Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (27 page)

Andy dared to get a little closer, checking over the bird. "This one's been shot?"

"No, no. Lead poisoning. Some hunters use lead bullets and leave poisoned carcasses
for other animals to scavenge and become sick. He should be better in a few days—one
of the lucky ones. How much longer do you think you'll need on the aviary? He could
use a larger area to get his strength back."

Inconspicuously, he took her hand. "Mmm. I've always loved it when you get riled up.
I could be done a lot quicker if you helped me. What are you feeding him?"

She smiled suggestively, tightened her bandana and set back to the feeding. "Ratscicle.
Let me finish up a few things. I can find some time in a little while, sure."

* * *

The sketch artist wasn't the only one Dave called in on the holiday. He eyed his assistant
who sat in his rickety guest chair. Dave pulled over a new whiteboard in front of
their current case board. "We might not have much time. He's likely on the run again."

"Who—"

"Shut up and take notes." Dave took out his marker and drew five vertical lines from
top to bottom. He labeled the columns: Description, Known Victims, Suspected Victims,
Known Facts/Patterns, Suspected Facts/Patterns, and Locations. "This is what we've
got: A man approximately five-foot-six; native language Espanola but can speak English
without an accent. He's between forty-five and sixty years old. Suspected to use several
aliases, one of which is Michael Rainer—"

"Rainer," his assistant interrupted. "I've read that name."

Dave looked up in question.

With raised hands, Nick explained, "I wasn't creeping, just have seen it on your desk.
Don't ask me to be your assistant if you don't want me to look through stuff you leave
in plain sight. From the looks of it, you've tried that case on and off for twenty
years. What's up?"

Conceding, Dave went on, "We have a... description. A sketch in an hour or so. A pattern.
Listen to this." Dave took the tape recorder from his top desk drawer. Gathered the
strength to listen to it again. "Then, we're making some calls to see which larger
cities over state lines have detectives working on the holiday."

* * *

"I want you to know that I fully expect to be announced as your favorite son." Duncan
worked with his uncle, anchoring two-by-fours to frame a volleyball court in the field
behind Nathan's home. With sweat beading along Duncan's lanky back, he eyed the two
truckloads of sand that waited to be spread.

The area was measured precisely to game regulation, of course. Nathan wouldn't have
it any other way, and Duncan wouldn't have his uncle any other way. As reluctant as
a younger Duncan had been about letting him in his life and his heart, Nathan slipped
seamlessly into the role of his deceased father. Never replacing him, Nathan made
sure that he and Andy remembered their parents. Duncan's father had been Nathan's
only brother. Photo albums were left out, home movies were watched and they visited
their graves each year on their wedding anniversary as well as their birthdays. And
the stories—Nathan could tell a story.

But Duncan didn't need the reminders. He appreciated them, yes, but his memory served
him well enough, too much some times.

He worked shirtless, exposing the tattoo he
hadn't
told his aunt about. Hardly stopping his work, he quickly pulled a band from his
pocket and tied his hair in a low tail, lifting it from the back of his neck in the
heat. The fresh smell of the wildflowers growing along the floodplain of Black Creek
wafted in the gentle breeze. He wouldn't trade these times.

Nathan handed him a towel. "Does your mother know about that one?" He gestured to
the tattoo.

"Why does everyone around here seem to be more fascinated with the art on my body
than on my canvases?"

Nathan lifted his brows while tilting his head. Together, they ran towels along their
necks as they watched the small children run through the warm creek with their parents.
Teenagers took turns with the two paddle boats Nathan had added to his collection
of large toys. The crowd was thin for now, yet promised to turn into one of the larger
Reed gatherings.

Picking up a shovel, Duncan spoke up, "I bought some land north of here. Andy agreed
to build me a house."

Nathan was bending to pick up his shovel but paused. Duncan noticed he closed his
eyes tightly before grabbing it. "Is that so?" Nathan dug the shovel into the load
of sand and tossed it toward the edges of the shallow wooden frame. "How much land?"

He smiled at his uncle's attempt to look casual and appreciated his warm, yet guarded
reaction. "Just under forty acres. What the hell am I going to do with forty acres?"
Bits of sand stuck to his skin as he helped spread it to the perimeter. "Do you really
think people are going to play sand volleyball in this heat?"

"Sure, since they'll have you to fill up their water guns after. Where exactly is
north of here?"

Duncan wondered how he ever got these jobs anyway. "Three miles from the outskirts
of town on the Eighty-Six."

"I know a wood working artist who might be interested in the cabinet and trim work."

Sighing, Duncan looked over his shoulder at him. "You have your own backlog of customer
orders, and I have plans for a very big house."

Nathan stopped and rested a hand on the end of the handle of his shovel. "You mean
Duncan Reed big? Let me at least oversee the work."

Duncan held out a dirty hand and they shook on it.

* * *

Securing the wired netting around the aviary was mindless work for Andy, and that
was a good thing, because his mind twisted with the last few days. He gladly ran the
changes through in his head. The beautiful woman holding the netting next to him was
an added bonus. He made efforts to respect her position here and keep to his work.
It took a lot of effort.

The smell of freshly sawn four-bys and the sound of the staple gun helped him focus.
Mostly.

Rose in her work mode left no room for play. Everything was serious, intense. Her
sleeves were pushed up, her brows were scrunched and her legs were braced. Mmm. Long,
lean legs. He knew they must be flexed and defined and... distractions.

He misplaced a staple, making the edge of the frame splinter. "Shit." He looked around.

"What do you need? I'll get it."

He couldn't keep from smiling. She wouldn't be off to get what
he
needed right now. "Got it." Reaching into his tool belt, he pulled out a chisel and
pried the staple from the wood as he noticed Rose's assistant coming out the back
of the main action center building. She carried two water bottles and a couple of
bars of some kind.

"Got your text, boss." She wore tight, white denim capris that showed off both her
female curves and the toffee color of her skin.

"Wow." Grace looked up at the enclosure. "Is it done?"

Rose took the water and bars from her.

"Nope. She's got a few more corners and hinges, then I've got some perches and a tree
to install." Andy stuck the chisel back in its pocket and reached in another for the
staple gun.

"You need anything else? If not, I'm going right back into the air conditioning and
back to that cute intern." She didn't leave without Andy noticing her suspicious glare.

"No, thank you." Rose shook her head. "That's all."

Yup. Curt, serious efficient, sexy, his. He finished the corner they'd started, allowing
Grace to disappear back into the main building.

He walked up to her and stood close, without touching, until she turned to him. "Mmm.
Peaches."

Rose blinked three times rapidly as her chest expanded and released a long sigh.

"I see it's break time. There's a private spot in that storage shed over there."

Rose lifted a brow high, then pursed her lips together. "I am the most upcoming doctor
of biology in the Northeast and a respected conservationist. I can't run off midday
for a piece of nookie."

Discreetly, he linked the tips of their fingers as they rested at their sides. "I
want my break."

Chapter 22

Rose chewed on the side of her cheek and thinned her lips. Andy stepped, barely brushing
against her, and whispered with lips close to her ear. "If we get caught, you can
kick my ass."

Casually, he picked up several scrap pieces of wood and some random tools, placed
them in a wheelbarrow and headed for the shed.

The wheelbarrows-as-props barely fit as he wedged a board through the inside handles
of the metal doors.

Rose warned him. "Keep your voice down. What if someone hears us?"

He smiled wide and jutted his chin back. "You're the noisy one." The blue of her eyes
lit in the beams of light that crept through small seams in the walls.

"Your hands," she purred as she took one and guided it to her, then molded hers around
it.

He took, grabbing possessively, and slid his other hand behind her knee, pulling her
leg around his back. In the dark, her head fell against him as she hung on behind
him with her leg. Her warm lips traveled along his neck and over his collarbone.

She balanced using her lifted knee while grappling under his shirt. They rotated.
Something fell over, broke. He traveled his mouth along her silky neck and down her
chest, unbuttoning her shirt and letting his lips follow the release of each. She
tasted as good as she smelled. Her flesh was as soft as her lips. Flipping the front
latch, the material caught. He expelled a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been
holding. Pulling back just enough as his eyes adjusted in the dark, he spread the
material, exploring her flawless skin in the dim light. He grabbed hold possessively,
circled then pulled just enough to feel her quake.

Andy's exploring lips and invading hands covered her, giving her little time to think,
let alone keep any kind of professional composure. She let her leg slide down his
side to the ground as he released the button and zipper of her slacks letting them
pool around her feet. His hand plunged into lace and over warmth.

The sensations of want and need—being wanted, being needed—overwhelmed and took control.
He cupped his hand, assaulting, pressing. She felt the first wave of heat radiating
from low in her body. He must have known because he covered her with hands and lips.
Her forehead dug into his shoulder and moved back and forth. Shaking, she held on
to him.

In a low voice, he turned his head toward her ear. "You're making me crazy."

Her smile turned sly. She knew she had him completely vulnerable and stared intently,
watching as she opened his jeans and led him painfully slow.

Her legs wavered, but he held her up as they moved together. She kept her gaze locked
with those caramel brown eyes that held so much of her in them. She began to tighten,
felt him shake and watched his eyes turn glassy.

This was theirs. She matched Andy as they went over together, a layer of sheen giving
smooth movement between them. Her mind spun; her body electrified. She felt him hold
onto her hips with urgency. The ride down was slow and long.

They stood together, content and as close as possible, joined.

"You've still never said it."

Was that true? Her smile was slight when she opened her eyes to him. Sincere. The
beams of sunlight were enough to faintly see the ring of slate blue around the light
brown of his eyes. "You take my breath away, Andy. I love you," she said and kissed
one of his eyelids. "I love you." She kissed the other. "I love you." Taking his mouth,
she locked her feet together behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking
deep into the moment.

* * *

Sunburns ignored, children dragged themselves from Black Creek and teenagers from
volleyball to take up water guns and balloons. Those brave enough to go shoeless walked
like they were on hot coals over the dry and brittle grass from the field, then straightened
as soon as they reached the barefoot grass of Duncan's aunt and uncle's property.

Duncan reclined on a padded, cast iron chair near the hose spigot. He wasn't so occupied
with his role of passing out and filling water guns and balloons that he didn't notice
the two people still missing from the Fourth of July festivities were Andy and Rose.