“You look beautiful,” Mac murmured in greeting as Ellie opened the door. The tea-length pink skirt emphasized her curvaceous figure, and the white leather sandals matched the color of the very feminine, short-sleeved blouse with venetian lace at the throat. She wore long, beaded earrings that emphasized the Indian qualities of her face, and her hair was loose just the way he liked it. Mac scolded himself silently as he saw Ellie blush hotly at his intense inspection. He had to learn to control himself.
“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping aside. “Let me get my shawl, and I’ll be right with you.” She hurried down the hall to her bedroom, feeling shaky, needy and wonderful all at once. Mac’s eyes had burned with desire. Desire for her. She picked up a pale pink crocheted shawl and draped it over her left arm, along with her white leather purse.
Mac smiled and held out his hand to Ellie as she reappeared. “I hope you’re hungry.”
She was hungry, all right, but her yearning was all for Mac. How wonderfully handsome he looked! She was afraid to tell him that, afraid that he might get the wrong idea, and perhaps overstep the unspoken boundaries that still existed between them.
“It has been a busy day, so I’m ready to eat,” Ellie assured him as he guided her out the door. She turned and made sure it was locked. The evening sky over Phoenix was a pale yellow, and it was still blisteringly hot.
Once they were in the car and headed for The Cove, a very exclusive, five-star restaurant, Mac wanted to share some news with Ellie. “The provost marshal’s office contacted me late this afternoon about the guy who was AWOL.”
They were driving down I 17, the main freeway through this sprawling part of Phoenix. Ellie watched as palm trees and colorful oleanders in pink, white and red flashed by. “Oh?”
“The office had sent out an APB to all surrounding law-enforcement officials at the time of his disappearance. I talked to Captain Rupert today, and she said that not only was a local and regional APB put out on him, but his name was logged into the FBI files, too.”
“Is that normal procedure, I wonder?”
“I don’t know.” Mac glanced over at her, unable to get enough of her thoughtful, serene features, her very serious dark brown eyes. “The FBI did some checking in his state and hometown and never found any proof of his return. If he was AWOL at all.”
“What do you think now, knowing this, Mac?”
“It looks to me like murder is a much stronger possibility. Usually, AWOL people show up sooner or later at their folks’ home, or at a sibling’s. That’s why we’re usually able to find these people and bring them to justice within the military system.”
“I know this man is dead. I just don’t know if it was murder or not.”
Frowning, Mac turned off the freeway and onto the Bethany Home Road exit. The setting sun was glaring and he was glad he wore his aviator’s sunglasses. “I don’t want to mix business with pleasure, Ellie, but I think we need to take the next step in doing something about this spirit at Hangar 13. What do you think?” He braked at the stoplight, then turned right when traffic on the busy street had cleared.
“I agree with you. The fact that he’s attacking the crews closest to his corner is a sign that he’s discontent. He’ll probably continue to move outward from the original territory that he established as his in the corner of that hangar.”
“I worry about you,” Mac confided. He slowed and made a left turn into a large asphalt parking lot. The Cove was in an austere-looking building, fairly nondescript and easily missed. Mac had often found that the best things in life were tastefully understated—like Ellie.
“I’ll be okay,” she reassured him.
“How do you know?” He parked the car, then looked at her profile, the way her full lips were pursed.
“Because my chief guide has never placed me in a situation beyond my capabilities. If she didn’t feel I could handle it properly, she would tell me not to become involved in the first place.”
He sighed and opened the door. “It makes sense, but I’m jumpy because I don’t know anything about the other worlds you work in. And what I don’t know or understand worries me, especially when it involves you.”
To Ellie’s surprise, there was a dance floor at the rear of the exclusive, very expensive restaurant. A five-piece ensemble played ballroom music from the thirties and forties. After a delicious dinner of fresh sea bass, Ellie was ready to get up and move. Mac grinned, pulled out her chair for her and escorted her to the other room, where several other couples were already dancing. First they would enjoy their after-dinner coffee. And then dancing would be the order of the night.
“I like this place because you can eat all you want and work it off all in the same night,” Mac teased as they took a table in the corner of the room, away from the music, so they could talk in a fairly normal tone of voice.
A waitress came over and Mac ordered coffee. He turned to Ellie when the waitress was gone and folded his hands on the ivory linen tablecloth. “Now that a very enjoyable dinner is over, do you feel up to discussing some business?”
“Sure.” Ellie was very relaxed in Mac’s presence. How could she have been so nervous before?
Mac looked around at the semidarkened room and then devoted his full attention to her. In the shadows, Ellie’s large, prominent eyes were expressive and luminous. He wondered what they would look like after he kissed her. The thought had been hanging over him all night, nudging him, coercing him, refusing to leave his mind. The shadows were loving to Ellie’s Cherokee features, her high cheekbones and clean jawline. But no matter what light she was placed in, she always looked beautiful.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I can scrub a night repair on two jets tomorrow evening and you could come over and get rid of this spirit in the hangar if you want.”
She smiled a little, resting her chin on her folded hands. The gleam in Mac’s eyes, that intense, hooded look that always sent her heart racing, was there again. Because she was so open to other’s vibrations, she could feel Mac’s desire for her. Did he realize he was actually touching her with his thoughts, with his needs? Ellie was sure he wasn’t. If he was, he’d be mortified. She didn’t want that. Mac had been the epitome of a gentleman all evening and hadn’t once reached out and touched her. Not that that would be so bad….
“That will be fine. My last appointment for tomorrow is at noon.”
“Good. What time would you like to do this?”
The waitress brought over their coffee, and Ellie waited until she’d left before answering. “Three a.m. is best, Mac.”
“Why 0300?”
“That’s high tide in the universe, in an energy sense.” She took a sip of the fragrant Columbian coffee from the delicate white china cup rimmed with gold. Setting the cup on the saucer, she said, “Our twenty-four-hour day has invisible shifts of energy linked to it.” With a gesture toward the ceiling, she added, “Energy ebbs and flows to and from us just like our great oceans come in and go out on a daily basis. My mother taught us that three in the afternoon is ‘low tide’ in a universal energy sense, and that ‘high tide’ is at three in the morning. This ebb and flow is like the cosmos breathing, Mac. Have you ever heard of the postprandial dip? Science has determined that cells multiply at their slowest rate at three in the afternoon, and at their fastest at three in the morning.”
“Fascinating,” Mac said.
Spending time with Ellie was like flying—something that was absolutely necessary to Mac’s soul, his spirit…and his heart. He knew she was gun-shy, that he should try to be patient, but he was not a patient man. “Maybe I’m out of line for saying this,” Mac told her huskily, “but being around you is like flying to me.”
Ellie’s pulse bounded once, with joy. She saw the burning hunger in Mac’s eyes, and allowed the caress of his deep voice to touch her in all ways. “What a beautiful compliment,” she whispered.
He reached out and captured one of her hands. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Without hesitation, Ellie stood up. She’d been looking forward to this moment, hoping that Mac was a dancer. The music was soft and slow, and so much of her ached to be in Mac’s arms, to be against that tall, stalwart frame.
There were a number of other couples on the dance floor, but there was plenty of room. Ellie smiled up into Mac’s dark, shadowed face as he took her into his arms. He allowed her to dictate the distance between them. There was such a naturalness to it that she found herself barely touching him here and there, at the point of their hips, his chest lightly pressed against her breasts. Her entire body tingled wildly as his arm slid around her waist and he captured her. It was a wonderful feeling, a giddy one for Ellie. How long had it been since she’d allowed a man to hold her this way? Far too long, her heart whispered. She ignored the warnings her head was sending her.
Whether it was the music or just Mac’s presence, Ellie found herself resting her cheek against his shoulder. His large hand fit perfectly in the small of her back, drawing her a little closer to him. They moved as if they were breathing together, their hearts in unison with one another. Ellie marveled at his grace as they danced; he led without jerking her around, led in a way that made every cell in her body yearn for more contact with him. She was aware of the pounding drum of his heart; she could feel it through her body. Although Mac was tall and lean, and she, shorter and more rounded, they seem to fit perfectly together—like some long-lost puzzle pieces that had finally found one another.
She surrendered to Mac’s arms, to his guidance, as they glided across the wooden dance floor. Ellie heard the music, but more important, she was heatedly aware of Mac’s touch against her back, of his hand capturing hers. She felt him quiver almost imperceptibly as she laid her cheek on the lapel of his suit. Smiling, she closed her eyes, never more in sync with a man, never happier.
“You’re like some wonderful dream,” Mac whispered in her ear, his hand tightening against her as they danced. “When I was a teenager, I used to imagine what it would be like to meet the woman of my dreams.” He eased back enough to look down into her half-closed eyes, which were luminous with wisdom and emotion. His mouth curved ruefully. “You are that woman to me. You know that, don’t you?”
Ellie barely nodded. She parted her lips to say something, but the overwhelming desire threading through her made her lose track of her thoughts. She gazed up at Mac’s dark, shadowy eyes, wildly aware that he wanted to kiss her. Should she let him? What would it mean if she did? What would change between them? Was she capable of dealing with it? The questions made her hesitate, and she saw a newfound tenderness in Mac’s eyes, as if he’d just heard her questioning herself, as if he were mentally and emotionally in tune with her predicament.
Mac saw the fear, the question and the desire burning in Ellie’s eyes. Did she realize just how beautiful she was to him? He didn’t think so. He acquiesced to her needs, not his. She would have to make the first move to kiss him; he wouldn’t rush her. This was too important to Mac to botch it by behaving like some out-of-control teenager with raging hormones.
As he danced with Ellie in his arms, he decided that dreams really did come true, and he wished he could have shared that thought with her—but now wasn’t the time. She was like hot, fluid sunlight in his arms, her movements so graceful and synchronized with his that she appeared to anticipate his every move. As the music ended, he opened his arms to allow her to step back from him. There was such tenderness burning in her eyes as she lifted those thick, black lashes to stare up at him in wonderment. He stroked her hair tenderly.
“Come on,” he murmured, “it’s almost midnight and I’ve got to get you home, whether I want to or not.”
“I wish,” she said as he walked her slowly to the parking lot, his arm around her waist, “that we were out on the desert, hiking. I wish we could look up and see those beautiful stars in the sky.”
Mac opened the car door for her. As she left the curve of his arm, he met and caught her luminous gaze. “We can make that happen, you know.”
Hesitating, Ellie nodded. “I know….”
Mac saw the sorrow in her eyes, the hope dying in them. As she slipped into the car and he shut the door, he wondered if her sadness was over the fact she could never become that close, that intimate with him because he was a foreigner, an alien to her world, her beliefs. One day at a time, Mac warned himself. Look how Ellie was beginning to trust him. Hadn’t there been progress? Yes, definite progress. So why should he feel so panicky? Feel as if the sunbeam he’d captured eagerly, selfishly, in his hands would escape and never really be his?
Ellie hesitated at the porch of her home. Mac had a serious look on his face now, and she wondered if her decision not to kiss him on the dance floor had something to do with it. She felt a little guilty, but realized she must be true to herself first.
“It was a beautiful evening, Mac. Thank you.” She reached out and touched his cheek, the prickling sensation of his recently shaved beard racing up her fingertips.
Mac caught Ellie’s hand and squeezed it. He saw desire leap to her eyes, felt that tension tighten between them, but he hesitated. He could almost taste Ellie’s lips beneath his—he wanted to kiss her that badly. A momentary hesitation on her part as he pulled her forward warned him off. Swallowing his disappointment, he said, “How about if I meet you at the guard gate at 0230?”
Her senses spinning, her heart pounding, Ellie felt her mouth going dry. How she wanted to kiss Mac! Nothing had ever seemed so right, but the fear in her head kept her from moving forward into his arms. “Y-yes, that would be fine,” she heard herself say, her voice sounding oddly hollow and distant. Mac gave her a reassuring smile as he strode off, as if to say he understood. Ellie prayed he really did.
At 2:30, Mac met Ellie at the front gate of Luke Air Force Base. The base was nearly deserted at this time of morning, and they drove over to Hangar 13 without incident. The desert air was dry and a bit chilly as they walked into the hangar area.
“I had the planes taken out this evening before my crew left,” he told her. Mac had had both ends of the hangar shut with the entire area sealed off, so no one would hear the beat of the drum and come around to investigate.
Ellie nodded. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and she felt a cold chill work its way down her spine. Most of the lights were off, so the interior of the hangar looked gloomy and forbidding. She knelt on the concrete floor and opened her drum case.
“Here, you’re going to need this,” she told him.
Mac took the drum and the stick. He gestured to two chairs he’d placed in the opposite corner from where the entity lived. “Over here.” He felt a bit tense. He saw the worry in Ellie’s eyes, too.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, fine….”
“You don’t look it.”
Ellie halted at the chairs and allowed her gaze to move to the entity’s corner. “Since the last time I was here, I feel a higher level of malevolence,” she said.
“What does that mean?” Mac sat down, the round drum resting on his thighs.
Ellie wiped her hands against her slacks. She wore loose, cotton clothing and a pair of sneakers. “I can feel his hatred, his anger. It’s as if he’s twice as powerful as the last time I came here.” She shook her head. “Sometimes,” she murmured as she sat down next to Mac, “when a spirit knows that it’s going to be asked to move on, it gets very agitated and begins to suck energy from anyone and everyone it can.” Gesturing toward that corner, she added, “The spirit doesn’t want to leave, so it begins to stockpile energy to fight off the person who’s going to ask it to go.”
“Sort of like stocking up ammunition?” Mac guessed.
Grimly, Ellie nodded. “Exactly.”
“Well, is it dangerous?”
“It can be.” She sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the vibes in the room. “I can feel his agitation, and he’s very combative, Mac.”
Scowling, he muttered, “Then mayb
e you shouldn’t do it, Ellie. I don’t want you hurt.”
She felt his concern, and tried to smile. “I want to do it. I’ll know a lot more when I move into my altered state, Mac.” She reached out and touched his arm. “The worst that can happen is that it will attack me.”
“And if it does, what then?” Mac didn’t like this conversation. He didn’t like the possibility that Ellie could be hurt. Worst of all, there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect her if something happened. That bothered him more than anything else.
Ellie shrugged. “I’ve been attacked before, Mac. Usually I become drained of my auric energy. If that happens, I become very weak and usually can’t walk a straight line. It can affect me physically for upwards of twenty-four hours. If it should occur again, I’ll have to sleep it off. My natural ability to restore the energy to my own aura will take place within a day of the attack.”
“Can these things really injure you, though?”
Ellie saw the worry in Mac’s eyes. “In a worst-case scenario, it could—conceivably—kill me, but that’s not going to happen. I’ll be okay.”
Shocked at her statement, Mac tightened his grip on the drum. He was wildly aware of Ellie’s warm hand on his arm. She was so alive, so vibrant with life, that he’d never entertained the thought that this kind of work could kill someone. “Are you serious?” he croaked.
“I am.” Her fingers tightened on the hard length of his arm. “Mac, it’s not going to happen. I think you should know and understand what is going on. Most discarnate spirits can’t hurt a fly.”
“But this one already has. It throws tools, for starters.”
“Yes,” she allowed, “I know.” Releasing his arm, she turned to face the corner. Their voices floated eerily around the hangar, echoing and reechoing. “The worst that will happen if things get out of hand is I’ll feel some weakness. That’s all.”
“And if it happens?”
“Then take me home and tuck me into my bed,” she said gently. “Just let me sleep it off, and I’ll be okay.” When she read the disbelief in his eyes, she said, “Trust me on this, Mac. Okay?”
Hangar 13 Page 12