think it would be in the best interests of Gabriella’s protector to have the law skulking about.”

  He tightened like a bowstring. “Gabriella’s protector? What the hell do you mean by that?”

  Tamara blinked. “I have no idea. But I’m sure you’ll find out.”

  Christopher stood for a moment, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth, then pivoting, he walked out of the study.

  Tamara called after him, “Come down to lunch after you’ve packed.” She got up and walked out a door that was always locked from the inside to the hallway, murmuring to herself, “I must get her dog and cat here before she comes back.”

  Christopher was muttering too. Unfortunately, none of his words were repeatable. The cool air circulating in his bedroom turned blue.

  He threw his clothes in a black leather bag then picked up his cell phone.

  “Billy, have you found anything?”

  “Boss! It’s good to hear from you. Nope, haven’t seen hide nor hair of the ball nor of the girl. But I think there’s a good ole boy up in the mountains who knows more than he’s letting on. It’s nothing I can put my finger on. Just the fact that he wasn’t all that interested to hear a beautiful blonde might be lost in the mountains. Mountain folk are notorious for minding their own business and expecting you to mind yours, but he’s still a man. And what man’s not going to have his interest piqued about something like that. It certainly wasn’t because he had any interest in my fine-looking self,” he added, laughing over the phone.

  “Well, you just get your fine-looking ass back here along with my plane. Meet me at the airport in two hours. No make that an hour and a half,” Christopher said curtly, then snapped the phone shut.

  “Got our boxers in a wad, do we?” Billy muttered into the dead phone.

  * * * * *

  The plane hovered then dropped, its wheels extended. It coasted to the end of the runway, wide-ribbed treads screaming as they fought the asphalt for purchase, then came to a perfect stop.

  “You sure can fly a plane, boss,” Billy said, unstrapping his seat belt.

  “Tell me about this mountain man of yours,” Christopher said abruptly as he shut down the plane.

  Billy sighed. Something was certainly eating at the boss. He’d hardly said a word the whole flight.

  “Middle-aged, physically fit, good-looking in a rough-hewn sort of way,” Billy responded.

  “Dirty ole man,” Christopher muttered under his breath.

  “Say what?” Billy strained to hear. “Did you just call me a dirty ole man?”

  “Of course not,” Christopher responded, impatiently opening the cockpit door.

  “Well, boss, all I got to say is you ain’t yourself. Nor are you much fun,” he added belligerently. If the boss wanted to fire him or try to kick his butt, so be it. Though, considering Christopher was still convalescing, Billy was pretty sure he could take him.

  Christopher’s lips thinned in a straight line.

  What could the boss say? When he was right he was right. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Billy asked stepping out of the plane.

  Christopher sighed. “Not really, just one of Tamara’s predictions.”

  “Say no more.” Billy had met Tamara a number of times and knew she was fey. A bayou boy like himself recognized that sort of thing.

  They left the plane and walked silently to the rental, a black Cherokee Jeep. Billy headed for the driver’s seat.

  Christopher looked at him, cocking an eyebrow.

  “If you don’t mind, of course. It might be easier than trying to give you directions.”

  Christopher drove all cars like he was in his Jag in the city and on these mountain roads it didn’t bear thinking about. Billy shuddered.

  Christopher grinned, not in the least bit fooled.

  Billy gave a relieved sigh. He’d been afraid Christopher’s mouth had atrophied into that grim line.

  He opened the door and climbed in.

  Christopher did the same. As he snapped shut his seat belt, he asked, “What does this guy do?”

  “Of course no one mentions it, but given his location buried in the back of nowhere in the mountains, I’m guessing he’s a moonshiner.” He slid the key into the ignition and turned it. The jeep sprang to life.

  “Say what?” He turned his head sharply and looked at Billy. A breeze from the open window ruffled his hair. “Have I stepped into some sort of time warp?” he asked only half-joking.

  Billy backed the car out and headed out of the airport down a road that twisted and turned, lined with trees and great slabs of gray rock that intermingled along the roadside.

  “Boss you’ve lived most of your life in the South. How can you not know about moonshiners?”

  “Well, I knew they made quite a living during prohibition,” Christopher replied defensively. “Besides, I limit my illegalities to jewels.”

  “Before, during and since,” Billy said briefly. “It’s a very lucrative field. The stills are located in the mountains because of the limestone deposits. And because it’s pretty tough for revenuers to find them,” he added grinning. “Though, I’ve heard ALE spends about $560K each year looking.”

  “Billy, you’ve become as loquacious as an old woman. Is there any word on Lai?” Christopher asked.

  “And your memory’s about as bad,” Billy retorted. “I’ve told you four times now. No.”

  Lord, the boss was in a bad skin. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the man was in love. The thought made Billy pause. It would certainly explain why the boss was as cranky as a bear stuck with a snout full of porcupine quills. And not knowing if she was safe or in danger. Man that was tough.

  He wondered if the younger man sitting beside him was even aware of the fact himself, probably not.

  “What are you grinning about, Burke?” Christopher asked him irritably.

  “Me? Not a thing, boss. Not a thing.” He lapsed into silence.

  The wind blowing through the open window smelled of pine. Christopher drew in a deep breath while looking around appreciatively. It was amazing really. He had traveled the world and knew so little about pockets of his own country. The mountains were beautiful and actually did look blue in the distance.

  But like small sound bites, his mind could only be diverted from the nagging fear for Gabriella for short pieces of time. Most of the time, it gnawed at his gut making him wonder if he was getting an ulcer.

  And when his stomach wasn’t tied in knots, he was so damn angry he could cheerfully strangle her. If she hadn’t been so damn stubborn about the damn crystal, this would never have happened. This was all her fault. She was worrying him sick.

  Christopher had always prided himself on being able to deal with any situation in a cool, calculating man
ner. This was totally unlike him. He knew he was being as irrational as a female with PMS, but was helpless to do anything about it.

  He sat up straighter in the car, his body absorbing the lush feel of the leather. She was here. He knew it. He sensed it.

  He felt Billy glance at him, but the man wisely remained silent.

  They hit a pot hole in the road that even the well maintained shocks of the Jeep could not absorb. Christopher never felt it.

  After another twenty minutes or so, Billy pulled off at one of the lookout points. Christopher came out of his deep abstraction enough to ask, “What are we doing?”

  Billy unsnapped his seat belt and cut the motor. “We walk from here.” He hopped out of the car, then strode to the back of the SUV and opened the tailgate. Billy pulled out two backpacks and two walking sticks.

  As Christopher approached, Billy tossed him a backpack. “I know there’s got to be a road up there somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Billy pointed at the pine-lined vista. A light wind blew, causing the trees around them to rustle and sway. The sky was clear except for a few wisps of clouds, which flirted with the tops of the mountains, “Up and over.”

  Christopher felt the blood begin to course through his body. He sniffed the air and stood as still as a pointer. Gabriella was here. “Let’s go.” And matching deed to word started out.

  They hiked for over an hour. Billy stopped frequently to give Christopher a rest, but each time Christopher urged him on.

  Finally, they broke through to a small clearing. Even though it was cool, both were sweating profusely from the hike. Billy reached in his pocket and pulled out a clean linen handkerchief and wiped his brow. Christopher didn’t even notice the sweat pouring down his face he was too busy glancing around.

  Birds chirped and swooped in the glen. A birdfeeder hung from a nearby branch where cardinals, titmice and a Carolina wren flew in and out. A woodpecker with a shiny red head flew toward the feeder than veered away as he caught sight of the two men.

  Christopher absorbed the scene then focused on the well-made cabin.

  His heart was pounding and his breath was coming in short sharp gasps. He rushed forward. Somewhere in a very cloudy portion of his mind, Christopher knew he was acting like a fool. The Tiger never rushed into a dangerous situation without coolly weighing the odds and turning them in his favor. He could also hear Billy hissing, “Christopher, for God sakes what are you doing? Do you even have a gun?”

  He burst through the cabin door, banging it back against the wall and came up short. The smooth bore of a shotgun pointed at his chest went a long way toward lifting the fog his brain seemed wrapped in.

  His eyes traveled from the double barrel to the man holding it. The man standing in front of him was about his height and heavily built with no sign of fat. His graying hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his eyes resembled the cold steel of the shotgun.

  “Tell your friend to lay his gun on the stoop and come in.”

  Without taking his eyes off the mountain man, Christopher called, “Come in Billy and leave the heat on the porch.”

  Billy walked in, throwing his boss an exasperated look. Never taking his eyes off his adversary, Christopher sensed more than saw Billy’s exasperation and shrugged. He couldn’t blame him. If their roles had been reversed, he would have fired Billy’s ass on the spot.

  Both the moonshiner and Christopher became aware of Gabriella at the same time. Everyone spoke at once.

  “Gabriella, are you all right?”

  “Get back in the bedroom.”

  “It’s all right, John Paul. It’s the man in the globe.”

  “Boss, is it Ms. Bell?”

  “What the hell is she talking about?”

  “Tamara, er, Gabby, do you recognize these two?” The shotgun was still pointed squarely at Christopher, but the man kept his eye on Billy too.

  “Tamara?” Both Christopher and Billy spoke at once.

  “Gabriella, what the hell is going on here and what are you doing with, with,” he gestured toward the mountain man, “him.”

  She moved forward to stand beside the moonshiner, which angered Christopher no end. “John Paul, you can put the gun down. They aren’t here to harm me.” Unless it’s to batter my heart a little.

  “What rig are you running? Writing a series of local articles on moonshiners?”

  Gabby gave him a confused look. “Moonshiners?”

  “Didn’t your protector,” he sneered, “tell you what he does for a living?”

  It was obvious the man holding the shotgun didn’t like the direction the conversation was going one bit, probably for several reasons.

  “Boy,” he said softly, “I would suggest you watch your mouth.”

  “John Paul runs the family business,” she said defensively. “He delivers Budweiser or something.”

  A grin spread over Billy’s face and an involuntarily laugh became a muffled cough as three sets of indignant eyes turned toward him. “Lord, we’ve fallen from high drama to farce.”

  John Paul motioned with his shotgun. “Just who the hell are you two?”

  Christopher was mentally assessing the situation. So she’s aligning herself with the moonshiner is she? Well tough times call for tough measures. At the moment he could think of only one quick way to get her home without a shootout. Ignoring the gun pointed at him he walked toward Gabriella his eyes burning into hers and yanked her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss that went on and on.

  The room faded into the background along with the people in it. The sweetness of her response took his breath away. He was aware of an annoying droning in his ear. It was like being dive-bombed by hummingbirds. It was a continual buzz, buzz, buzz in the background.

  Gabriella was jerked abruptly out of his arms. She stared at him, her swollen lips parted, a dazed expression on her face.

  Christopher was able to control his voice and breathing, but not his wildly dilated pupils. He cut his eyes toward John Paul. “Get her things together. I’m taking my fiancée home.”

  “The hell you say!” John Paul exclaimed.

  “Fiancée? What the hell are you talking about?” Indignation and confusion warred on Gabriella’s expressive features.

  “Congratulations, boss!” Billy said, reaching over to shake his hand enthusiastically.

  Christopher drew his own back, rather quickly. “Are you forgetting we’ve got a gun pointed at us?”

  “Well actually I had,” he answered, then walked up to John Paul and extended his hand. “Name’s Burke, Billy Burke. You got any champagne around here or are we going to have to drink white lightning?”

  John Paul quickly assessed the man standing in front of him and decided he liked what he saw. The younger man was another story.

  He shook hands with one hand and held the shotgun on Christopher with the other. “I have no desire to get jumped by this young hothead,” he said.

  “He’s a good man,” Billy said simply, “but he’s in love.” He watched in amusement as Christopher swallowed down what was probably a negative response.

  Gabriella looked like an oil rig ready to blow. Sure enough she erupted. “Have you all lost your collective minds?” She wheeled on Christopher. “Are you out of your mind, which at the moment is my department? We aren’t engaged and we aren’t getting married.”

  She shoved past Christopher. John Paul reached an arm to stop her but was hamstrung by Billy enthusiastically shaking his hand and the shotgun. The dog whined at his heels in confusion.

  Gabriella walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her, Christopher on her heels.

  “Gabriella, wait!”

  Billy released John Paul’s hand then clamped it on his shoulder. “What say we let them work it out? Now, how about some of your home brew?”

  “How did you know about me anyhow?” John Paul asked, leaning the shotgun up against the wall.

  “I’ll tell yo
u mine if you tell me yours.”

  John Paul grinned. “It’s a deal.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Christopher ran down the porch steps after Gabriella, his heels clicking against the wood. “Gabriella, wait.”

  He had nearly reached her when a bullet when whizzing by his ear. “Damn it to hell.”

  Christopher took a flying dive and knocked Gabriella to the ground with a tackle that would have made his old college football coach proud.

  John Paul and Billy, who were in the midst of toasting the engaged couple with a jug, looked at each other and raced for the window.

  John Paul opened the window and let off a shot in the direction of the gunfire. The sound blasted through the clearing. “Are they after you or me?” he asked Billy, the gun resting on his shoulder as he scanned the woods behind the clearing.

  “I have no idea. Cover me while I get my gun.”

  John Paul nodded and fired again. Billy yanked open the door and reached for his gun. A bullet whistled by his hand. Grabbing the gun, he drew back indoors and slammed the door shut.

  “Are Christopher and Ms. Bell all right?” Billy asked cocking his gun as he leaned against the wall.

  “So far, but they need to take cover.” He watched them for a second. “Looks like they are crawling for that stand of pampas grass just a few feet away from them. It should provide them a little cover.” John Paul fired off a shot that cracked through the underbrush like firecrackers.

  Under cover of the volley of gunfire coming from the cabin, Gabby and Christopher slithered toward the tall stands of ornamental grass rustling and swaying as bullets whizzed through their plumelike silvery panicles. “I guess it’s a safe bet to assume your former lover is responsible for our current precarious situation,” she wheezed, her voice bitter. “Whatever did you see in that psychopath anyway?”

  ”That’s rather obvious don’t you think.”

  As they reached it, Christopher pulled her behind it then threw his arms around her protectively. “Keep your head down.”

  No problem there. Gabby planned to hug Mother Earth until all firing had ceased.

  “Why did you come bursting through the door like the calvary and call me your fiancée?” Her head shot up and he pushed it back down.