by Kelly Lane
Once a working farm, in recent years the fields had been left to the wild. Across the field, maybe half to three-quarters of a mile or more away, there was some forested land, like a small island in the middle of miles and miles of grassy fields. After that, lower still, were more fields shrouded in a thick mist. Locals called it the Foggy Bottom. A river, Twiggs Creek, ran somewhere behind the bottom.
“Nice place,” I mumbled to no one. A shame it’s all gone to pot during recent years, I thought.
Then I saw it.
The big metallic thing I’d seen earlier when I’d driven by. It was down a little slope to my left, stashed in shrubby undergrowth below some pine trees. And it was blue. Dark blue. I left the road and headed toward it to investigate. It only took me a moment to recognize Ian Collier’s navy blue Hummer.
CHAPTER 16
I’d know his distinctive silhouette anywhere. I initially caught sight of him after I’d made it across the first big grassy field.
Cheeyoo-cheeyoo-cheeyoo, cried a red-tailed hawk.
Stopping in the forested stand of trees between the fields, I looked up and around, trying to catch a glimpse of the bird. That’s when a fresh breeze whistled through the pine trees above me.
Then I heard the voices.
They were faint but unmistakable. Coming from the Foggy Bottom, I heard the low drone of men talking. I looked out on the open field before me. Even late in the day, the grassy land was covered in a thick mist. And even through the heavy mist, I recognized him.
Ian Collier.
My drop-dead gorgeous Scottish neighbor was holding something long, like a shotgun or rifle, under one arm. Standing next to Ian was another man dressed in hunting gear with a dark cap and a long gun held crosswise in his arms. He leaned against a four-wheeler that looked to be painted in camouflage colors. I didn’t recognize the man like I did Ian.
And I was somewhat astonished to realize that even though the two men were the better part of five hundred feet or so down the field from me, I could hear their voices. A cloud of mist rolled between us, and I lost sight of the men for a minute or so. Still, I could hear them.
How can this be?
I remembered a time when Dex and I had been sailing in New England. A heavy blanket of fog had rolled in, and we’d gotten lost in the shallows of Nantucket Sound. Then we heard the familiar gong-gong-gong of the bell buoy that marked the entrance to the harbor. The sound was coming from somewhere off to starboard. Only we were headed east, and according to our compass headings, the bell buoy should’ve been somewhere off to the port side of the boat. In the end, Dex had stayed the course, ignoring the bell sounds, following the compass settings, looking for the buoy to appear on our port side.
He’d explained that the moist atmosphere had impacted the bell’s sound waves, bending the waves in an arc that rose up and over us. When the sound waves came back down to where we could hear them, they appeared to originate from somewhere to starboard.
It’s one of Mother Nature’s clever tricks, Dex had said.
And on that score, at least, he’d been right. When the fog finally cleared, Dex and I could see the buoy . . . to port, exactly where the chart and compass headings indicated it should be.
So, as I listened to Ian and the other man, with the heavy mist shrouding the field, I credited what I figured were bendy sound waves in Foggy Bottom. More importantly, I was happy to have run across Ian. No. Ecstatic, actually. Surely, he’ll not object to giving me a ride home.
I imagined the heavenly scent of his manly cologne, mingled with the fresh starch in his custom-tailored shirt. I could see his gorgeous green eyes, feel his long fingers on my skin. I remembered his lips, that kiss, on my forehead . . . I hadn’t even gotten close to the man yet, and already, my heart pounded. My insides fluttered.
Stepping through the foggy open land, the growth was nearly waist-high. I parted the grass with my hands as I made my way toward Ian and the other man. With their backs turned to me, they were down the field a bit, to my left. Closing in on them, I could see that their bodies were taut. Their movements sharp. They’d taken no notice of me as I stopped every few steps, trying to make out their words.
I heard Ian say, “Ye’ve got no business here.” He was uncharacteristically sharp. “It’s my land now.”
There was more conversation, but I couldn’t hear it.
Then I heard the other man say, “. . . This land’s been in my family for generations.”
It must be Elrod Twiggs.
As far as I knew, after his twin brother Elroy had shot himself to death accidentally, Elrod was the only Twiggs left. For as long as I could remember, his deceased brother, Elroy, had managed the land and lived in the main house, while Elrod—a sort of social misfit with a penchant for hunting, drinking, and drugs—lived in a small shack somewhere down by the river.
As I drew nearer, Elrod’s voice disappeared for a few moments. Then, waving his rifle, I saw him step closer to Ian.
“. . . poaching . . .” said Ian. I couldn’t catch the rest of his words.
Next, just as clear as day, I heard Elrod say, “Funny thing, you threatenin’ me. Ain’t no one but us and the animals in this field to know what might end up happening here today. And my gun’s loaded.”
Ian laughed. “So, I’m to end up like your brother . . . just a victim of another hunting accident?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that, smart guy. People disappear around these parts all the time. No one’s gonna miss another sorry, meddlin’, son-of-a-bitch bastard from outta town, like you . . .”
I gasped as Elrod raised his gun, pointing it directly at Ian. The end of the barrel was just an inch or two away from Ian’s chest. Shocked, I froze still.
“I wouldn’t be too quick with that,” said Ian calmly. He never moved, leaving his own rifle pointed toward the ground and tucked under his arm.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that? Ain’t like there’s anyone around to see me . . . ’cept you. And the likes of you ain’t gonna be seeing nothin’ much longer . . . like I said. This here is my land!” He raised his rifle, and this time, he pointed the barrel right at Ian’s face. “My stupid brother had an untimely accident. But you . . . you’re just gonna disappear, my friend.”
Elrod spit on the ground before letting out a phlegmy chortle.
Then, the sky ripped apart with an explosive cracking sound. Instinctively, I hit the ground just as Elrod’s cap blew off his head.
CHAPTER 17
I didn’t dare move. I was sure something deadly had just whizzed past my right shoulder.
Rifle shot?
Crouched in the tall weeds, I peeked in the direction of Ian and Elrod. They were still standing.
Thank goodness.
Ian hadn’t moved. His rifle was still tucked beneath his arm. Elrod, on the other hand, had dropped his own rifle and thrown himself around to the other side of the four-wheeler.
This doesn’t make sense.
Shaking, I tried to catch my breath.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about ye and me being the only two blokes out here,” said Ian quietly. “And I’d sure think twice before ye go off threatening me again. See this?”
Ian pulled something small out of his pocket and held it up with one hand.
He continued. “My buddy, over there,” he nodded toward somewhere behind me, “he can shoot this itty-bitty tube of lip balm from more than one thousand yards away . . . if I want him to. Ye see, losing yer cap was just his warning shot. He’ll be sure not to miss yer head next time . . . if I want him to.”
I felt the blood drain from my head.
The bullet couldn’t have been more than a few inches away when it whizzed past me!
Elrod cursed as he stood up and scampered around the four-wheeler, headed toward his rifle on the ground. He hucked a giant gob of spit toward Ian before reaching
down to grab his rifle. Except before he could pick it up, Ian planted his foot on the gun.
“Ye’d better be hauling yer dirty ass off my land,” warned Ian. “Or I might just let the sheriff know that ye confessed to murderin’ yer own twin brother. Or I might just let my buddy over there take his one final shot. After all, yer all about disappearing bodies down here now, aren’t ye?”
Ian tucked the lip balm back into his pocket. Then he picked up Elrod’s rifle and tossed it into an old milk carton strapped to the back of Elrod’s four-wheeler.
“Yer choice.”
Without another word, Elrod jumped onto his vehicle, fired it up, and took off quickly. He charged across the field in a cloud of dust, before disappearing into the fog.
Still shocked and confused, I was suddenly afraid to show myself. I remained hidden in the weeds.
Ian strode across the field, heading right in my direction. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. A moment or two later, I heard Ian’s voice.
“Ye can come out now, Eva,” Ian said calmly. “The coast is clear.”
Good grief! How long had he known that I’d been there?
CHAPTER 18
Ian always made my heart race. Probably, he made every woman’s heart race.
Still, this time, my heart was racing for a different reason. For one, I’d nearly been shot to death. The bullet that blew off Elrod’s cap could only have missed me by a foot or so, maybe less. And also, Ian had shown me a side that I’d never known before. Something kind of smouldery and dark. Plus, he’d caught me in the middle of my impromptu recon mission.
Awkward.
I didn’t know what to think as I stood up slowly from my hiding spot in the weeds. Still, as Ian drew closer, swooping through the grasses with his gorgeous frame and unmistakable long, swinging strides, I could feel a smile growing on my face. I couldn’t help it. Despite everything, I was relieved to see him. I marched across the field to meet him, replaying it all in my head—Ian’s curt dismissal of Elrod Twiggs’s very real threat with a rifle. Ian’s obvious and meticulous preplanning for the perfect setup—with his accomplice at the ready. Ian’s accusation about Elrod murdering his brother, followed by his ballsy warning. It all made Ian Collier seem even more complex and mysterious than before.
The guy could’ve been a freaking James Bond.
As the two of us strode across the meadow—each step bringing us closer and closer together—I imagined we were in some sort of cheesy scene from a spy movie where the two star-crossed spy-lovers finally come together in one climactic, steamy embrace . . .
“Ian! What are you doing here?”
Despite my earlier misgivings about the rifle shot, I was suddenly, completely nonchalant about the rifle incident. Sometimes, even I can’t explain what I’m doing, or why.
Silly schoolgirl with a crush.
Facing each other for the second time that day, this time in waist-high timothy grass and chickweed (well, waist-high for me; not even hip-high for Ian), we’d stopped just as the red-tailed hawk with its distinctive cheeyoo-cheeyoo-cheeyoo cried. I looked up, hoping to see it soar above us, except the air was blanketed in white mist.
“I should be asking ye the same question,” Ian said. And it seemed that he was being as unexplainably nonchalant about the awkward incident as I was.
Fine, I thought. We’ll just go with it. Maybe he has the same movie in mind.
“What are ye doin’ out here in the wilderness, Eva? Surely, yer not all by yerself? Are ye feeling alright . . . after hitting yer head earlier?”
When he said the word “wilderness,” it sounded more like “welderness.”
Even in the middle of the “welderness,” his pricey slacks remained perfectly pressed. The button-down collar of his crisp, custom-tailored cotton shirt framed the flawless skin on his tawny face. Ian’s strong jaw was tight as his deep green eyes flashed concern.
God, he’s a hunk. How can a guy this amazing still be single? Must be some fatal flaw . . .
“Eva?”
“Sorry.”
I’d let my mind wander and neglected to answer the man.
Idiot!
“I’m fine. Really. I got a flat tire. I was walking home on the road when I saw your Hummer in the bushes. I thought I’d come and find you.”
Ian frowned and gave me a serious look. Gently, he touched my chin with his long fingers. They felt soft and warm. Strong. Again, I smelled his musky bouquet of earthy oakmoss, vetiver, and leather. There was a hint of pine in his scent, with lingering pungent smoke. He smelled every bit the wealthy outdoorsman that he appeared to be. And every bit as damn sexy as he looked, too.
Just like always.
My insides flipped.
Ian tipped my chin up with his hand.
“Ye got a flat tire? Where? Are ye alright, girl?” His deep green eyes flickered as he drew himself near, studying my face. “Ye haven’t answered me. Are ye all alone here?”
I sighed. “I’m just mad at myself, that’s all. Burl Lee warned me that Daddy’s old truck wasn’t roadworthy, but I went ahead and took it, anyway. I blew a tire out on the other side of Benderman’s Curve.”
“Blew a tire? At Benderman’s Curve? Again, at that same curve? Are ye dotty?”
I shrugged and made a ditzy face as Ian frowned, dropping his hand from my chin.
“That damn curve in the road doesn’t like ye very much now, does it?”
He was referring to the fact that Benderman’s Curve was the exact spot where I’d totaled my car earlier that summer. And afterward, it’d been Ian who’d come to my rescue. In fact, he’d come to my rescue more than once. It was becoming an all-too-regular thing, this knight-in-shining-armor stuff. Still, as long as I didn’t kill myself crashing and falling, how could I possibly mind being rescued by one of the sexiest, most intriguing men alive?
From somewhere behind us, I heard an engine start. It sounded like a motorcycle. It roared off.
“Mister Lurch,” said Ian, reading my mind. “My partner in crime.” He gave me a mischievous look.
So, Ian’s manservant, Mister Lurch, is more than butler and chauffeur. He’s a damn sharpshooter! Holy smoke.
Still, neither one of us mentioned what’d just happened with Elrod and the rifle shot. It was like, we had some sort of unspoken understanding.
“Did ye call for help?” he asked.
“What?”
“I said, Eva, did ye call someone for help? After ye broke down in the curve?”
“No. I don’t have my phone with me.”
“Not carrying a phone with ye? Again? I swear, girl . . .”
Ian whipped out his smartphone from a vest pocket and punched in a single number. Then he handed me the phone.
“What’s this?”
“Ye can’t just leave yer truck on the side of the road . . . People will come lookin’ for ye. And ye need to let the authorities know that we’re gonna get it towed right away. Or they’ll tow it for ye and yer gonna have to pay to get it out of the slammer.”
“You left your Hummer up there.”
Why I argued with the man, I’ll never know.
“I left my Hummer off the road. Hidden in the bushes. Or so I thought it was hidden. I didn’t count on old eagle eye here findin’ it.”
He tapped my temple with his finger, teasingly.
“Hello?”
I heard a familiar voice on the other end of Ian’s cell phone. Realizing who it was, I shook my head and tried to hand the phone back to Ian.
“Hello?” The drawl was low and smooth, distinctly Southern.
Ian crossed his arms, refusing to take back his phone.
“Ye got yerself into this one; now ye need to take care of business,” he said. “This time, I’m taking ye home. And I’ll arrange to get yer truck out. After ye talk to yer
man . . .”
“Ian?” called out the voice on the phone. “Ian, is that you?”
“Go on,” ordered Ian.
I held the phone to my ear.
“No, Buck,” I said, with a sigh. “It’s me. Eva.”
Ian nodded his approval. I rolled my eyes.
“Eva? Why are you calling me on Ian’s phone. Is he alright? Are you alright?”
“Yes. Yes. We’re fine.”
“Then, what is it? What’s going on? Oh, wait. Please, don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself into more trouble . . .”
Ian flashed an all-knowing smile and shook his head.
“I left Daddy’s farm truck down in a ditch near Benderman’s Curve. There’s obliterated tire bits all over the road. I’m just calling at Ian’s insistence to let the local authorities—that’s you, apparently—know that there were no casualties or fatalities and that the truck will be removed . . .”
“Within the hour,” whispered Ian.
“. . . within the hour.”
“Okay, I’ll let the guys on patrol know.” There was silence for a moment. “Christ, Eva, did you say you were in your dad’s old farm truck? The rust bucket? I can’t imagine what you were doing in that death trap. It wasn’t road safe twenty years ago; it certainly isn’t road safe now. What the hell were you doing in that relic—”
“Right. Got it. Bye now.” I clicked off the phone and handed it back to Ian.
“Well, that’s a dandy way to treat Abundance’s finest.” Ian chortled, shaking his head in mock disgust.
“I didn’t know you and Buck were so chummy as to be on speed-dial terms. Live and learn.”
“Aye. Live and learn.” Ian smiled. “Yer a mite cheeky this afternoon, Mistress Eva, aren’t ye? Especially given the day ye’ve had. I didn’t know when I’d seen ye at the parade that there’d been another accident at yer place.”
“Accident . . . ?”
I was so focused on Ian’s sexy form and sparkly green eyes that I actually had to think for a moment. It wasn’t the truck he was talking about . . .