Obsidian (19 page)

He reached over, choking the engine and pulling the handle a few times. The generator gave a wizened cough and sputtered. He gave it a few more tries before it roared to life with a moaning hesitation. It wasn’t much, but it would give them some much-needed light.

The image of her floated into his mind, the way the firelight played against her skin and how soft her touch had been. But Shelby wasn’t the type that would be happy with a man who was always moving and she wouldn’t be happy with just a casual affair. She was a forever kind of woman, the kind he’d always avoided. Until now.

He was only certain of one thing about Shelby at this point. She was no longer a suspect and it wasn’t because she’d kissed him. It was clear that whoever had been shooting at them today hadn’t considered her a friend. They wanted them both out of Chandler. She was one person off his list of suspects. The only problem was that he still had a long list of other people and he didn’t have a clue as to how the ammunition fit into it all.

Shelby reached a hand into the dresser drawer and her fingers brush against a soft, terry fabric. She pulled it out and held it to the almost nonexistent light coming through the window.

Outside the storm appeared to have stalled above them. The wind and rain swirled about the house as if it were in the vortex of the storm with no calming eye, only chaos. Lightning flashed through the lace curtains and she saw that she held a pair of elastic cuffed pants. She laid them over her arm and opened another drawer. This time she pulled out a worn denim shirt. The soft fabric was like a welcoming blanket.

Slipping on the shirt and pants, she reveled in the warmth they offered. She rummaged around again until she found a pair of cotton socks and she pulled them on, wriggling her toes as warmth seeping into her bones, replacing the cold and wet.

She’d kissed Jamie. It wasn’t her way to be bold. She was steady and reliable and always did the right thing. She couldn’t remember ever having initiated a kiss in her life. But then, she’d never had a kiss quite like the one they’d shared. Her attraction to Jamie was bigger than anything she’d ever experienced. Maybe she’d just been alone too long. Maybe her soul was telling her it was time to take a chance again. But was he the right one to take a chance with?

Jamie was an unknown. Everything about the man was a mystery. This house spoke of old money and heritage, and yet, she’d labeled him a drifter and a wanderer. For some reason, he had a past that he was running from and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one to uncover his secrets.

She was just about to head out of the bedroom when she heard the whining of the generator powering up. Out of curiosity, she put a hand to the light switch by the door and flipped it on, illuminating the room. Outside the storm still raged, but from the dim light of the antique fixtures she could see that the years of love and attention had made this place a wonderful home. The master suite was small with barely enough room for the large brass bed, dresser and an armoire. But she could see why the room was so special. It was like stepping into the past.

The walls were decorated with large pink cabbage roses and a white chenille bedspread covered the high bed with matching fringe on the pillow shams. It had a cottage feel to it, not at all the posh summer home she’d expect.

She was just about to shut out the light and make her way downstairs when the photos covering the dresser top caught her attention.

Shelby picked up the smallest one, holding it up to the light. Two young boys stood together near the water, their arms draped around each other and their faces alight with an infectious grin. The older boy had blond hair and freckles. His skinny knees poked out from beneath baggy shorts. The younger of the two was darker. He stood straighter, stiffer, staring into the camera lens. His gaze was more piercing, his smile brighter. It had to be Jamie. Even as a child Jamie had been dark and intense. But who was the other boy?

Her gaze traveled onward to the most ornate of the frames. The guilt edges and intricate Victorian design were a perfect setting for the hand colored wedding portrait. The bride was dressed in fanciful lace that brushed the edges of her swan-like neck as she gazed upward at the man next to her. The groom was as dark as she was pale. His eyes were the same dark intense color, his nose the same aquiline shape as the man downstairs. This could only be his mother and father. It was easy to see where Jamie got his good looks.

She set the picture down and looked at the last frame. It was taller than the rest, hidden by the other
s
. She was about to pass it over when something made her stop and look closer. She pulled it out staring at the photo of Jamie. Here was the same intense, half-smiling, half-knowing look she’d become familiar with. Only this time his worn jeans and fitted shirts had been replaced with a uniform. A United States Coast Guard uniform.

“We’ve got another problem.” Caruso said. There was silence on the other end for a long moment. The storm made the line crackle and hum until it was almost drowned out by the roar of the wind outside.

“What do you mean another problem? I thought I told you to take care of it?” The old man's voice carried through the line.

“We've lost part of the shipment. We were only able to recover two of the boxes. The third one disappeared.” Caruso winced at the sharp curse that came across the line. They had screwed up this time. But then it wasn’t their fault.

“How the hell did you let that happen?”

Caruso cringed as another gust of wind reverberated across the phone line. He didn't know which was worse, waiting for hell to break loose or trying to explain to the old man how they’d screwed up.

“We’ve got a hurricane going on up here, damn it. We aren’t in a position to be able to go looking for the other box. With the storm surge that package could be anywhere from here to Cape Cod and we’d end up drowned while looking for it.”

“I don’t care,” the boss said and Caruso believed him. “I want you to find that last box. It’s my butt on the line here. I’m the one they’re going to come to looking for answers if this whole thing blows up. I can’t risk a mistake. I won’t tolerate it. I want you to find the package now.”

Caruso hesitated for a moment, gauging his words. What he had to say wasn’t going to help their situation. The old man was an idiot. He wasn’t about to risk his neck searching for something that was most likely sunk to the bottom of the ocean. If his own neck weren’t on the line, he’d have told him where to put the box.

“I think we should pull out now. We have enough. Things are getting too involved here.”

“What do you mean ‘too involved’? I’m counting on you to handle this with discretion. I can’t risk anyone uncovering this operation.”

“I'm saying that I think we should cut our losses and pull out of here. People are starting to get suspicious. We had a problem with one of the locals that we had to take care of tonight.”

“Was it Rivard?”

“No, it was a woman who was watching us.” There was a not-so-muffled curse on the other end of the line.

“I asked you to do something simple. Rivard shouldn’t have been that hard to handle, but you couldn’t even do that without messing up. I want Rivard out of the picture and I want it done now. Can you do that?” Anger permeated the phone line.

Caruso sighed. He was going to have to tell him sooner or later. “Rivard disappeared and he took that Teague woman with him. We lost track of them at the old woman’s house.”

The old man let out another string of curses. “You’re both idiots. I’m going to have to pull my contact out and let them know that there won’t be any more shipments. They’re not going to be happy about this and these are not people that you want to make mad.”

“Do you still want us to go after Rivard? Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was find a safe place to hunker down until the storm was over.

There was rustle of paper on the other end of the line. “Here it is. I knew this would come in handy. He’s got to be there.”

Caruso was as confused as ever. “You know where Rivard is?”

“I know better than you do where he is and I’m not even there. Go look for him at a place called Ledgeview. It’s his family’s home on Crater Point. If Rivard’s looking for a place to hide out then he’s probably gone there.”

There was another moment of silence. “I’m expecting this to be done right this time. If you can’t handle it, then I’m going to have to come up there and handle it myself.”

The line went dead.

Her sock covered feet made almost no sound on the smooth wood as she made her way down the stairs. Jamie was perched on the wide flagstone hearth, pitching pieces of the dry wood into the fire.

“I see you found something to put on.”

Shelby nodded, but didn't say anything as she made her way toward the warmth coming from the fireplace.

“I left the lights off. I don’t know how long the storm will last or the generator will keep running, but it’s best to conserve the power as much as we can.” Firelight glinted off his bare chest. His dark hair was almost dry now, curling wildly about his neck.

“Are you hungry? I found some candy bars in my bag. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to get us by for a while.” He reached out a hand to pass her a candy bar and she stared at it a moment before taking it.

“You’re prepared for anything, aren’t you?” she said.

“Well, I try.” He unwrapped the candy bar and bit into it, before setting it aside. “I’ve got a sweet-tooth. Aren’t you hungry?” he said, motioning at the unwrapped candy bar she held.

Shelby shook her head. “I'm fine. I guess I’m just a bit confused at the moment.”

The last few days had rushed by in a blur and suddenly she realized that she was stranded in a house with a man she barely knew. Someone who was other than what he’d led her to believe. She was feeling betrayed. For the first time in ages she’d put herself out, letting someone get close. Even daring to take a step toward intimacy, and it was all based on a deception.

She looked at the handgun he’d set on the side table. The holster was soft leather, worn with use. Jamie Rivard had a past he was determined to conceal. Things were beginning to make sense to her. Things she’d never thought to question before. Now, she understood how he’d been able to take command of the situation when her brother had turned up missing. He’d known exactly what to do while she’d been paralyzed by fear because that was what he was trained to do.

But questions remained. Was he still in the Coast Guard? And if so, then what was he doing in Chandler pretending to be a drifter without a past?

Jamie got to his feet. “Why don’t I see if I can scrounge up something to drink?”

He retreated into the darkness and she moved to the bookcases lining the wall near the stairs. There was everything from first editions to paperback romances stuffed within the shelves. Here and there, someone had placed a shell or a piece of driftwood, sentimental reminders of a day outing or some memory they wished to cherish.

She felt, rather than heard, him return. She turned to find that he’d stopped just a few steps behind her, watching her.

“This is quite an impressive collection.” She picked up a first edition Hemingway and fingered the binding. Placing it back on the shelf, she moved onto the next bookcase. Again, there were a hodgepodge of interests, books about Maine, books on gardening and several on sailing. There were even a few about Law. She picked up one of the leather bound volumes and looked at the cover. It was written by Theodosius Rivard.

“It's one of my father’s books. He’s a judge in New Orleans, a real old time lawyer. When I was a little boy we’d come for a couple of months during the summer and he used to write non-stop, when he wasn't sailing.”

“You must have loved coming here. It's a wonderful house.” She moved on down the length of the bookcase, trailing a finger along the shelves until she came to one that was filled with seashells and sea glass.

“What is this?” She picked up a small, round stone from the shelf. The smooth, black object was cool beneath her fingertips.

“It’s obsidian. My father brought it back to me from Hawaii.”

“Obsidian? I’ve never heard of it.” He took the paperweight from her and held it up to the light from the fireplace. A smile curved at his lips, but it held a hint of regret.

His voice was rough, lending a graveled edge to his southern lilt. “I’d forgotten about this.”

“I loved rocks when I was a kid. I read everything I could get my hands on about them and how they’re formed.” He smiled. “This kind is formed when hot lava cools fast. It leaves behind a deep black stone.” He let out a soft chuckle. “But this was extra special to me because of my father. I carried it around for weeks, after he brought it home. I was sure it was magical and it would enable me with mystical powers that would somehow turn me into a true hero, like some knight of the round table.”

“You must miss your father very much. It’s so hard when you lose someone you are so close to.”

Jamie stiffened, the smile disappearing from his face. She’d gone too far, overstepping an invisible boundary that Jamie kept. She suddenly realized that in the time they had been together he’d barely mentioned his family.

“My father is still alive.” His voice held a quiet edge. “He and my mother live in New Orleans.” He looked down at the rock, but she knew he wasn’t actually seeing it. “I talk with my mother once and awhile on the phone, but I haven’t seen them for quite some time.”