Hard As Ice (Fortis Series 1)

by Raven Scott

  Nia stepped out of her apartment door before he made it halfway up the front walkway, suggesting she had been watching for his arrival. He noted that she had changed out of her earlier clothes into a soft blue dress and a denim jacket. She carried a large tote bag, which Evan quickly took out of her hands.

  “You’re on time,” he teased, leading her back to the car.

  Her eyes snapped with defensiveness.

  “You didn’t expect me to be?”

  He shrugged, enjoying her fiery energy. It had to take time for her to look that good.

  “It’s a woman’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Well, not this woman,” she mumbled.

  “Hey, I’m not complaining,” Evan explained, grinning back boyishly.

  He opened the passenger door for her, then put her bag in the backseat. The neighborhood eyes continued to follow them.

  “How was your morning? You had an appointment, you said?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.

  “It was good,” Nia replied, simply.

  Sensing her pensive mood, Evan didn’t pry. She was definitely the type to become stubbornly evasive if pushed.

  “Should I put on some music?” he asked, turning on the radio. It was preset to a twenty-four-hour news channel.

  “Sure.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  “I’m easy, anything is fine,” she replied, looking out her door window at the passing cityscape.

  It was clear from her posture and tone that she had a barrier up. Evan flipped through the radio stations, landing on one that played the top hits list. Any insights into her musical talents would have to wait for a better time. They continued the drive in easy silence, only interrupted by the occasional question from Evan about her comfort with the temperature in the car, or her seat position.

  “I realized when I was packing that I should have asked you more about this thing tonight,” Nia finally stated.

  They were about thirty miles south of Boston, but still an hour or so away from Cape Cod.

  “I wasn’t sure exactly what to bring,” she admitted.

  “I’m sure whatever you have will be fine,” he advised.

  “What kind of event is it?”

  “It’s a charity thing, for adult literacy,” explained Evan. “The Clements manage the foundation and they’re old family friends. Every year over the Memorial Day weekend, they launch their summer fundraising calendar with a barbecue at their beach house.”

  “Oh, so it’s casual?” she asked, surprised.

  “Well, maybe the term barbecue is a little misleading,” he surmised with a smile. “I haven’t gone in a few years, but I remember it being more like a cocktail party than backyard cookout.”

  “Okay.”

  He looked over at her profile. She seemed concerned.

  “We’ll have plenty of time after we have lunch. We could do a little shopping if you need to,” Evan offered.

  Nia looked up at him, surprise and relief written all over her face.

  “That would be great, if you’re sure it’s okay.”

  “Of course,” he assured her.

  “Well, I won’t take long. There are a couple of stores that should have something.”

  “Take as long as you’d like, Nia. Have you been to the Cape before?”

  “A few times, for client meetings. I’ve always wanted to go for a weekend away, it’s so pretty. But just never managed to plan it,” she admitted.

  “Why don’t we spend the day there tomorrow before we return to Boston?” suggested Evan.

  She smiled softly. It touched that spot behind his ribcage.

  “That sounds nice.”

  He kept the conversation alive by talking about the various sites and activities they could see and do in the area. The rest of the drive went by quickly until they arrived in the town of Falmouth in the Upper Cape. Evan drove into the commercial center, now bursting with tourists for the long weekend. He parked the car within walking distance of restaurants and retail shops.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, helping Nia out of the car.

  “Starving!” she declared.

  He laughed at her dramatics.

  “You should have said,” he admonished. “We could have stopped earlier.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll survive.”

  “Well, let’s hurry just in case.”

  Evan took her hand in his and they walked a couple of blocks to a restaurant he knew well. It was built sometime in the 1950s and hadn’t changed much since.

  “My parents and I always stopped here for lunch on our way to the Vineyard when I was young,” he explained as they looked through the menu. “The food is great. Everything is fresh and local.”

  “It does look really good,” she agreed. “I know I’m supposed to choose seafood while here, but I have a craving for a burger.”

  They placed their orders, and Evan took the opportunity to ask a few seemingly innocent questions.

  “How was last night? Were your other plans enjoyable?”

  Nia raised an eyebrow, but her lips twitched.

  “My evening was good, thanks,” she replied. “I joined some friends at a bar downtown for open mic night.”

  “Really? One of them is a musician?” he asked casually.

  “No. We were just listening. The guys wanted to go to a sports bar, so we compromised.”

  “Guys?”

  Her brows went up again.

  “Are you jealous, Mr. DaCosta?” she teased.

  Evan flashed a charming smile.

  “I don’t get jealous, Ms. James,” he clarified in deep, slow tone. “Should I be?”

  “Hardly,” Nia dismissed. “They were just friends.”

  “Do you have a lot of male friends?”

  “No. Only a few acquaintances, really,” she clarified, looking away.

  “What about girlfriends? Are you one of those women who only travel in packs?”

  Nia rolled her eyes.

  “Hardly. I never understood that.”

  “What?” he probed.

  “You know. People with a zillion friends. It must be so exhausting.”

  Evan chuckled at her exaggeration.

  “So you’re a loner?”

  “I like my own company, if that’s what you mean. I’m an only child, remember?” she reminded him with a shrug. “I know lots of people, but I only have a small number of real friends. People that I trust completely. That’s all you really need, right?”

  Evan nodded in support.

  “What about family?” he asked. “Don’t they count?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not very close to mine.”

  “Why not?”

  She looked over his shoulder with a faraway expression on her face.

  “We just have a different way of looking at the world. I love them, but I wouldn’t say they have my back no matter what,” she explained softly. “But you can’t choose your family, right?”

  Their meals arrived just then, interrupting the sensitive moment. They ate in silence.

  “Come, let’s go shopping,” he stated as he paid their tab.

  Outside, they walked hand in hand down the busy, historical streets until Nia pointed to one of the boutiques she knew. Inside, she slowly walked through the collection, stopping to touch a few things here and there.

  From the world of international espionage, Evan was more familiar with women’s clothing than he could explain. He quickly noticed several dresses that he knew would drape her body to perfection. But Evan feigned disinterest like the average civilian man would and casually went to the sales counter.

  “Can I help you?” asked the middle-aged woman behind the desk.

  “Yes. I would like to arrange payment for whatever the pretty lady would like to purchase,” he requested, pulling out his personal credit card and handing it over.

  “No problem, sir,” she replied with an eager smile.

  “Maybe the yellow dress near the window
? But, let’s keep it between you and me,” he added with a wink.

  “No worries, Mr. DaCosta, I’ll take care of it.”

  He watched Nia pull out a few items while the saleswoman wrote down his information then handed back the card.

  “How are you making out?” he asked Nia as she stood in front of a full-length mirror, holding up a black cocktail dress.

  “All right, I think,” she replied.

  “Good. I’m going to run over to the liquor store down the street. They carry vintage wines and liquors and George Clement has a thing for single malt scotch. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes?” suggested Evan, checking his watch.

  “Okay. I should be done by then.”

  As he exited the shop, he could see the sales rep talking to Nia, and pointing to the garment he suggested. Inside the liquor store, he called Raymond to provide a status update.

  “How’s Tony doing in New York?” he asked as he walked through the aisles of rare and expensive bottles.

  “He checked in a couple of hours ago. It’s not good.”

  Evan paused.

  “His lead, Spencer, has gone underground and no one seems to know where to find him,” Raymond explained.

  “Damn it!” Evan exclaimed. “Any more details on what kind information he might have?”

  “Negative. Tony’s going to stake him out for a couple of days, in case he resurfaces.”

  “Okay. I’ll check in again tonight. But send me a text if there are any new developments.”

  “You got it,” Raymond confirmed.

  “What about the picture I sent you this morning? Were you able to identify the guy?”

  “Not immediately. It was too blurry. But I have one of the analyst at headquarters working on it. It will take a few days, but we’re trying digital image enhancement software.”

  “What about video feeds? Anything in the area we can use to cross-reference his identity?”

  “No, it a pretty rough neighborhood. If there are any cameras in the immediate vicinity, they’re not linked to any online network,” explained Raymond. “Beyond that, every other guy on the street is wearing jeans and a white T-shirt.”

  “Okay, thanks, Raymond. Keep me posted.”

  “No problem, Ice.”

  When Evan returned to the clothing boutique, Nia was waiting outside, looking in the store window next door. The glossy garment bag she now carried gave no hint to which dress was the final purchase. They walked through the streets of Cape Cod for a little while before returning to the car for the rest of the trip to his house on Martha’s Vineyard.

  Almost three hours later, Evan was standing in the kitchen of his family’s beach house when she walked into the room wearing the yellow dress of his choice. He could not have pictured her looking more stunning. The silk dress was simple in design. Sleeveless, with a boat neck and side gathering at the waist, the flared skirt fell to her midthigh. The buttery color made her dark-honey skin glow. The fluid fabric draped her body sensuously, revealing more curves than it hid. As his wayward body hardened with heavy desire, he considered that the black dress might have been a better choice. At least for his sanity.

  “Is this okay?” she finally asked as the silence and his staring became awkward. “The salesperson insisted it was the best choice. But the color is a little paler than I usually choose. I have another dress that I brought with me, but it’s probably too casual.”

  “No,” he finally responded, walking toward her. “No, it’s beautiful.”

  He smoothly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, he realized how much he had craved her taste. He delved deeply into her mouth, indulging in the sweet wetness, and two days suddenly felt like an eternity. What was wrong with him?

  “You look beautiful, Nia,” he told her softly when they finally came up for air. “Maybe I can get a little jealous. I don’t want anyone else’s eyes on you but mine.”

  Her silky hair now fell to her shoulders in soft waves. She tucked a section behind her ears and turned away from him.

  “Please, I’m sure I’ll hardly be noticed,” she surmised, clearly uncomfortable with his compliments. Her tone suggested she might actually believe her statement. Evan found her reaction puzzling. How could the unflappable woman who stopped traffic and was facing investigative interrogations head-on not know how incredibly stunning she was?

  “Give me five minutes to finish getting ready?”

  She was gone before he could respond, returning quickly wearing delicate high-heeled sandals, a cashmere pashmina around her shoulders, and a small clutch purse in her hand. Her lips glistened with soft pink lip gloss. Evan felt guilty fascination.

  The Clements cottage was only about three miles down the beach in the village of Chilmark at the south-west end of the island, but a ten-minute drive through the rural roads. The house sat at the end of a long, winding, private road under the canopy of old oak trees. As they got closer, there was a line of cars parked along the shoulder, and a couple of valet attendants to assist guests if preferred. Evan tossed over the car keys to one of the young men and slipped the claim ticket into the inside pocket of his light gray blazer. Then he escorted Nia into the house, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

  There was no sign of her earlier vulnerability. She walked with the same air of confidence he’d first noticed, shoulders back and head high. Evan could feel the slinky undulation of her hips against the palm of his hand. He was tempted to walk behind her just to enjoy the show, but liked the feel of his hands on her body too much.

  “Before we go in, I should tell you a little about the Clements,” Evan stated in a low voice. “They’re not just old family friends. I was engaged to their daughter, Mikayla, for a little bit.”

  Evan felt Nia’s back stiffen.

  “Okay,” she replied, stretching out the word to suggest more information would be appreciated.

  “We broke up over three years ago, and it’s all good. But I just thought you should know in case someone brings it up,” he added.

  She looked at him, perhaps to ask questions, but they were now inside the wide front entrance of the house.

  “Evan! You made it,” exclaimed Mrs. Elaine Stone-Clement as she approached them. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He hugged the older woman who had always been like a second mom to him. She was glamorous and youthful in her late forties with the warm brown skin of her face still smooth of wrinkles.

  “Shame on you for not staying in touch more,” she scolded when they stepped apart. “But you look great. You’re fully recovered, I take it?”

  He could feel Nia’s questioning gaze on his face.

  “Almost as good as new,” Evan confirmed. “Nia, this is Elaine Stone-Clement, chairman of the Clement Literacy Foundation. Elaine, this is Nia James.”

  The two women shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

  “Where is George? I brought him something,” he asked, holding up a generous bottle of Glenfiddich, a forty-year-old scotch.

  “Oh, he’s going to kiss you. He’s outside somewhere pretending he’s doing some of the cooking,” Elaine teased. “Leave Nia with me, I’ll get her something to drink.”

  Evan glanced down to make sure Nia was okay with that. She smiled back agreeably.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” he promised.

  “Take your time,” Nia urged, cool as a cucumber.

  As Evan walked away, he heard Elaine asking Nia about her drink preference. He knew she was in good hands.

  On the way out to the back of the house, he passed several people he had not seen in years, but knew well as part of the Vineyard summer community and through his social network in the D.C. and Virginia area. As suggested, George Clement was in the vicinity of the state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen, but there was a hired chef working behind the grill. The older man was about the same height as Evan, but with a girth that suggested he was less active than in the past and dealing with some stres
s. Unlike his wife, he looked every bit his fifty years. His curly hair was now fully gray and his coppery skin was creased with frown lines.

  “Son!” the older man exclaimed with genuine delight. “Elaine said you might join us this year.”

  The two men hugged.

  “I brought you something,” Evan announced when they parted.

  The founder and chairman of the board of a powerful media conglomerate beamed like a schoolboy. He took the bottle of scotch in both hands, clearly touched by the thoughtfulness.

  “Oh, Evan. You’ve outdone yourself. We have to toast a glass later this evening,” insisted George.

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, how are you doing, son? We haven’t seen you since you came back injured from overseas. How’s the leg healing?” George asked.

  “It’s pretty good. Still a little sore at times but nothing too serious.”

  “As I live and breathe! Evan DaCosta gracing us with his presence in our humble home?”

  Evan grinned, recognizing that saucy tongue anywhere. He turned around to find the petite and very pretty Mikayla Stone-Clement with her hands planted on her slender hips.

  “You’re on your own, kid,” chuckled George, and he made a quick escape.

  His daughter clearly had a bone to pick with Evan, and the wise man wanted no part of it.

  “Hi, Mikayla,” Evan stated, a little sheepishly. He knew exactly what was coming.

  “Hi to you, too. You could have just returned my phone calls seven months ago, Evan. No need to come all the way to the Vineyard on my account,” she drawled sarcastically.

  “Sorry about that. Things were a little crazy at the time,” he explained, lamely.

  “Yeah, I know! You were shot. I get it. That’s why I called,” pressed Mikayla, clearly not ready to let it go. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Evan. I was worried about you. Your poor mom was in bits.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should have called you long before now.”