by Mikea Howard
Dottie searched her memory for anything important.
After a long pause, she shrugged. “He asked what I knew ‘bout my grandparents. I couldn’t provide him any current details ‘cause they’d given Mom and me the bum’s rush outta their lives. I guess I jus’ assumed he was tryin’ ta know me better, though it did seem ta upset him when I had no stories ta offer. Hey, speakin’ of my Grams and Gramps, did you happen ta find my locket while in the theater?”
“Sorry, Na-qui-si, everything was gone.”
“Did you check the land yacht?”
Tim’s forehead crinkled. “The what?”
“Land yacht. It’s like a big city bus we traveled in from gig ta gig. Last I knew, it’d been parked behind the theater.”
“Then I guess we have our first destination. Now all we lack is a plan of attack.”
Chapter 10
Tim searched his memory of the alley behind the theater. He didn’t recall what vehicles were parked there. Certainly one as large as she described would’ve stood out.
Rising to his feet, he helped her stand. The nurses had moved and repositioned Dottie’s body as she lay, nonresponsive, but she hadn’t borne her own weight for a spell. Even a few days could leave someone weak. Not unexpectedly, her knees wobbled.
He steadied her as she gritted her teeth and straightened, then stepped back, ready to catch her.
Rolling her shoulders back, she nodded at him. “I can do it. We ain’t got time ta dilly-dally.”
“Well yes, but . . .”
He followed, ready to catch her, as she trudged down the hill.
Once she reached the bottom, Dottie called over her shoulder, “How far are we from town?”
“On foot?”
She laughed. “How else? You gotta boiler hidden out here somewhere?”
“About twenty minutes. Flying will get us there quicker.”
She stopped, expression guarded. “Okay. I wanna stretch my legs a bit, and then I guess we’ll take off.”
A lump formed in his throat, and he simply smiled. What did her reaction mean? Maybe she is sickened by the idea of being carried by a shifter . . . or she regrets her feelings for me? She flawlessly blanked her features and he couldn’t get a read on what boiled beneath her skin.
Coughing softly to clear his airway, his voice croaked when he spoke. “You let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will.” She inclined her head and spun to continue on their trek.
Tim wished to return to the way they’d interacted before she’d escaped the in-between; their easy banter and intimate contact. The harsh light of the real world removed the dreamlike cloud they’d existed in, and he actually missed the pall of their realm.
The moment the notion crossed his mind, he dismissed it. Seeing Dottie in color, the sun kissing her skin and bringing out multiple hues of her hair . . . worth any price.
This woman amazed him. After returning to her body time and exercise should’ve been essential to maintain her current pace. Only sheer will and determination or assistance from a deity could push her to make this hike. Hopefully it’s not a desire to escape me.
Pausing, she took a deep breath. “I guess we should fly now. I won’t be any good ta either of us if I wear myself out. I’m not tight anymore.”
He inclined his head, noticing she hadn’t turned to face him. He considered running out in front of her, making her see him, find out if the wedge he imagined existed, but instead he shifted.
Hopping before her as an eagle, he met her gaze.
She smiled shyly. “So, do I climb on yer back?”
He dipped into a bow before her, giving her access. Tentative fingers stroking along his feathers sent an electric thrill through him.
Gripping his neck, her weight settled onto his back. She stretched on him, her knees clamping at his belly, beneath the wings. Dottie hugged tightly. “Doan’ drop me, Tim.”
His woman’s body, pressed in close, settled him. Together they could do anything. He’d held her in his talons when flying her before. This felt personal, intimate. He wished he could speak to her as he thought, I’ll never let you fall.
With a screech, he launched into the sky. Her laughter in his ear elated him as they soared higher. She undulated with his alternate form, as though a part of him. Unhindered by her weight, Tim didn’t expect Black Diamond to come into view this soon.
There’s a good spot.” She pointed to a clearing, prompting him to land. They touched down a few feet off the road connecting Black Diamond to the next, more populated city.
Missing the intimate feel of her when she slid off, he shifted back to human. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll stay next to the buildings, and you stay close to me. I’m generally able to pass through places with minimal detection.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s how I made my way to you.” He used the excuse of needing her near—to keep her safe—to convince himself to reach out and grab her hand.
Her fingers, tightening on his, loosened something in his chest. He breathed easily as he winked at her, then pulled her into his back.
Sneaking through the shadows, she moved in sync with him. Dottie melded into him the same as she had when he carried her unconscious body. He expected he’d have to cue her, but she didn’t require it, predicting the steps. Tim wondered if he’d spoken telepathically to her, or if they’d transcended beyond communication, sharing the same thoughts. As joined mates, they could, but it’d mean they both accepted the bond.
She’s intuitive and bright. I should stop projecting what I want this to be. He sighed as they stopped across the street from the theater, belatedly aware of how loud breathing could expose them. A quick scan presented only a boy selling papers who spun toward them. Everyone else in the vicinity milled about, oblivious to their presence.
While he didn’t believe a kid posed any threat, they remained still until the young one went back to calling out headlines. Slinking away, Tim guided them behind the boy, shooting into a narrow path just beyond the marquis.
Alone, and apparently in the clear, Dottie squeezed his hand, whispering, “How’d we do that? Move like we were invisible?”
He chuckled. “You’d have to ask the horned god.” Pulling her up in front of him, they peeked around the corner, down the alley behind the theater.
There sat a bus, parked further back from where he’d previously snuck in. Its location likely explained why he’d missed it before. He only hoped they hadn’t been set up.
~ ~ ~
Barely inside, Dottie stopped dead in her tracks. A tornado must have passed through here. To be honest she’d never expected to find the land yacht still there. She’d assumed Johnny would take it, even though she and her manager, Arthur, bought it with the money he’d gotten from an investor. The devastation strewn before her told a story of her home being searched with a fine-toothed comb, then left as useless.
Stepping over broken dishes and piles of papers, a knot formed in her throat. Although the tour bus might not appeal to most, it served as her safe haven through years of trying to prove her worth on stage.
She surveyed the damage, as tears threatened to fall. The all-too-familiar scene brought back memories of the shotgun shack after a night of her parents drinking and fighting.
Overcome with despair, Dottie crumpled into the seat closest to her. Everything she’d worked for, lay in ruin. Her land yacht, her personal items . . . her career. Until recently she’d believed she had it all; a fabulous wardrobe, a lucrative job doing what she loved, and a man who’d supposedly loved her.
Dottie scanned the space. Now, she had nothing.
Glancing toward the doorway, she spotted Tim watching her with concern. Her chest warm
ed deep inside. She did have something. But for how long?
A devoted sentry of the horned god, he’ll leave me soon. Right? Dottie squared her shoulders. I’ll survive, jus’ like I have since I set out on my own.
Hopefully the voice inside her head, screaming about not losing him, would quiet down and join the logical side of her brain. Love comes and goes throughout life, even when it’s as strong as family, or a handsome stranger riskin’ his life ta save you.
Closing her eyes, she sighed. She’d been confused by all of this before. Dottie could have sworn her grandparents adored her, but they’d left her behind without an ounce of remorse. Plus, what she’d assumed was love with Johnny paled in comparison to how she felt with Tim.
“I’m sorry they destroyed your belongings, Dottie, but we don’t have much time. Let’s grab what you require and sneak out of here before someone catches us. Your life is on the line, and I refuse to risk it.” Tim gripped her shoulder.
Glancing up, Dottie assessed his expression. Lips tight, brows drawn, his high cheekbones more prominent. Worry lines cut deep at the corners of his eyes. Affectionately patting his hand, she rose and continued past piles of papers strewn about.
When she reached the rear bunk, anger burned away her sorrow. They not only tossed about her beautiful gowns, but some sat in tatters. Dottie bit back a scream.
“That evil bim, Violet. When I wrap my fingers ‘round her throat . . .”
Although futile, Dottie pulled out and neatly folded each garment from the careless pile. Only one or two might still be intact, but she hankered to take them all with her to . . . wherever she ended up. She recognized the large buttons of her favorite sailor pants deep in the wad of fabric and gave them a tug. Something small launched over her head. Silver glinted as it passed through the light from the window.
Dottie’s hand shot out, catching the fleeing object mid-air. She didn’t have to open her fist to know what she’d nabbed. The familiar cool metal against her skin filled her with relief.
My locket.
Releasing her grip, she admired the intricately scrolled oval piece of jewelry she prized above all else.
“Here, Na-qui-si, let me help.” Tim plucked the pendant from her hand and draped it against her neck. She lifted her hair, allowing him to secure the latch.
“It’s almost as beautiful as you.” Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, then lips, Tim gave her a cautious smile.
Dottie popped open the locket. Running her thumb over the images within, she reflected to a time when she’d received hugs as a daily occurrence. Snapping it closed, she threw her arms around Tim and squeezed.
He returned her hug. The weight of his cheek rested atop her head.
A sigh left him. “I hate to rush you, but we should hustle. Bag up some things. Try to keep it light enough to carry for a while. Then come up front, I found some papers for you to read.” Depositing another kiss on her crown, he left her to her work.
Carry for a while? How far will we be travelin’? The future brought on mixed emotions. Hiking and hiding from the AG would be hell, but extra time with Tim, pure heaven.
Reaching beside her for the small wardrobe door, she discovered it ajar, torn from one of its hinges. Oh come on, dirty creeps. Why break open an unlocked door? It’s as though animals had ransacked the place. Then it hit her. Animals had torn through here. Rogue ones to be exact.
Stretching onto her tiptoes, she groped blindly at the top shelf. Aha. There you are. She pulled down a beach bag.
Dottie laughed at her memory of one day at the beach with this shoulder bag. Seated all day on a lounge chair, under a gigantic umbrella and hat, never once did she get to dip her feet into the water.
Certain she’d sunburn, or maybe burst into flame, Art kept an eye on her the entire time. She’d joked how he should fan her with a palm leaf and feed her grapes, because he spoiled her like a pampered queen. A tear threatened to fall. More than a manager, he’d treated her like a loving, caring grandfather would.
She tossed the folded pile, along with her favorite slacks, undergarments, and comfortable flat heeled shoes, into the bag. About to leave, she dashed back to grab what she hoped to be an intact top. Giving it a quick onceover, she nodded and stuffed it in the tote.
From the narrow hallway, she observed Tim poring over a pile of papers. Settling in next to him, she inspected the page full of numbers before him. It might as well have been in French, since it made no sense to her.
“Is this what you wanted me ta see?”
“No.” Tim reached across the table. “How well did you know Arthur?”
“Pretty well. Like any workin’ relationship, we learned more ‘bout each other over the years. Why?”
He set a sheet down for her to read. “Did you know he kept in contact with your grandparents up until their deaths?”
“What? No.” Dottie grabbed the page, reading and rereading every word.
The proof couldn’t be denied. A cryptic correspondence in Grandpa Tom’s handwriting played before her eyes.
Arthur,
Be on high alert. There’re rumors the AG’s hatched a plan to snatch what’s ours. No more time to waste, we’re behind the eight-ball. And remember, never tell her.
Forever in your debt,
Thomas
The date indicated it’d been sent exactly two days before her grandparents’ death. Dottie always found their fatal car wreck suspicious. What were you up ta, Gramps?
Multiple car doors, shutting, resounded outside. A faint but familiar voice called out, “The newsie said he saw someone matchin’ her description sneakin’ ‘round here. Check inside the theater.”
Tim’s eyes grew wide. “They’re across the street. Hurry.”
He gathered up an armful of documents as Dottie grabbed her bag. Tiptoeing to the door, he signaled her to pause, then peered out the land yacht’s only exit.
Dottie jumped back as the door flew open.
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry, startled by not only the sudden action, but also by the gun pointed at Tim’s chest.
Chapter 11
Stepping back, Tim blocked any shot to Dottie. He had a much better chance of surviving a bullet, point blank, than her. He fought to keep his cool, something usually natural to him.
“Lookie who we found here.” Johnny—the man who’d broken his songbird’s heart—sneered.
The throaty laugh of the woman coming up the stairs behind the bastard had Dottie growling like a Were.
Dottie called out from over Tim’s shoulder, “Whaddya want from me, you dirty, no-good lounge lizard?” She gripped Tim by the biceps and dragged him into the bus, and away from the AG cronies.
“We jus’ got some questions, Dottie. Why doan’ you two have a seat.” Johnny cocked the gun. “Or I’ll kill him.”
Tim let his woman tug him down beside her. Considering the space, a box on wheels with only one door, he didn’t possess many options besides cooperation. For now. Studying the area, he knew these two had the advantage.
Violet cocked a hand on her hip. “What does smudge mean?”
Dottie snorted, “It’s an ink spot, you man stealer.”
The werewolf woman smirked. “Yer the other woman here. Johnny has been my man for the last three years.” She chuckled without humor. “You should thank me for trainin’ the man who popped yer cherry.” Licking up Johnny’s neck, she winked at them. “He is a good fuck.”
Dottie’s pain passed through him. Tim leaned into her, offering what comfort he could. His gaze narrowed on the woman. “What exactly do you expect to get out of a singer?”
“Pfft. Nothin’ related ta her voice,” Johnny snapped, his pretty-boy looks turning ugly.
Dottie tensed next to Tim. He palmed her kn
ee and squeezed lightly. Her ex still held a gun to them, and charging into him could cost his songbird her life. This situation demanded they wait for the right moment.
While Dottie didn’t jump to her feet, he knew she itched to. But nothing could stop her from speaking her mind. “You dew-droppin’ creep, I hope someone cuts you down. I’m surprised I didn’t see through you . . . you fathead.”
Clucking his tongue, her ex smirked. “Such language. It’s not very lady-like.” Snapping his fingers, he snarled, “Oh yeah, I suppose we should expect crude behavior from an appleknocker born in a trailer.”
This time Dottie had to hold Tim back, pressing her hand into his chest. He could survive being shot a few times. The bastard deserved a good beating, or killing. As an eagle, he knew the most treacherous way to guide him into hell, too.
The woman who held his devotion responded with a cool calm, “I know exactly who I am, Johnny. Now tell me what the hell yer anglin’ for. What’s all this ‘bout?”
His soul mate’s fortitude astounded him. Instead of resting, she’d insisted they recover her things. She literally wanted to pick up her pieces and go on to wherever life took her.
The man, who’d played Dottie for a fool, scowled. “The only thing that chump Arty gave up before I ended him was this nonsense.” He tossed a folded message onto the table.
Tucking her fingers into the crease, Dottie lifted it up. It contained only one line.
The key to a fortune hides behind a smudge’s handsome shadow.
The female werewolf stepped in front of Johnny. “Yer grandparents left you money, doll. A lot of money. And my boss’s gotta have it right now.” Cracking her knuckles, she tilted one side of her mouth. “Yer gonna tell us how ta get yer family’s scratch.”
Tim caught the baffled tone in Dottie’s voice when she spoke. “What? I’ve no idea what yer talkin’ ‘bout. Last I knew, before now, my grandparents wanted nothin’ ta do with me.”