Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  “I thought I could talk some sense into you,” he said and lifted his gaze to hers. His voice was stricken and his face twisted with pain.

  “I’m not going back to New York, Dave.” She watched him as he balled his hands into fists. Fire rose in her belly.

  “You just need someone to come here and take you home, Frankie. You look like you’ve been mauled.”

  “It’s none of your business!” She met his gaze. “People here aren’t afraid of me. They don’t make me feel like I’m a goddamn bomb.”

  He winced and parted his lips to protest but when she leaned closer to him, he recoiled from her, hissing through his teeth as though he feared she was going to burn him. “Fuck,” he grunted.

  “Right,” she said and drew back, holding up her hands. “There is never going to be anything between you and I, Dave.”

  “We are friends, aren’t we?” he asked. “I know I made a mess of things, but I am lost without you.”

  Lost without her. After all the years she had yearned for him to realize that fact, all she wanted now was for him to be all right letting her go. She didn’t know he had been holding on to her. “You would be just fine. But yes, of course we are friends.”

  “You really look beat up. You aren’t doing some fighting here and leaving me out, are you?” His eyes focused on her scrapes and bruises.

  “No, nothing like that.” Nothing so mundane. “Clumsy,” she said and he smirked at her, snorting at her boldfaced lie.

  “Slacking off then. Maybe you need a trainer here.”

  She bit back the groan that threatened to bubble up. What the hell would she do if he stayed?

  “Will you give me the grand tour?” His question intruded on her thoughts.

  “All right.” She pointed one direction. “That way you’ll find the road leading out of town and the freeway to Napa. That way leads to the mountains. Down that way, you’ll find restaurants and hotels.” Just to be clear, she added, “And you are going to a hotel.”

  “But I thought—”

  “You didn’t think. You aren’t staying with me. I don’t need you playing big brother. You have a rental car. Right?”

  “Yes,” he growled. “Fine, I am hearing you, Frankie. I got it. How about we at least get food? We can talk over something to eat?”

  “Are you going to be civil? You and I were never a thing. We burned that bridge so long ago the ashes are ashes.” She tried to soften her tone to get through to him.

  Dave rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I will behave myself.” He made a heart-cross movement over his massive chest and picked up his pack.

  She hesitated and stared at him but he seemed more composed than when she had first walked in. “Good. I’ll introduce you to some people then. As long as you behave yourself.”

  He grunted in agreement. So, she introduced him to her crew and they looked even less impressed with Dave than they had with her. Hopefully Frankie could reassure the idiot she was fine and he would leave before he got too curious. “I’m going to take him down to Three Compasses for lunch.”

  “What happened to the kitchen in your bar?” Dave asked when they walked down the sidewalk toward the main street and the line of restaurants.

  “Ah, a misunderstanding. We’ll be up in a day or two.”

  It was still sweltering hot and people were enjoying the summer-like weather. She pointed out various establishments, particularly those run by Anthony and Barbara. As they approached the doorway of the Compasses, Dave nearly tripped over his own feet.

  His awkwardness was so unusual that she barked out a laugh. He didn’t respond to her outburst. After re-balancing himself, he stood staring inside the courtyard. Color leached from his face and his mouth dropped open in a grunt. He looked like he’d been gut checked.

  “Dave?” Frankie frowned, and followed his gaze.

  The beautiful, dark-haired woman working the reservation podium looked up, little nose crinkled curiously. She spotted Frankie and beamed. “Hey, Frankie.”

  “Who…” Dave gasped. “Ah…” He coughed into his fist and jerked back a step, “Who is that?”

  Frankie watched Vanessa’s mouth fall open as her gaze drifted to Dave. It was an adorable, sweet moment. Two people finding each other.

  Frankie grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the restaurant. “That, is Christopher’s baby sister. Vanessa Harris-Wallace, the jewel of the family crown.”

  He braced to resist but she held on and tugged him forward.

  Chapter 27

  The Reckoning

  Vanessa’s golden-green eyes gleamed as she watched them come closer. “Who’s this, Frankie? Is this a real-life mobster?”

  In the heat of the Indian summer, she wore a yellow sundress with white flowers spilling down around the skirt. Despite the conservative cut of the dress, it left her long, bronzed limbs exposed and dewy from the heat. A sunflower lay against the center of her chest, accenting the cleft of her cleavage. Her mane of black hair fell down her shoulders and back in perfect ebony coils.

  “This is Dave Yarrow.” Frankie smiled to herself as the two gazed at each other without speaking.

  Satisfyingly, Vanessa had better poise at hiding her response than Dave. She put a hand to her chest and let out a soft sound of delight as though his were the loveliest name ever uttered.

  Dave looked like he’d been clubbed in the back of the head and was about to go down. Somehow, he managed to get his knees more securely under him and he remained upright. “Vanessa is a beautiful name.” He offered his hand toward her.

  It all happened so fast. One moment the pair was about to touch hands, all heart-struck and glassy-eyed, and the next the car came roaring up the street, swerving with a squeal of tires. The Mustang lost control and spun, bounced over the edge of the sidewalk and hurtled toward them.

  Dave’s usual vigilance was impaired by the thrall of Vanessa. Likewise, Vanessa’s attention was fixated on the man. They stood uncharacteristically oblivious. Frozen in their private moment.

  Frankie, not hindered by the infatuation, saw it unfold in horrible clarity. The car came in fast, engine roaring as though someone’s foot jammed the gas to the floorboard.

  Grabbing Vanessa’s forearm, Frankie pulled the woman back and dove toward Dave. Lowering her shoulder, she drove her weight and strength into the big man’s stomach. The impact jarred through her body, rattling her teeth. He staggered back a few steps, away from the danger with a bark of shock before regaining his balance.

  Vanessa’s startled scream was sharper as she was pulled from the car’s direct center of impact.

  Almost enough, but not fully clear.

  The Mustang’s bumper clipped her. The collision tore her from Frankie’s grip and flung her hard to the pavement. She lay on the ground still and soundless.

  The vehicle lost no momentum swatting down the woman and sped past them, cutting through the reservation station. The wooden podium exploded in a spray of splinters and a confetti of menus. Still, it would not be stopped, the engine revving as the car plowed into the restaurant’s brick wall. Steel snarled as the car crumpled from the bumper all the way into the passenger’s seat.

  The impact shattered windows and chunks of the torn building rained down in a cacophony of destruction. At last, with a shuddering groan, the speeding car finally came to rest. A wave of gasoline fumes billowed up in the wake of the crash along with the sizzle of electronics.

  Frankie shouldered her way through the crowd to Vanessa, finding Dave kneeling beside her, his face twisted with fury. One hand held the young woman’s, the other gripped his bruised chest as he glared toward the car. A small, lean man extracted himself from the door and Oliver Martel surveyed the chaos with a calculating sneer.

  He smoothed his hand across his shirt, brushing away flecks of glass as though the sparkling shards were glitter. There wasn’t a scratch on him. Standing tall, he basked in the destruction. A high laugh peeled out of him.

  The people arou
nd didn’t seem to notice him—they were either rushing to get clear of the sparks coming off the car, or helping those caught in the crash get out of the way. She saw though, as did Dave, and she felt the heat from him pierce her.

  Oliver’s expression froze when his gaze met hers and color drizzled off his face. The soulless gaze darted to Vanessa bleeding on the ground and he let out a horrible cry of anguish. So, Vanessa wasn’t the target. Frankie was.

  Dave carefully released the woman’s hand to the care of one of her cousin-coworkers and strode toward the office manager. The expression on his face telegraphed the unfathomable depth of suffering he was preparing to unleash.

  Grabbing the front of Oliver’s shirt, the big man yanked him off his feet. “What the hell?” Rage crackled his voice. He gave a shake at each word, as though Oliver were a ragdoll. His features twisted with a brutal beauty. “You think that’s funny?” His free arm ratcheted back, the scarred fist poised to hammer an answer out of the dangling man.

  Rousing herself, Frankie lunged forward to intercept him. She grabbed Dave’s corded arm and the big man rolled enraged eyes at her, not quite seeing her through his blood lust. She couldn’t let him turn the guy into jelly before finding out what was happening. “Don’t. Dave, he’s not worth it.”

  Her old friend stared through her, his top lip twitched up, baring his teeth, and he puffed out through his nostrils as he fought to process her words. Under her fingers, his muscle tightened, preparing to shrug her off. Oliver rolled terrified eyes in her direction, a silent plea for mercy. She wasn’t doing this for him though, she was doing this because Dave would never forgive himself if he acted on his rage.

  “Don’t do it, Dave!” Vanessa sobbed as she struggled to stand. Her hand pressed to her head and blood flowed between her fingers. Crimson streaked down her cheek and neck, spattering her sunny dress. “Please. Please don’t.”

  The tearful, trembling Vanessa shattered the anger in him.

  He glanced to Oliver as though suddenly realizing he’d sunk his hands in shit. With a curse, he half released, half tossed the man back to the ground and strode to Vanessa. He bowed toward her and brushed his swollen knuckles against her jaw before reaching out to wrap his arms around her and pulled her bleeding form carefully to his chest.

  “I’ve gotcha, baby,” he murmured, ignoring the protests of the startled family trying to help.

  Frankie had never seen that side of Dave. He lifted Vanessa as though she were his most precious and fragile treasure. It made her feel light and dizzy with happiness as relief swept through her. Vanessa lifted her arms to accept his help, looping them around his shoulders. Her head fell against his chest, making a red mess of his shirt front.

  Oliver tried to scuttle off, but he wasn’t fast enough. Frankie might not let Dave pummel him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t squeeze him for answers.

  “Oh, no you don’t. What’s going on here?”

  He looked like he might throw up as she closed on him. She folded her hands together, flexing her own scarred knuckles. He’d bitten through his moist lower lip during Dave’s shaking and blood dribbled down his chin.

  “This wasn’t the plan. Not in the plan at all,” he whined, scrambling backward through the shattered glass. Ignoring the cuts and scrapes, he left a trail of bloody handprints behind him. “You filthy bitch. It was supposed to be you.” His eyes rolled up toward Vanessa, voice shivering. “I love her. I love her!” he cried shrilly.

  Frankie leaned down and grabbed his weak little chin in her fingers and jerked his attention back to her. “You do not want his fucking attention on you. Why was it supposed to be me?”

  Dave’s shoulders tightened but he remained with his back to them, holding Vanessa against him. The cousins continued to encourage him to put her down. She didn’t seem ready to let go of him and he wasn’t releasing her.

  Oliver cried out in pain at the squeeze to his chin. His hungry gaze darted around before finding Frankie again. “You are tainted. I could cure it all and save everyone. Fix everything!”

  She boggled at him, staring. “You’re working with those…zealots?”

  Dave growled and glanced over his shoulder with an expression that screamed, ‘What the hell have you gotten yourself into?’

  Oliver’s body tensed at Dave’s growl and he instinctively put up a hand to shield himself. “No. No! But they want you. I just want the attacks to stop. I thought I could fix this if you were out of the way.”

  “Making friends, eh, Franks?” Dave rumbled and asked Vanessa, “She been like this the whole time?” Instead of answering, Vanessa touched his cheek and brushed her fingers over his lips to mute his words. In silence, Dave moved away from the ruin of the car and building. The nervous cousins trailed along in his wake. They were all soon clear of the blast radiance of the car where the fire spread to the scattered menus.

  “You’re an idiot.” She released his chin and grabbed his arm, pulling him onto his feet. “We need to get you out of here.” The heat from the fire increased, it made the car’s metal ping and creak.

  She started to drag him from the car only to find him digging his heels in resistance to her. He tossed his head back and laughed out a crazed, raucous sound. His eyes rolled back into his head, his gaze lolling toward the car where black smoke coiled up from its crushed shell.

  She realized she had misjudged him when his hand clamped onto her wrist. Sharp fingernails sank into her skin in a rake of pain.

  “You have no one here now. They have all left you!” The glee in his voice trembled through him, making his body shake. He yanked her with him as he bounded toward the fire. Heat shivered the air around them.

  She swung her fist at him, being unable to use her dominant arm meant she didn’t have the greater strength or angle needed to dislodge him. He squealed, jerking his arm up in time to protect his face. Under her strike, she felt his forearm crack.

  “Let me go,” she snarled.

  Crowing, he scraped his claws down her arm from elbow to wrist. Blood rushed from her in a red roar of agony. He tried to twist her larger frame toward the fire but wasn’t quite strong enough.

  She swung at him again, this time lifting her trapped arm high enough that he had to adjust his hold on her. It left his midsection open and she drilled into his stomach, rewarded by the meaty crunch of fracturing ribs. Despite the punishment, he didn’t release her, but she was able to pull him back a step before his leg gave out and he crumbled to the ground, dragging her torn arm with him.

  The fire licked higher with a warning crackle as it caught against the fuel drizzling into the broken cobblestones. He howled, head tossed back as he saw the realization dawn on her.

  “I. Have you. Now.” He panted as she struggled to drag him back.

  The fire caught his fuel-soaked shoes and pants first. With a powerful whoosh, the hungry flame crawled along the river, devouring it all before tearing up his legs and melting the fabric to his writhing body.

  Desperate strength powered him and she felt herself pulled down into the fire consuming him. “Touch the Deity.” He started to laugh again, but the pain finally conquered his insanity.

  His scream rose in horrible agony and he twisted in the fire. The stink of his burning flesh and hair swelled over her as he fell back into it, pulling her with him.

  The flames kissed her skin, starting at the liquid that coated her feet. The fire consumed the air around her and pulled at her as well. Her lungs burned as she tried to disentangle herself from the zealot.

  Metal clicked and creaked in a steady tap-tap-tap of the intensifying heat and then the energy of the fire reached its zenith and a great explosion tore through the car.

  Thrown through the air by the expanding burst of heat, she landed hard. The impact slammed her into the rubble. She stared up at the gray around her, tasting ash, and dirt and fire and bone and flesh. She’d tasted this before.

  She was twelve again.

  In a strange transportat
ion through time, she relived the horror. In Manhattan with Frank. September. The planes. The buildings crashing down. She tasted blood in her mouth as she was thrown and then battered by the people who ran into her. They knocked her down, and she looked up to see the horrible storm of ash snowing down on them. Her ears rang with the deafening sound.

  It was exactly the same now. The smell. The sick taste and grit in her mouth. Her head rang with the echoes of the explosion. Blindly, she crawled back through the shattered glass and rock, across the bits of car and chunks that had once been Oliver. Why? Why this? The child within screamed and although she couldn’t hear it, and her throat ached from the sound tearing free.

  Her legs were like rubber as she tried to get them under her, but instead of supporting her weight, she could only claw through the burning wreckage. She’d not trained her whole life to have her body fail her now. It seemed as though she’d scrambled across the length of the tiny little town, but the sizzling heat of the fire still threatened her.

  She wanted to wrap herself up in her talent and lie there, let it all be done. She curled in on herself, huddled into the gray, gossamer void where the pain could not reach her. She wanted her father. Blood called to blood. And hers ran hot and free from her arms.

  Get up. Get up! Intuition roared into her ear. She blinked her eyes open and stared into the gray.

  He smirked at her, blue eyes on fire. They were both on fire. “So dramatic. Laurel,” Intuition said the name as he had in the dream. He gave her true name voice with pride and left no space to deny or refute it. She was Laurel. “Do you think fire can actually hurt you, Daughter?” He laughed merrily and tipped his head, waiting for her to process his fact. In the fire, his wings spread open, golden and bright, fanning mist around them.

  Motherfucking Hot Wings.

  No.

  His smirk broadened as realization slapped her down. He roared with laughter.

  Wait.

  The fire didn’t hurt, but it was terrifying. The heat the…white-fire danced and spun around her, leaping about her burning clothing. Her flesh was kissed but untouched by the flames.