Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  “Not so fast, Fallon.”

  “Please, Erik. I need some space, and he needs to leave.”

  He held his ground. “Look, I get that you might not be ready to let him off the hook just yet, but he’s an innocent. We have to help him,” he said in a soft, commanding tone. “You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t do everything you could to reverse whatever Mia did to him. It’s obviously connected to the demon that’s after you.”

  She frowned, not liking the truth of his words. “What are you saying?”

  His gaze flicked to Zane, who stood staring after them. When Erik shifted his attention back to her, resolve had set in his eyes. “I think it’s time for the three of us to take a trip to the island.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Six hours later, the three of them were on a flight to Maine[SENP2]. Fallon settled in her seat, pressed her iPod’s earbuds into place, and attempted to let the music soothe her. She wasn't ready to talk to Zane yet and didn't know when she would be.

  As strange as her own story was, his was even harder to believe. Yet she did. His tale had resonated with a truthfulness that even Erik had commented on, naming Zane an innocent and entreating her to help him.

  Fallon frowned and increased the iPod’s volume a notch, a slow country-western tune with six-string guitars and a soft drum set clack filling her ears. Witchcraft victim or not, what Zane had said to her was inexcusable, and the ache in her heart wouldn’t let her forgive him. He could have just walked out or told her he didn’t believe her and left. Instead, he’d chosen the most hurtful words possible and hurled them at her.

  Now, he wanted her to believe he’d done that for her benefit? Right. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…. She wouldn’t be taken in by him a second time.

  His arm brushed hers, and she glanced at him. Their gazes met and held for a brief moment, his eyes searching for something she couldn’t give him. As if knowing her thoughts, he gave a slight nod and turned to look out the window. Her heart broke a little more.

  Snatching up her iPod again, she struggled to change the music. Damn if the lyrics the male singer crooned didn’t seem to mirror the betrayal she endured. She switched over to jazz where the music was still soothing, but at least no one sang about love lost.

  She risked a glance at Zane, who continued to stare out the window. Damn it, being with him had felt so right. She longed to have his strong arms around her, to have him tell her everything would be okay.

  “For what it’s worth, he’s hurting as much as you are.” Her brother’s voice resonated in her mind.

  “Stay out of my head, Erik. It’s still too raw.”

  “If I could figure out how to do that, I would. Right now, you’re broadcasting so loud, my heart aches.” He reached over, grabbed her hand, and squeezed. “Seriously, honey, I can also sense how Zane feels right now. The guy’s got it bad for you. I can’t hear his thoughts like I can yours, but everything about him says he really thought he was doing what was best.”

  She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the seat, trying to float on the soulful saxophone melody playing in her ears and not flounder in the emotional undertow that threatened to drag her down. “Maybe so, but it’s how he went about it, the words he chose. He couldn’t have hurt me worse if he’d physically struck me. But the thing is he hurt me because I let him. I’m the fool who opened up and let him in. I’m the fool who thought I was in love and gave him my heart. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t shut down because you’re angry. It’s how we grow, Fallon. That man sitting next to you would give anything to take back what he said and did.”

  She frowned. “Thought you said you couldn’t hear his thoughts.”

  “I can’t. But if you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself for two seconds, you’d see it.”

  She snapped her head in his direction. “Who the hell’s side are you on?” she demanded then winced, realizing she’d spoken aloud.

  “Yours, always. But that doesn’t mean I won’t call you out when you’re wrong.”

  She yanked the earbuds out, abandoning her hope of a musical refuge. “I’m not wrong. And in this particular case, you can keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Erik grabbed a magazine from the seat pocket in front of him and jerked it open. “Fine, have it your way.” He flipped a page, his abrupt swipe tearing the paper. “For now.”

  “What are you two arguing about?” Zane stared at them, his brow furrowed. “I feel like I’ve missed something.”

  “Nothing,” they said in unison.

  Fallon reclined her seat the quarter of an inch it would move, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes again. “Wake me when we land.”

  She didn’t want to talk to either of them. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She’d returned from the island just four days ago and hadn’t expected to go back quite so soon. But Erik was right. It was the best place to find some answers. She needed to figure out what that thing was that was after her, and even if she didn’t want to be with Zane anymore, she still wanted to help him. She prayed the answers to freeing his soul were in Aunt Serida’s library. It was the only hope they had.

  A few hours later, the Fasten Seatbelt light came on, and the captain announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be making our approach to Portland International Jetport in about forty-five minutes. However, I do ask all passengers to fasten their seatbelts as we’ll be heading into some turbulence. We received word that Hurricane Jolene has rounded back on the East Coast, and we’ll be flying through some heavy bands of rain. Just sit tight, and we’ll get you to Portland in no time.” The speaker clicked off, and the plane jolted as if to confirm the pilot’s claim. A moment later, the pilot spoke again. “My co-pilot just informed me that all flights out of Portland International have been cancelled due to weather. The airline will assist in rescheduling, and we apologize for the inconvenience. Safe travels.”

  The final approach was rough. The plane lurched and tilted. The engines whined. Odd clacks and whirs disconcerted Fallon. And to make matters worse, the entire descent transpired in a haze of gray clouds with rain slashing the windows. Even Erik appeared tense, his body rigid. When the jet’s wheels slammed to the runway, she sighed in relief.

  Two hours after landing, Erik steered the rental sedan into the Sentinel Harbor Marina entrance. The rain had diminished to a drizzle, and the car’s wipers batted away the water grazing the windshield. Grabbing their luggage, the trio dashed down the pier to the Sentinel Lady. But as they approached the boat, Fallon stopped short.

  Heavy, dark clouds blanketed the sky. The murky, gray sea rolled, white froth tipping the waves. An ominous storm line pushed from the horizon, gusty winds heralding its approach. She frowned. The ocean looked angry.

  “Ms. Anderson,” the boat captain called. He held out his hand. “Time is of the essence.”

  She scurried aboard the sleek yacht and followed the middle-aged man with the crisp captain’s cap inside the cabin. Closing the door behind them, he glanced at his watch, his brow furrowing into a scowl.

  “We’re running late.”

  Late? She hadn’t known they’d had an appointment. The boat rocked beneath her feet, and she reached for the wall to steady herself. “A helicopter would’ve been faster.”

  He raised a brow. “The helicopter’s in the hangar, ma’am, what with the hurricane coming and all.”

  Fallon started. “We have a helicopter?”

  “Dauphin EC155. Seats twelve plus pilots.”

  Fallon stared. Nothing about the man suggested he was joking. She grinned. “And I supposed the private jet is in the hangar, too.”

  His frown deepened. “No, ma’am.”

  “So, we don’t have a private plane?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s not in the hanger.” He pivoted away to climb the stairs to the upper level. “The corporate jet is currently at Portland International, undergoing annual maintenance.”
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  Fallon followed, her mind spinning. A corporate plane? She shook her head. What’s next? A private wing on the International Space Station?

  At the top of the stairs, she paused, taking in the lavish surroundings she hadn’t seen on her previous visit while the captain continued to the top level.

  “About time you showed up.” Wyatt rose from the taupe leather couch lining one wall and crossed to her with a welcoming smile.

  “Wyatt,” she said and grinned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Our brother texted a heads-up. Thought I might wanna join since we’re all hooked into this together. I called Captain Corbin, and here we are.” He held out his arms. “Good to see you.”

  She moved into his embrace, pleasantly surprised by the affection that surged through her for her new brother. “Didn’t think I’d be back quite this soon.”

  He kissed her cheek and stepped back. “Erik and Zane have been filling me in.” The concern in his eyes contradicted his smile. “A demon? You’re sure?”

  “Best guess.” She took the mug of coffee Erik handed her. “Aunt Serida wrote in her letter that the Forrester library had a lot of information. You saw that place. It was packed with books and journals.”

  “Ah-yuh. Same mention in mine.” His gaze cut to Zane. “Let’s hope she’s right.”

  The yacht’s engines rumbled to life, and the boat pulled away from the dock. The rough seas sent Fallon stumbling, and she struggled to keep from spilling coffee on the carpet. Catching her arm, Wyatt led her to the couch.

  “Gotta get your sea legs,” he quipped and strolled across the cabin to speak with Erik.

  “Right,” she muttered and sipped her coffee.

  “Your brothers.” Zane sat in a nearby chair, watching Erik and Wyatt. “You’re lucky to have them.”

  “Yep.” She twisted to gaze out the window.

  “Other than the hair and clothes, they look identical. Especially the face.”

  She risked a glance and found Zane staring at her. He leaned forward and set his forearms on his thighs, tension rolling off him in hot waves. God, the way he captured her senses with a mere wisp of desire and then entangled her in a net of heady lust and unbearable need. If he had been a demon sent to steal her soul by way of her love, she would’ve been lost because she’d already fallen so hard she would never recover. Transfixed, she could do nothing but return his gaze while the yacht bucked beneath them.

  “Same gold eyes as yours.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she lied.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I did.”

  He reached toward her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The moment his finger grazed her skin, the light fixture above the wet bar popped, and glass pelted the cherry countertop and carpet. Fallon flinched, her heart racing. Turning, she discovered Erik staring at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “So that’s how it is between you two.”

  Heat flooded her face, and she twisted away to look out the window again. Damn. How embarrassing. Not to mention the fact that she’d never meant for Zane to ever get that close to her again. What was wrong with her? His hateful words rang in her mind, rebuilding the icy barricade around her heart.

  Twenty long minutes later, the yacht docked at the island. While they grabbed their luggage, the captain tied the craft off. Winds tousled Fallon’s hair as she exited the cabin, and the choppy seas pitched the vessel. Supervising their disembarkment, the captain offered Fallon his hand to steady her transition to the pier.

  “Sorry about the light,” she mumbled as she stepped onto the weathered boards leading to the shore.

  “That’s fine, Ms. Anderson.” He released her hand and reached to tug the tie-off free. “You’re not the first. Nor the last, I think.” Tipping his fingers to the brim of his cap in a quaint salute, he pivoted away.

  Not the first? Fallon dragged her luggage down the pier, the wheels clacking over the cracks between the boards. So others had done similar damage? Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better.

  They entered the mansion, flipping on lights as they went. Upstairs, they picked rooms, and Fallon ensured hers was on the opposite end of the hall from Zane’s. She would’ve chosen a suite in another wing, but the house was so huge and unfamiliar, she worried being too far away might prove unwise. As she hefted her suitcase onto the luggage rack, she wondered if she were trying to protect herself from Zane or from the chance she might cave, giving in to the lust zinging between them.

  Outside, rain pelted her window, and wind whipped around the house, creating an eerie wail. It appeared Hurricane Jolene had begun her assault on the northern most coast of the Eastern Seaboard. Being out on an island in a storm like this unnerved her, and she decided she didn’t want to be alone. After hanging up a few shirts and depositing her toiletry case in the lavish bathroom, she hurried downstairs. Following her nose, she discovered Zane in the kitchen, scooping a sandwich from the mini stainless grill. He rounded toward her, a plate in his hand.

  “Hey.” A smile lit his face. “Get settled?”

  “Yes.” Damn, he was handsome, standing there with that apron around his waist and those dark eyes gleaming.

  He gestured at a stool on the opposite side of the counter. “Sit.”

  While she situated herself, he sliced the panini in half and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. Twisting off the caps, he handed her a cold bottle and slid a plate toward her. He took a deep swallow of beer and leaned against the counter while she took a bite of the grilled sandwich.

  “Mmm.” She reveled in the sweet honey-smoked ham and rich Swiss cheese. “Wow, that’s really good. What is this, French bread?”

  He smirked. “Yep.”

  “But there’s something else.”

  He nodded and took a healthy bite of his own sandwich. “Garlic.”

  “Powdered?”

  “Nope. Fresh. Rubbed on the outside with a touch of butter.” He downed half his beer.

  Good Lord, the guy could cook. “It’s really good.”

  He tipped his bottle at her. “Learned from the best.”

  He smiled, his eyes sparkling with pleasure, and Fallon sensed that first tendril of desire winding through her. She found herself leaning toward him, her pulse thrumming with anticipation. Attempting to break the spell, she pushed her plate aside and stood.

  “Where are you going?” He finished off his beer.

  “To the library.” She grabbed her bottle and headed for the door. “Trying to get the lay of the land. See what’s what.”

  “Good idea.” Crossing to the refrigerator, he removed two more beers and held them up. “I’ll join you.”

  As they entered the library, jagged lightning illuminated the immense floor-to-ceiling windows. Zane flipped on the lights to a deep rumble of thunder.

  “Nice.” He scanned the room from one end to the other. “Not at all like I’d expected from the outside of this place.”

  “Yes, seems my Aunt Serida was a study in contrasts. Imposing exterior means the library should be state of the art.” She treaded over the plush carpet and rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill.

  “The kitchen was impressive, too. Well stocked. Everything you need right there.”

  The sight of the library’s modern styling brought back memories of her initial visit—learning she had two brothers and a sister, trying to fathom the strange legacy their parents had handed down, opening the gifts from their aunt, and discovering the odd trinkets she’d asked they keep with them at all times. She fingered the bracelet on her wrist and wondered if Erik and Wyatt had honored their aunt’s request.

  “Fallon?”

  Zane’s voice snagged her attention, and she followed his gaze to the immense portrait hanging over the fireplace. Shock stole over her.

  “Wow.” He moved closer and stared at the picture. “You guys really do look alike.”

  “I…we didn’t pose for that.” She frowned, her mind struggling to make sense of
what she saw. “We were here just a few days ago. How did they…?”

  Zane snorted. “One talented artist, that’s for sure. He even caught the tiny scar on your temple.”

  Fallon touched the old injury. “It happened at my last competition. When I flipped the calf, I was leaning over too far, and his hoof cracked my head. Most people don’t even notice it.”

  “I did.”

  She glanced at him, spotting the desire swirling in his eyes. Downing the rest of her beer, she sauntered to the desk where the family lawyer had read the will, and set the empty bottle on the corner of the blotter. With her back to him, she continued scrutinizing the deft brush strokes that created the lifelike resemblance of her and her newfound siblings. “You’re a doctor, Zane. You’re trained to focus on details. Otherwise, your patients might die.”

  “Well, then I think you’ll be interested in this, too.”

  She turned to find him holding a picture out to her. Accepting it, she looked at the people in the photo. Her fingers tightened on the mahogany frame, her gaze scouring the smiling faces in the shot—a man and two women.

  “You all take after them,” Zane said, his voice quiet.

  “This wasn’t here before.” She stared at the wedding photo of her parents, her aunt standing nearby in a lavender bridesmaid gown. “They look so young.”

  He moved next to her. “They do. And happy.”

  Fallon studied her parents, their joyful expressions. Would she ever be that happy? Would she ever have even a speck of the bliss that so obviously radiated between the two people in the photo, the people who gave her life? With a sigh, she set the frame back on the end table.

  Outside, lightning seared the murky sky. The lights overhead sputtered off, plunging the room into shadows. Fallon tensed at the unexpected event and struggled to remember where she was in relation to everything in the room so she could shuffle to the door without cracking a knee.

  Zane laid a hand on Fallon’s arm, and she jumped.

  “Just making sure you’re okay.” He chuckled.