Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (35 page)

She shook her head, giving him a wide-eyed, skeptical look.

“Really. They know. I make sure they know. I don’t get caught in the predicament I got caught in with you. Having to apologize. Having to talk about it.”

She was sitting in the seat sideways, her boots kicked off, her feet curled under her, settled into the conversation. Hell. She was interested in his answer, and more than slightly enjoying his discomfort. “How do they know? Because I’m betting that they don’t really understand what you’re saying. You see, even when a man says he can’t offer a future,” she paused, “there’s something about the female brain. Maybe it’s all of that estrogen that runs through it. We just don’t get it. We think the most impossible man could somehow become…”

He chuckled. “Prince Charming?”

She blushed, then shook it off. “If not that fantastical, then just ‘the one.’ The one we were meant for. So how do your women know so effectively that you’re not it?”

His insides did a flip. He couldn’t go there with her. Open and honest was one thing. Revealing just how committed he was to having no commitments was another. “You don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

“Go on. Shock me. Believe me, I’ve heard it all from men. You know everything about me. Tell me something about you I don’t know. Tell me what you tell women in advance. What gives them no doubt that there’s nothing more than the moment?” She paused. “Because most men aren’t quite so honest.”

He didn’t want to tell her. Really didn’t want to tell her, and his extreme hesitancy shocked him, because it shouldn’t matter to him what she thought of him. There wasn’t going to be a future for them. He didn’t offer a future. Couldn’t offer a future. Actually, he probably didn’t even have a future, not even for himself, and, right this moment his dick wasn’t the only thing that was throbbing. His head was pounding, a constant reminder of his own fallibility.
Aw hell
. He drew a deep breath. “I stopped having relationships about ten years ago. There was just one too many from which I had a hard time extricating myself.”

“It’s called a break-up,” she said, as the plane hit a bump of turbulence, “not an extrication. Geez. And my therapists said I have relationship issues?” She stared at him, thoughtfully. “So, how do you deliver the there’s-no-future-not-even-a-phone-call disclaimer? And still manage to get some?”

“Well,” he paused, wondering whether he was really going there.
Aw. Fuck it. Why not
? She had asked. “Here’s how that happens. I agree on a price before I show up.” Her eyes widened. “X amount buys me X amount of time. It’s usually a lot of money,” he said, “and I usually don’t go to the same woman more than once. I use reputable companies. Once the money changes hands, and it always does before sex, they know it’s just a business deal. You’re the first real woman I’ve been with in ten years. By real, I mean someone I didn’t pay for her services.”

Open-mouthed shock had never been quite so gorgeous.

He touched her chin with his index finger and lifted it. “There you have it. Now you know the real me. I work endless hours. When I get a break, and I want sex, I call and arrange it. I fly across the country for it, or they come to me. It’s all pretty damn anonymous. I learned not to go to the same woman twice, because even then, you run the risk of emotional attachment.”

“That’s,” she drew a deep breath, and when he thought she was going to say disgusting, because that word would have matched the look she was giving him, he put her index finger on her lips, and shook his head, not wanting to hear her answer.

“Shhhh. I know.”
Sick. Sad. Disgusting. Pathetic.
He didn’t need her to put a label on it and that’s why he touched her lips. His action shushed her, but it did way more than that. The feel of her soft, plush lower lip sent an electric shock through him. Her lips were full and slightly moist and felt like a balm on the rough callous of his trigger finger. He skimmed the full crescent of her lower lip, unable to stop until he ran his finger along the full length of it, then doing the same with the top lip.

Holy hell.
He dropped his hand, realizing how badly he had fucked-up, because if ever he was going to kiss a woman again, it now had to be Skye.

From the shocked stillness that greeted him and the uncharacteristic lack of a smart retort, he realized that if the opportunity had existed for anything between them, it was gone. Her probing questions had given her way too much information. Now she was probably more worried about disease than anything else.

Hell.

He would be. He unsnapped his seat belt, stood, and stretched the kinks out of his back. He reached for the door handle as the plane started its descent. He looked down at her before opening it. “Don’t worry. I know we didn’t last night, but I use condoms. I knew you were on the pill. That’s why I didn’t use one with you. In the last several months I’ve had more medical tests than I thought were possible. I haven’t had sex since the accident in July. I didn’t want it, until I met you. I’m clean.” He stepped into the other compartment, shutting the door behind him.

Did their night together produce sentimental feelings for him? He no longer needed to worry about that. Mission accomplished.

His revelation had shocked her into silent numbness. She shouldn’t have asked such personal questions. A decade of going to prostitutes to avoid emotional attachments was an admission that was better left in the world of unspoken words. At least now she knew exactly where Sebastian stood with women.

The soft touch of the wheels on the runway made her shudder, reminding her that she had enough to worry about without thinking about Sebastian’s personal life. If Ragno had managed to get in touch with Jack and Posie, she’d have called Sebastian on the sat phone. Silence on their end was not a good sign.

Dear God. Please help me figure this out. Find my father and Jen, and let Jack and Posie be safe. End this before I actually hand over my father’s backup to Sebastian. End this before I have to tell Sebastian where we need to go with the backup
.

The same uncertainty that prompted her prayer provoked an intense longing for her beautiful bakery. She wanted to be Chloe Stewart again, where no one knew her true identity, where Spring was safe and happy, where the weight of being Richard Barrows’ daughter wasn’t suffocating her, where she was ignoring men and the complications they brought into her world. She wanted all of that, and this time, she wanted it all to be permanent.

When the jet taxied to a stop near other private jets, she stood and opened the door to the forward cabin. Her eyes fell on Sebastian. Clearly not in a rush to get off the jet, he was sitting in a seat that faced the rear of the plane, facing one of his agents. His long legs were stretched in front of him, and, as usual he was talking, with one finger touching gently on his earpiece, while his hand rested on his iPad’s keyboard.

“Aren’t we leaving?” she asked from the doorway.

He glanced at her and gave her a headshake. “We’re waiting for word from the advance team before we go.”

“Did anyone manage to contact Jack or Posie?”

He gave her a slow, barely perceptible headshake no, before his eyes drifted back to his tablet. The other agents were also talking on their phones or studying their iPads. One of the pilots opened the door to the cockpit, but they remained in their seats, checking their instrument panels. The agents, Sebastian included, wore either long-sleeve t-shirts or turtle neck sweaters, all with Black Raven logos. From the five men, Skye figured that broad chests, bulging biceps, and narrow waists appeared to be as much of a Black Raven prerequisite as a pistol, which they all wore at their hips like extensions of themselves.

She yanked her hair back in the ponytail holder that she’d put on her wrist earlier, saw that Sebastian’s eyes were on her movements, and her chest, as he talked to one of his agents. She wanted a t-shirt. A plain t-shirt. Something cool, cottony, and boxy. Not a pink, form-hugging sweater that barely reached the top of equally snug jeans.

“There are power bars and snacks,” Sebastian said, gesturing with his head in the direction of the plane’s galley. “You should eat something.”

As she shrugged off the advice, he frowned. Although she hadn’t eaten since Sunday night, she couldn’t. Not now. Not until she figured out what to do next.

“At least have a soda.”

The idea of a sugary drink made her stomach twist. His frown deepened when she made no move towards the galley, but instead of saying anything, his eyes drifted back to his iPad.

Waiting one more minute was going to kill her. She walked up the aisle to where he was sitting, folded her arms, and stared at him until he gave her his full attention. “I’m ready to go. I need to get to Firefly Island.” She stamped her foot on the soft carpet. “Now.”

“Not yet,” he said, looking up at her, his blue eyes stern and unflinching, “the advance team will be there in a few minutes, and we’re not leaving here until they give us an all clear.”

“But I told you from the beginning. I need to get there and I need to do it now. I can’t wait. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given you the location.”

He glanced into her eyes and gave her a slow headshake. “We’re not going until we get the all clear. What are you not understanding about that?”

“And I can’t wait. What are you not understanding about that? I’ve got to get there, and I’ve got to do it now.” She gasped as she looked into his unreadable eyes. “You tricked me into talking, while you had no intention of taking me there-”

“No trick. Not at all.” Sebastian interrupted with lethal curtness, sounding like a man whose internal powder keg had exploded. “For once in this oddball, paranoia-fueled world your father is now dragging all of us through, can you stop second-guessing me? The only reason why you’re not going there right this second is because it’s too dangerous. Do you have a death wish? Please. Just. Stop. Second-guessing me. Right. Fucking. Now.”

Skye flinched, as absolute stillness filled the jet.

The pilots had turned and were looking at the two of them. She could feel the eyes of the agents burning into her. Sebastian’s tone, the words, the depth of his irritation, when he was normally so cool and controlled, broadcast to all who were present and listening that there was something going on between the two of them that wasn’t about finding her father, and it had nothing to do with protecting her.

The news coverage that she’d seen earlier in the morning had hailed him as a man who had built a company out of thin air into a leading, world-wide private security contracting force. She guessed that such unprofessional outbursts were rare for him. Like he’d said earlier, she got to him, and not in ways that were all good.

The shocked silence of the others that met his outburst confirmed what Sebastian said earlier, that he had crossed a line with her that was taboo within the company. As the silence became prolonged, the agents and pilots, thank God, started focusing on other tasks. One cleared his throat. Another coughed. Sebastian wouldn’t look at her. He stood, turned his back to her, and walked to the galley. In a low voice, presumably to Ragno, Skye heard him say, “I’m fine.” After a few seconds, he said, “Don’t worry. I can handle this.”

What Ragno and the other agents didn’t know was that whatever happened between them amounted to nothing, because that was all Sebastian was capable of delivering. Sebastian had been right about her. Deep down, somewhere about twenty feet below the fibs she delivered to men, when she assured them all she wanted was casual sex, she wanted more than casual dalliances. Whether she’d ever break out of the cycle of setting herself up for disappointment was an open question. In contrast, he was a lost cause, because he’d long ago given up on wanting anything more. Why she even cared, she had no idea.

Dear God. I’m going crazy.

Twenty minutes passed, as the agents and Sebastian worked and she fidgeted. She sat, she stood, and she paced the aisle. The jet was spacious, but not large enough to accommodate her restlessness. She sipped sparkling water and tried to eat a power bar, but almost choked on the tasteless fake chocolate and peanuts.

They should have news by now.

“Say that again.” Sebastian had been sitting. He stood. The other agents were all suddenly still and, for once, quiet. “Ragno, drop the other calls, but open your lines to my team. We all need to hear Zeus.” Now, his tone was abrupt and deadly serious, and, when she looked at him from her vantage point in the galley, near the cockpit, his eyes were on her. He cupped his ear with his left hand. “Zeus. Go.”

Sebastian pressed his lips together. His team tensed as they listened to words that she couldn’t hear, through their own earphones. The news wasn’t good. She knew it, even before he said anything. After long minutes, his eyes rested on her.

“Skye.”

She stood still, folded her arms, and braced herself. His eyes were sympathetic, the set of his jaw solid and grim. “I need you to sit down.”

Her heart pounded.
Oh God. Now what?
“What’s going on?” He walked down the aisle to her, gently took her by the forearm, and sat her in the seat that he’d been using. He sat directly across from her, in a seat that faced her.

“Just tell me.”

He sat on the very edge of his seat so that his knees were on either side of hers and leaned forward, getting closer to her, as he said, “Your caretakers have been killed.”

She shook her head, for the moment incapable of believing the truth of what he was saying. “No. No one knows that they’re associated with us. No one. Even you didn’t know.”

He nodded. “We’re guessing it happened in the last twelve hours. We’ll know more soon. Either whomever did this found the place on their own,” he paused, “or your father told them about it.”

“He wouldn’t, unless he was pushed to the breaking point, and that wouldn’t have come unless he believed Spring and I were in trouble. Or Jen. They must be using Jen against him.”

He frowned, not verbalizing his thoughts. His hands rested on her knees, as his somber seriousness told her he agreed with her assessment.

“Or he’s trying to give them what he wants. He’s giving them the backup, so they stop pursuing Spring and me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent them there. As far as he knew, Spring and I were going there. That’s where his message from yesterday morning was going to send us. Don’t you see, if he,” she drew a deep breath, and another, barely able to exhale, or pull fresh air into her lungs, “if he told them about the lake house, he was potentially leading them, whoever they are, to us. He gave them what they wanted to try to get them to stop hunting us. Do you know how desperate he must have been to do that?”

“We don’t know how they found the lake house. We just know they did. Where is the backup and the device on which you were to receive a message? Zeus will secure the items, if they’re still there.”

“What do you mean, if they’re still there?”

“The place has been ransacked.”

“I’ve got to go there. I’ve got to check.”

He reached for her hands and gripped them, calming her and keeping her still. He seemed to have abandoned the notion that he should keep a professional distance from her, as he pulled her closer, tightening his legs on hers and bending his head to her. They were both on the edge of their seats now, as close as they could be without her being on his lap. She reveled in his closeness, finding strength in his warmth, as he looked at her with a look of sympathy that told her he recognized her anguish. “I can’t let you go there.”

“I’ve got to see them – the house.”

Frustration and sympathy in his eyes combined into the intense look of someone who desperately wanted things to be different. “Listen to me. Their deaths were just as horrific as the deaths at the safe house. I don’t want you to see it. You will never be able to get it out of your mind. Please,” he said, drawing a deep breath, running his fingers across her forehead, pushing back hair that had fallen out of her hastily assembled ponytail. “Please trust me on this. There was an arsenal there that your caretakers didn’t get to use. Just like my men at the safe house and the marshals, your caretakers didn’t stand a chance. ”

His closeness felt right. As he gripped her hands, she realized that she needed his comfort. “I can handle it. I’ve got to go there.”

He shook his head. “I can’t sanitize it for you. I can’t cleanse the site until the marshals get there. Can you just, for once, take my word on something, without pressing for details?”

No. No she couldn’t. He should know that about her by now. “Tell me what happened to them.”

He drew a deep breath, as though weighing how much to tell her. “She was hung from a tree, cut repeatedly, and he was tied to the trunk. He was forced to watch whatever those cock-sucking sons of bitches did to her.”

The jet seemed to lurch forward, then sideways. She glanced out the window. No. It wasn’t moving at all. She was spinning, though, like a child’s top. Round and round and round. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to stop the sickening motion.

“Skye. Come on, honey.” He bent closer to her, now kneeling in the aisle, at her side, holding her close against him, whispering, “Stay with me. I need your help, okay? I know you’ve been through hell, but I’ll figure a way out of this. For you, for Spring, for your father.”

She nodded, leaned into him, breathing deeply as he closed his arms around her. He smelled like the outdoors, of forests, of musky, powerful male. She opened her eyes, and saw worry and yearning in his eyes. In his arms, she knew that as long as he held her, she had a chance at succeeding. She didn’t know how it would happen, but with the kind of certainty that came from being a female who had never felt complete until he held her, she knew she had to trust him. Completely.

“You’re the only person who can put a stop to this, you know that, right?” he said, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “Help us shut these people down and find your father.”

She gave a small nod.

“That’s it,” he said, still holding her close. “As much as I hate to do it, we have to at least let the marshals know how far we’ve gotten with this lead. Unless you want us to broadcast the real reason we were going there, we need to get your father’s backup off the island, and we need to do it now.”

Whatever emotion had been in his voice disappeared. In its place was the matter-of-fact certainty that came from a man who was confident that every thought he had was the right one. “Please cooperate. If your father’s backup is there, if he left a message for you, I don’t want the marshals to know this at the same time we do. So far, Zeus and his team have found three safes, and two lockboxes.” He paused, pressed his hand against his ear, but kept the other arm around her back. “And a hidden room behind the bar in the living room. In which there are three more wall safes. All were open when Zeus and his team arrived,” he paused, listening, but his eyes were on hers. “Contents are gone from all of them. Hell. The place is huge.” There was another pause as he listened. “Tell me where Zeus needs to look. Tell me where you’d have looked, if we had taken you there.” He paused. “And please, no games. Tell me. Honestly.”