“Which means, they’ll be back.”
A chill raced up Aidan’s spine. Raven was right. Whoever had done this hadn’t left happy. They hadn’t found whatever they’d come for.
He tucked the gun back into the waistband of his jeans and walked out of the bathroom. The space was too small and Raven too close. He could smell her. That sweet, beguiling brand of pheromones that reached out and grabbed his heart and caused it to pump faster whenever she was near. He needed some space, and he wasn’t going to find it here in Earl’s cabin.
He walked into the main room, stepping over things as he paced around the room. “Something’s not right.”
“Something besides someone breaking into the place and tossing it?” Raven asked, coming up behind him.
She really needed to move away from him. All he’d wanted to do since the last time he had her in his arms was to get her right back there. “I swear the room seems smaller.”
“You’ve grown. You’re much bigger than the last time you where here.”
“Maybe.” He rubbed the back of his neck. But something was different about the place. He couldn’t put his finger on it. At least memories weren’t slamming at him liked he’d feared. “Where do I start?”
“You could call the village council. Or the troopers.”
“I’ve had enough of troopers. Besides, Earl had so many enemies. Everyone in town probably has a motive.” He shook his head. “No point in involving the law. I’ll get this cleaned up and then clear out. If you want to torch the place in celebration of the winter solstice, you have my blessing.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. It would put Earl to bed for good, and then we wouldn’t have his place as a reminder.”
“Consider it done then.” If he could do anything to wipe out the awful things Earl had done in his lifetime, to the woman Aidan had loved, he’d do it. “I also want to make sure the gold claim is deeded over to your family.”
“No.” Raven shook her head adamantly. “I don’t want anything to do with that.”
“It rightfully belongs to you and your family. Earl never should have—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She put her hands over her ears.
“That’s a bit childish, don’t you think?” He quirked his lips.
“I don’t care.”
She looked adorable. More like the teenage Raven he’d remembered. “All right, I won’t talk about it.” At least not now. He wouldn’t put the subject to Raven. Instead, he’d have a talk with Fiona and Pike.
“Are you going to be okay staying here?” Raven asked looking around the place.
“I guess that would depend on if I can get the wood stove started.” He walked over to the black potbelly stove, knelt down, and opened it. “Oh, shit.” He slammed the door shut and put an arm out to keep her back.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s something dead in there.”
“Dead? Like rotting?”
“Too cold to rot. No, just dead.”
“What is it?”
“It’s…a…” Damn, he didn’t want to tell her. “It’s a raven.”
She gasped. “No.”
“I’m afraid so, honey.”
“But…”
“It must have fallen down the stove pipe.”
“It would have been caught in there, starved to death, beating its wings against the cold metal sides.” She dropped her head against his chest, and he pulled her in closer. She had an affinity to her namesake.
He tried to reassure her. “I’m sure the fall killed it.”
She raised her head and looked up at him. “Do you think so?”
“I’m sure of it.” He caressed the side of her face, watching his fingers as they lightly touched her soft skin. She was so beautiful. Exotic almond eyes, honeyed skin that he wanted to run his lips over, mouth too wide and too full, lending her an air of seduction that he couldn’t resist. He wanted to kiss those lips, lose himself in her heat and drink from her mouth. He leaned closer, waiting for her to push him away.
She didn’t.
He lightly touched his lips to hers. She sighed into him. Had she wanted him to do this too? Had she been tormented by the thought of them together like he had? He deepened the kiss, slanting his head, drawing her in closer to his body, loving the feel of her against him. She was perfect. Perfect size as she fit against him, snuggled in his arms, her hips cradling his erection. He unzipped her coat and spread the edges apart, his hands running up and down her sides as he waited for her to slap them way.
She didn’t.
Why was she letting him touch her? One minute she wanted to see the last of him, and the next, she was allowing him to dream. To hope.
This was driving him crazy, and he’d never been far from crazy to begin with.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “What are you doing?”
Her face was flushed, and as the temperature inside the cabin was only a few degrees warmer than the single digits outside, it wasn’t from that. Which meant he’d caused the flush to her skin.
“What do you mean?”
“You let me kiss you. Kissed me back. Why?”
She moved out of his arms. “Curiosity, I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders as though what they had just done hadn’t meant anything.
He turned her around to face him. “Don’t give me that crap. Why did you kiss me back?”
“Why does it matter?” Her eyes turned hot.
He let go of her and stepped back, his bad leg getting caught up in an old, torn flannel shirt thrown on the floor. He shook it free and looked at Raven again, his heart pounding. “Because you matter.” He shook his head. “Don’t fool with me.”
She dropped her gaze from his. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen, but…”
“But what?”
She glanced at him. “It’s hard. Being with you. Remembering what it used to be like.” She turned away.
He grabbed her again, made her face him. “You don’t get to say something like that and then turn away from me. You broke my heart, Raven. Don’t toy with the pieces.”
She sucked in a breath, studied him, her eyes wide, questioning. She reached up and cupped his face. “I wish…” She stopped and bit her lip as if to keep the words from being spoken.
“You wish?” he prompted, very much wanting to know what she had been about to say.
“I wish things could have been different. But they’re not.”
The pain wasn’t any less sharp having heard it from her before. He released her and stepped back. “You’d better go.”
She swallowed and looked around the cabin again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay out here.” She indicated the mess scattered around them. “Besides, what if the person who did this decides to come back?”
“I hope they do. Then I’ll find out what they were looking for.”
“Aidan—”
“Don’t worry about me, Raven. I’ve always been able to take care of myself.”
Her eyes met his, and he stood his ground.
“What about food?”
“I have groceries in the rental. I’ll be fine for a few days.” He pulled the gun free. “Give this back to Pike for me.”
“You’d better keep it.”
He pointed to the full gun cabinet left untouched near the front door. “I have enough firepower to take on a small country.” He cocked his head. “Surprising that whoever broke in here didn’t help themselves. Which means they were after something specific.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Raven sat at her wheel, a lump of clay on the bat, water in her bucket, Stevie Nicks singing on the CD player. She anchored an elbow on her hip and used her palm to raise the clay, her other hand she steadied, then pressed the clay back down. She repeated the movement until the clay was a large centered mound on her wheel. She breathed in rhythmically as she moved the clay, coaxed it to her will, and became one with the elem
ents pulled from the earth. Wetting her hands, she opened the body of clay. All the while trying to forget what had happened with Aidan that morning. Not that she was successful.
Why had she let him kiss her? Touch her? Why had she wanted more? Almost pushed him into taking more? As if by doing that, the decision wouldn’t have been hers. If he took, then she didn’t have to face giving of herself. But Aidan hadn’t fallen for that. Instead he’d wanted to know why she wasn’t pushing him away, demanding he leave her alone. She had obviously confused the hell out of him. Fitting since she was confused as well.
She opened the clay further, pulling the walls up into a thick cylinder, wondering what the piece wanted to be. She loved to sit down at the wheel not knowing what she was going to throw, leaving it up to the clay to decide what it wanted to be. She had a feeling this five pounds wanted to be a large pasta or fruit bowl. Something that would stand alone, not part of a set. The glaze would have to be dramatic, she decided as she pulled the walls up with steady pressure while the wheel continued to spin.
She hadn’t liked leaving Aidan at Earl’s place by himself. The rundown cabin was a hellhole. Earl had lived like an animal, not caring for the civilized things in life. No utilities, no mail, no modern day conveniences.
Aidan had grown up that way. He knew what he was in for, and she shouldn’t worry about him. The best thing would be for him to do what he came here for. Clean up Earl’s sorry life and then clear out.
The thought made her sad and the walls on her bowl wobbled. She released the thinning clay, rewetted her hands, and lightly placed one hand on the inside, the other on the outside and slowly coaxed it back on center. The bowl spun around and around, like her thoughts.
What if she told Aidan about Fox? He might decide to stay?
Oh hell, what was she thinking?
She didn’t want Aidan a part of Fox’s life. She didn’t want the evil kind of influence she knew lived inside of him to touch Fox. He’d admitted to killing Earl. But he had been forced to in order to save a woman’s life. Wouldn’t she have done the same? Maybe? Hopefully she’d never know.
Raven finished shaping the walls of the bowl and then pressed her trademark swirl in the bottom as the wheel continued to spin. She cleaned up the foot of the piece and then stopped the wheel. Grabbing her wire, she ran it under the bowl, disconnecting it from the bat. Then she lifted the bat off her wheel and set the bowl on the shelf to dry. It was nice. Just the kind of piece to sit on a table with a bounty of fruit, bread, or filled with salad or pasta for a large family.
She loved that her art was useable, had function. Someone would fall in love with this bowl, maybe even hand it down from generation to generation. An heirloom.
Raven secured another bat onto the wheel and then grabbed a ball of clay that she had previously wedged, throwing it onto the center. She went through the motions of centering the clay. Her days were filled with throwing piece after piece. At least her best days were. Then there was the cleaning of the pieces in preparation for bisque firing, glazing and firing again. When she opened the kiln—which always seemed to take forever to cool—it was like Christmas, seeing her babies, colorful and shiny and ready for use. Her life was good. She was able to make a living at what she loved. She loved being a mother to Fox. The kid constantly made her proud and was growing up into a fine young man. Though he did have his moments. But then she’d be worried if he didn’t. No child was perfect and sometimes those imperfections is what set them apart, made them special.
She stopped, releasing her hands from the clay. Aidan wasn’t perfect. Had she set her expectations too high in regards to him? Had she set him up to fail because of the people he came from?
Fox slammed into the studio. “Mom!”
“At the wheel,” she replied.
He turned the corner of a shelving unit, which held other pottery pieces, already fired and waiting to be glazed. He smiled at her, his dimple flashing, causing an ache in her heart. He was a handsome boy, tall for his age. Responsible, fun, outgoing, and adventurous. She loved him with everything that was inside her. A catch caught in her throat and she had to clear it in order to speak. “How was your day?”
“Freaking amazing. Grand asked Janette to go out with him and she cut him off at the knees. It was so cool.”
“What about Grand? Aren’t his feelings hurt?”
“He’ll get over it, but the best part is that the reason Janette said no was because she likes someone else. Guess who?” He bounced on his heels. “She likes me. Me!” He did a touchdown dance. “Can she come over and watch a movie tonight?”
“Uh…” He was too young for girls. Just last year, girls were gross and disgusting. When had that changed? “I don’t like the idea of you and Janette watching a movie together. You’re too young for a—” dare she say date? “—get-together like that.”
“It wouldn’t be just the two of us. There’d be other guys.” He looked at her with those dark beguiling eyes. “What do you say? I’ll do the dishes and sweep too.”
“Uh…” This was new territory. “How many friends, what movie, and how late?”
There, those all sounded like good and responsible questions a loving, concerned mother would need to know.
“I need to make some calls.”
“Get me the info and then I can decide. But chores first. And homework.”
“Yes, Mom.” He turned to head out of the studio but then stopped. “Did you guys make it to Mr. Harte’s cabin okay with my map?”
“Yes, we did, which reminds me. Pull up a stool, Fox. I have some questions for you.”
“Can’t it wait? If I don’t get a hold of Grand before three-thirty he’ll make other plans for tonight.”
“You’re going to invite Grand to this get-together with Janette here? Won’t that be awkward?”
“Naw. Grand’s already got his sights set on Tina.”
She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I still need to know how you knew how to get into Earl’s place. And when we got inside the cabin today, someone had been there. Do you know anything about that?”
He sat on the stool, letting his backpack slide to the dusty floor. “How did you know someone had been there?”
“Whoever they were, they’d gone through the place, tossed it. When you went in to get blankets for Aidan, how did it look?”
He shrugged. “Normal. It wasn’t clean, but then it never was.”
“How many times have you been inside Earl’s place?” Fear sunk into her bones. “Why were you ever there? Did he touch you?”
“What? No. Gross, Mom. Mr. Harte wasn’t like that.”
“He was an evil man. One I warned you about, and now I find you’ve been inside his place. What else? And don’t think of lying to me, I’ll know.”
“Jeez. It’s no big deal. You always taught me to make up my mind about people and not listen to other people’s opinions. So one day, I came across Mr. Harte when I was exercising the dogs. He wasn’t that bad. He invited me back to visit when I wanted to. I dropped in every now and then…just to—you know—check up on him. He didn’t have anyone who cared about him.”
“Didn’t you wonder why?”
“He told me why. He’d said that he was a bully and pushed his son, hoping he would push back. I guess Aidan never pushed back.”
Yeah, he did and that push had killed Earl Harte. “Interesting parenting idea.”
“You kinda got to see where he came from to understand his thinking. I’m not saying it wasn’t whacked. He was nuts on a lot of things, but he treated me fair. I couldn’t judge him on anything else. Right?”
How did she argue against her own teachings? She’d brought up her son to do exactly what he’d done. She wanted him opened-minded, fair in his thinking, able to make his own judgments and not rely on the opinions of others. But why had Earl Harte treated her son decent? Had he finally felt guilt for killing Fox senior that this had been his way of making it up? Had he mellowed in his old age?
He hadn’t been that old. Maybe fifty-five, sixty. But the man had been so pickled in his thinking that there couldn’t have been any mellowing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” That was what bothered her the most. “Why keep it a secret?”
“Mr. Harte asked me to. He liked it when I dropped by, and he was afraid you would forbid me from doing it.”
He was right. If she had known… There was no point in going down that road. It wouldn’t help the hurt she felt now that Fox had kept secrets from her.
He gave her the look that melted her heart. “I’m sorry, Mom, I hated keeping it from you.”
“Then why did you?”
“Well…I liked Mr. Harte. I know what everyone has always said about him. And I know that you think he killed Grandpa—”
“He did kill Grandpa.”
“I don’t want to get into that.”
“How do we not get into it when the man killed my dad? And now I find out that my own son was friends with him?”
He tightened his lips and Raven knew she had shut him up. Fox was real good about talking with her until she got angry and then he buttoned up. She bit back her anger and tried again. “What did Earl say about my father?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I need to know, Fox.”
Fox looked off to the side. Raven turned off her wheel. She was too keyed up to make anything worth keeping. She threw a piece of plastic over the clay. It would wait until later.
“He claimed that he never meant for Grandpa to die. That it had been an accident.”
It was her turn to bite her lips. Because she knew, without a doubt, Earl had planned to set off those charges when her father was panning in the riverbed. It had been deliberate. It had been premeditated. Murder.
With difficulty she kept a hold of her tongue. If she said anything now, Fox would completely shut down on the subject. Her body shook with the effort it took to keep quiet.
“Is this going to affect my movie night?” Fox asked, his eyes downcast.
She wanted to send him to his room. Lock him up and never let him out of her sight. Look at what had been going on right under her nose! She rubbed her forehead forgetting that her hands where covered in clay slip until the grittiness transferred onto her skin. “Go and make your calls, but we’ll talk about this later, Fox.”
SHIVER Page 13