Dusk

by Miller, Maureen A.

  An olive skin tone hinted at mixed lineage. At one point in his life this man could have been handsome, but time and bitterness pinched his features−and ice consumed his gaze.

  “Tell you what, Amanda?” he asked softly. “That I was there the day your parents were murdered? That I was the one holding the gun.” He paused and cocked his head, searching her up and down. “That so help me God, if I had known you were there, I would have killed you too.”

  Amanda staggered backwards, her back smacking against a concrete wall. Until this moment she truly believed this man was merely a resourceful extortionist.

  “My parents were killed in a car accident in Germany−” she hedged.

  A black eyebrow crept up, scoring wrinkles across the wide forehead. “There’s no need for games here. Do you honestly think I would have gone through this−traveled from South Africa−exhausted all my efforts to make you understand what a credible threat I am? Would I have gone through all of that if I was a fraud? No, Amanda. I was on that dirt road paralleling the Orange River. I was chasing them. I saw the swirl of dirt in the air. I knew their car was not far ahead and I pushed my pickup truck to catch them. And when I did, I demanded my diamonds. They were afraid. They said they didn’t steal anything. They said they didn’t have the diamonds. After I shot them and searched their car I almost believed them.”

  A gurgle sounded in her throat, as if someone had punctured her lungs. For a woman who claimed that she only wanted to deal in facts she prayed now for subterfuge. She wanted to reach out and touch the man’s chapped lips−to silence his story.

  “There was no sign of a kid in that car. No child seat. No snacks. No toys. I had no idea that you were out in the fields until the newspapers reported a child as the sole survivor to a homicide outside of Upington.”

  “So that’s it?” she challenged. “You got a hold of a newspaper article and you corroborated this whole tale just to extort money from me?”

  The man crossed his arms. “Tsk. Tsk. The two blue diamonds were certainly not in the newspaper, were they? Do you want me to describe them to you? Both raw. Not very glamorous at first sight. One larger than the other.” A ray of sun crept through the garage to slash his eye. “Or would you rather I describe what your mother was wearing the moment she died? Yes, there was a picture in the newspaper. Black and white. But I can tell you that she was in green−”

  “Stop it!” Amanda held out her hand. “Why? Why would you kill them? They told you they didn’t steal anything.”

  “I was desperate for those diamonds. You have no idea−”

  “Okay, I have no idea, so illuminate me. Tell me who you are. Tell me why you were desperate for them.”

  “Tell me you have brought them,” he countered.

  Amanda clamped her lips down and balled up her fists. She was getting mad.

  “I am not handing over anything until I get some answers. I give you these diamonds and you’re gone−off into the South African sunset, and I never know why my parents were killed.”

  “I just told you.” Impatience clipped his voice. “They were killed because those diamonds belonged to me.”

  “How did my parents get them, then? Are you telling me they stole them from you? I find that hard to believe.”

  “More or less,” he evaded.

  “More or less doesn’t cut it.” Amanda pushed off the wall, stalking towards him.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He reached into a coat pocket.

  Some of her zeal waned. This was the man that shot her parents in cold blood. There was no doubt he would do it again. Especially with the one that got away.

  “The options are straightforward here. You hand me the two diamonds right now, or someone in your family suffers.”

  It was insignificant at first, but now she noticed the agitation building in the man.

  “Why go after my family? Why not just kill me? You would have had your diamonds twenty-four years ago if you hadn’t been so sloppy.”

  “I wasn’t sloppy,” he roared. Clasping the side of his head where the scar carved an arc through his dark hair, the man took a deep breath. “Clever, Amanda. Try to rile me. What’s it going to get you? The conclusion will always be the same. I want the diamonds.”

  On that statement he withdrew his hand from his coat pocket. As she had suspected, a pistol was drawn out with it. This was it. Her fate had been delayed, but as the man said, the conclusion would always be the same. She should have died on that road alongside her parents. Now, twenty-four years later she was about to catch up with fate.

  To her surprise, he put the gun back into his pocket and extended his palm.

  “The diamonds,” he ordered with a bit of an edge to his voice.

  “Your name,” she volleyed. She didn’t know why it was so important, but she wanted the name of the man who took her family.

  An expletive slipped over his dry lips.

  “Willem. Are you going to do an internet search? Good luck with that.” He thrust his hand forward. “Now give me the diamonds or someone in your family will suffer.”

  Her time had run out. She had prayed for a miracle.

  “I don’t have them,” she stated.

  For a moment those frosted green eyes stared at her. Who was this man? This Willem?

  It was a simple answer. He was the Sandman. The harbinger of nightmares. The faceless shadow that lurked in her subconscious and emerged in her darkest hours of sleep.

  “That disappoints me, Amanda,” he said quietly. “But you have made your decision. Now I must follow through on mine.”

  “Wait,” she cried. “I didn’t have time to get them. They’re not immediately accessible−”

  “You could have mentioned that upfront.”

  His displeasure was obvious, and to her horror his hand was back in his coat pocket, the bulge of knuckles alerting her that they had wrapped around the gun.

  “I can get them. I just need some time.”

  “That was not the agreement.”

  “What agreement?” she cried. “I don’t agree to anything you say, but I am trying to cooperate.”

  The gun was drawn from his pocket as he uttered, “You’re going to have to try harder.”

  Amanda gasped. “What good is it going to do for you to shoot me now?”

  Slim shoulders shrugged. He reached up to drop the sunglasses back over his eyes.

  “This isn’t for you. This is for him.” He nodded behind her.

  Amanda spun, but no one was there.

  “Who?” she turned to ask over her shoulder, only to find that the garage was empty.

  A shadow sprinted past her and she yelped in fear. The towering silhouette finally registered. It was Ray, and he was charging up the garage ramp with his weapon extended.

  “Ray!” she screamed.

  No, don’t let anything happen to him!

  She reached the second level of the parking deck and found only rows of cars. There was no sound of footsteps. A squeal of tires could be heard, but it was not a car in flight. It was three young ladies in a Jaguar, their window rolled down and the sound of pop music flowing through the deck. They pulled down the final ramp and disappeared into the sun.

  Distracted temporarily, Amanda turned back and jolted. Ray stood a few feet away. His chest rose and fell and the gun was hanging down by his side. His focus was solely on her. His gaze smoldered.

  He looked angry.

  Really angry.

  “Damn you,” he gritted out in a low voice.

  Amanda opened her mouth to defend herself, but he stepped forward so suddenly−crowding her.

  “God damn you,” he repeated.

  Looking up into his eyes she sought mercy.

  There was no mercy there.

  His free hand reached behind her back and a solid band of muscle hauled her hard against him as his head came down and his lips crushed hers.

  Amanda couldn’t regulate the shock. He was angry. He was kissing
her. Oh my God, was he kissing her. The arm around her back constricted until she was on her toes, plied against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. His mouth consumed her, demanding her lips to part−demanding entry−demanding her to return the rage−the rapture.

  In her mind she cried out his name, Ray, Ray, Ray, but she could not speak. She slipped between his lips, coiling with his heat, matching his intensity. She had the wherewithal to realize that he was punishing her, and making love to her at the same time. It was the headiest conflict.

  Gradually his lips broadened their sweep. They gentled at the corners of her mouth, each pass slower than the last until finally she felt cold air clash with burning flesh.

  His head drew back. A thin band of gold surrounded dark pupils until the overhead fluorescent bars changed that. Trapped in his gaze she struggled to breathe. With great will, she dropped her hands from his neck to his shoulders where her fingers tested the resiliency. It was akin to rock climbing−something strong to hold onto, yet at any moment her hands could slip.

  “Ray, I−”

  “Don’t talk,” he warned softly. “Yet.”

  Taking a step of retreat, he still held her arm. She wasn’t sure if it was in support or to prevent her from fleeing.

  Intelligent eyes scanned the parking deck and returned to her, dropping to her chest which pounded loud enough that he probably heard.

  He shrugged one arm out of his jacket and then transferred the gun to his other hand so that he could remove the garment.

  “Put this on,” he commanded.

  She was not used to being ordered around, but one look at Ray’s expression and she knew better than to contradict him. Slipping into the jacket that still bore his heat−that still smelled like him−it was like being wrapping with the man himself. She clutched the garment tight to her chest.

  “Are you alright?” he asked huskily. “Did he touch you?”

  For a man so in command of his body, she swore she saw him tremble.

  “No. He didn’t. How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing the parked cars for a glimpse of Willem.

  “I followed you. I lost you in the tube station for a moment or I would have been here sooner. I would have−”

  “You saw him, then?”

  “Yes.” he nodded, putting his hand to her back and leading her down the ramp to the exit. “I saw him. Right now I’m a little displeased with you, Amanda.”

  A rogue stab of hurt nipped at her chest. “You just−kissed me.”

  His long stride came to a halt, but he didn’t reach for her. “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? When I saw you open the door to the service exit at BLUE-LINK I thought maybe you were off to check on your diamonds−that you didn’t want me to know the location, which I completely respect.” His voice was thick with emotion. “But when I saw that guy−when I saw the gun−” His hand fisted in the material against her back.

  “I know you disapprove,” she said, swiping the hair out of her eyes. “I know what I did was foolish, and I agree. But he said if I didn’t come to him alone he would kill someone I care about.”

  Ray flinched, but kept his molten eyes locked on hers. “Your family.”

  Amanda drew the jacket tighter about her and whispered. “Lately there is more than just my family that I care about.”

  He released her to draw a hand over his face. He looked pained and she almost reached out to touch him.

  “Alright, so what do we have to go on?” Any trace of emotion had left his voice.

  This was Ray Gordon, the machine. This was not the man to kiss her raw only seconds ago. This was who she hired.

  Fine. This was how she was most comfortable too.

  “The man’s name is Willem,” she recited lifelessly. “I honestly believe he is my parents’ murderer.”

  That tripped Ray up.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She explained about the detail of what her mother was wearing that day.

  “And also, he didn’t seem quite right.”

  “How so?” Ray eyed the busy square, this time looping his arm around her. The gesture was for protection−not for intimacy.

  “How much of him did you see?” she asked.

  “Black sheepskin coat. Aviator shades. Jeans. Hiking boots. Dark hair, greying in spots. I’d guess mid to late forties.”

  “Mmmm,” Amanda nodded at the monotone narration. “But did you see the scars? Did you see his eyes?” She shivered at the recollection. “A bit of madness existed there. Controlled chaos.”

  He gave serious credence to her words. “No doubt there’s some chaos there. For a man to wait twenty-four years to plan his quote-unquote redemption, he’s definitely possessed.”

  “He will contact me again. Obviously, I didn’t bring the diamonds.” Panic slurred her words. “I have to call my aunt.” She fished for her cell phone in her purse.

  Ray touched her hand. “I just spoke with them. I told George that you had gone after him. He had a right to know.”

  Amanda’s fingers curled around the phone but she hesitated. “He’s going to give me a stern talking to, but you did the right thing. He did have a right to know. This is his story too.”

  “Yes,” Ray’s arm tightened around her back. “Now, let’s call him and let him know that you’re alright.”

  “And make sure that he stays home today. I don’t trust this Willem. He is mad that I didn’t have the diamonds. He made threats−”

  “He made progress today,” Ray countered. “He connected with you. He knows he will again.” His voice lowered. “And next time I will be there.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ray hung up and frowned. Nothing but dead ends. It was impossible to get answers remotely. Only in South Africa would he get the information he was looking for. However, Willem was here. The danger to Amanda and her family was here.

  Searching inbound flight manifests would prove futile. All he had was a relatively common first name that could have come in from any number of connections in Europe. Rather than pursue Willem, he sought to trace the source. The diamonds.

  Calling upon an old acquaintance in the South African Special Forces, Ray solicited help in researching blue diamond discoveries circa 1980-1990. After a long-blown reminiscence of their time together rescuing a humanitarian aid worker in Sudan, Dominick Barth promised to see what he could find. What he discovered was that there were very few blue diamonds of note, and they were all tracked down to current owners bearing proper provenance. Basically, a dead end.

  Ray texted the police surveillance officer parked outside Amanda’s aunt and uncle’s house. He reported back that all were safe. Rubbing his forehead, Ray leaned back against the couch and stared at the sunset painting hanging in Amanda’s living room.

  “What do you see when you look at that?”

  Her voice didn’t startle him. He had known she entered the room. She didn’t wear an identifying perfume. There was no glaring floral scent. It was more like soap, or freshness. She always smelled so damned clean.

  “I see the desert in Iraq,” he replied without glancing her way. “It reminds me of sitting outside my tent and watching the sun set. It seemed larger there—” he reminisced, “—hard to delineate between land and sky. All I recall is this brilliant gold sphere with the black shadows of helicopters passing before it.”

  The silhouette of a woman passed by the painting.

  “You found beauty in a desolate setting,” she remarked quietly.

  He found beauty standing before the window. Clad in a white satiny blouse, Amanda’s slender arms were crossed over her stomach. A navy pencil skirt hugged the lean lines of her thighs. Her feet were bare, the high heels laying haphazard on the other side of the room. Blonde hair leaked in thick tendrils from the tight bun she had possessed this morning. She looked incredibly sexy. Half business. Half abandon.

  “I suppose.” His voice was rough. “It was hard to find beauty in anythi
ng there.”

  Amanda tipped her head in consideration of the painting. “You sound as cold as me, Ray.”

  The forlorn tone nearly brought him to his feet, but he resisted. If he was to rise right now, he would inevitably approach her−inevitably touch her. He had to stomp down those rogue feelings. They would not help either of them.

  Instead, he clasped the armrest with inhuman strength and tried to sound casual.

  “The funny thing is−” he waited until he caught her eye, “−you’re actually one of the warmest people I’ve ever met.”

  Her eyebrow arched in reaction.

  “Oh yeah, you put on a good show,” he continued. “But to see you around your family−what you will go through for them.” To feel you in my arms, like a ball of fire greater than any sunset. “You are a paradox, Amanda Newton.”

  Mystical eyes stared into his. He could feel her searching his soul. What did she find? A man, or a monster?

  “You call me a paradox,” she said softly. “And yet you have battled unthinkable demons and played so attentively with your niece.” She took a step closer to the couch, her arms still crossed. “Which Ray Gordon is sitting in this room right now?”

  Damn her. He had to gain some traction. Her eyes took him to his knees.

  “I just checked in with the police and confirmed that all family members are safe and tucked in for the evening. There is a surveillance car at your aunt and uncle’s house, and they have put one at the Marquee just to be safe.”

  She gave a quick nod, and her shoulders seemed to relax at the information. But she took another step until she was gazing down at him.

  “Which one?” she demanded.

  Lord, have mercy.

  To gain leverage, he rose from the couch. It didn’t ease the pressure inside him by looking down at her. She inclined her chin ever so slightly, feline-shaped eyes shifting with each inch he climbed.

  “The one you should stay away from,” he warned hoarsely.

  “Probably,” she conceded in a hushed tone. “I like control. I like regiment. I like poise.”