Shadows (Black Raven Book 1)

by Barcelona, Stella

  Treating the Do Not Disturb that hung on the glass door of the icing room as a suggestion, and one that he wasn’t taking, Sebastian knocked on the door.

  Spring turned, freezing before she even saw for certain who was at the door.

  “No,” Skye called across the room as he reached for the doorknob, a surge of panic running through her veins. “Don’t open the door.”

  Skye closed the distance between the counter and the icing room as fast as she could, mentally bracing for Spring’s yell as Sebastian opened the door. When Spring was absorbed in her work, she didn’t like to be disturbed by anyone but her big sister, and, in the world that Skye had created, where most of Spring’s odd rules were honored, the icing room was Spring’s domain. Customers could stand at the glass window and watch Spring decorate cakes. She liked to have an audience, as long as strangers from the audience didn’t talk to her. No one but Skye, though, could open the door of the icing room. It was one of Spring’s many compulsions, one that Skye indulged. The path of least resistance worked best for her sister, and Skye considered anything or anyone who threatened the hard-won peace the enemy. Currently, Sebastian was arch-enemy number one.

  Braced for hysteria, Skye barreled into the room, hard on his heels, almost colliding into his back. There was no screech from Spring, nor was there a high-pitched yell of terror, or any other resistance to Sebastian’s uninvited presence. Spring was smiling at him.

  Heart in her throat, with every pulse point in her body pounding, Skye stumbled to a stop.

  Smiling. My God. Smiling.

  Her sister was looking at Sebastian in that beautiful, wide-eyed innocent and welcoming way that Spring showed to only a few people.

  In a nice-guy voice, one that was upbeat and light and far different than the flat tone that had just accused Skye of knowing where her father was, Sebastian said, “Well, I tried the muffins.”

  “Did you? Which one was your favorite? No. Don’t tell me.” Her sister shook her head as she dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Let me guess. I think.” She narrowed her eyes, cocked her head to the side, and studied him. A lump formed in Skye’s throat as she took in Spring’s sweet, trusting innocence. It was beautiful, and, in this case, totally misplaced. Normally Spring, with her highly tuned sense of empathy, had an instinctively accurate read on people and their motives. Not this time, Skye thought, as her sister beamed a welcoming and beautiful smile at the asshole that had just threatened to throw her in jail. “No, I know. The apple-peanut-butter-caramel was your favorite.”

  “You’re correct. Not that I didn’t like the others. But I could eat fifty of those apple muffins.” His back was to Skye. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was positively charming. The bastard. “How’d you know that would be my favorite?”

  Spring shook her head, pursed her lips, and arched an eyebrow. “Sometimes I just know things about some people,” she shrugged, “and I’m usually right.”

  Sebastian chuckled as he jerked his chin to the bank’s cake. “Now that’s a work of art.”

  Spring blushed. “Really? You’re not just being nice, are you? I had a hard time with the colors. If you look at the real flowers in the vase, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Sebastian moved closer to the cake, turning in Skye’s direction as he did so. His eyes held Skye’s eyes for a brief second. There wasn’t a threat there. None at all. He looked different from the man who had delivered the bombshell news that her father had escaped. There was none of the impatience, none of the you-don’t-understand cockiness that he had exhibited while upstairs in her office. There was just an honest, slightly pained empathy, as though he realized the bittersweetness presented by Spring, who was physically a teenager, but mentally a sweet girl, many years younger than her age. Skye reminded herself that he was the same asshole who had tackled her and threatened her with jail time while upstairs in her office, and now he was stalling, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, while her heart was pounding and she could barely breathe.

  Leave. Please leave.

  Spring had a talent for making intricate beauty out of sugar and dye, but her creations were unusual. Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly as he bent to study the cake. He spent a few long seconds focusing on flowers in colors that didn’t resemble anything close to the hues intended by mother nature. People couldn’t get enough of Spring’s unusual creations, but at first sight, they were jarring. Watching Sebastian study a dense cluster of chartreuse rose buds with orange leaves and purple stems, Skye braced herself for a what-the-fuck comment. Instead, he turned to look at Spring, with a gentle smile. “You’re very, very good at what you do. It’s all perfect.”

  Spring’s eyes shone with delight. “Thank you soooooo much. The bank is having a party this afternoon, but we want to set it up early so that all the customers can see it. Maybe they’ll place orders.” Her guileless blue eyes focused on Skye. “Isn’t that the plan? We were going to deliver it at nine, but they called and want it early. It’s ready.”

  “I see that.” Skye forced a smile, though her heart twisted. “It’ll be the most beautiful cake they’ve ever seen. And once they taste it, we’ll have more orders than we can handle.”

  Run.

  There’d be no cake orders. At least none that they’d be there to fulfill. Maybe one day they’d return to Covington and Creative Confections, but not until her father was found and they were safe again, and that wouldn’t happen until the cataclysm scenario ended.

  Run. Trust no one.

  Skye could adapt easily, but this was going to be hard on Spring. To say that her sister didn’t handle change well was an understatement, and sudden change was the worst. She drew a deep breath. It was going to be one hell of a long day. And tomorrow? Skye’s stomach twisted. Until she received the next set of instructions from her father, she couldn’t think of tomorrow. She just had to have faith that once the cataclysm scenario, for better or worse, was over, she’d be able to make things right again for Spring. Faith in her abilities and courage to act.

  Skye straightened her shoulders, gave Spring a nod, and said, “Why don’t you let Sarah and Daniel know that we’ll be leaving in just a minute. Daniel can help us get the boxes of pastries that the bank also ordered into the van.”

  On her way out of the icing room, Spring gave Sebastian a shy smile and a hopeful glance. “You’ll be back soon, won’t you?”

  He nodded. “As soon as I can.”

  His smile faded as Spring shut the door. His deep dimples disappeared, as though they’d been a mirage. Blue eyes hardened as his gaze met Skye’s eyes. Goodbye, nice guy, Skye thought, folding her arms, hello, jerk. “Weren’t you leaving?”

  “What? Not fast enough for you?”

  “I’ll give you fair warning,” Skye told him, a steely edge to her voice. “Mess with my sister, and no U.S. Marshal will be able to protect your ass from me. I won’t need a gun to hurt you, and I won’t rest until I do.”

  He gave her a short nod, his gaze going over her head to the counter area beyond the window, where her sister was talking excitedly to Sarah. With a slight frown, his eyes returned to her. “Message received.”

  “How did you find us?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what we do. The only thing you need to know is no matter where you run, no matter what name you use, I’ll find you again if I need to.” His tone was flat, his words certain, and his eyes were like hard blue rocks. “On the other hand, once your father is back in custody, you and your sister will be free to enjoy your lives and be whoever in the hell you want to be. If living anonymously is so important to you, you have an interest in getting your father back in prison. Are you ready to talk to me?”

  “When hell freezes over,” she mumbled, not intending for him to hear, and added, “you pretentious, self-important prick.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I have really good hearing, so when you feel the need to resort to childish name calling, don’t waste effort on whispering.”


  As Sebastian turned to leave the small room, she said, “Wait. My revolver.”

  He turned to look at her, shaking is head as he did. “Like I said, you’ll get your weapons back when I decide the time’s right.”

  He left the small room, shutting the door as she said, “Cocky jerk.”

  He turned, through the window gave her a half-smile and an eyebrow arch that indicated he heard her, and then continued on his way out of the coffee house. When the front door closed behind him, she exhaled in relief.

  ***

  “You have GPS on their van?” Sebastian slammed the door of the Range Rover.

  Pete nodded, pointing to the screen on the dashboard. “Their GPS system is merged with ours. They’re the blue dot. We’re red.”

  “Drive away.”

  Pete looked at Sebastian expectantly as he put the car in drive. “Where to?”

  He’d seen enough to know that she was scared and ready to run. “Far enough to make her think we’re disappearing from her life. Not so far that we can’t be on her in a matter of minutes. How far’s their house?”

  “A mile and a half.”

  “Let’s go there for a minute,” Sebastian said, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his backpack. The northeast was expecting snow and in Denver, at headquarters, wintry precipitation had been falling steadily for the last twelve hours. But in the deep South, snow wasn’t likely in any given winter, and on this February day the clear blue sky and warm sun seemed to take the chill out of the air. “Keep an eye on that GPS. She’s going to run. I’m giving her a few minutes of freedom before we catch up and scare the truth out of her.”

  “Why let her run at all?”

  Sebastian liked Pete. While many of Black Raven’s agents had military or police backgrounds, Pete had neither. Brandon had recommended him, so Sebastian had personally facilitated the application process. Most of the skills their agents needed to operate effectively could be taught at their training facility, but some skills, like the deep-rooted instinct for danger possessed by exceptional agents, couldn’t be taught. The thorough background checks and psychological testing that field agents went through had revealed that Pete had a rough past that rivaled Sebastian’s own suck-ass years as a child and teenager. Pete, like Sebastian, was an observer. He was also tough, smart, didn’t trust anyone, and in early training sessions had proven that he could adapt fast. He’d thrive in Black Raven.

  Pete glanced at Sebastian, waiting on an answer.

  “Right now, she’s not desperate enough to talk. When she realizes there’s no escape, she might change her mind. I’m giving hope, some slack on the rope, before reeling her in and taking away her option to split.” And it was going to be damn ugly. He wasn’t looking forward to being the one who put fear back in her eyes. Hell. He didn’t want to be an ass in front of the younger sister either. He’d done a hell of a lot worse, certainly more brutal, in the name of work, but scaring the truth out of a beautiful woman while his body ached for her was a new one. Chalk it up to his post-July life. Everything was different now and, other than the fact that he was alive, most of it sucked.

  “Ragno, any news?

  “Barrows’ debriefing transcripts just arrived,” she told him, voice crisp. “We’re diving into them now, hoping we can come up with a clearer vision of his theories, which may lead to something. Amazing how much he talked about Shadow and LID Technology, which is something I picked up on the interviews that we already had. Anyway, aside from Barrows, Holt still knows nothing. They’re not any closer to Biondo, either.”

  “Give me something to push Skye’s buttons.”

  “Aside from knocking her to the floor and lying on top of her?” Ragno asked. “Really, Sebastian.”

  “Give me a break.” Yeah. He’d been breathing heavy. Hell. He tried not to think of how perfectly toned yet soft she’d felt, when he was on top of her. “She pulled a gun on me. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I disarmed her. No one got hurt.”

  “Well, I suggest that you try reasoning instead of manhandling. She’s truly her father’s daughter, one of her MIT professors said. She’s off-the-charts intelligent. After MIT, reports from therapists, which her father insisted that she see, indicate that she consciously chose to turn her back on the more cerebral world her father lived in for a more people-oriented lifestyle. It was an act of rebellion on her part, and explains the serious pursuit of partying and meaningless relationships with friends and lovers. From her therapy reports, it seems that everything she’s done, she’s done consciously. When you’re dealing with her, don’t forget how smart she is.”

  She might be smart, but that damn topless bikini photo sure as hell has a way of making people not think about her brains. He kept that thought to himself. He was a professional. Black Raven’s workforce was mostly men, and most of them had more than a healthy dose of testosterone. He led by example, and one primary rule was that hormones were to be kept under control while on the job.

  “While Skye was in college she wrote papers on elegance in computer algorithm design and provided theories on how to accomplish it,” Ragno paused, “at seventeen. Can you believe that?”

  Sebastian knew about algorithm design, but it was enough to let him know that there was a reason he had people like Ragno on his payroll. The vehicle slowed, and Pete indicated the house as Sebastian half-listened to Ragno continue on about algorithm design. The two-story Victorian-style house was painted a crisp white with mint green shutters. An oversized white porch swing with pillows that matched the trim of the house hung on a wide front porch. A bay window overlooked a yard with flowering azalea and camellia bushes. Skye seemed to have a knack at making places seem both chic and homey. Her front porch looked like a great place to hang out, to settle into the porch swing, read a newspaper, and sip coffee on a long, lazy morning. That the home could inspire such a thought in him, a man who never had long lazy mornings, meant Skye was skilled at decorating.

  Slowing the Range Rover to a crawl, Pete nodded in the direction of a black SUV that was parked in front of the neighboring house. “Something’s not right. Right before you walked out of the coffee house, that SUV and a black sedan passed in front,” Pete said. “What are the odds of it passing there and being here?”

  The scene took on a surreal clarity, the kind that came when Sebastian knew bad shit was about to go down. Some people with a sixth sense for danger felt a prickle at the back of their neck when warning instincts kicked in. He usually didn’t feel that prickle. Instead, time slowed, his brain processed vision more clearly, touch receptors in his body became super-sensitized, and his sharp hearing became even more intense. Faint odors and aromas became overpowering. The neighborhood became too normal, as though 3-D photographed. When Sebastian got the feeling he was looking at a facade, that’s when he knew trouble was about to happen. It had been that way since he was a kid.

  The dull whump-thud, whump-thud of his heartbeat was an undeniable warning. He glanced at the dashboard and the GPS screen. Skye hadn’t left the coffee house. Returning his attention to the SUV they were approaching, Sebastian absently noted the vehicle’s make, model, and license plate. He observed a young mother wearing exercise clothes, pushing a stroller as she jogged away from them, about one block away. In the opposite direction, a gardener’s truck was two blocks away, tailgate down, bags of mulch waiting to be placed. “What was it about the vehicles and the occupants that stood out?”

  Pete shrugged. “There were two men in each car, which is a little different for this time of morning in this town. Covington doesn’t seem like a ride-sharing kind of place, unless people are headed into the city, and the coffee shop isn’t on the way to the commuter roads to New Orleans. Both cars braked in front of the coffee house. Neither stopped. All four men turned their heads, like they were looking at the coffee house. I looked at the plates. I committed them to memory. I’m positive that,” he gestured with his chin, “is the SUV from the coffee house. When they kept going, I dismiss
ed them. You got in the car two minutes after, so the SUV hasn’t been here long.”

  “Minero said two men would arrive from the marshals’ office in an hour or two,” Sebastian told him, his eyes scanning the quiet street. A man wearing khakis walked across a yard, towards the truck with the mulch, and reached forward as he gripped one of the bags. The scene was suburban normal, devoid of obvious threat. “These guys aren’t marshals. They’re here too soon, there’s two men too many, and the marshals would have just walked into the coffee house.” He shifted in the seat, stretching his legs as much as he could as he glanced at the dashboard. Skye’s blue dot was still at the coffee house.

  “Ragno. There’s a security system with video at the coffee house. Do we have access?”

  “Yes, but I’m not there. Give me a minute.”

  They were slightly past Skye’s house and almost parallel to the suspect SUV now. It was empty. Even though he had to assume the occupants were in the house, Skye’s house revealed no life. Assuming that the SUV and black sedan together made up a surveillance team, as Pete’s observations suggested, Sebastian didn’t like that only half of the team was there. The other half of the team—the black sedan—wasn’t at Skye’s house and it wasn’t anywhere in sight. Instead of racing, his pulse slowed when he had to focus, and now, his blood was crawling through his veins.

  People here in the burbs never expected anything bad to happen in their idyllic worlds. Sebastian knew, though, that crap happened everywhere. Every neuron in his body warned him that the shit was about to hit the fan. Where? Didn’t matter. He knew where he needed to be, with absolute certainty, because the blue dot still hadn’t moved.

  “Coffee house. Now!”

  ***