There was also sadness.
What was she doing? His vision narrowed. On the table in front of her was a smallish book. The blank page hinted it was a journal. She held a pen with a showy crystal on one end. Arnie recognized the blingy writing implement. Ali collected things with diamond accents—she had several diamond topped pens in the cup on her desk.
Summer covered a page in scribbles. He tried to catch what she wrote and drew, but all he saw were doodles of flowers and a sneaker.
Wait. What? A sneaker?
Trying with all his might, Arnie zeroed in on the page. The shoe she’d drawn was covered in geometric shapes. A pulse of heat started an inferno in his gut. And then his world tilted. In a flourishy script, she wrote his name and wove heart tendrils around the letters.
Wherever she was and whatever she was doing, he remained in her thoughts and in her heart.
The scene faded, and he was yanked so violently his head snapped back and forth. The flickering light he was sure represented his soul guides accompanied him until the moment he violently slammed back into his body—rocking the heavy Adirondack chair.
He sat forward, gasping for air. His head swam, and for several seconds, he worried about blacking out.
Coming from the house behind him, screams of laughter squelched his visions. The pre-wedding festivities were still going strong. He looked at the fire. The flames were gone, and all that was left was a pile of embers.
In ways that made him uncomfortable, the fire seemed to be commenting on his life.
She’d avoided the scrapbooking craze until motherhood changed her outlook on the pricey hobby, and a new mom she met at the clinic showed her how to score fifty percent off and buy one-get one coupons to fund the creative diversion. Now she was a devoted scrapbooking queen.
Closing her cheap laptop and switching off the printer, Summer placed a few of the pictures she printed in an envelope affixed to the inside cover of a pink and white album.
“Looks like I might have to slow down,” she murmured. Maybe documenting every day of her daughter’s life was a bit much. Lynda asked why she felt so strongly about it, and she’d reluctantly admitted a part of her was positive Arnie would one day come, and she wanted to share the wonder of parenting with him from day one.
Did this make her a fool? Or was she simply childishly and romantically naïve? In all honesty, it was hard to tell.
Pushing aside the crafting hobby, she reached for her journal and the ledger she used to keep track of essentials. Just because she was living a lie didn’t mean her real life was forgotten.
Using the ribbon bookmark, she opened the ledger to the current page and immediately sighed when reminders of her time in Santa Barbara hit her full in the face.
Without her knowledge or participation, Cy and Reed quietly let the lease on her apartment end. She discovered what they’d done only after her brother was forced to tell her all her belongings were transferred into a storage space under his name. And that wasn’t all. Shortly after Ari was born, there had been activity involving her credit report from an unknown source. He was keeping a close eye on her finances and was less than thrilled to discover someone poking around her business. The thought was deeply unsettling.
By now, the ruse of her having gone on a cruise with friends was over. Anyone with a functioning brain could see she’d flown the coop. If Arnie ever went looking for her, he’d find a fake cousin and little else. Now, he wouldn’t even find that much.
Losing another tie to the past sent her mood straight into the crapper.
A sigh started in her toes, gathered strength, and traveled every inch of her being before leaving her mouth. Putting the ledger aside, she reached for her journal and got lost in her thoughts.
Scribbling absentmindedly, Summer covered a page in hearts and flowers. There was something in the air. Something looming on the horizon. The threat surrounding her hadn’t evaporated—if anything, her sketchy departure made it more likely that the person or persons looking for her would dig and dig until her whereabouts were discovered.
No matter how she looked at it, there wasn’t anything lasting about her current situation. Sooner or later, the other shoe would drop. Pulling up stakes again was looking more and more likely, and if that was the case, she was definitely going to give in to the idea of a cross-country gambit.
As she doodled, a vague itinerary wormed its way into her thoughts, complete with maps and potential routes—all leading to New York City.
Her hand stopped moving. She looked down at the journal. Amidst the sloppy flowers and elaborate hearts was his name.
Closing the journal, Summer made a silent plan. She was going to have a long heart-to-heart talk with Reed. His input was important for what she was planning. If he was on board, she was going to start visualizing a move—maybe in the new year, when the baby was older and could handle traveling.
22
“Arnie, can you come here and like, do your thing? Our friends from the Bureau sent over a possible hire, and I need a read on this guy.”
“Can’t say no since that’s what you pay me for.” Arnie chuckled to the intercom. “What’s the play, King? How do you want this to go?”
“Remember the terrorists in the movie Die Hard? The badass blond guys?” King’s laughter had a villainous tone. “That’s what I want.”
Arnie smirked. “Do you speak German?” he asked.
“Not enough to be understood, but please feel free.”
“On it,” Arnie told him. “Give me five, and I’ll stroll in, okay?”
“You got it. Oh, wait. You need me to do anything?”
“Nah.” He sniggered. “Just nod and agree with whatever I say.”
Laughing to himself, he dug through an armoire of clothes and pulled out the look he was going for. A couple of minutes later, he casually strode into King’s office wearing glasses and a black turtleneck. He looked like a spokesperson for the Aryan Brotherhood—exactly the unsettling vibe he was going for.
Grumbling in German to King, he basically accused the boss of being a masturbating monkey.
King nodded and grunted, pointing at a chair positioned just outside the peripheral edge of the interview’s field of vision. It was an old-school power play intended to unsettle.
Arnie sat and listened. He didn’t make a snap judgment although he could have. Instead, he gave the Bureau the benefit of the doubt. The FBI didn’t recommend losers, or that was what he thought before getting a gander at the idiot trying hard to impress King.
It didn’t take long to discover the guy’s tell. He sucked at bluffing, evidenced by two nervous tics. One involved tapping his foot and the other a more obvious nose touch.
Standing slowly, he made a hand gesture, letting King know what he thought. Then because it was funny, he interrupted and in rapid, terse German suggested the CEOs of NIGHTWIND were both pussies. When King agreed with a series of nods, Arnie kept going and let loose with a tirade about absolutely nothing. In fact, most of what he snarled was his grocery list.
He excused himself and marched from the office. Out in the hallway, he had the misfortune to run into Dottie. On second thought, he considered with a dark scowl, she was probably lurking and just waiting to pounce.
“I’m still waiting on your Christmas list. Is there some reason you’re being an even bigger insufferable ass than usual?”
He had a response on the tip of his tongue but swallowed it when she paused for effect and shut him up with a single sentence.
“Nicole is going shopping this weekend and is demanding Uncle Arnie’s wish list.”
Using a kid against him was wrong on so many levels. Wrong but effective.
He kept walking. “Can’t you just make up something?”
“No,” Dottie sneered. “It’s not my list. How the hell should I know what you whispered to Santa?”
Stopping halfway down the hallway, he turned to her and growled to make his displeasure abundantly clear. She laughed in his face.
“Not really. Not when you’re obviously dealing with something.”
“No, I’m not,” he disagreed a bit too vehemently. Dottie’s eyes narrowed, and the urge to bolt nipped at his heels.
“Can we do this later? I have an appointment in Gramercy Park.”
“Is that what we’re calling dinner with your father? An appointment?”
It shouldn’t surprise him to learn Dottie knew his dad was in town, but it did.
“How did you know that? Are you tapping my phone?”
“You’re not interesting enough,” she quipped before explaining. “Ned called. He has a carton of macadamia nuts for Jeremy and Kyle.”
He let her words hang in the air without comment. Talking about his dad would lead to talking about the upcoming annual family retreat, and the last thing he wanted to think about was Wanamaker business.
Dottie, however, plowed right through his silent roadblock.
“How’s Granddad? Darnell Senior? I’m surprised he came east for Christmas. Did an old-fashioned Connecticut winter draw the short straw?”
Senior showing up in New York had less to do with Christmas and everything to do with Arnie’s former stepmother having a meltdown because she no longer had control over Stan’s life or bank account. With his brother taking control of his life, Giselle found herself on the outside looking in. By all accounts, she was getting desperate.
Feeding Dottie a serving of bullshit because he didn’t feel like discussing it was only going to lead to her issuing a smackdown. Plus, he knew better. She either already knew or was likely to discover everything without any help from him, so why not lay out the cards?
“If you must know, Senior has expressed an interest in spending quality time with me. And Stan. So Dad decided to join us and changed his island plans.”
“I had coffee with Stan. Last week. He’s doing good.”
His brows bumped together with his surprise. “Coffee?”
“Yes, Arnie. Coffee.” She studied him with clear interest. “Weren’t you aware he was doing some work for my son, Jeremy? Built-in bookcase with a television surround. Looks fantastic. Kyle is still raving about the work.” She chuckled. “Getting married New York gays to sing creative praise is a big deal.”
My god, he was so damn proud of Stan! A happy smile spread on his face. “Yeah? He built them something? And it passed the gay design test? Holy crap.”
They shared a laugh. Jeremy and Kyle were great guys. Arnie liked both of them—separately and as a couple. It was all good fun and a shared giggle when it came to poking fun at their gayness. They loved being LGBTQ trailblazers in New York where nobody gave a shit about two Big Apple high-end realtors getting married and having a couple of kids by a surrogate.
“Kyle is already designing a business brochure for your brother. You know, my son-in-law is quite a talented graphic designer. He doesn’t just sell apartments.”
A brochure? Jesus! Stan’s handyman pastime was turning into a thing, and Arnie could not be happier.
“Oh, say, listen,” Dottie blurted out. “I ran a background check on that cantina in Santa Barbara. The one you asked me to spy on.”
He swallowed hard and forced his face to stay neutral. He knew the minute he asked Dottie to do him the favor she’d start asking questions.
“They’re clean as a whistle,” she continued. “They’ve never pinged with immigration, and all their documentation is up to date.”
He grunted. “Thanks.”
“So are you going to tell me what this is about? And why your interest is a secret?”
She wouldn’t let it go, so he answered. “I don’t relish being the butt of a NIGHTWIND joke. Surveillance isn’t my thing. You’re perfectly aware of the cringeworthy fact that I can be standing right next to a suspect and not realize it. It’s not where I do my best work.”
Dottie’s eyes narrowed a fraction. She stared at him for a long moment. “Darnell,” she began, “we’ve known each other for a long time. Yes, you suck donkey dick when it comes to espionage, and I’m still trying to figure out if you really speak seven languages or just know enough good phrases to fool people. But I’m pretty astute at sniffing out bullshit word salad, and some drivel about being a butt joke rises to the level of smoldering debris. Lots of smoke but no flame. Wanna take another shot at it?”
Goddammit. Trying to pull anything over on her was a waste of time.
“Tell me who you’re looking for, Darnell.”
Two Darnell’s in a row? He gulped. Well, shit. “It’s personal,” he muttered.
“No shit, Sherlock! This isn’t Dottie Quick’s first rodeo.” She studied him for a tense moment and smirked. “It’s not like you to lose something important.”
There was a pause while he thought about her words. Then she barked and startled him. “What’s her name?”
“We’re not doing this, Dorothea, so stop now. It’s personal, and that’s all you’re getting.”
“Well, you don’t have to be such a grump about it. Sheesh,” she snarled. “You know I’d do anything for you, Arnie. I’ve always got your back. If you need something, just tell me. It’ll stay between us.”
A scene flashed in his brain. In a rush, he’d explain how he seduced a young, pretty waitress in Santa Barbara, fell madly in lust and possibly love with her, but before he could seal the deal, duty called, and he left things hanging.
Imagining the expression on Dottie’s face and how she might react kept him quiet. His reputation with the ladies was dismal, at best. Even though most of what people assumed about him had no basis in reality and came from the Book of Legend, his track record still sucked. Admitting he lost his shit and lured an inexperienced waitress to his bed was bound to earn him a smack up the side of the head. Dottie did not suffer man whores lightly.
“I’ll tell you when I know what I’m doing. Okay?”
She threw her hands up and scoffed. “But you just admitted you don’t know what you’re doing. Something important could be staring you in the face, and you wouldn’t know it. I can help.”
Although she was making an excellent point, he wasn’t ready to discuss Summer with anybody. Not until he had a grip on his emotions, and maybe not ever.
“Thank you for offering, but let it go.”
They looked at each other. Neither of them was going to budge.
Sighing, Arnie softened his vibe. “Let me try to figure it out on my own, Mom. Please?”
He knew calling her mom would change the conversation dynamic. Dottie might be a crusty bitch with zero fucks for the bullshit of others, but she was human and understood perhaps better than anyone how not having a mother, a real mother, had fucked with his head.
She straightened. “I’m here for you. And so is Avery.”
Avery Randolph was Dottie’s former Marine boyfriend. After retiring from the military, instead of capitalizing on his Marine skill set and going into private security, Avery opened a yarn shop in the Village. And there was more. The guy had a YouTube channel and was an enthusiastic fan of the knitting arts. The breathtaking opposites—Marine and accomplished knitter—made Avery’s story a goddamn delight.
“Does your boyfriend know anyone worth checking out because the candidates who King has interviewed don’t even make it into the bottom of a barrel worth scraping?”
She acknowledged the conversation deflection with a snigger but didn’t press. In a salty voice, she said, “First, you have to narrow the search and identify what you’re looking for. Badass isn’t a category.”
“How about normal as a category? Can we get someone normal to apply?”
“Normal?” She hooted. “ At NIGHTWIND? Get a grip.”
He laughed. “Okay, then how’s this? We need a discreet detective type. No gun crazies or ninja rain men.”
“Ninja rain men.” She snorted with laughter. “That gets
a high five.”
He grinned and smacked her palm with his. The crazy image of Dustin Hoffman’s rain man as an ass-kicking ninja always made him laugh.
“King suggested a mom and pop type. A soccer parent driving a minivan. NIGHTWIND has a full house when it comes to unusual talents and skill sets. We need diversity. Someone to blend in on the ground.”
Dottie smiled. “I’m glad he’s starting to think globally. Him focusing on the agency is just what we need. Marriage, taking on an insta-family, and getting pregnant sure has changed his worldview.”
“I see what you’re doing,” he challenged with a snarky chuckle. “Somehow, you’re pulling the strings. First with King and then Jon. Who’s next? Milo? Felicity?”
She blew him off with a dismissive wave. “Screw them. Both are idiots. I have to run.” She checked her watch. “I’m booked at the firing range and don’t want to miss my spot.”
“I surprised you when I passed my level two certification.” He chortled with eyebrow-wagging nods and a knowing smirk. “Don’t be shy about congratulations.”
“Guns have never been your thing, so yeah, you shocked us.” She bowed with her hands pressed together at her chest. “Taijutsu master.”
He’d been called a lot of things and played many parts over the years, but the acknowledgment of his prowess in the empty-handed and very deadly fighting system of the ninja held personal significance.
His lip curled into a natural sneer. “Not unlike Mr. Spock, I can put you on the floor with a single move. But I can’t defend against a gun so …” He shrugged. “If you can’t beat ’em, you have to join in.”
“Word,” Dottie muttered as she made to leave. “Say hi to Ned for me. When things wrap up after the holidays in Connecticut, he said he’d come back to the city. Jeremy has some properties for him to check out.”
“I can’t believe he’s thinking about splitting his time between Hawaii and the East Coast.”
“He misses you. And Stan. Sooner or later, one or both of you is going to settle down properly and add to the family tree. It’s only right your father gets to enjoy his sons and hopefully being a grandfather one day. Giselle robbed him of a real family. I’m glad she’s lost her power, and he can finally stop running.”
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 42