Shadows (Black Raven Book 1)

by Barcelona, Stella

  Hell.

  Even with the firestorm he faced, the few inches separating them as they walked down the hallway weren’t enough. His body craved hers, like a starving man craved food, even as he tried to force his attention to the task at hand. Keeping her safe. Keeping her sister safe. Finding her damned father, who was the root of this particular problem.

  The room had a table, six chairs, a wall of monitors, and built-in speakers. It had one fake window and lots of bright light from recessed lighting. They were alone, but as long as he had a live connection with Ragno, she was present, even though not physically there. Ragno’s presence was a good thing. Considering that he could barely keep his hands off Skye, being truly alone with her would be dangerous.

  Mentally, he could pretend they never had sex. Physically, he had no hope of accomplishing that lofty goal.

  He pulled out a chair for her, clenching his jaw as his fingers brushed the sleeve of her soft cardigan. As she sat, the end of her loose braid ran down his forearm like a caress. Or a taunt, dammit. As sparks shot up his arm, he wondered if she felt the same physical attraction. If she did, she was better at masking her desire.

  He sat down next to her and moved his chair closer to the table, glad that it hid his arousal. “We’ll be live in a minute. It isn’t video. Only voice. The rooms full of speakers, so you can talk normally, and he’ll hear you. I can’t tell you what to say. Remember, you’re talking to federal officials.” He paused, glancing into her eyes. His legal training was deeply ingrained. At interrogations such as these, he always warned his clients of the manipulative capabilities of law enforcement officials. “I’m a lawyer,” he explained, “but I’m not your lawyer, and I’m not giving you legal advice; do you understand that?”

  She nodded, as there was a knock on the door. An agent who Sebastian recognized as a physician walked into the room. He was middle-aged and balding. It wasn’t the perfect time to get stitches, but it was the only time that he planned to sit still that morning, before departing for headquarters. Sebastian stripped off his shirt, as the doctor laid a tray of scissors, bandages, surgical thread, and cleansing solution on the table and snapped on gloves.

  He watched Skye’s eyes drift from the wound, to his chest, and to his shoulders. A pink flush formed on her cheeks, as her eyes found his. The flush was barely there, but still noticeable. Ahhh. She wasn’t immune to the pull that existed between them. Good to know it wasn’t a one-way street. Why that mattered, when he’d be far away from her in just a matter of hours, he had no idea. It just did.

  The doctor started working on his arm, pouring alcohol on the wound and swabbing at it. When he felt the first prick of the needle and the pull of thread, he drew a deep breath, thought about a couple of things that would hurt more, and blocked out the feeling of what the doctor was doing. With his arm to the side, and his face turned to Skye, he continued. “The last thing I want you to do is give Minero information that you haven’t provided me. That being said, I need to tell you that you’re not a suspect here, but keeping information from them is a crime. These guys are good at drawing information from people. Their questions are probing, their pauses are deliberate, and they want to know more than you ever want to tell them.”

  She straightened her back and pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan, her eyes serious. “I understand that. I only have to answer the questions that he asks, right?”

  She was a smart woman. He locked eyes on her, detected more than a bit of the willpower he’d been battling since he’d introduced himself, and nodded. Minero didn’t stand a chance. “That’s right. Don’t volunteer information.” As the doctor tugged more loops of thread through his arm, Sebastian said, “Ragno, put the call through.”

  Sebastian was an outsider on this one. Minero took charge, and Sebastian didn’t try to intervene. Minero began the call with only a slight haughtiness in his voice, but with a huge assumption, evident in his tone, that Skye somehow knew something about her father’s whereabouts. There was also thinly veiled disdain for Barrows and his work, which not surprisingly put Skye’s back up. Her entire posture changed, but her tone was polite and even as she professed to know nothing helpful, or where her father may be running, or who might be interested in her father.

  Minero’s tone became accusatory. Sebastian almost chuckled as Minero hung himself by making the same mistakes that Sebastian himself had made with Skye, the mistake he’d continued this morning when he had mocked the news show’s images of the followers of Richard Barrows who wore foil-lined caps. The doctor finished with the stitches and began bandaging his arm.

  “Mr. Minero, if you aren’t going to take the time to understand my father’s work,” Skye said, her cheeks flushed red, but her voice calm. “The importance of it, and what it could mean to someone, and who that person might be, you will never find him.”

  With that pronouncement, Sebastian’s heart pounded.

  An answer had been staring at him, the minute he realized the lengths to which Skye had gone to make sure no one found her and her sister. It had just taken him approximately twenty-four hours in her company to realize that answer. The light bulb moment hit him like a train.

  Holy hell.

  As he listened to Minero’s steady stream of questions, and Skye’s indignant answers of ‘No,’ ‘I don’t know,’ and ‘I can’t answer that,” goose bumps prickled up and down his arms, on the back of his neck, and crawled down his back. He nodded goodbye to the doctor. When Minero ended the call with frustration and a big zero in intel-gained, Sebastian realized that it was time for something different than bullheaded doubt and thinly disguised ridicule. Skye wasn’t just playing along with her father’s delusions.

  She was an integral part of them.

  There was a reason that ridicule and disdain of her father was a nonstarter. She believed her father’s claims, claims that he’d spent the last few days investigating and, unfortunately, disproving.

  Is she just as crazy as her father?

  His stomach twisted. He normally stayed away from women who didn’t have a firm grasp on reality, but he’d done something far different with her. Exactly what he had to do to figure out the depth of Skye’s delusions, and whether unraveling her thoughts and theories would lead to Barrows, Sebastian had no idea. He also didn’t have time to go there. Delusional conspiracy theories weren’t something he was prepared to chase.

  He’d apologize to her for what he’d done the night before, then he’d leave Last Resort.

  As the phone call with Minero ended, he said to Ragno, “Give me some time on my own.”

  “Wait. I’ve got your answer regarding potential properties that can be considered a lake house. There are two. One in Florida and another in Seattle.”

  “Send agents to both properties. ASAP. Figure out if there’s anything at either property that can be useful to finding Barrows.”

  “Maybe Barrows is at one of the houses, sitting on a pier, fishing.”

  He chuckled. “Let’s keep those positive thoughts going.” He focused his attention on Skye, took the earphone out of his ear and put the device in his pocket. He turned off the watch’s receiver and transmission switches. As she backed her chair away from the table, he asked, “Still craving outside air? I need to make a quick stop, then we can go for a walk.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  8:45 a.m., Tuesday

  Figure it out.

  The words were more than a faint thought, more than a memory of her father’s voice. They were loud, as though he stood next to her, yelling in exasperation. Now that the phone call with the Marshal was over, she couldn’t keep her exhaustion at bay, nor did she have the energy to sort through the racing thoughts that were turning her brain to mush. She knew what he’d be telling her.

  Figure it out.

  She couldn’t figure her way out of this one. She was trapped. Stuck somewhere she shouldn’t be, when she should be figuring out the next step in the cataclysm scenario. Either it was on, or it was of
f, and she was overdue on Firefly Island to figure it out. If her father had sent her another message, it was there. At the lake house. Waiting for her. If cataclysm was still in play, she needed to be acting on it. Not baking cupcakes, pretending for Spring’s benefit that the only thing that mattered was that the agents holding them hostage had a pretty dessert to go with their dinner.

  Cataclysm. Run. Now.

  Instead of running anywhere, Skye had grabbed a jean jacket from her room before she stopped in the kitchen to tell Spring where she was going. Upon seeing the leash in Skye’s hand, Candy had danced around her feet, either with excitement or a very full bladder.

  Cool February air enveloped her as she and Sebastian stepped outside. The sky was partly cloudy. For the moment, the sun was hidden. Three black Range Rovers were in the concrete courtyard, all pulled to one side. Six agents were in the courtyard. Two agents were close to the front door, two were further out, and two were positioned on the far edges. All stood at attention as she and Sebastian stepped outside.

  The only thing that mattered to Skye was that she was breathing fresh air. She relished the freshness, taking deep, cleansing breaths. On either side of the courtyard, the property was dense with pine trees. Their tangy fragrance tickled her nostrils. She inhaled, exhaled, and drew in another long breath, as she slipped on her jean jacket.

  “Warm enough?” he asked. As she buttoned the jacket, his eyes scanned her arms, her chest, traveling up her neck, to her face, and finally, meeting her gaze. His gaze was just as intense as the look he’d given her the night before, when she’d been naked, underneath him, and his eyes had travelled her body, as though he was memorizing every detail. In the soft lamplight of his bedroom, the look had been sensual. In the daylight, the look was raw and hungry and, having experienced exactly what he was capable of delivering, a warm flush burned her cheeks as she met his gaze.

  Yes, she thought, if he requested a do-over, the answer would be yes. Anytime, anywhere, and it didn’t much matter what was going wrong in her life, because he’d made her forget her sorry situation with just a touch.

  “I could find you a heavier jacket,” he said. “We keep plenty of extras here. Temperature’s dropping. Forecasters are calling for a winter storm.”

  He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt and no jacket and didn’t seem bothered by the cold. After the phone call, he’d slipped into his bedroom and had come out with his gun, which was holstered on his belt. She pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, shook loose the braid, and slipped the skinny elastic band on her wrist. He watched her hair fall around her shoulders, before his eyes rested on hers.

  She said, “I’m warm enough.”

  “There’s a trail.” He pointed to a path, that was to the right of the safe house. “It’s a short trek along a small lake. Sound good?”

  She nodded and headed in the direction he pointed. She didn’t care where they walked. She only cared that they were outside, and she could breathe. Maybe outside air would clear her brain.

  Figure it out.

  There was no way out, but there had to be a point to the walk. Everything Sebastian did had a point, and aside from his capability for mind-blowing sex, she didn’t really like any of his points. But she wanted to be outside so badly she didn’t care about his motives. Sebastian took Candy’s leash, her tail was wagging, and she high-stepped in stride with Sebastian, as though she’d been trained to walk with him. The man had a way with females, even wayward puppies, who couldn’t walk in a straight line when anyone else had her on a leash. Skye had offered Spring the opportunity for the walk, but her sister was content in the kitchen, smoothing the first layer of icing onto cupcakes. Doctor Schilling was baking another batch. One Black Raven agent walked about ten yards in front of Skye and Sebastian, two agents followed behind. Far enough away to be out of earshot, close enough to offer protection if needed. If the other three who had been in the courtyard were anywhere around, she didn’t see them.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly, getting to the point the minute they stepped onto the trail.

  Oh, dear God, please don’t let him talk about what we did.

  Actually having a conversation after the fact wasn’t something she was used to, particularly after she told a man that they could act like it never happened. The path was covered with a light frost, that had settled on the ground overnight. The thin layer of frozen moisture crunched underfoot as she continued along the path, but he stopped walking.

  He shot her an inquiring, far too penetrating glance. “Skye?”

  She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, burning into her. She walked fast, putting distance between herself and him.

  “Did you hear me?” He caught up to her, walking in stride with her on the narrow trail, bending to dodge a branch.

  “No apology is necessary.”

  “I took advantage of you,” he said, “and I never should have done that.”

  She stopped walking, cringing on the inside as she turned to him and stared into blue eyes that had the depth of oceans, with an expression as sincere and focused as any that had been directed at her in years.

  “Please,” she said, unable to cavalierly come up with any words to brush off such honesty. “Please don’t apologize.” Just be a jerk. Don’t make me actually like you. Please. It’s too hard to resist you when you’re charming. And if I don’t resist, I’ll just get hurt.

  “I was an ass,” he continued. “I never take advantage of women in desperate situations, and I did that last night. I apologize. You deserved better.”

  She shook off the urge to say thank you. Not one of the men she’d ever been with before had told her that she deserved anything more than what they’d dished out. She shook her head, immediately correcting herself with wisdom she’d fought hard to attain. What she had let them dish out. Men had only treated her as a one-night, one-week, or one-month pastime, because that is exactly how she had always allowed herself to be treated.

  Toughen up, she told herself. So he was sorry. Big deal. So he was telling her that she deserved something more. So he was saying something that no one else had ever told her before.

  So what? So nothing.

  “I enjoyed it. Very much, as a matter of fact. I said it wouldn’t count for anything. It was sex,” she shrugged, “between two consenting adults. I said we could act like it never happened, and I meant it. It’s better that way, don’t you think?”

  “I know too much about you,” his eyes held hers. “Things you haven’t told me. Things I’ve learned from my cyber group-”

  “Hackers,” she corrected him.

  He nodded, with a shrug. “You know the type of information that’s out there. Medical records, school records, no one lives totally off the cyber grid. My people know more about you than they should, and so do I. Unless you’ve changed one hell of a lot in the last few years, since you saw your last psychologist, your tough-girl, casual-sex lines are bullshit, and we both know it.”

  She kept walking. He walked beside her as the path approached a lake, where swirls of mist floated up from the clear water and evaporated into the fresh, clean air. They continued along the path, with the lake on the right, woods on their left.

  He continued, “It’s all a defense mechanism for a woman who experienced heart-wrenching grief in losing her mother at a vulnerable age.” As he said words that sounded exactly like what her counselors had told her over the years, anger bubbled up from her gut. She stopped walking and turned to him. He stopped walking as well, and continued, “You’re a mature woman, who has an ingrained defense mechanism, borne from being a lonely teenager, who missed her mother, whose death inspired a fear of loving anyone for fear of losing them, either through death or abandonment.”

  Her embarrassment and anger mixed into a toxic cocktail inside her. She slapped him. Hard.

  He didn’t try to stop her. He glanced at the agent who had been walking in front and who was closest to them. The man turned to the
m and took a step closer. Sebastian gave him a slight no headshake, then his eyes returned and locked on hers.

  “You bastard.” She’d never slapped anyone in her life. Her handprint formed a faint red outline on his face, while her palm stung from the contact. She didn’t regret doing it. She only wished it made her feel better. “You have no right to know so much about me. Are you now going to tell me I should grow the hell up?”

  “Hell no. I’d never be so judgmental. And you’re absolutely correct. That’s why I’m apologizing. I knew better, and I conveniently forgot what I know. I agree,” he said with a curt nod as her handprint reached its peak before fading. “I deserved that slap.”

  “That psychologist was an idiot, anyway.”

  He gave her an eyebrow arch and a slow headshake. “You lost your mother when you were thirteen and she left you with a two year-year old sister. Your father, on good days, had to be distracted and absent-minded. I had a childhood that was beyond shitty, but I didn’t have to assume responsibility for a child with special needs. I only had myself and my mother to worry about. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

  “My childhood ended years ago. I don’t need your sympathy or your pity.”

  He frowned. Sparks of anger filtered through his eyes. “This isn’t about your goddamn childhood. It’s about now. If your dad’s fathering was anything like the convoluted, mind-puzzling rants and speeches that he’s delivered to the rest of the world, it’s amazing that you’re capable of living normally, yet you do more than that. Yesterday I wondered why someone with your brilliance turned your back on your father’s business, or anything else your MIT degree had you trained for, and opened a coffee shop.”

  She saw an understanding in his eyes, and knew he didn’t need an answer. Damn him.