Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (3 page)

Ragno said, “Medical records indicate Spring was tested multiple times for autism spectrum disorder and Asperger’s syndrome.  I can’t find conclusive diagnoses, perhaps because none exist. She seems to defy explanation, even for experts. She has a mix of psychological problems, learning deficits, and savant-like qualities. In contrast, Skye is brilliant, yet she’s turned her back on her brilliance by not pursuing the type of work for which her mind is suited.”

“How brilliant?” Sebastian asked.

“Like don’t let the bikini photo fool you. MIT at fifteen,” Ragno said. “Graduated with honors at nineteen. Teachers and professors indicate she has her father’s brilliance. Problems in school were due to boredom and inconsistent focus.”

“Smarter than you?”

She chuckled. “I’d love to find out. Anyway, their mother died when Skye was thirteen, right as Barrows hit it big with his software. Eleven years separate the sisters. Skye just turned twenty-nine. Spring is eighteen. Spring’s mental challenges make Skye the one to talk to.”

“We’re three minutes away now,” Pete said, hitting the blinker and braking for a turn.

“They’re in day three of opening week of Creative Confections, which in a recent interview, Skye, um, Chloe,” Ragno said, placing emphasis on the letter C, “described as a cake and coffee cottage. Chic and cozy, specializing in confectionary decorative arts.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Ragno chuckled. “Spring is an icing artist, with a unique flair for color. Every cupcake and cake is a work of art. She should have a reality show. The cakes and cupcakes, decorated by Spring, are the centerpiece of the business for now. Eventually, Skye plans to offer celebration planning services.”

“Wait,” Sebastian groaned. “Chloe. Colbie. Covington. Creative. Confections. Cakes. Cupcakes. Chic. Cozy. Can there be one more goddamn word starting with C?”

“Cynical? Cranky?” Ragno gave a low laugh. “Actually, the c’s could be tied to obsessive compulsive disorder, a diagnosis that is constant for Spring. I think the c’s are clever, cute, and catchy.”

“Spare me the humor.” He eyed Covington’s quaint downtown as they stopped at a traffic light. It wasn’t where he’d have expected a celebutante party-girl like Skye to settle, but nothing about Barrows or his escape made sense yet. In the distance, brake lights of a lone car flashed as it turned off the street. Although the sun had risen, there were no pedestrians, not even a jogger. His eyes followed Pete’s gesture down the road, about a half a mile away, to a corner property where a wide, tree-filled lawn was surrounded by a white picket fence.

Pete said, “There it is.”

“None of this is making any damn sense. If Skye is so damn brilliant, why didn’t she pick up the pieces of her father’s business? What the hell is she doing running a coffee shop?”

“Great questions,” Ragno said. “My intel isn’t giving me answers. Yet.”

A large Creative Confections sign, readable even at a distance, stood on the corner of the property. Nestled in the center of the lawn was a white wood cottage with cream trim, tall, glistening windows lit from within and adorned with open shutters, a wide porch that had seating areas with white wicker tables and chairs. In the porch’s far corner there was a swing with cushions. “There’s a paper trail for the business? Permits? Tax I.D. numbers for federal and state?”

“Yes,” Ragno said. “Chloe and Colbie Stewart are owners of a legitimate business. Their identities are solid and even include social security numbers. I’m impressed.”

Tall pine trees and oak trees with thick, meandering branches surrounded the cottage. Clear lights sparkled in trees. Wisps of smoke escaped from chimneys that were on either side of the cottage. It was February, it was chilly, and in charming coffee houses in Louisiana, fireplaces would, of course, be lit. Sebastian couldn’t imagine a more inviting setting, and if quaint towns were your thing and long mornings with a hot cup of coffee and a good newspaper, book, or friendly chitchat was appealing, Creative Confections looked like the jackpot. Sebastian didn’t typically like small towns and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down for a cup of coffee. The quiet town and the homey-looking cottage looked like a planet that was different than the hard-edged world in which he lived. “Is it open?”

“No, it opens at seven. In ten minutes,” Pete said. “Want me to park down the street?”

“Are they there?”

“Yes,” Ragno said. “Just arrived.”

“They park in back, a small driveway with a couple of parking spaces,” Pete added. “The driveway entrance is on the side street. It’s narrow. Not intended for traffic or customers.”

“Park in front,” Sebastian said. “The party’s over for Chloe and Colbie Stewart. Time for them to be Skye and Spring Barrows again.” Even without the oddness of living under an assumed identity, Skye was running a retail business, selling the sort of items people still purchased with cash. “Weapons?”

Pete accelerated as the light changed. “She keeps a laser-sighted .38 Special Smith & Wesson Centennial in her nightstand.”

Sebastian knew the model. The snub-nosed revolver was a perfect fit for a woman’s hand.

To Pete, Sebastian said, “You were in her house yesterday, while she was at the coffee shop, and the gun was at the house?” Pete nodded. “So there might be other weapons,” Sebastian said, thinking it made sense she’d carry one to work. He watched a golden-brown, four-legged blur dart from the coffee shop lawn and run, without pause, into the road and head directly in front of them. “Brake. Now. Brake!”

Tires screeched as Pete made a sharp left turn, coming close to the dog but missing by an inch or two. There was a hiss as the left front tire hit a culvert.

“What happened?” Ragno asked. “Camera views didn’t reveal why evasive moves were necessary.”

Sebastian opened the door and jumped out. “Near miss with a dog. We’re fine,” he said as he ran for the animal. “Not so sure about the dog.”

The golden blob ran to the opposite side of the street from where the Range Rover was perched, half on the sidewalk, half in the street. The dog tucked itself under a bench, in front of an art gallery. Big brown eyes followed Sebastian as the dog trembled from tail to snout. It looked like a young golden retriever, somewhere less than full grown, a much-purer-bred version of the pound-variety, yellow lab-ish dog Sebastian had as a child. As he paused a few feet from the scared animal, he heard a distant, feminine yell.

Pete, at his side, said, “She’s their dog. Name’s Candy.”

“Great,” Sebastian said.

“Candy, Caannnndddyyyy.”

“Fucking great,” Sebastian muttered. “Killing their dog is one way to earn cooperation.”

“I didn’t hit her. I’m certain of it. And that’s Spring, running in our direction, screaming for her.”

“I’ve got this. Park the car. Change the tire.”

Sebastian crouched to the ground, held out his hand, and, with the dog’s large eyes focused on him, said, “Hey, Candy. Sweet girl. Let me see if you’re hurt. Come on, baby. Come to me.” She pointed her snout in his direction and sniffed. “Come to me, Candy,” he said, using a nice, play-with-dog voice. The dog crawled towards him, tentatively at first. When she was out from under the bench, she stood. After a fluff-inducing shake, she took one step on a big paw, and two more steps, both of which looked normal. After three steps she paused, gave a slow tail wag, and walked another step in his direction.

“Candy,” Sebastian said, prompting a faster tail wag. As the dog inched closer, he picked her up. “Are you a bit of a drama queen?” She was solid, with strong muscles and thick fur. He probed at her legs and ribs. No yelps, no squirming, no pain, he thought, as her moist tongue bathed his left cheek with swipe-kisses and an over-sized paw batted his right cheek. He chuckled as he dodged her licks. “You sure are cute, you know that?”

“She’s okay?” Ragno asked.

“Seems to be,” he said, as he turned towards the coffee shop and realized why the owner hadn’t made it to the dog’s rescue. She’d fallen, facedown on the lawn.

As he crossed the street, he watched Spring attempt to stand. She sat instead, gripped her ankle, and yelled, “Candy. Cannndddyyyyy.”

Skye was running from the porch, towards Spring, and an older man and a woman were coming out of the coffee shop, moving slower. The dog squirmed in his arms, but Sebastian kept a tight grip on her, not wanting to release her until he was sure Spring wasn’t hurt and could handle what he guessed would be a lively reunion with thirty pounds of dog. Sebastian and Skye reached Spring at the same time.

Skye was prettier in person than in photographs. Black, free-flowing waves of hair added an exotic touch to high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that were the color of flagstone. The photographs hadn’t captured the restlessness he saw in her gray-green eyes, as Skye’s gaze travelled over the dog, Sebastian, and her sister. Nor had the pictures captured the deep, inner light of her eyes, as subtle as the warm glow of a gas lantern on a dark, foggy night. His mind flashed to the pictures of her almost naked body as she readied for the dive, and his gaze dipped to her bosom. He dragged his eyes up, mentally shaking off thoughts of her full, round breasts.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, and he didn’t blame her for looking at him as though he was odd, because he was staring, and
son of a bitch
, he couldn’t stop.

What in the fucking hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, Skye’s attention turned to Spring, and she bent to help her sister stand.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, finally finding his voice. “We came close, but we didn’t hit her. She seems to have gotten over the scare.” To Spring, he said, “Are you hurt?”

Ragno had said mentally challenged. To Sebastian, with her large, denim-blue eyes, and long black hair that, like her sister’s, hung loose and mid-way down her back, Spring just looked like a pretty teenager. The sweet look in her eyes made her seem young for her age. They were both tall, but Skye was taller. The top of Skye’s head was almost shoulder height to him, which put her at about five feet eight.

Skye was all woman, sensual and vibrant, yet reserved. Spring was almost a mirror image, but girlish. They were dressed in matching cream-colored wrap sweaters and skinny jeans, off-white leather belts with large silver buckles, and off-white suede cowboy boots. Ragno had said that Skye wore a phone tucked inside her waistband. It wasn’t there now. The wide leather belt hit right above her hipbones and accentuated her small waist. Spring’s winter-white jeans had grass stains and a tear in one of the knees.

Skye’s attention was also on her sister. In a soft, calm voice, one that could guide anyone through any hell, Skye said, “Colbie, take a few steps and test that ankle.”

Spring didn’t move. Instead, she gave Sebastian a shy smile and extended her arms outwards, for the dog. Sebastian glanced at Skye, uncertain whether to give the animal to the girl. In the photographs, Skye had been a beautiful blonde. Darker hair, though, made her stunning. The inky blackness of her hair, which hung loose and free to a few inches past her shoulders, contrasted with clear, ivory skin. Her cheeks were flushed. She seemed to be holding her breath, gauging her sister’s reaction. Skye glanced at him and gave him a slow nod. Sebastian stepped forward.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt? She’s heavy. I could just put her on the ground.”

“She’s mine.” There was that shy, wide-eyed smile, again, and this time it was accompanied with a firm headshake. “Of course I can handle her.”

Not exactly a logical response, but Sebastian placed the wriggling dog into Spring’s arms anyway. Spring giggled as the dog licked her face and, over Skye’s shoulder, Sebastian watched the older couple retreat back into the coffee shop. When Skye leveled her gaze on Sebastian, he wished he could get that damn topless-bikini picture out of his mind. Her gaze was direct, but there was nothing forthcoming about it. Unlike in the partying shots he had looked at earlier, her eyes were guarded. Her full smile—the one that had been his focal point in the photographs—was absent, yet her lips naturally turned up at the corners, giving her face an inviting expression. “Thank you for returning Candy to us.”

“He’s a really nice guy, Chloe,” Spring said, “He saved Candy.”

“I know,” Skye gave her sister a solid gaze. “Now you’re fine, and so is Candy, so we can just go back inside and make our delivery, right?”

Spring shook her head. “I have to change. My jeans are ripped.”

“How is your ankle?” Skye asked.

Spring took a tentative step. She gave her sister a thumbs up that was almost concealed by dog hair. “Doesn’t hurt much.”

Skye drew a deep breath. “Well, we have to hurry. We promised the bank that the cake would be there early.”

“At nine,” Spring said.

“I told you. They called and want it for eight.”

“Well, they can’t have it at eight. I need to double check my work.”

“You did that last night,” Skye said, with a trace of impatience that anyone less observant than Sebastian would have missed.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s my first really big cake here and it has to be perfect. You said I could double check each petal.”

“Well,” Skye glanced at her watch, “make it fast. Go inside now, don’t let Candy run away from you, get changed, and do your double check.”

Spring didn’t listen to her sister. Instead, she turned to Sebastian, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. Skye sighed as she also refocused her attention on Sebastian. Something in that sigh of exasperation, in the way her eyes seemed just a little weary, made his stomach twist. He understood that feeling.

Whatever vulnerability caused her weariness to peek through her on-guard glance at him disappeared fast, though, as she held his eyes for a second longer, and said, “I heard the tires screech. I know that you guys,” she glanced back at the SUV, where Pete was changing the tire, “did some crafty driving to avoid her. I apologize. I should have noticed she was outside.”

“No apology is necessary.”

“Yes. It is. Candy shouldn’t be running in the street. We’re training her, but,” she shook her head, “obviously, we need to do a better job. Thank you,” she said, as she took a step away from him.

“Wait. I need to-”

“We’re testing morning muffins today, with samples for all of the customers.” Spring, who was still holding onto the dog, interrupted him, “You should come in and try them.”

“Colbie,” Skye said, taking three steps further away from him, then pausing because her sister wasn’t moving. “We have to go.”

“And I also have to go,” Sebastian said, “but-”

“Please, please come in,” Spring said, interrupting him just as he was going to say that he didn’t have time to linger, that he was there to talk about their father. Spring was happily oblivious to both her sister’s frustration and his need to do something other than taste muffins. “You see, we’re testing three different recipes, and you can help us. Carrot-walnut-cinnamon, banana-caramel-nut, and peanut-butter apple.”

She was giving him such a wide-eyed, happy and hopeful look, he wasn’t sure how to say no. Perhaps no wasn’t what his answer should be. After all, he was there to talk. He shouldn’t turn away from an opportunity to do so. Besides, he didn’t think direct questions were going to give him what he needed with this one or her sister.

Spring continued, “The morning muffins have either buttercream icing or cream-cheese icing, and some have crumbles. We went a little lower in sugar than with our regular cupcakes, so they’re healthier, but they still taste really good.” She gave him a full smile. “At least we think so. If you’d like, you can try all of them and let us know which one you think is best. I know that you’ll love at least one of them, and we want to know which is your favorite. Will you? Please?”

Despite the hard-edged impatience that snaked through his gut, Sebastian knew that ‘
where the hell is your father’
was not the correct answer to the hopelessly sweet young woman.
Hell.
He wasn’t here to make friends. He was there to manhandle information out of them, and he didn’t have time to soft-shoe around it. At a minimum, he was going to let them know that their identity was no longer secret. But Spring’s innocent blue-eyes made him pause long enough to wonder about the best way to deliver that information, because straightforward delivery wasn’t going to work.

There weren’t many things that made him hesitate when he knew that he was on the right track. Innocence, though, in any form, got to him, and even though she was a young woman, Spring’s eyes were those of a child. Dammit. He had to talk to the older sister, and he had to do it alone.

When his eyes slid to Skye, he caught her in mid-breath of exasperation as she watched her sister. “Colbie. Go inside. Now.”

Spring ignored her sister. To Sebastian, she said, “Aren’t you coming in?”

Skye met his gaze, eyes as guarded as her sister’s were guileless. She gave him a resigned glance and a half-smile that seemed more than a little forced. It absolutely wasn’t the same smile that he’d seen in the pictures that Ragno had just given him. This woman was stressed out about something, and if it had anything to do with her father, he needed to find out. “My sister doesn’t always turn on the charm so much to strangers. If you have time, come in and try the muffins.”

Sebastian’s business didn’t require coffee and muffins, but Skye didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she took Candy out of her sister’s arms, avoided a lick across the face as she gently placed the dog on the ground, and guided both the dog and her sister into the coffee house.

Aw hell. Fuck me to hell
, Sebastian thought, as he followed them in the direction of their picture-perfect, white-on-creamy-white coffee house. He stepped on the porch, while Spring held open the door. Aromas of cinnamon, vanilla, and baked apple greeted him.

At the threshold he glanced back at the street. The Range Rover was on a jack, and Pete was unscrewing a lug nut. For a second, Sebastian wished that he were the one changing the tire. Trendy coffee houses normally seemed stuffy, overcrowded, and pretentious. Yet this one, painted in shades of white and cream, had high ceilings that gave it a spacious feel. Two seating areas, with tables and chairs, bordered a wide aisle that led to the counter. Overstuffed chairs faced large marble fireplaces that were on either side of the cottage. Ottomans and lamps made the place look homey and inviting.

“Sarah will get you anything that you’d like,” Skye said, glancing at the trim gray-haired lady who’d been on the porch as he delivered the dog. Sarah was behind the counter, above which a large chalkboard hung. Neat, handwritten block letters provided a myriad of coffee offerings, all of which seemed too complicated for his taste. Skye turned to Spring and pointed to circular stairs in the back corner. “Better get cleaned up before the delivery.”