Pink Neon Dreams

by Pink Neon Dreams [Evernight] (mobi)

  She made a good case. “All right,” he said with a groan. He removed his shirt and sprawled face down on the bed. Daniel couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this vulnerable to anyone. “Do your magic.”

  “Is that what you think this is?” she asked as her hands worked and kneaded his flesh with skill. His granite-hard shoulders resisted at first but as Cecily worked, Daniel felt the taut flesh begin to yield. She caressed from the nape of his neck to just above his ass, her hands skimming with light strokes. Sometimes she used the heel of her hand with force to work out a rough spot and often paused to focus her attentions on a particular area. Her thumbs gouged and poked, then stroked with a gentle touch. Five, maybe ten minutes into the massage a rich and encompassing somnolence crept over Daniel. His flesh melted and bones softened. Until she said something about it, he hadn’t realized he uttered small sounds of pleasure. “If you were a cat, I swear you’d purr,” Cecily said. “Feels good, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he said. No one had ever given him a massage before and he’d never thought he would like one. Maybe he wouldn’t from anyone else, he mused, but Cecily erased his tensions. I couldn’t get it up if my life depended on it, though so I hope she doesn’t want sex after this. I don’t think I can. Not sure if I can move, either and I sure as hell don’t want to.

  Something damp and cold oozed onto his back and he shivered. “Easy, sugar,” Cecily said. “It’s just a little lotion, that’s all.”

  Daniel relaxed. He recognized the familiar scent of Jergen’s, the same brand his mother used. It evoked a powerful sense of home and affection. Cecily rubbed lotion into his skin, each stroke a caress. “You’re making me sleepy,” he said but it wasn’t a complaint. God, he liked this.

  “That’s the idea, sugar,” she said. “Soon as you go to sleep, I’m going to take a long soak in the tub. It’ll do for me what this is for you, then I’ll catch some winks, too.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. His mind drifted, lazy and without destination. He hadn’t been this unwound in years without sex or tequila. After a moment’s consideration, he decided tequila couldn’t deliver this level of tranquility. Sex, with anyone except Cecily, missed the mark, too. “I could get used to this, querida.”

  “Good,” she said. “Give me a chance and I’ll spoil you. You’ve earned it.”

  He snorted but said nothing. Speech required too much energy and he didn’t want to expend any. Drowsiness invaded his consciousness, but he hadn’t yielded to sleep when Cecily quit. Daniel laid still and listened as she ran her bath, the sound of the water splashing into the tub pleasant in his laid back state. When she began to sing, her music filtered through his layers of relaxation and he heard the words, sharp and clear.

  Cecily sang poignant lyrics, her voice powerful and true. She sang about the beautiful and yet sometimes terrible affect love could have.

  Daniel recognized The Rose, a song sung in different versions by both Bette Midler and Conway Twitter, a diverse range by any standard. He preferred Midler’s version, poignant and packed with emotion. Damn she’s got good taste in music, she likes the ones sure to rip your heart out but touch your soul, just like I do. Daniel wondered why Cecily sang it now and then listened as she finished the song.

  Her voice trailed off into silence and he knew, felt it down to the bottom of his being. She loves me. And sweet Christ I love her, too. I’ve never felt like this about any woman, ever. I want to be with her. She lights my fires and burns them hot. I need her touch, I crave her sass, and I’d keep her safe no matter what.

  Maybe he should get up and go say the words. But Daniel doubted enough he held back. Besides he didn’t want to leave the cocoon she’d woven around him. He needed sleep and so did she. They faced a long trip and probably more tribulation than anyone deserved. If he told her and she didn’t share his feelings, it’d get awkward with speed and they didn’t need complications. I’ll wait until I know for sure, until its right and we’re both free of this mess, home safe.

  By the time he heard her light footsteps enter the bedroom, he’d almost slid into a deep sleep. Cecily approached the bed and leaned down to stroke his hair. Then she folded her fingers against his cheek. “Sleep tight, sugar,” she whispered. “I think I love you.”

  The words penetrated his mental blanket, but he didn’t rouse. Struck dumb with the reality, the unvarnished truth, Daniel folded the words into his heart and kept them. He snuggled up with them the way a child cuddles a favorite stuffed animal and he slept, long and deep. And, in time he dreamed with joy and light, not a nightmare but a pleasant interlude. When he woke, he couldn’t recall all the details of the dream, but he knew it included Cecily. Daniel savored the lingering sense of well-being and joy, the scant remembered images of the Rio Grande near El Paso. He recalled sunshine, her hand tucked into his, and the river stretching out as it had done for centuries.

  He opened his eyes and expected to see Cecily but she wasn’t in bed. Daniel sat up and ran his hand across the sheet to find it cool. She hadn’t been there for a while and he wondered if she’d ever been. Uncertain of the time he peered at the digital clock. At two o’clock in the morning nothing but darkness showed beyond the curtains. He groped for his pants before he realized he still wore them. Daniel moved with stealth through the dark house, past Nia asleep on the couch in a huddle beneath a blanket, and into the kitchen, but he didn’t find Cecily. He stepped out into the backyard and stood still until his eyes adjusted to the night. Once they did, he saw her, a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, staring upward at the night sky.

  Ten thousand stars or more sparkled like glitter tossed carelessly across the heavens. Daniel crossed the space between them and put his arm around Cecily. “What’re you doing out here?” he asked.

  Without taking her gaze off the spectacular sky, she said, “I’m talking to the dead.”

  A shiver crept down his back. He’d grown up with a lot of old superstitions and his Abuela said such things with everyday aplomb and so did Mama, but he hadn’t expected this from Cecily. “So what are they saying?”

  Her thick, warm laugh banished anything creepy. “Not much and not the way you probably think,” she said. “I’m no psychic or medium or anything although I get feelings once in a great while. I don’t see dead people, but I’m just thinking about my mama and other people who’ve passed on, maybe asking for their help if they can offer me any.”

  The way she said it made it seem plausible, maybe even possible. “Then maybe they will,” he said. His lips nuzzled her bare shoulder as the quilt slipped to reveal skin. “Did you sleep?”

  She shrugged. “A little, not much. I know you did and you needed it. You okay now?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Want to hit the road?”

  Surprise shifted her attention from the stars to him. “Now? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “We can get your pay as you go phone down the highway, but the sooner we put miles between us and Tillman’s agents, the better.”

  “And whoever else might be after my ass,” Cecily added.

  “That too, chica.”

  Soon, they needed to brainstorm to come up with ideas of who might have engineered the murder — names, places, and things. We’ve got a damn lot of work to do and all I want to do is make love to her again, to stare at the stars and watch everything she does. I’d like to run my tongue deep into her pussy again and let her run those hands over every inch of my body.

  “It seems awfully early,” Cecily told him. “Maybe we should go back to bed.”

  Damn, she felt the sizzling attraction between them and temptation almost pulled him toward saying ‘yes’. But they couldn’t spare the time, so he shook his head, “I’d like to, querida, but we really need to make tracks. Everything’s packed so let’s get going. We can be almost to the Missouri state line by dawn if we hurry up and go.”

  Cecily drew a breath so deep it must’ve come up from her toes and then exhaled it in a long sigh. “Ok
ay, sugar,” she said. “If we have to do it, let’s just do it. Let me tell Nia bye and grab my purse.”

  All Daniel required was a shirt, his wallet and keys, and this time, his shoulder holster and weapon. He hadn’t worn it since coming to Branson, figuring Cecily, even before he knew her, didn’t present much of a threat. But he wore it now because he didn’t know what dangers they might face and traveling could present unexpected complications unrelated to any of their other issues. Give him a minute or two to piss and he’d be ready to get behind the wheel, but Cecily took a little longer.

  He waited with hard won patience as she dressed, did her make-up and hair, gathered her purse and other belongings, woke Nia, and indulged in a long farewell. At three fifteen, they headed out the front door toward the truck, but Cecily paused and looked back at the house. He didn’t think she’d lived there long enough to feel nostalgic about it, but he said, “You aren’t going to miss the place, are you?”

  She offered him a watery smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It felt more like home since you’ve been around than the house on Canal Street ever did.”

  “We’ll be back,” he said, hoping he could deliver on the promise. Then Daniel realized he’d said “we” and decided he meant it. If not here, somewhere. He planned to be together with Cecily.

  A brighter smile pleased him. “I hope so, sugar,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get out of here.”

  So was Daniel, but they had a few details to handle first. “I am too but we need to fuel the truck and get you a pay as you go phone. Plus, I need coffee.”

  “You should have said something, sugar,” Cecily said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I would’ve made some.”

  And we would have been here till dawn because she’d have made breakfast, too. “I know but we can grab some somewhere.”

  Or so he thought. It turned out places to buy a cup of coffee before three thirty in the morning were rare in Branson. Once Daniel figured it out, he decided to head on to Springfield. In the larger city, he found a 24 hour McDonald’s and bought a pair of large coffees, then headed for the closest Wal-Mart Super Center where he bought her a phone. “Anything else?” he asked as they headed for the check-outs in the almost empty store.

  “I can’t think of anything,” Cecily said.

  “If you need to use the bathroom, go ahead,” he told her. “We’ll stop for breakfast in Joplin or somewhere.”

  Once back in the truck, he headed out Sunshine until it became Highway 60. Then he picked up the James River Freeway to head north to I-44. Daniel hit the interstate and brought the speed of the old truck up to the limit. The motor hummed along without a hitch and they headed west. He drank the remainder of his coffee and tossed the cup to the floorboard. Cecily nursed hers, he noticed, and yawned. “You can snatch some sleep if you want,” he said.

  “I doubt I can,” she said as she drained her cup. “I’m tired, though.”

  Before they reached Mount Vernon, however, she’d scooted across the seat and put her head against his shoulder. Daniel resisted the urge to remove one hand from the wheel so he could put an arm around her, but he liked her body against his. When she shut her eyes, he knew she’d be out in no time and within a few miles, her breathing shifted into a deeper, easy pattern. In the dim light of the dash he could just make out her features, but he noticed how peaceful her expression became while she slept.

  He turned the radio on soft and low for company. With the original factory installed AM radio, he couldn’t tune in anything but country music, but he fiddled with the buttons until he had a station playing traditional tunes. Although most of the songs weren’t ranked among his favorites, most were tolerable. Somewhere along the way as the steel-belted radial tires sang over the pavement and he passed every eighteen wheeler in sight, the voice of Elvis Presley poured from the speakers in a love song so old his grandmother counted it among the favorites from her youth, Love Me Tender.

  Although Daniel’d heard it many times, he listened to the lyrics and understood them now when he hadn’t before. He glanced down at the sleeping woman curled against him and a single stray tear slid down his cheek. Yeah, he loved her and he believed now she loved him, too.

  If they could just find their way to the future, they might have something worth keeping. As he drove west, he’d never been more aware how the first rays of dawn lit the sky in the east behind him or that where he headed, there seemed nothing but darkness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sandwiched into the booth, Cecily sipped her second cup of lousy coffee and tried to focus. She’d awakened thick-headed and dry-mouthed when Daniel wheeled into a chain restaurant just off the interstate in Joplin. Sleep still fogged her senses, but the enticing aromas of frying bacon and sausage roused her appetite. Her eyes locked with his over her mug and he smiled.

  “You look like you’re finally awake,” he said. “It’s about time.”

  “I’m trying,” she said. “I guess I slept hard. So this is Joplin?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’ve never been here before.”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard about it and the big tornado that ripped up half the town a while back. You’ve been here before?”

  Daniel nodded. “I’ve stopped here for fuel or food on my way back to Texas a few times.”

  “Speaking of Texas, how much farther to El Paso?”

  He put down his empty cup. “It’s at least another sixteen hours, querida. And that’s not counting if we stop to eat or anything else.”

  “Aren’t we going to stop for the night?” Some basic fast math indicated they wouldn’t reach their destination until at least ten o’clock, maybe later. Although she’d slept, she craved more and she didn’t want Daniel to drive for so long.

  “I wasn’t planning to,” he said. “I’m used to just driving it straight through. Do you want to?”

  “Well, yeah, sugar, I’d rather,” Cecily said. Her words came out crankier than she intended, but she preferred a few hours rest in a comfortable bed and a chance to recharge before they descended like the plagues of Egypt on Daniel’s mother. “You’re going to be exhausted if we don’t.”

  His lips narrowed and he wrinkled his nose. “I’ll be fine, but we can stop if you want, maybe at Amarillo. It’s just seven or eight hours.”

  “Just?” she said. “How long from there to your mom’s?”

  “Another eight, at least.”

  Despite the coffee she’d had, fatigue swaddled her like a heavy blanket. “Damn, it’s a hell of a way no matter what,” she said. It would be a long day today, no matter what, and if they stopped at a motel, a long day tomorrow.

  Something in his eyes softened as he looked at her. Daniel reached across the table and caught her hand in his. “I’m sorry, querida. I wish we could go slow, see the sights, make it a real vacation, but we don’t have the luxury right now. We’ll stop tonight for your sake. I’m not using to traveling with anyone, especially not a pretty lady.”

  The simple compliment pleased her. “It’s not just for me,” she said. “You’d be worn to a frazzle to drive so far straight through.”

  God, he brought out such tenderness in her soul. She’d never wanted to fuss over Willard but then she didn’t give a shit about him, not really. But Cecily couldn’t remember having such a desire to care for someone else the way she did Daniel. He offered her a strange little smile, one she hadn’t seen on his lips until now, but the food arrived before he could say anything.

  Her Belgian waffle seemed huge until she glanced over at his platter. Two eggs rested next to several sausage links, hash browns, and two biscuits. “Are you going to eat all that?”

  Daniel laughed. “Yeah, I am, but I was about to ask if you had enough to eat over there. Want a sausage?”

  It felt good to laugh with him. “No thanks. I’m good,” she said. “Are those eggs even cooked?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Over easy just the way I like ‘em.”
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  Cecily ended up eating one of his sausages and savored the taste of the seasoned pork. She hadn’t eaten real sausage in years, but she decided she’d have it again, soon. They didn’t linger over coffee but headed back out to the highway. By then, full daylight illuminated the landscape and as they rolled into Oklahoma, the terrain began shifting. At first rolling hills vanished into the horizon but the deeper they drove into the Sooner State, the land became increasingly flat and open.

  Leaving Joplin, Cecily kicked off her shoes and curled up on the bench seat like a comfortable cat. She sprawled across the seat with her feet tucked beneath and leaned toward Daniel.

  He gripped the wheel as he drove, often exceeding the speed limit, but he glanced over at her. “You’d better hope we don’t wreck or you’ll go flying,” he said but his smile cancelled out the stern words.

  “We won’t,” she said. “You’re a good driver.”

  His dry laugh lacked much amusement. “Yeah, I am but, chica, its all the other sons of bitches we have to watch.”

  “That’s your job, sugar,” she said. “And I’m not worried.”

  “You sound like you’re in a good mood.”

  For whatever reason, despite the long haul ahead of them and the issues haunting her, she was. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Is it gonna ruin it if we talk serious?”

  Dread shadowed her cheer. “About what?”

  “We need to talk about Bradford,” Daniel said. “I need to hear who else knew he kept gems and jewelry at home, who might have motive to kill him, and anything else you can think about.”

  “All right,” Cecily replied after a pause. “Give me a minute to think, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  To get her mind in a serious mode, she sat up and faced the windshield although she remained close to Daniel. Her hand rested on his thigh and she drew comfort from his proximity. She struggled to collect her thoughts, to go back to the life she’d loathed and wished she could forget. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat and said, “I’ll tell you everything I can remember and knew, but it’s not much. I never had any part in Willard’s business except to come down to the main store once in a while. Even then, the store staff did everything. I offered to redecorate the store, but Willard had fits, said he’d paid some high price decorating firm to do it and asked me what I knew about it anyway. I suggested I could help with advertising, but he said no although he did feature me in a few ads in the papers and on local TV. I wasn’t much more than a toy Willard liked to play with and show off, Daniel.”