by CW Browning
“What about you? Has Mr. Hunk O’ Mysterious been around lately?” Angela asked airily.
Alina grinned. Angela was not subtle, nor did she believe for one moment that Angela didn’t know Damon had been here last week. She would have pried that information from Stephanie within minutes of landing back in Philadelphia.
“Yes.”
Angela waited expectantly, frowning when no more information was forthcoming.
“Well?” she prompted.
Alina met her look blandly.
“Well what?”
“How is he?” Angie asked impatiently.
Alina’s mood darkened with that question and her lips tightened.
“He’s fine,” she said shortly. “Before you ask, no, he’s not here, nor do I expect him.”
Angela studied her for a moment, then sighed.
“You scared him away, didn’t you?” she demanded. “I knew it. You just won’t let yourself have any fun! You need to loosen up and stop working so hard.”
Alina blinked and felt a headache start pricking behind one of her eyes.
“Ang–” she began, but Angela threw up a hand, stopping her.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. All you do is work. Hell, your ex-fiancé dropped dead last week and you went off on a business trip! Who does that?”
“It wasn’t exactly like I had a choice,” said Alina, amused. “And it wasn’t as soon as he...dropped dead, as you put it. For God’s sake, don’t say that in front of Stephanie. She’s likely to have a meltdown.”
“That might be a bit harsh,” Angela admitted ruefully. “Unexpectedly popped off?”
Alina burst out laughing.
“Oh Angie, don’t ever change,” she gasped.
Angela grinned.
“I don’t plan on it,” she said, then sobered. “How are you? Seriously? It had to be a shock.”
“Not really,” Alina said, feeling her mask slide into place. “It was a miracle he survived as long as he did.”
“Stephanie said the Firebird was totaled,” Angie said slowly. “Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“He restored it for you, you know,” she said unexpectedly.
Alina looked at her through hooded eyes.
“Yes, I know.”
“Don’t try to pretend that you don’t feel anything, Alina Maschik!” Angela exploded. “I know you do!”
Alina shrugged.
“I don’t know what I feel,” she said slowly. “I haven’t really had time to think about it.”
“You haven’t had time to think...” Angela’s voice trailed off as she stared at Alina in disbelief. “What’s it like on your planet? Is the air really thin? Maybe it’s deprived you of oxygen to your brain.”
Alina grinned.
“I don’t feel the way you think I should. So sue me.”
Angela huffed.
“Pretend all you want, but I know you better than you think,” she said, pointing a long finger at Alina. Then, in true Angela fashion, she abruptly changed the subject. “John’s parents are in from California. Do you have something appropriate to wear to the viewing and the funeral?”
Alina blinked and a deep sense of foreboding washed over her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, almost afraid for the answer.
“Well, Lina, you can’t show up in cargo pants and a tank top, which is all you seem to wear these days,” Angela told her patiently. “Especially with Joanne there. You don’t want her thinking her son dodged a bullet when your wedding fell through.”
“I really don’t care what Joanne thinks,” Alina muttered, “or anyone else. What does it matter what I wear?”
“I just told you! Everyone’s going to be looking at you. You’re the one that got away. You have to look the part.”
Alina stared at her old friend for a beat.
“What part?”
“The part of the grieving ex who is much better off now.”
Alina felt one of her eyes begin to twitch.
“Am I being punk’d right now?”
“I’m serious!” Angela exclaimed. She stood up. “Come on. Let me look through your closet. Or better yet, let’s just go shopping right now.”
“No!”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” said Angela. Her lips settled into a bullish look Alina remembered well. It never ended well for any of them when Angela got that particular look on her face. “Come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll go shopping and go out to dinner. My treat on dinner.”
“I’m not going shopping.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Damon watched the nurse leave the room and returned his gaze to the TV in the corner. He watched the news channel for a few minutes before pointing the remote at it in disgust and pressing the power button with more force than was strictly necessary. He tossed the remote onto the table at his side and scowled at the ceiling. If he had to spend one more day in bed, he was going to go out of his mind. This was worse than torture, and it had only been two days!
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Charlie had stopped by this morning unexpectedly. Hawk suspected the visit was more to see if he was still there rather than check on his progress. He didn’t stay long, but his visit succeeded in convincing Damon that he needed to get up and out as soon as possible. It wasn’t so much what Charlie had said, but more how he’d said it.
Damon sighed and reached for his phone. While he knew it was Viper who had collected his things in Singapore, it was Charlie who handed him the phone, watch and firearms this morning. Thank God for small mercies.
He swiped the screen and selected Viper’s number from the contacts. She picked up on the third ring.
“Yes?” she answered shortly, sounding irritated.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No. Why?”
“You sound like you want to snap someone’s neck.”
There was a slight pause on the line, then what sounded suspiciously like a grunt.
“The idea has crossed my mind repeatedly the past hour,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Damon replied. “If I have to watch one more minute of CNN, I think I’ll shoot myself again and do it right.”
“I’m sure you can get the TMZ channel,” Alina said, a tremor in her voice. “Or I hear the Kardashians are still on.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that. Where are you?”
“In Jersey.” Her voice was muffled, as if she was speaking through something, and Damon raised an eyebrow. “Where did you think I was?”
“Have you made any progress on the face behind our shooter?”
“I haven’t had chance. I’ve been working on some modifications for my side arms. I want to refresh my armory before I do anything.”
Her voice was clear again and Damon pursed his lips thoughtfully. What was she doing?
“That’s probably a good idea,” he said slowly. “Charlie was here this morning. He brought me my stuff. Thank you for grabbing everything.”
“Of course. The rest is with me. What did he have to say?”
“He’s making some progress, I think. He was unusually interested in what you’re doing right now. He said to impress on you the importance of staying out of sight.”
Alina was silent for a moment.
“Did he give any indication of what kind of progress he’s making?” she asked softly.
“Of course not. He did say one thing I didn’t like much. Harry doesn’t know what happened, and Charlie made it clear he isn’t going to tell him.”
The silence on the other end was longer this time.
“I don’t like that, either,” Alina said in a low voice. “So as far as Harry knows, we could be anywhere.”
“Exactly.”
Damon stopped as he heard something strange in the background, then a voice.
“Lina, I found another one. I’m tossing it over. And if you like
the gray one, I found a fabulous pair of red heels that will look killer with it!”
Damon’s eyebrows soared into his forehead.
“Viper?” he said softly. “Are you...shopping?”
“No!” she snapped.
“Oh, and try this on! It wouldn’t work for the funeral, but I think it’s sexy as hell and would look amaze-balls on you.”
“Really?” he drawled. “Because it sounds like someone’s passing you clothes to try on. Is that Angela?”
There was a faint sigh.
“Yes.”
Damon couldn’t stop a grin from stretching across his face.
“Funeral shopping?” he asked, only the mildest tremor in his voice showing his enjoyment. “I thought you were modifying your .45?”
“I was, then Angie happened.”
Damon burst out laughing, wincing as pain ripped through him but unable to stop.
“Oh, I wish I could see this,” he chortled. “Is she trying to dress you like a tragic widow?”
“More like a Desperate Housewife,” Alina muttered. “I don’t know how this even happened.”
“I want pictures,” Damon told her. “If you go to John’s funeral looking like a cougar, I want it documented for future generations.”
“Keep it up and I’ll put another hole in your side,” she hissed.
Damon guffawed again.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he relented, still grinning. Then the grin faded. “Viper, be careful. Something has Charlie worried. Watch your back. That amaze-balls outfit won’t look so sexy with a bullet hole in it.”
Chapter Twelve
Stephanie pressed the end button and lowered her cell phone, a deep frown on her face. She’d been going back and forth with John’s attorney for the past two days, so when his number showed up on her caller ID, she had answered readily. Now she stared at the wall across from the dining room table, lost in thought. It was awkward enough that John made her the executor of his will over either of his parents. Awkward, but understandable. They accepted her role without much of a fuss, and Stephanie was sensitive to the fact they were still his next of kin. Now, however, the attorney found something else.
Stephanie sighed and set her phone down, stretching and rubbing her eyes. Even after he was gone, John was still being a pain in the ass.
She stood and picked up her empty glass, circling the dining room table to carry it into the kitchen for a refill of water. Blake was taking Buddy for a final lap around the complex before calling it a night. Stephanie glanced out of the kitchen window as she filled her glass from the filtered pitcher in the fridge. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness except her own reflection.
According to the attorney Wayne, John had a safe deposit box. While that was surprising enough, the caveat John had apparently insisted on in his instructions to the attorney was downright bizarre. Stephanie was the only one allowed to access to the box. In the unlikely event she was also deceased, the box could be accessed by only one other. Wayne was reluctant to divulge the name, but when pressed, he admitted it was in the will. When Stephanie read it, she’d find out anyway.
Stephanie replaced the pitcher in the fridge and took a long drink of cold water. John’s alternate for the deposit box was Raven Woods.
Stephanie shook her head and went back to the laptop on the dining room table. She shouldn’t be so surprised, but she was. Stunned was more like it. She and Alina were the only two allowed access to a safe deposit box John kept secret from everyone. She sank back into her chair. If both of them were deceased or otherwise incapacitated, the box was to remain sealed.
“John, what the hell were you up to?” Stephanie muttered, dropping her head into her hands.
Wayne had the key and he was meeting her first thing Monday morning at the bank where the box was located. He’d already called the manager and they would be ready for them.
The front door opened suddenly and Buddy bounded in, followed by Blake. He looked across the room to her and closed the door, flipping the deadbolt into place.
“You ok?” he asked, turning to follow the dog.
Buddy lumbered up to Stephanie and shoved his nose onto her lap, his hind-quarters wiggling as his tail wagged furiously.
“Yeah,” Stephanie sighed, lifting her head from her hands and rubbing Buddy’s head. “I just got off the phone with John’s attorney again.”
“Everything alright?” Blake asked when she didn’t continue.
“I suppose so.” Stephanie watched as he went into the kitchen and heard him open the fridge a second later. “I have to meet him at the bank at nine on Monday. John had a safe deposit box, and his instructions were very clear. I have to open it as soon as possible.”
“Monday?” Blake appeared in the doorway with a beer in his hand. “Can’t it wait until after the funeral?”
“Apparently not.” Stephanie stopped petting Buddy and sat back in her chair. “John wanted it opened without delay, as soon as he died. Unfortunately, Wayne didn’t come across that particular directive until this afternoon. And before you ask, I’m the only one who can open it.”
“I wish I could help you with some of this.” Blake moved toward the living room. “Why don’t you give me a list of things I can pick up on Monday? I can at least run some errands while you’re at the bank. What time is the viewing?”
“Seven.” Stephanie stood up and followed him, dropping onto the couch tiredly as he settled into the recliner. “There actually isn’t much to do. The funeral home is taking care of the flowers and memorial cards, and Joanne is meeting with Father Angelo at the church. She asked if I wanted to come, but I said that’s all her. Angela found a restaurant for the luncheon on Tuesday, so that’s done. Really, I guess all I have to do is go to the bank, and then buy something to wear.”
“See? That all came together quickly and fairly painlessly,” Blake said, sipping his beer. “Have you heard from Alina yet?”
Stephanie glanced at him, surprised.
“Why?”
Blake raised an eyebrow at her reaction.
“You said you hadn’t heard from her, that’s all. What’s wrong?”
Stephanie sighed and leaned her head back on the couch, propping her bare feet up on the coffee table.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just...on edge, I think. I haven’t talked to her, but she texted me about an hour ago. She’s back. Angela was over there today.” She grinned suddenly. “Lina says it might end up being a double funeral.”
Blake grinned.
“I can’t wait to meet this Angela,” he said. “Between what you and Michael have said, I’ve got quite a picture in my head.”
“I can guarantee it’s nothing like the original,” Stephanie assured him with a laugh. “She’s pretty special. She suggested brunch tomorrow for Easter. Are you game?”
“I’m always up for food. Do you know me?”
Stephanie got up and headed back into the dining room to get her phone.
“I’ll text her and tell her we’re in,” she said over her shoulder. “Better you get used to her before the viewing.”
“You make it sound like I don’t get along with anyone.”
“Trust me. Angie can try the patience of a saint, and you’re no saint.”
Alina winced involuntarily as she poured hydrogen peroxide onto the seeping wound in her side. She pressed a wad of clean paper towel against it and sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t easy keeping Angela out of the fitting rooms while she tried on an endless array of clothes, but she’d managed it. She had no choice. There was no good explanation for the bandage on her side; not that Angela would believe, anyway. Alina’s eyes went to the smaller bandage wrapped around her left bicep. That one she hadn’t been able to hide. Luckily, Angela bought her story of flying glass from a shattered window.
Looking at herself, Alina shook her head.
“You’re a mess,” she told her reflection.
The bandage wr
apped around her bicep was covering two bullet holes, courtesy of a through-and-through she had received last week in the process of saving a biochemical engineer by the name of Dr. Krupp. Now she was trying to ward off an infection from another one in her side. Any more and she would start looking like Swiss cheese.
Alina lifted up the paper towel and peered down at the hole in her side. It was red, and angry, and hurt like hell. It was starting to close, but it was not happy. Obviously she hadn’t done a good enough job cleaning it out on the airplane. Not surprising, really. She was too busy worrying about Hawk to pay much attention to her own injury.
Tossing the wet towels into the trash can under the sink, she reached for a large, nonstick, gauze bandage and ripped open the packaging. She would give it another day. If the infection got worse, she would have to get it cleaned out professionally. That was something Viper tried to avoid at all costs. Medical professionals meant a trail, and trails were never something people like her wanted to leave behind. She held the bandage against the wound with one hand while she reached for paper medical tape with the other. Hopefully the infection was only superficial and the peroxide would do its thing. If there was any debris, or worse, metal shards inside her, she was out of luck. No amount of home remedy would touch it.
Alina had just finished taping down the bandage when her phone vibrated. Simultaneously, a very loud, high-pitched beep echoed through the house. Her security perimeter was breached. Her brows snapped together in a scowl and she grabbed her phone, swiftly swiping the screen. Viper touched the flashing icon on her phone and pulled up the birds’ eye view of the property. Her eyebrows soared into her forehead when she saw the black Ford F150 entering the dirt drive from the road at the edge of the property.
Alina slid her phone into her back pocket and reached for the tank top she had tossed onto the vanity. Between her arm and her side, she was stiff and sore, and she pulled it over her head with a grimace. Once the bandage at her side was covered with the black shirt, she turned and strode out of the bathroom. As she passed through her bedroom, she glanced at the empty perch in the corner. Raven was out.
Raven was her pet hawk. Or rather, the black hawk that adopted her for his own. When she tried, very responsibly, to leave him in his home environment in South America, Raven had other ideas. He followed her out of the mountains and halfway across the country. When it became clear he had no intention of leaving her, or allowing her to leave him, she conceded. He’d been with her ever since, following her each time she relocated. Now he seemed content to watch over her sixteen-acre property. When she left to travel, he stayed behind. How he knew she was coming back was a mystery she hadn’t been able to solve, but Viper admitted she was always happy to see him when she returned.
