“Asking you?”
“Nothing about our relationship has been conventional. Not feeling as strongly as we do in such a short amount of time. Not how we met. Let’s not judge our relationship on other people’s standards.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t. But when it comes to the kids…I’m not sure what the right thing to do is.”
“Then we’ll take it one day at a time, and see what happens.”
The next morning, Drew wakes me bright and early, reminding me that he’d planned to take Colin to a charity event, picking out high-tech gadgets for low-income schools in Boston. Drew has donated a sizeable amount of money in addition to this activity. As a way to thank him and other benefactors, the charity has organized a gala that we’ll be attending on Saturday.
“Are you going to call the doctor today?”
“Mmm hmm,” I moan into the pillow.
“You better get an appointment before the weekend. If you think I’m going to be pressed up to you in some sexy dress all night without getting to have my way with you, you’re wrong.”
“You said you’re a man of your word,” I tease, throwing his ridiculous ultimatum back in his face.
“I am,” he playful spanks my behind. “Please put us both out of our misery.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell him, rolling over. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be down.”
Knocking draws our attention to the bedroom door. Everett pokes his head in. “I need a minute with both of you before you leave, Drew.”
“Come on in,” Drew says.
Normally I’d protest having a guest in my bedroom, but the somber yet focused expression on Everett’s face stops me.
“I wouldn’t disturb you so early if it weren’t important. There’s been some traction in the case that will be reported today. Unfortunately, it’s information that the FBI had for about a month but weren’t in a position to release. Now it appears the media got ahold of it so we have no choice.”
“What information?” Drew asks.
“When first responders got to the scene where the Innovation Airways flight went down, the plane was consumed with flames. DNA testing allowed for identification of all passengers. Since then, other discoveries were made including the remains of two individuals who couldn’t be accounted for. Their remains were found in the cargo area of the plane and were intact for the most part.”
“For the most part?” I question.
“Both were missing their thumbs.”
“Their thumbs?” Drew asks.
“Dental records have confirmed that the remains belonged to the pilot and co-pilot who were scheduled to captain the flight that day.”
“That can’t be right,” Drew says. “The pilot was shot and dragged back into the cockpit.”
“The pilot and co-pilot were not connected to what happened. We assume that whoever flew the plane that day, used them to log the flight. The thumbprint technology wasn’t just for passengers. Employees used it to clock-in and out, access different areas of the airport, log into their computers and to lock the cockpit once entered. Based on video footage from the airport, we estimate their time of death as being about half an hour before the flight.”
“Who piloted the plane then?” Drew questions.
“We aren’t sure yet. The individual had a thorough knowledge of camera placement throughout the airport. There’s not one single image of his face. If we had that, we’d run facial recognition.”
My eyes dart to Drew, who’s clenched his jaw. I’m worried about how he’ll react to this. Ever since the attack in California, he internalizes any news related to the case. I caress his face and feel the tension rolling from him in waves.
“My apologies for ruining your morning. Thought you’d rather hear it from me, than read it in the paper.”
“Thanks,” Drew and I say in unison.
Everett takes a few steps backward before turning to the door. Instead of leaving, he pauses, drumming his fingers on the doorframe.
“I’ve thought a lot about what you said Drew, about being attacked twice,” Everett says. “I’m not convinced the same people who found you at the safe house are the same people who found us at your sisters.”
Drew cocks his head to the side. “What makes you say that?”
“The amount of blood in Pittsburgh indicates that four people died a very violent death. You were beaten severely. California was completely different. We could have easily been killed, yet there was little deliberate violence.”
“O’Conner was killed,” Drew counters.
“I don’t think it was intentional.”
“Who attacked us then?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Drew and I watch each other for a long time after Everett leaves. He rubs his face several times before shifting his attention to me.
“You ok?” I ask.
“Not really,” he admits.
“Why don’t you stay here? Do your charity thing another time?”
“No,” he replies. “It’ll be good to do something positive for others. Besides, Alexis is the reason I do this.”
I accept his answer, knowing how important this is to him.
“I gotta go, but take your time. Sarah and your dad are down with Aubrey and Maddie.”
“They are?” I sit up just enough to check the time. “It’s only 7:30am. She’s here early.”
“Or, could your dad be coming back late?” Drew wags his eyebrows.
My dad and Sarah?
“You really think so?” I ask.
Drew laughs. “Your dad does seem to have an extra spring in his step.”
“She’s like fifteen years younger than him.”
“Your family must be genetically programed to prefer younger partners.”
“Hey!” I scold him while pinching his nipple. “Take it back.”
“No way. See ya later, baby!”
Drew and Colin return as we’re finishing lunch. I catch Aubrey assessing Drew through her lashes. She immediately clears her plate and then disappears. I’m about to go after her when she traipses back into the kitchen carrying her snowsuit, boots, gloves and hat, and announces that she’s going to play in the snow. The door slams behind her and I glance at Colin, who shrugs and heads into the TV room. I walk to the entry way and start sliding on my boots when Drew wraps his arms around me.
“Mind if I go?”
I give him a weak smile and wish him luck.
TWELVE
Headway
I walk up next to Aubrey and start balling up snow. This sounded like a good idea when I offered coming out here to Breanne; now I’m having second thoughts. I have no idea what to say. I’ve spent my adult life hitting on women. Until Breanne, I’ve had very little in depth conversation with them besides what was required to get them into bed. What the hell do I say to a young girl, pissed at life for taking away her father and likely hating me because she thinks I’m the replacement?
“Can I help?” I ask.
Aubrey pulls her shoulders up and drops them quickly as she continues packing snow. This is one of those moments where, even if it’s awkward, the silence feels right. If I had any wisdom to spout, what would she say anyway? She could tell me she was fine, which would be a lie. She could tell me she hates me, which I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, but I’m not willing to find out. Contemplating the possible outcomes, I decide to stay quiet.
For the next 30 minutes we pack snow and shape our snowman. Aside from me grabbing sticks for the arms, we work side by side until it’s done. Once the snowman is complete, I stand up and offer my hand before pulling her to her feet. Now I feel like I should say something.
“I recently lost someone I loved,” I tell her. “My sister, Alexis. She was pretty awesome. Really smart and a good person. You would have liked her.”
“Was she sick?”
Shaking my head, I stuff my gloved hands into the pockets of my jacket. “No. She was in a car accident
.”
“Oh,” she replies, her voice small. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “My point in telling you this is that I want you to know I understand what it’s like to love someone and lose them. It sucks. If you want to talk about it I’d be happy to listen. Or not,” I add nervously.
Talking to a five-and-a-half-year-old should not be underestimated. Behind that cute face is a seriously intimidating little girl.
“I won’t call you Dad,” she announces. I should probably feel slightly disappointed, but I don’t. I’m impressed that even though she’s young, and hurting, she’s comfortable enough to tell me how she feels. That’s got to count for something, right?
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” I assure her.
Aubrey stares at me for several seconds when the first tear falls down her cheek. She seems to accept this and looks at her feet.
“Hot chocolate?” I offer.
Aubrey lifts her head and almost smiles.
The silence stretches between the two of us as we sit at the counter sipping from our mugs. Moments later when Aubrey slides off the stool and places her mug in the sink, I wonder if the last hour was pointless. I am so far out of my element. I watch her walk to the window, presumably looking out at our snowman. She places her hand on the window and releases a deep breath. Convinced that I’ve failed, I do the same.
“My dad never played with me in the snow,” Aubrey says, and before I have a chance to react, she’s already left the room.
After cleaning up our dishes, I lay down on the couch. Talk about a stressful day. What the hell’s it going to be like when she’s a teenager? That’s a scary thought. I drag my hand over my face as my imagination gets the better of me.
Staring into the crackling fireplace, I feel myself drifting off as I contemplate my life. As much as I love being here with Breanne and the kids, I seriously hate this house. I want to have our own life. Lying here on this couch takes effort I barely have. I hate that she sat here with Mark and for some reason the fact that she had a life before me really pisses me off. It’s wrong to hate a dead guy; I know that. Yet I’m sure he’s the link that’s put her in danger, and I resent that even from the grave he’s having an impact on our lives. Sleepily, I reach into my back pocket, remove my wallet and take out the piece of paper from the barn.
Not all treasure is buried,
Some is simply locked away.
At times, dangling in front of you,
Or stored out of harms way.
Shattered glass can’t break our memories,
They aren’t measured with a clock.
You’re the one who holds the key,
She the door to unlock.
Guard the people and secrets you uncover,
As those who protect us sometimes lie.
When the tides have changed and the danger’s gone,
Make a wish and say goodbye.
1-4-3
I grip the paper in my fist and lower it to my chest. What does this mean, Alexis? Why couldn’t you have just said it instead of making everything a riddle? As frustrating as her riddles are, it’s something she always did. If she wasn’t comfortable enough to just tell me, she must have had a good reason.
Closing my eyes, I think back to what Everett told Breanne and me earlier, about the fate of the real pilots. I’m transported back to that moment when the man who wrongfully piloted the plane emerged from the cockpit and passed me by, ultimately exiting to his death. Memories blur into wishes and an opportunity to revise history.
I lean across Breanne into the aisle to get a better look and see the door to the cockpit start to open. The pilot, who I had my picture taken with before boarding the flight, starts down the aisle towards me. He’s holding a briefcase so tight his knuckles are white. His face is dripping with beads of sweat and he looks scared as hell as he takes note of all of the bodies.
We make eye contact as he approaches my row.
“You piece of shit,” I yell. “Look what you did to all these innocent people.”
The pilot looks me in the eyes and pauses briefly. I rise and lunge at him, knocking his suitcase from his hand.
“Tell me why, you fucking coward,” I demand, finding relief in wrapping my hands around his neck. Applying more pressure, he gasps for air. “What did you do this for? Huh?” I ask, slamming his head against the floor.
His hands are pressing against my face, a weak attempt to get me to stop. Instead, I dig my thumbs deeper into his throat. He gurgles, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His limp hands stop fighting and drop lifelessly to the ground.
Drenched in sweat and shaking, I let go and kneel back. I close my eyes and feel panic over what I’ve just done. When I reopen my eyes, my anxiety increases as black widow spiders crawl out of his mouth.
“Ahhh. Get off,” I shout.
My eyes flutter open and my body scurries backward. Short of breath, I frantically look around, checking for spiders, but there’s none. Something touches my shoulder as I try to catch my breath, causing me to jump.
“Easy,” Breanne’s soothing voice calls out. “You had another nightmare.”
Shifting my gaze, I notice Breanne standing beside me, holding a blanket to her chest. My panting slowly returns to a normal pace. Using the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat from my forehead.
“You really should talk to someone about this. It’s not getting any better.”
“I’m fine. Really. I just didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. Who knew building a snowman was so physically intensive?”
“Could have been the emotional workout.”
“Or that,” I agree, sitting up.
“What’s that?” Breanne asks, bending down to picking up a piece of paper. Shit.
“Nothing, I got it,” I say, swiping it out of her hands. She eyes me suspiciously for several seconds before moving on. The fact that she’s waiting for me to tell her is killing me.
“Are you getting nervous about spring training?”
“A little. Why do you ask?”
“You kept repeating dashes 2, 515 or some number combination over and over again. I figured it was a play.”
I laugh and grab her face. “Your lack of sports knowledge is incredibly adorable. I’m not a football player, you know?” She looks at me confused. “In baseball we use hand signals.”
“Oh, well what’s 515? An area code?”
“Beats me. The dream I remember only involved you, me and a hot tub.”
“Hmm, is that what you were screaming about? Me in a bikini?”
“Baby, if we were in a hot tub, you wouldn’t be wearing a bikini,” I clarify, redirecting the conversation. “That reminds me, did you get a doctor’s appointment?”
Breanne narrows her eyes at me, knowing I’m dodging her concerns about my nightmares, but lets it go. “I went to urgent care and they confirmed that it was a virus. I have to wait it out.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You sure it was a real doctor?”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“I heard what Aubrey said to you. You know, about not playing with Mark in the snow.”
She looks at the fireplace and humorlessly chuckles. “I wonder if my loneliness the past two years fueled my imagination. I remember him being involved, but how involved can someone be when they’re never around?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“He traveled all the time. While you were sleeping I took out old photo albums. There’re no random pictures of him and the kids doing things like building snowmen, or playing flag football, going to recitals or anything. It’s holiday photos and a few family pictures…and he’s not even in all of them. I know he loved them, but he was barely here.”
I rub her arm. “I’m not him, Breanne. I have to travel for work but I promise I’ll be here. Nothing has been able to keep me from you so far and I’ll do everything I can to make sure it stays that way.”
T
HIRTEEN
Collision
Back-to-back snowstorms paralyzed most of Massachusetts for nearly two weeks, causing the charity gala to be rescheduled twice. The timing worked out perfectly because over the past few days I’ve finally conquered my cold.
Now that the city has finally thawed out, I actually feel like celebrating. The event we’re going to is in recognition of the donors who made it possible to fund high-tech equipment for low-income schools in the city of Boston. It’s a great charity that’s close to home for Drew given how tech savvy Alexis was, and I’m doing everything in my power to make sure Drew’s mind is occupied with positive thoughts, even if it puts me a little out of my comfort zone.
Standing in front of the mirror of Drew’s bathroom getting ready, I sense him watching me. I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye and shiver. Damn, he is one sexy man. Decked out in a tuxedo and smelling sinfully delicious from several feet away, I have to remind myself that there’ll be plenty of time to enjoy him later.
I refocus on finishing my makeup, leaning over the counter to draw on my eyeliner, and nearly smudge the black liquid across my face when two hands grip my hips.
“A little warning would’ve been nice,” I scold him.
“What fun would that have been?” He smirks, biting his lower lips while his gaze falls to my breasts. His hands make sensual, circular motions over my curves.
“We don’t have time, Drew.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’ll always make time for you? Besides,” he says, bunching the fabric of my sapphire color dress. “Do you really want me walking around all those women with a raging hard on all night?”
“No way,” I warn. “I’ve just spent the last hour getting my hair and makeup just right.”
Before I know it, he’s yanking my panties down and unzipping his pants. “I promise not to mess up your hair if you promise not to take your eyes off me.”
Rundown (Curveball Book 2) Page 14