Takeoff (Open Skies Book 5)

by Becca Jameson

  “It’s plausible.”

  Raeann shoved off the couch and glanced at Heather. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dump.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You can dump anytime. Your plate is full. That’s a lot. But I hate for you to let go of a great guy just because life is crazy. Surely you can figure things out. And whatever else is going on with you, I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

  “Thanks. I’m just not ready yet.”

  “Okay.”

  Raeann shuffled from the room and up the stairs. She needed a long bath. Never mind that it was the middle of the day. Her entire body hurt from having sex half the night. She smiled at the memory though. Maybe it had been a horrible idea to sleep with Deacon knowing neither of them wanted more than that, but damn, it had been nice. At least now she knew sex could be good with the right person.

  Although, had she only made things worse for herself? What good did it do for her to know that sex could be good? Now she’d have one more regret. One more thing to pine over. Maybe the memories alone would make it worth it. But regret might overshadow the memories.

  As she let the tub fill, she peeled off her clothes and dropped them in the hamper, wincing as some of her muscles pulled. Most of that was left over from throwing axes, but some of it was from three rounds of amazing sex.

  She lowered into the tub with a huge sigh, breathing deeply for several minutes to force herself to relax. The water soothed her muscles and her mind. At least temporarily.

  She had no idea what she was going to do about the witch hunters. Insane. There were only a few known groups like that in the U.S. Most people didn’t realize there were still people in this country looking for supposed heretics. They had the strangest belief systems. Seriously? Hair color? It was insane.

  Maybe she should move again and change her name this time. Open Skies would probably let her work from another hub. She enjoyed working for the airline. It gave her the chance to visit the entire country. In the three years she’d been with them, she’d traveled to nearly every state. Granted, she didn’t always have time to explore, but she’d tried to hit the highlights.

  She wondered for the millionth time about the unopened envelope on her desk. Maybe it was time to open it and find out once and for all what her fate might be. She wasn’t ready though. She’d considered the pros and cons of opening it and always decided against it.

  To her, the envelope was like a fortune-teller. She’d never gone to a fortune-teller because she didn’t want to know what was in store for her future even if it never came to pass. Same with the envelope. If she had the genetic marker for schizophrenia, then what? Would she simply stop living out of fear?

  Maybe it was better to not know. Ignorance was bliss. Besides, the doctors had been very clear. Even if she did have the gene, that didn’t mean she would ever develop the mental illness. It simply meant she stood a higher-than-average possibility.

  She was convinced the Venatoris had pushed her mother over the edge, hounding her for years. In the end, Raeann thought her mother might have actually believed she was indeed a witch. Not in the modern religious sense, but in the ancient heretical sense.

  The woman had muttered absurd things about being evil. When bad things happened in the last few years of her life, she’d believed she caused them. Any negative things. If someone dropped a plate or tripped or God forbid, died at her facility, her mother would sit in a chair and rock for hours, insisting she’d caused it with her evil ways.

  When the water grew cold, Raeann finally got out of the tub. She wondered about her options regarding the two women who’d come to the door. She couldn’t go to the police yet because she didn’t have a damn thing. Heather didn’t seem too upset, so that was good. They both needed to be more aware of their surroundings coming and going from the condo, but until she managed to gather more information, she was stuck.

  Raeann had a busy schedule this week, so she decided to spend the rest of the day lounging with a good book and maybe watching a movie. Anything to take her mind off the man she’d left an hour ago. He was probably at his parents’ house by now. On top of everything else, he was also a good son. Why did he have to be so perfect?

  Chapter 11

  Deacon held his phone in his hand for a long time, trying to decide if it was a good idea or a bad one to call Raeann. He hated how they’d left things this morning, and he missed her. They’d had a wonderful time last night—most of the night actually.

  He refused to regret sleeping with her and hoped to God she didn’t regret it either. He was messing with her life, and she believed she was messing with his too. It was all his fault though. Not hers. He made the choice to take things further with her mostly because he’d been too selfish not to. He’d wanted to know. And now he knew.

  Finally, he muttered a fuck it and called her.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey.” Her soft voice made him smile. Just hearing her was enough to make his evening better.

  “Sorry about this morning,” he said.

  “No. Don’t be. Don’t worry. We’re friends. We knew it would be complicated if we slept together. It is what it is.”

  He cringed. That wasn’t the way he preferred to think of their sex life. “I hate it.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t change it. How were your parents?”

  “My dad has dementia,” he blurted out with absolutely no idea why.

  “I’m so sorry. That must be hard.”

  “Yeah, it’s getting worse. He’s been going downhill quicker since my brother died. I think his mind would rather not face that fact, so it’s easier for him if he disappears.”

  She sighed. “I get that. The mind is powerful. I truly believed in the end that my mother got lost in her brain.”

  “I guess it’s not that much different really. A slow progressive ugly end.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry though. I know it’s hard.”

  “Thank you.” He sighed. “Enough sadness. How was your day?”

  “Relaxing. I read a book and watched some TV. Took a bath too. Someone is responsible for the fact that every muscle in my body hurts.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll gladly take responsibility for that.”

  She laughed. “It was worth it.”

  “The ax-throwing or the sex?”

  “Both.”

  “What does your schedule look like this week?”

  “I’m out tomorrow and back Tuesday. Out Wednesday and back Thursday.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Yes. But I’m off Friday and Saturday, so I don’t mind so much. The overnights are sometimes exhausting but it’s not too bad.”

  “Maybe we can go out Friday night? I have a busy week at work myself. I’ll be on-site with a client every day, so I won’t be in the actual office. But I should be able to wrap up that job by Friday afternoon.”

  She hesitated, which made his chest tighten. Eventually, she would turn him down, but he wasn’t ready yet. He wanted more time with her.

  “Do you think we’re making things worse for ourselves?”

  “Yes. But I can’t stop myself,” he responded honestly.

  She sighed heavily. “I can’t either. We’re quite a pair.”

  He smiled. Thank God. “All we can do is take things one day at a time. For now, I’d like to see you. For as long as I can,” he added in a low voice. Their ticking clock was on his end, not hers.

  She thought she had issues, but he would never let her use any of her excuses to push him away. They were flimsy in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t give a fuck if she had a genetic propensity for mental illness. It changed nothing. But there was no sense arguing with her since he wasn’t fucking available anyway.

  “Okay,” she finally responded. “What do you have in mind? I don’t think I can take another evening of ax throwing. Maybe something that requires fewer muscles.”

  “Darts?”

  She giggled. “Why did I ever mention that?”

  “I
don’t know. You want to join a competitive team or something?” he joked.

  “I’ve never thrown a dart, Deacon. Might want to find someone else if you have a competitive spirit.”

  “Okay, no darts. I’ll think of something.”

  “You know… Regular people usually stick to dinner or a movie or…gasp, both.”

  “We’re not regular people,” he pointed out.

  “Good point.”

  “And sitting in a theater means I can’t talk to you for two hours. I always thought movies were a very strange date choice.”

  “Another good point. You can cook for me again. What else can you make besides roast and omelets?”

  “Reservations?”

  She giggled again. He loved that sound. “Let’s do it then.”

  “Did you have any more trouble today with the witch ladies?”

  “No. They didn’t come back, or at least they didn’t knock.”

  “I can’t even believe there are still groups of people organized in the U.S. to hunt down supposed heretics. What Kool-Aid are they drinking?”

  “No idea. It’s bizarre, but I’m so used to it that it’s hard to see it from anyone else’s perspective. I was in my late teens before I realized it was even out of the ordinary.”

  “That’s mind-boggling. I can’t believe you grew up being stalked by those people.”

  “Yeah, after three years living without them, it’s hard to accept the fact that they’re back.”

  “I can’t believe they found you. That sucks. What are the odds?”

  “Considering how unlucky everyone I know has been on planes lately, I’d say the odds were good,” she joked, though it wasn’t funny. “Including me. It’s like we each get more than one life-altering flying event. How is that even mathematically possible?”

  “I don’t know.” She was right. It was ridiculous.

  “When we got on that flight to Portland that ended up getting hijacked, Bex believed there was no way anything could go wrong because after all, how could anyone happen to be on more than one flight that ended up in disaster? But Bex had been wrong, and now I don’t think she’ll ever get on another plane. I can’t blame her. So, among us, our new thinking is that we each get two. I’d say I’ve met my quota now. Granted, that Venatori woman didn’t try to take the plane down or anything, but I think it still counts in my bad luck column.”

  “I agree. So, you can rest easy. There’s no way in hell another incident could happen on one of your flights. It’s like lightning striking the same place dozens of times.” He felt bad for her. She had been shat on repeatedly. She deserved a break.

  “Exactly.”

  It felt good talking to her even though the subject matter was depressing. He liked hearing her voice, the subtle nuances that indicated when she was smiling or when she was frowning. He wished she were here with him instead of several miles away in her own home. Friday was a long way off.

  He needed to keep his distance though. Spending so much time with her was a bad idea. It would make it harder in the long run if he grew attached to having her around.

  Who was he kidding? He was already attached. He had been for over a month. Even during their four-week separation when he never saw her at all, he’d missed her and thought about her. Now that they’d cleared the air and started seeing each other again, he was more invested. And he shouldn’t have let this happen.

  “I should probably get to sleep,” she stated. “Tomorrow is an early day.”

  “Yeah. Me too. Call me during the week when you get to your hotels or whatever. If you want.” Dude, you sound so lame.

  “Okay. You can call me too.”

  “Okay. Have a great flight tomorrow.”

  “Have fun…uh solving the world’s computer problems one client at a time.”

  He chuckled. “Will do.”

  “Bye.”

  He held the phone for a while after she hung up. Staring at it. Half grinning. Half frowning. He was pretty sure his brow was furrowed, but his lips were turned up.

  What a disaster.

  Chapter 12

  When Raeann got home from her flight Tuesday afternoon, she stopped dead as she approached her front door. She spun around, her heart racing, making sure no one was around before she faced the damn door again. Painted on it in bright red that was dripping down the door was one of those stupid five-pointed stars the Venatoris considered their symbol.

  As she grew closer, she could see it was still wet. Thank God Heather wasn’t home and wouldn’t be until tomorrow. Raeann opened the front door, propped her suitcase up next to the wall, and called the police.

  She knew there was nothing they could do, but it was time to bring them into the fold in case things escalated so there would be evidence of every incident.

  Twenty minutes later she was explaining her weird life to two officers with furrowed brows.

  The female cop, who’d introduced herself as Officer Hendrix, licked her lips. “So, these people call themselves the Venatoris?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Not sure. When I lived in Virginia, I’d say we usually saw about ten people regularly. Women. They’re in their mid-fifties. They dress in long black skirts and wear their hair in a bun. They speak softly most of the time, but they can shout when they get riled up.”

  The male officer, Parks, stared at the wet paint and scratched his head before taking a dozen pictures and a sample of the paint. “I’m fifty-two years old. Been with the force thirty years, and this is the weirdest call I’ve ever come out to investigate.”

  “It won’t be the last,” Raeann informed him.

  Hendrix spoke again. “What are we expecting do you think?”

  Raeann shrugged. “Hard to say. They might start hanging around, stalking me essentially.”

  “Are they violent?” Parks asked.

  “Not usually. They prefer to drive people crazy by intimidating them.”

  Hendrix handed her a card. “Please call me if you see them. Anytime. I’d like to know even if I’m not on duty.”

  Raeann glanced at the card. It had her personal cell on it. “Do you always give out your private information?”

  “No. Never. But I feel bad for you. And I want these idiots caught.”

  Parks nodded. “She’s right. Don’t hesitate to call in every single incident. I wish you still had the wooden block they left. I’d like to see it.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get rid of the thing. I guess I was still in denial that they were really back to harass me. It didn’t get fully real until I got home today.”

  Hendrix frowned. “So, the woman on the plane. Did you say you recognized her? Or she recognized you?”

  “Both. Her clothing caught my attention. I tend to stiffen every time I see a long black skirt. When I caught her eye, she was glaring at me. I thought she might disrupt the flight, but she didn’t. She just kind of hissed at me every time I walked by.”

  “All because of your hair. That’s just…” Parks shook his head. “Unreal.”

  Hendrix sighed. “Do you by chance have any pictures or other documentation from the previous incidents in Virginia? Case numbers? Anything?”

  Raeann chuckled. “I have so much information, it would take a year to go through it. Come inside. I’ll get it.” They’d been standing on her front porch all this time, and now the two officers followed her into the condo. “Be right back. It’s upstairs.”

  Raeann rushed up the stairs and returned holding the heavy box. As she set it on the coffee table, she noticed Parks was standing in the open doorway, cleaning the red paint off. It was still so recent that he’d only needed wet paper towels. “Thank you.” It felt good to have someone give a shit.

  He shrugged as he finished, heading for her trash can with the wad of paper towels. “No problem.”

  Raeann opened the box and leaned over to pick up the top folder. She handed it to Hendrix. “This is a
set of the most pertinent information. I keep multiple copies.”

  “You’re organized.”

  “I’ve been managing this for most of my life. I got a three-year reprieve when I moved here. Now… Well, it looks like I’m going to have to move again.” She hated the thought, but there was little choice.

  “Let me dig into this a bit. Maybe there’s something we can do.” Hendrix opened the folder and thumbed through the pages. “I’ll make some calls to Virginia. See if these people have been active there recently too. You never know. Maybe we can find some way to arrest them.”

  “Good luck. They’re good at avoiding arrest. I’m not even sure any of them have names.” Raeann wasn’t kidding. Every time the cops had tracked these people down, they’d come up with very little information. They went by names like Esther and Martha and Mary. Biblical names. No last names. It’s like they weren’t even real humans. Like they’d just spawned as adults, come to the planet to harass people.

  “Do you have someplace you can go? Some friends or family you could stay with?” Parks asked.

  Raeann sighed. “I could. But I’d rather not give them the satisfaction of chasing me out of my home. Again. They love that. And they always find me again.”

  “Did your mom move around a lot?”

  “Every few months. We mostly lived in mobile homes, but we changed trailer parks often.”

  “That had to suck.” Hendrix was seriously upset. This bothered her.

  At least Raeann hadn’t ended up with a couple of cops who either didn’t believe her or thought she was certifiable herself. That had happened more often than not over the years. That was one of the reasons she kept such good records. She’d started doing so at a young age.

  “Okay. Give me a few days to dig around and I’ll contact you. In the meantime, don’t touch anything if they leave more items. Call us every time. It’s our job. Don’t feel like you’re bothering us. The more evidence we have, the better.”