ONCE THROUGH SECURITY, Wren excused herself to make a phone call.
“Who was that?” Darrow asked when Wren rejoined her. “Was that Sutton?”
“No, sweetheart. I was calling Z.”
“Why?”
“He’s going to meet us at the airport.”
“Why?” she asked again.
Wren put her hand on the small of Darrow’s back, navigating her toward the flight attendant who was asking for all first-class passengers to board.
“He’s going to give us a lift to the abbey.”
“But Sutton is picking us up. I spoke to him just after Quint purchased the tickets.”
Wren looked upset by Darrow’s news. Had she done the wrong thing by calling him?
Once they were seated, Darrow closed her eyes. She was physically and mentally exhausted.
“WAKE UP, SWEETIE,” she heard Wren say. “We’re getting ready to land.”
Darrow sat up and looked at her watch. “Already? Did I really sleep the entire flight?”
“You did.”
Darrow looked out the window at the dreary London weather. If someone had told her forty-eight hours ago that she’d be going home, she would’ve laughed at them first and then prayed they were wrong. There was next to nothing that would bring her here, outside of the health of someone she loved.
Wren helped her navigate to customs. Thankfully, with her credentials and the diplomat passport Darrow carried because of her family, they were ushered through quickly. She looked at the faces in the crowd for Sutton, but didn’t see him. Instead, she saw Axel.
He looked in such pain that she prayed she wasn’t too late. As soon as they let her, Darrow ran into his arms.
“How is he?” she cried.
“He’s hanging on. He can’t wait to see you.” When Axel leaned forward to kiss her, Darrow turned her cheek.
“Where is Wren?”
Axel motioned across the walkway to where her friend stood talking to Darrow’s brother.
“Come on, let’s get your trunk,” Axel said, guiding her away from where Wren and Sutton stood.
“I need to wait for her.”
“Wilder drove also; he’ll bring her to the abbey.”
Darrow wished she could confirm that with Wren, but she and Sutton looked deep in conversation. Finally she relented and let Axel lead her away.
“I missed you so much, Darrow,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
“Axel, we need to talk.”
“And we shall. Let’s get you back to the abbey so you can see Wellie, then you and I can talk this out.”
Darrow inwardly groaned. As far as she was concerned, they had nothing to “talk out.” Axel obviously saw things differently. As soon as they arrived at the abbey, she’d excuse herself somehow and call Quint. She couldn’t wait to hear his voice.
17
What only yesterday promised to be the best Thanksgiving Quint had had in years, or maybe ever, turned right back into the same holiday routine he’d experienced for the last ten, at least.
He was sitting in the bunkhouse with the rest of the men and women who lived and worked on the King-Alexander Ranch when an emergency weather alert popped up on his phone. He read it and looked up at Decker, who must’ve received the same alert he had. They both stood and walked toward each other.
“What the hell does this mean?” Deck asked, going on to read the alert. “‘An extra-tropical cyclone is developing ahead of an upper-level trough over the West Coast. Snow is expected to all as far south as the United States-Mexico border beginning as early as midnight.’”
“It sounds like we’re about to get one helluva snowstorm,” said one of the other ranch hands.
Decker let out a whistle, and the bunkhouse dining room went silent. “A freak storm is headed our way. We need everyone out that can get out, either on ATV, horseback, or SUV. We have cattle out, roaming the ranch, some of whom are about to drop calves on the ground.”
Lines formed with men taking their dishes to the bins near the kitchen.
“Tell them to just go,” yelled Tee-Tee, waving her hands at Quint, who got Deck’s attention.
“Tee-Tee says leave your dishes,” Deck yelled out.
Quint made his way to the back of the barn and threw open one of the alley doors.
“You gettin’ out the Bummer?” asked Deck.
“This sounds bad.”
Deck nodded and started moving the boxes that were stored around the vehicle he and Quint had built themselves. It was what was known as a Frankenstein car, although it was more of a truck. They’d pieced it together from parts of countless others. Once it was assembled, Deck had found buckets of bright yellow texture paint, and that’s what they’d used to paint it. It had all-wheel drive, was lifted higher than any of their other trucks, and the tires were from an abandoned military vehicle.
Quint got in, praying it would start, and it did on the first try. “What the hell do you know?”
“I start it up about once a week,” Deck told him, climbing in the passenger side.
They weren’t a mile out when heavy winds starting picking up. Somewhere off in the distance, Quint could swear he heard tornado sirens going off. “Were tornadoes predicted?” Quint asked Deck, who looked at his phone.
“Fuck!” he shouted, reading something on his screen.
“Tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Deck!” Quint yelled.
“It says tornadic supercells have begun to appear in areas of Texas. One cell is reported to have produced an EF4 wedge. More are expected.”
“That comes through here, and there won’t be anything left,” Quint said somberly.
Within the hour, heavy wind and rain that turned into blizzard-like snow descended on the ranch. Quint couldn’t see a foot in front of him. He told Deck to get on the radio and tell everyone who was out to get the hell back to the main buildings. They’d lose a lot of cattle tonight, but he didn’t intend to lose the lives of his ranch hands.
“Power’s out,” Deck reported. “One of the guys is headed back to make sure the generators kick on.”
Quint nodded. Things were going from bad to worse. He had no idea what to expect by light of the next day, but he knew it would be far worse than he could even imagine.
He and Deck, along with the rest of the men who were out in vehicles, stayed out all night and into the following day. Most of the cattle they came upon were already gone. Every so often, they’d find one or two alive. If they’d already dropped their calves, they were dead too.
With over a hundred thousand acres, it would take days for them to cover all the ground. He’d stopped worrying about his cell phone hours ago. Everyone was relying on radio communication instead, and it was important to keep that equipment charged.
Forty-eight hours after he got the first weather alert, Deck convinced Quint that he needed to sleep. He stumbled into the ranch house and into the bed he’d shared with Darrow. That seemed like weeks ago, given all he’d been through and seen.
He had no estimate of how many head of cattle they’d lost, but he knew it would likely be numbered in the thousands. They wouldn’t be alone in this either. Every ranch in the region had to have experienced the same devastating losses.
He hugged the pillow that still smelled like Darrow close to him and fell into a deep but troubled sleep.
18
Darrow suffered through a miserable Thanksgiving dinner prepared by the Whittaker family cook, Mrs. Mollybock. She made no secret throughout the meal service that she was very put out that Sutton wasn’t there.
“She loves him and hates me,” Thornton grumbled.
“Why is that?” Darrow asked. “She’s never acted this way toward me.”
“It’s me. All me. I have no idea why, but she’s never liked me.”
Darrow would have at least tried to assuage her oldest brother’s hurt feelings, but it was pointless. Mrs. Mollybock glared in his direction every time she came int
o the room.
The only other person Mrs. Mollybock seemed to be concerned about was Wellie, and for that, Darrow wouldn’t complain. He was home now and telling everyone he was feeling better although he certainly wasn’t up for joining them for a formal dinner at the abbey.
Darrow promised Axel she’d leave as soon as she was able and bring them both leftovers from the meal. When she arrived, she saw that the cook had beat her to it. Evidently, she’d prepared a meal solely for them.
On her way to Wellie’s cottage, she’d tried to call Quint. She’d been trying for the last twenty-four hours, and her calls went straight to his voicemail. The same thing happened when she tried to contact Wren.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had much time to talk,” Axel said when he came out of his father’s bedchamber.
“It’s okay. Wellie’s health should be our primary concern.”
When he reached for her, Darrow turned away.
“What’s going on?” he asked, leading her away from the door and into the sitting room.
“We broke up, Axel. I went to America. Have you somehow forgotten?”
“You’re back now, and I thought we could—”
“We can’t,” she answered more abruptly than she intended to.
He pulled her over to the sofa. “I’m listening, Darrow, tell me what’s happened in the time since you left the abbey.”
“I can’t do this right now, Axel. I’ll go in to see your father and then I need to get back to the abbey.”
When Darrow peeked in, Wellie was sound asleep.
“I’ll come back in the morning,” she said, coming back to where Axel waited.
“Right,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Tell me this. Is there someone else?”
Was there? She didn’t know what to think. Why would Quint leave his mobile off for hours on end? Had he invited the pretty cowgirl to join him for Thanksgiving dinner? What was her name? Kayleigh?
No. Of course he wouldn’t do that, but what logical explanation could there be? He’d told her to ring him when she arrived in London, and she had. Repeatedly.
“Darrow?”
“I’m sorry, Axel. There is, or at least there was, someone else. But that is really beside the point. We broke up. When I went to America, our relationship was over.”
“I’d hoped that once you were back, we could…I don’t know…try again.”
“To what end? If you recall, this last breakup was your idea. We aren’t suited, Axel. You know this as well as I do. Perhaps better. I don’t know where your idea of a reconciliation came from.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, but that isn’t a reason to continually perpetuate a relationship that doesn’t work for either of us. I’ll say it again, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”
THREE DAYS LATER, she was at her wit’s end. She still hadn’t been able to reach Quint or Wren. Finally she called Sutton.
“I promise, by noon. No later,” Sutton said when Darrow pressed him on when they’d be arriving at the abbey.
“Is Wren nearby? May I speak with her?”
“Yes, she’s right here,” Sutton answered.
“Hello, Darrow.”
She couldn’t begin to explain how good it felt to hear her friend’s voice. “I thought perhaps the two of you had been swallowed by a black hole. You missed Thanksgiving.”
Wren laughed. “We flew through Thanksgiving, and you slept the entire time.”
“Mrs. Mollybock made quite a feast followed by an equally dramatic fuss when her precious Sutton didn’t arrive for dinner. You do know he’s her favorite.”
“Mrs. Mollybock?”
Darrow heard Sutton groan in the background.
“The cook. There’s only two people she gives a wit about, Sutton and Wellie. The rest of us could eat porridge morning, noon, and night for all she cares.”
“Speaking of Wellie, how is he doing?”
“Much better, thank God.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I keep forgetting you haven’t. You must hurry and get up here. Tell Sutton he’s not allowed to hold you hostage any longer.”
“I will. We’re leaving soon, I promise. Oh, and I may need to borrow some clothes.”
Darrow laughed. “Right, of course. Um, Wren, I have a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Wait, hang on one minute.” Darrow didn’t want anyone to overhear this part of her conversation.
“Okay, I’ve gone outside. Have you spoken to Quint?”
“I haven’t. To be honest, I haven’t spoken to anyone other than your brother. Why?”
“I was just wondering. We’ll talk more when you get here. Do hurry.”
Darrow rang off and tried Quint’s mobile again. She’d lost count of how many times she had.
When she returned to the abbey, she found Orina, Thornton’s wife, in the sitting room.
“Come talk with me, Darrow,” she said, holding out her hand.
Darrow sat on the sofa next to her and fell against its back.
“Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Orina covered Darrow’s hand with hers. “You’re like a sister to me. So yes, I want to know. You haven’t been yourself since you returned from America. I know you were concerned about Wellie, but I sense there’s something more.”
Tears streamed down Darrow’s cheeks as she told her brother’s wife everything that had happened between her and Quint Alexander, including that she hadn’t been able to reach him since she arrived in England.
“There has to be an explanation. Have you asked Wren?”
“Of course I have, but only when I called Sutton earlier. Prior to that, I couldn’t reach her either.”
Orina bit her bottom lip. “I can see how that would be upsetting. We’ll press her for more information when she and Wilder arrive.”
When her sister-in-law brushed the hair from Darrow’s face and cupped her cheek with her palm, Darrow started crying all over again.
“Thank you,” she said between tears.
“Come here.” Orina pulled her closer and put her arm around Darrow’s shoulders. “If you need to cry. Cry.”
Darrow smiled. It was rare that one heard even the tiniest bit of Orina’s Russian accent, but she had then. It usually came out when she was either angry or sad. Darrow guessed this time it was because Orina felt sorry for her.
“I have a story to tell you.”
Darrow wiped her tears. “Okay.”
“As you are well aware, when I realized I was pregnant, I kept that information from your brother. In fact, I went into hiding, from him and everyone else.”
“You were in danger, Orina. United Russia had a bounty on your head.”
“This is true, but there was more to it. I wasn’t sure about a relationship with Shiver—Thornton, as you call him. We were from such different worlds. I grew up an orphan in Moscow, and he was the eldest son of a duke.”
“That didn’t matter to him, Orina. He loved you.”
Her sister-in-law smiled. “I know that now, and I supposed I did then too, but there’s something more I want you to know.”
Darrow nodded. “Go on, I’m sorry I keep interrupting.”
“When Kazmir was born, I thought a lot about our relationship. I focused entirely on Shiver as my son’s father rather than the man I loved. For some reason, I thought the two were mutually exclusive. Those first few months of my son’s life, I learned so much about myself. Having a baby…there is a lot of time to think. I realized that Kazmir and I would be okay on our own.”
“I’m so glad it didn’t work out that way. For both your sakes. Or all three of yours. And now, Lilliya’s too.”
“When we found our way back to each other, it was so different. Instead of needing Shiver in my life, I wanted him. Do you understand the difference, Darrow?”
“I think so.”
“It may so
und silly, but I made friends with myself in those early months of my son’s life. I knew who I was, and I learned to like that person. The life I led before he was born…I wasn’t a good person, Darrow. I’ll spare you the details, but it wasn’t easy to look at myself in the mirror. That’s the expression, right?”
Darrow smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I don’t know if I’m making sense to you, but what I’m trying to say is, don’t skip that part. Get to know yourself, learn to be okay with yourself. You don’t need to be in a relationship to be complete.”
Darrow blinked away at her tears. Orina had spoken directly to her every insecurity. Who was she if not the daughter of the duke and duchess, sister of the same, and someone’s girlfriend? On her own, she had nothing. It was the reason she’d left England in the first place. She’d gone to America to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and, instead, immediately got into a relationship with Wren’s brother. She didn’t do anything to forge her own life; she became part of his.
Perhaps it was for the best that she hadn’t heard from Quint. That was what Orina was telling her, wasn’t it? Being okay on her own was a tall order, but maybe being forced to come back to England was for the best too. She’d had her talk with Axel, and while he didn’t agree at the time, deep down he knew they didn’t belong together. It was as much a convenience for him as it was for her.
So here she was on her own with nothing to do but get to know herself—something she would’ve gladly avoided doing if not for her sister-in-law’s lecture. She wasn’t a child, though. It was time she grew up and took responsibility for her own life and what she did with it.
“I think they’ve arrived,” Orina told her.
Darrow stood, looked at her watch, and peered out the window. Had an hour gone by already? “The duchess is here as well. Wait. You’re the duchess. Let me rephrase. My mother is here, as is Sir Caird.”
Orina nodded, seemingly completely unaffected by the crowd of people arriving at the abbey.
“I wish I could be as calm as you are.”
“Oh, Darrow.” She laughed. “Inside, I am a barrel of jumping monkeys.”
Shadow (Military Intelligence Section 6 Book 4) Page 9
