Echoes in the Wind (9 page)

He commanded himself not to be so farfetched and fell onto his bed, sick of his over-analysis of a woman he most positively didn’t plan to see again. Palms pressed against his eye sockets, he realized no physical replacement would suffice tonight. So for now, he’d forget the idea of calling someone else. He grabbed the covers bringing them to his neck and closed his eyes. He tossed and turned for a short time, then fatigue overcame him.

A soft noise made him jerk his head up. Did he dream the knock or was someone tapping on his bedroom door?

The rap occurred again. “Eric?” Blaine called quietly.

Eric fell back against the pillows as he answered a tired, “Come in.”

Blaine rushed inside and stood motionless in the middle of the room almost as if he was lost. Eric rose to his elbows not needing to ask if something else happened. Even in the dim light, his partner’s skin appeared pallid. Visibly shaken to the point of looking ill.

A dark premonition overcame Eric. This bombshell Blaine was about to drop would have a permanent effect over the rest of their lives and they’d never be the same.

Chapter 8

“Stephanie.” Darla hurried inside barely shutting the back door before she remembered a killer may be lurking within the neighborhood. Backtracking, she rushed to the door and twisted the lock. After she was sure everything was secure, she sped through the house, stopping long enough to toss Shane’s jacket across the sofa, and then onto the spare bedroom to where her friend slept.

Stephanie had decided to stay the night instead of driving home in the middle of the thunderstorm, and she was surely asleep by now. But it was necessary to rouse her to update her on this newest event while fresh in Darla’s mind. Besides, Stephanie would yank every strand of hair out of her head if she waited until morning to deliver this news. Plus, she needed to talk about it.

She knocked on the door and opened it, surprised to find the light on and Stephanie leaning against a stack of pillows studying her phone. She tore her eyes away from the device as Darla entered the room. “You’re still up? You went to bed a long time ago.”

Darla nodded. “I couldn’t sleep, so I stepped outdoors to get some air.”

She eyed Darla and frowned. “Do you think it’s such a good idea to be outside alone at night after what happened several houses away, just a few hours ago? Especially when we believe the guy may live close by.”

“I’m aware. But as you stated earlier, we’re nobodies within that circle. I doubt the assassin possesses a guest list nor would he care who was there.” She strayed closer to the bed. “After I gave the situation some thought, I tend to agree with Eric. Drake was a target and someone hired the killer to do the job. I’m not familiar with the profession, but from stories I’ve read a trained assassin’s goal is to go unnoticed. Blend in, so no one can identify them. Why wouldn’t he behave like a normal person and live in our neighborhood? Though this guy wore a space suit, which hardly fits the obscure description.”

“True. But even in costume, he managed to cover his tracks well. He was capable of killing someone and slip in and out of a house full of people without anyone able to describe him. Perhaps he’s an introverted exhibitionist kind of killer.”

“Whatever he is, he got the job done.”

Stephanie’s cell beeped. She looked down at the screen and smiled.

Darla’s brows dipped as she watched her friend. “You’re still on your phone at this time of night? Or morning. Are you addicted to the thing?”

She chuckled, and glanced at Darla. “No. I’ve been talking to Blaine. Texting actually. Or we were. He had to take a phone call a while ago. Now I’m rereading our conversations.”

Darla clenched her jaw while Stephanie clicked away on the miniature keyboard. Envy welled in her chest. She wished Eric had been interested enough to ask for her number. It’d be nice to be texting sweet nothings instead of enduring his carefree triviality.

Stephanie sat back and motioned at the small screen. “We were talking about getting together tomorrow.” She giggled again. “Go out to dinner and do something after.”

“How wonderful, Steph. I’m glad the number exchange is a success.”

Darla lay across the end of the bed and played with a loose thread on the comforter. She shifted to her butt, unable to get comfortable.

Stephanie’s gaze returned to phone. “We both love Polynesian food. Can you believe that?”

“You’re like the same person.”

Steph leaned forward and made a soft “hmmm” noise.

“That sounds promising. What’s the discussion you’re reviewing now? Names of your children?”

“No. Actually, I’m online checking Raging Impulse’s website. The person who keeps the page maintained does regular updates.”

“Any more news about Drake’s death or their fugitive manager?”

“Nothing on either, other than what we already know. Although the author does give a rundown of all of the members, past and present. I didn’t realize they’d been together for so many years.” She held out the cell. “You want a peek? The site has some interesting info on Eric’s background.”

“I’m sure it does, but I’ll check it out tomorrow. Maybe. I think I need to get past wanting to know anything about him.”

Darla rolled her shoulders and skimmed her tongue across her lips. She needed to reveal to her friend about Eric and their kiss. Several times she’d tried to say the words, except they caught in her throat. She couldn’t understand why informing Stephanie was difficult. This entire situation knocked her to the ground and she didn’t know what to do with these feelings. She craved her friend’s dose of commonsense and rationality so she could move on.

“Something else happened. Here tonight.”

Stephanie’s attention refocused to Darla. She gave her a worried stare. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Yeah, I’ve shaken me up a little too.” She paused. “It’s like I’ve always thought of myself as a together person and—I don’t know.”

“Tell me everything.” Stephanie gave Darla a meaningful look. “Whatever it is, I’ll support you. I may rip your hair out for doing something stupid, but I’ll be there for you in the end.”

Darla gasped and shook her head violently. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

“Then what?”

“Eric Boyd. He showed up. Here.”

Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Eric stopped by to see you? When?”

“More like passing the house.”

The memory of Eric’s kiss scorched her lips. She reached for an errant curl to wind the lock though her fingers as she dealt with another upsurge of sensations she had no clue how to deal with. A stitch of dread escalated over the mere idea of explaining the situation.

She giggled nervously. “He walked by when I was outside.”

Stephanie blinked several times and stared. “So he passed your place. Why is that weird? He lives a few houses down.”

“He stopped.”

“Well, you did just meet. It’s only polite. Are you tense around him?”

Darla expelled a long flow of air. “Yeah, I’m jittery whenever he’s near. And I think he’s aware of what he does to me.”

“Okay, so what’d he do to make you feel that way?”

“He seemed a bit agitated.” Darla’s tone elevated.

“Start from the beginning. Tell me the whole story.”

Darla inhaled and explained the entire event, but stopped before the kiss.

“He sounds upset, but that would make sense. He’s gone through a lot tonight.” She hesitated for a moment. “Did he think you have something going on with this Shane person? Romantically?”

Darla took the edge of the comforter, drew it over her legs, and uneasily smoothed the cover across her lap with both hands. “I wondered that too.”

“Maybe he was jealous.” Stephanie sounded mystified. “Are you sure nothing went on between the two of you?”

“Shane and me?”

“No dummy. You and Eric.”

“I think I’d know if something happened with us.”

Stephanie gave her a doubtful look.

“Okay, in some situations I wouldn’t, but this time I do.” She stopped glanced downward before she raised her eyes and gazed at Stephanie. “He kissed me.” Heat prickled across her skin just from saying the words out loud.

Stephanie’s face brightened as she sat up straighter. “Eric Boyd kissed you?”

Darla nodded.

She pointed a finger at Darla. “You tell me everything, and you tell me now.”

“This is so unfair,” Stephanie cried when Darla finished her story. “You got to kiss Eric.”

“Not in a romantic way or from some deep feelings he has for me. This stemmed from something else, Steph.”

“So you’re saying the kiss wasn’t any good?”

Darla opened her mouth to protest, but her vocal cords stiffened. She sighed, almost defeated. “No. Truthfully, even unexplainably, he was amazing. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Stephanie waved a hand in front of her. “There you go. You wanted to leave the party the minute I suggested you meet the guy. You almost ran out of the house. Then you dump your wine on him and he walks you home. He comes back in the middle of the night and gives you a wonderful kiss.”

“His behavior was probably rooted from some strange—phenomenon. Possibly the storm or the violent death of a friend caused him to act irrationally. Or maybe the incident stemmed from pointless male competition with Shane. Who knows?”

Stephanie barked a laugh, although it held no humor. She blinked hard at Darla. “I had a drink with Blaine and his former band mate made such an ass of himself, we barely exchanged names much less anything else. I walked here by myself, through a frickin’ thunderstorm. I didn’t even get a handshake out of the deal and you’re complaining about a wonderful kiss?”

“Stephanie. You and Blaine are texting and are planning an evening. I’m sure you’ll get a lot more than a mocking kiss. Come on. Eric kissed me because he was only trying to establish territory. The whole thing could have been much better.” Darla released a huff.

“Like you said, he’s from a different world, but that isn’t a factor.”

“Now what are you talking about?”

“Karma. Fate, chance whatever. I don’t believe in coincidences, Darla. You fought meeting Eric Boyd, yet somehow it happened.” Her voice quieted. “The guy entered your life for a reason.”

“Now you sound like my mother with her beliefs in crazy hocus-pocus stuff.”

“Think what you want, but your interactions with Mr. Eric Boyd are far from over.”

Darla made a face as she shook her head. “I guarantee we’re done.”

An unexpected tingle surged over her spine. She didn’t understand if the sensation was a foreshadow of Stephanie’s prediction or a rush of disappointment of never seeing Eric again.

“When we met earlier, Shane told me of Eric’s interest, but he also warned me that Eric was only a one night kind of guy. He won’t hang around for an encore where women are concerned.”

“Okaaay.” Stephanie’s fingers clicked at her cell. “Take things at face value. You’ve been warned. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t change or won’t change. And even if what Shane says is true, then be glad you got a real kiss from a hunky star. How many women get to do that in their lifetime?”

Darla yawned. “I suppose.” She pushed the covers back, scooted off the bed, and straightened the edge. “I don’t want to think about him anymore. I am so tired,” she grumbled. “I bet I won’t rest though, thanks to Mr. Boyd.” She glanced at Stephanie and almost smiled. “I believe I’m beginning to dislike men.”

Stephanie laughed. “Sometimes I do too. I think I’m writing off sleeping tonight and catching my z’s after the sun comes up.”

“You do whatever.” Darla moved to leave. “I’m going to bed and try to sleep.”

She’d barely left the room when Stephanie whispered a breathy, “Oh my.”

A sudden shock of fear swept through her. She cracked the door and peeked inside. From across the way, she met Stephanie’s gaze.

“This is so awful.”

Darla inhaled deep, clutching the jam. “Did they find the manager? Is he behind Drake’s death?”

Stephanie shook her head. “I just received a text from Blaine. Another of Raging Impulse’s members was shot.”

Her heart clenched, her immediate thoughts leaped to Eric. What if something happened to him? She couldn’t accept the idea of him being gone.

“Mitchell Young was discovered with a bullet wound in his head,” Stephanie whispered, her expression terrified. “The good news is, though, he’s still alive.”

A mental relief rushed through Darla, and then almost immediately guilt swallowed her. She shouldn’t focus her worries on Eric. Instead, she should be remorseful for their family. First Drake was dead and now Mitchell was injured.

“Does he say what happened?

Stephanie lifted her phone to read. “Sorry, I won’t be able to continue our conversation tonight. Just got the worst news as if anything else could be more awful than what’s already occurred tonight. Mitchell Young, Raging Impulse’s drummer, was found shot behind the ear at his house. The doctors haven’t released a lot of information except he is still alive, though barely. Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Stephanie dropped her arm to her lap. “This is too strange. But I believe there’s something to what you were saying earlier. These occurrences have to be the work of an expert gunman, though I wonder why anyone would do this.”

“I don’t understand either.” Darla turned her gaze to her friend. “But I do have one fear.”

“Which is?”

“The band is being targeted. Someone is trying to eliminate the entire group. Maybe we need to stay away from them.”

Chapter 9

Eric grazed the tips his fingers over his forehead as he studied the computer screen. Brows drawn together, he looked away from the monitor to scan the mounds of legal documents strewn across the dining table. He selected a particular page to study, his eyes seesawing between the paper and the display.

“Find anything?”

He jerked his chin as Blaine entered the room. He gave his head a solid shake and flipped the sheet onto a pile, prompting pieces to scatter then float to the floor.

“My mind is numb from going through all this shit.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “These contracts are worded in a confusing way. I can’t make out what most of this crap means.”