by Jenna Ryan
“I think he’s probably close.”
“And when he gets here, he’ll do what Demars intended for him to do from the start.”
Another visual circle. “We’ve had this conversation, Raven.”
“No, we really haven’t.” Without looking back, she raised her voice to Rooney. “Tell everyone to line up, Grandpa. Most to least serious.” The crowd sorted itself in some order. “We only had the conversation where Demars wanted you dead. But I don’t think that’s how it was.” Although her stomach pitched, her voice remained dead calm. “Demars never planned to kill you, did he? He wanted you to live and suffer. It’s like ‘The Soldier’s Tale,’ Aidan. Not quite an eye for an eye, but close. You killed Demars’s son. In return, Johnny Demars was going to kill me.”
Chapter Six
“Demars’s mother is Italian,” Aidan revealed while she treated his scraped knuckles. “His gangland values—yeah, I know that’s a contradiction in terms—come from the old school. No gratuitous killing. He targets specific victims for specific purposes. By eliminating the purpose, I eliminated his motive for targeting you.”
Raven didn’t know what to say to that, not then or fifteen minutes later when they arrived at the Ravenspell campsite.
An open fire burned high and wide beyond the rapidly expanding tent grounds as she struggled to absorb the truth behind Aidan’s “death.”
“You can yell at me if it makes you feel better, Raven.” The object of her frustration draped an arm over her shoulders. “Or we could kickbox, and I’ll give you first strike.”
In spite of everything, his teasing tone brought a smile. “Such a tempting offer. When the Novocain impeding my brain function wears off, I might even take you up on it. In the meantime, and setting the big stuff aside, what are we doing here?”
“Hiding in a crowd for the moment.”
“Hiding in, alone in—crowds appear to have multiple uses for you.”
“I’m also hungry.” He steered her toward a collection of lowered tailgates and the mouthwatering scents of grilled chicken, buttered corn and steamed clams. “If you spot Fergus Smith anywhere, give me a heads-up, because your cousin lost sight of him an hour ago.”
“Steven’s not a sleuth, and if you don’t trust Fergus Smith, why not run an ID on him? My guess is you have open access Captain Beckett’s computer.”
“I had to earn some kind of income while I was here.”
“And Steven facilitated that by—let me think—providing you with an internet connection at Blume House, maybe?”
“You have the mind of a first-class sleuth, angel. I’ve been investigating online scams and other fraud-related crimes.”
“Not bad for a techno-spaz. Was that Captain Beckett’s brainchild?”
Aidan chuckled. “His and mine. The man’s not a monster, Raven. You let Gaitor poison your mind against him.”
“In case you’re not aware, Gaitor’s been MIA since his retirement party, Aidan.”
“Yeah, Beckett mentioned that.”
“It’s as if he dropped off the planet. Then again, you came back from the dead, so I’ll hope for the best with Gaitor. Now, getting back to Fergus...”
“Fergus Smith from Bangor, Maine, or anywhere else for that matter, doesn’t exist.”
“There’s a shock. Our Mr. Smith is a fraud. That would put him right up your alley—and let’s not segue to a fanatical reverend of the same name. Any idea what Fergus’s story might be?”
“No, but I’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Why doesn’t that reassure me?”
“Because you’re hungry, and lack of food makes you suspicious.”
Raven settled for sending him a narrowed look.
It felt otherworldly, she realized as they walked, to be with Aidan like this, to have him touching her in such a familiar way, as if they’d never been apart.
She still loved him, desperately loved him. And wanted him. She should be tearing his clothes off and shoving him to the ground, or fantasizing about doing it. Instead, all she felt was numb. Is that what happened, she mused, when the human brain imploded?
At least her appetite was alive and well. And as Aidan had suggested, the mere prospect of food had improved her mood.
They blended in, loaded up two plates and ate on a fallen log, surrounded by tipsy legend hunters. Maybe it was a blessing, Raven thought, that they didn’t see Fake Fergus, the blonde from the bar or the spooky Reverend Alley.
As the fire dimmed, a group of musicians began playing a Goth-folk musical mix on acoustic guitars. Mindless of the mosquitoes and the cooling night, a barefoot man with a long gray braid and beard produced a gallon jar filled with fruit and clear liquid, which he pushed into Raven’s hands.
“Make you sleep like a baby,” he promised. “Pass it on when you’re done.”
Aidan looked into the jar and grinned. “Make you see red-eyed ravens more like.”
“Yes, about that.” Raven sampled the home brew, felt the burn slide to her stomach and smiled. “Reverend Alley’s eyes are red, or red-rimmed, anyway, like my ancestor’s were after he transformed. Alley thinks that we—you and I—are going to die. He said so right before he went all raven eyed and poofed into the night.”
“Sounds like a fun guy.”
“He also knew my name, which would creep me out if my head wasn’t processing so many other creepy thoughts.” She popped a cube of overproof melon into her mouth. “Little things like Steven being disbarred and George selling you out.” Pressing a slice of peach to his lips, she added a guileless “And of course there’s the whole you sacrificing your life for me thing.”
He swallowed the spiked fruit. “For us, Raven. There was no sacrifice involved as long as you were alive and safe.”
She poured him a tall glass of the home brew. “I don’t know how to respond to that, Aidan. Or to you. It’s like I’m disconnected from my emotions right now. My feelings should be doing a happy dance, but instead, everything inside me’s gone dark.”
“And you think that makes you abnormal?”
“It makes me sad, which is ridiculous since you’re sitting right here, and if a genie had popped out of a lamp to grant me a single wish, this—” she flicked a hand between them “—would be it.”
“So substitute ‘confused’ for abnormal.”
She drew random lines with her index finger. “My head’s like a maze—no beginning, no end. Would you believe I wanted to open a medical clinic in Raven’s Cove? I mean—that was the plan.”
“It can still happen.” With a vague smile hovering on his lips, he shot the contents of his glass. And hissed in reaction.
Humor sparked. “Rooney’s tea packs a way bigger punch than this stuff. It’s mother’s milk, Aidan.”
He frowned at the jar. “Probably just as well we never had kids in that case. Then again, as I recall, you drank me under the table at our wedding reception.”
“Must be in the genes. I’m pretty sure Rooney was weaned on malt whiskey.” She passed the concoction to a couple sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of them. “Aidan, what will Demars do to George?”
“Depends how much he values a turncoat cop. Odds aren’t in George’s favor.”
“Why did he turn you in?”
Aidan’s lips took on an obscure curve. “I’ll give you one guess. If it takes more than that, you’re not the woman I married.”
“A considerate man would let me live in denial.” But she huffed out an impatient breath. “You think George is in love with me.”
“I know he is. He was in love with you before I died. His coming to Raven’s Cove tells me that situation hasn’t changed.”
“So he obviously saw you at Blume House this afternoon.”
“I was on the staircase drooling while you were talking to Steven.”
“After which, the three of us drove to Grandpa’s cottage. George moved a few appliances, then contacted Demars. What he didn’t count on was me going back
to Blume House and finding you. Snap, there went his plan—if he actually had a plan.” A familiar sensation swept over her from behind. “You know a break would be really nice, here. Do you feel something strange? Please say yes.”
“Oh, yeah.” Aidan kept his tone and movements easy as he swung a leg over to straddle the log. “I’ve been on it since we got here.”
Fear and exasperation mixed. “You might have mentioned it before now.”
“I could have been overreacting.”
“Said Grandma to Red Riding Hood.” She tapped a finger on his knee. “I hate to tell you your job, but shouldn’t we be getting out of here?”
He took a long moment to scan the woods. “It’s not one of Demars’s men.”
“And you know this because?”
The ghost of a smile appeared. “Sorry, gut instinct’s the best answer I’ve got.”
“If that’s the same as cop instinct, I seem to recall the word rusty coming up earlier.”
“Shakes your confidence a little, doesn’t it?”
A movement in the mist caught her eye. “Someone’s back there.”
“Pretend he isn’t.”
When she opened her mouth, he wrapped his fingers around her nape and brought her forward for a kiss. Against her lips, he said, “You wouldn’t see or feel him if it was Demars’s man.”
Raven promised herself to hold that thought, for as long as it took to absorb it. No one could smoke her mind with a kiss like Aidan.
“He’s in the trees.” Aidan drew back. “I’m going to give you a gun, and I need you to stay close behind me.”
Although she disliked weapons, Raven took the compact Smith & Wesson he slipped into her hands. “I put seven stitches in a man tonight. Don’t make me put a bullet in anyone.”
“Do my best.” He gave her a quick grin and an even quicker second kiss. “On three.”
* * *
THE SINGING CAMPERS easily covered Aidan and Raven’s departure from the site. Because Raven assumed they were taking a roundabout path to their destination, she kept quiet and kept up.
Although the forest floor was anything but level, it was also mossy enough that prayer and good balance kept her from falling on her face. Until they reached a patch of rocks, then her faith faltered.
“Stop. Down.” Aidan tugged her into a crouch. “That huddled shadow’s not part of any tree.”
They’d come full circle to the campsite, Raven realized. Glittering firelight snuck through the greenery, but for the most part, the woods were a sea of mysterious shadows. She heard owls in the high branches, insects chirping, frogs croaking and God knows what else. If she spotted a wolf, big, bad or otherwise, she was out of here.
Aidan pointed. “Aim your gun at the base of the pine. If I yell at you to shoot, go for the stockier silhouette.”
Really hating this, Raven thought, but she breathed out the worst of her nerves and set her wrists on a tree stump to steady them.
She didn’t see Aidan leave, and she had no idea where he’d gone until the bloblike shadow near the pine tree vanished and the bone-on-bone punches that signaled a fight in progress began to underscore the night sounds.
Her heart hammered in her throat, and her fingers felt like blocks of ice. Finally, two distinct male shadows rose next to the pine. One of them howled and disappeared. The taller man went to his knee.
“It’s okay, Raven. I’ve got him.”
She forced her screaming muscles to relax, stood and made her way to Aidan’s side.
The fallen figure took on a recognizable form. “George.” Disappointment flooded out. “I’d hoped we were wrong. Stupid, but I hoped.”
The distant campfire allowed her to see the tears that shone on his cheeks when he looked at her.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Raven. I called Demars before I realized what he might do to you.”
Aidan hauled him upright. Defeated, George wiped at the dirt that streaked his face. “I’m sorry, Aidan.” His mouth and eyes crumpled. “I really am so sorry. I saw you come out of the bar so I followed you up here. I wanted to tell you, to warn you.”
“Who did he send?” Aidan asked.
“I don’t know the guy’s real name. He’s called Weasel. His blood’s ice water. He carries a knife, but he’s a marksman.”
“You seem to know Demars’s shooters very well,” Raven noted. “How long have you worked for him?”
George flinched. “I don’t work for him, not really. I pass along the odd bit of information. Very odd and very much in bits.” He appealed to Aidan. “I thought he’d killed you. I thought he might decide to kill me, for being with you the night his son died. I wanted— I was trying to protect myself.”
“Right. Let us know how that goes.”
“Can I... Are you going to let me leave?”
For an answer, Aidan held up both hands and stepped away.
“The guy looks like what he’s called.” George edged backward. “You won’t mistake him. And watch for the big guy, too. I haven’t actually met him, but you hear things. I know Demars wants you dead very, very badly.”
It surprised Raven that she heard the tiny thwack, but she did. Heard it and saw the expression of shock that froze George’s features. With a dark stain blooming across his T-shirt, he pitched forward to land facedown on the moss.
Raven and Aidan hit the ground at the same instant.
A second later, Aidan pulled her partway up. “Keep low and keep moving, okay?”
She nodded, or thought she did.
He shielded her from behind and stayed there until they reached the campfire where thirty or more people continued to debate the ancient tale.
“He’s dead.” Raven fisted Aidan’s shirt, holding on even when he pulled her into his arms. “George is dead.”
“Yeah, he’s dead.” Pressing his cheek to the side of her head, he held her tight. “What I don’t get is why we’re not.”
* * *
THE QUESTION HAUNTED him through the remainder of a sleepless night.
They returned to Blume House, to the attic rooms that had been his sanctuary since the explosion. He knew all the ways in, and he’d added an extra way out.
Raven would be safe here for now, and he’d have time to think—about her was a given, since she was currently sleeping in his bed. After two years with nothing for company except memories of the nights they’d spent together, and the spectacular sex they’d shared, he’d worry a whole lot more if he wasn’t ready to crawl and beg.
However, focus was key at this point. Lose it, and he risked losing Raven forever.
Leaving the trapdoor open, Aidan hauled himself into the cupola and surveyed the darkened ridge. When his cell phone vibrated, he barely glanced at the screen. “Where are you?”
Steven’s cranky voice replied, “Two flights down and climbing. I figured I’d give you a heads-up in case you decided to blow mine off before doing a visitor ID.”
“Don’t wake Raven.”
“Aidan, dynamite won’t wake Raven if she’s asleep.”
“Yeah.” The memory brought a smile. “Only two cups of strong coffee can do that.”
Sixty seconds later, Steven flung himself into a beanbag chair.
“I can hear your teeth grinding from here.” Aidan didn’t have to see the other man’s expression to know what had happened. “How much did you lose?”
“Five K.”
“Gotta be a record, even for you.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Don’t tell Rooney.”
“That shouldn’t be a hard promise to keep.”
“Or Raven.”
“Uh-huh. Like she won’t figure it out. Lucky for you, you’re too low on her life-and-death priority list to get the verbal crap kicked out of you. You were supposed to be watching Fergus Smith, Steven, not losing what’s left of your personal assets in an online poker match.”
“Yeah, about that. Mr. Not-His-Real-Name Smith might be the size of a humpbac
k whale, but he moves like an eel. He ditched me in the vicinity of Two Toes Joe’s bar. I figured if he went inside, you’d see him, and if he didn’t, we’d have a better chance of finding him when the fog that was rolling in rolled out and the sun—assuming we live long enough to see it again—came up. Because my guess is that Johnny Demars must be working a gargantuan chip at this juncture, and he might not settle for offing you and Raven. He might want anyone and everyone remotely connected to you and her gone. Is that just barely possible?”
“Barely,” Aidan agreed.
“Ambiguity is not an answer.” Steven raked the fingers of both hands through his hair. “Give me something solid, will you? What are we looking at here?”
Aidan weighed choice against risk before deciding. “I need to see the body.”
“Body?” Only Steven’s eyes came up. “As in dead body?”
“Very dead. One of Demars’s sharpshooters took George out of the picture in the woods near the Ravenspell campsite.”
“He took... Does that even make sense?”
“It does to whoever squeezed the trigger.”
“Man, I need a beer. Where were you and Raven when this taking out occurred?”
“Sandwiching George.”
“So the double dealer died, and you and Raven walked. Call me dense, but I’d say whoever did your former police bud is definitely not working for Johnny Demars.... Wait a minute. What are you doing?”
After checking his gun, Aidan stuffed an extra ammo clip in his pocket and tossed his backup to Steven. “I can’t leave a corpse in the woods. One of the campers might take an early-morning stroll.” He tugged on a black jacket. “Watch Raven. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Steven was up like a shot. “Are you insane? How do you know you’re not walking into a trap?”
“If George’s killer wanted me dead, I’d be dead. So would Raven. We got lucky tonight, and I’m damned if I know why. Yet.”
“Trap,” Steven called out as he left the cupola.
The prospect hung with him during his jog through the woods to the spot where George had landed.
Except that George was no longer in the spot where he’d landed. Close, but not in quite the same place. Or the same position.