Gwen reached down and moved the bird a few feet away. “Two dead birds in as many weeks. I guess it could happen.”
“That’s sick.”
“C’mon. Let’s go home.”
That night they locked all the doors and checked all the windows…twice.
The news of Michael and Karen’s wedding was everywhere by Friday evening. The media followed them to New York and reported them leaving via private jet, compliments of Lord and Lady Harrison, to take them to France.
Samantha insisted on lending them the plane. A flight to France for a honeymoon was a simple token for the newlyweds.
By Sunday evening, the media that had been attempting to get information from Gwen had left the neighborhood. There had been three phone calls over the past thirty-six hours. One from Eliza “checking in” and Samantha called to see if Gwen “needed anything.”
And then there was her mother.
“You should return to Albany.”
“That isn’t going to happen, Mum.”
Linda had always been very proper and direct. “You’re not equipped to live alone, Gwendolyn. Blake and Samantha aren’t even there.”
“Mother, please. I’m not a child.” Lord, Neil must be loving this conversation. That was of course if he was listening. Gwen glanced at the video monitor and rolled her eyes.
“What if I told you I was lonely?”
“I’d suggest you find a lover.” That ought to quiet mother.
“Gwen!”
“What?”
“One does not simply find a lover.”
Gwen laughed. “You’re right. One chooses a lover.”
Linda paused on the line. “Is that what you’ve done? Is there a man in your life?”
“If I told you there was would you leave me alone?”
“I’d insist on meeting him,” Linda said.
“In that case I won’t tell you.”
“You were never this difficult when you lived here.”
No. She was always perfect…the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. Perhaps that was what attracted her to Neil. He wasn’t perfect. His edges were hard, rough, and complex.
“Gwendolyn? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Exactly where I plan on staying.”
“Oh, very well. But be prepared for a proper amount of guilt when I see you in Aruba.”
Gwen laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. Love you.”
“I love you too, dear.”
Gwen smiled as she hung up the phone.
Neil turned the Taser over in his hands. Damn thing was pink.
He felt a genuine smile on his lips when he looked at the thing. Only Gwen would carry a pink Taser. At first he thought, Hell no…I’m not buying a pink weapon.
But it was for Gwen, his little blonde fireball that held a gun with purpose and pride. His? He really needed to get her out of his mind as his.
His phone rang, removing pink Tasers and Gwen from his mind.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Mac.”
“Rick.”
“Looks like Mickey is back to his day job.”
“Confirmed?”
“Shit, Mac. You know that’s impossible. When you’re in deep, no one knows crap.”
Neil remembered. Their last assignment was cloaked so dark he and his men didn’t know what there were doing until they were in the air. There were no official orders, no files. What happened in Afghanistan didn’t happen. Not officially anyway.
The deaths of his crew were “training accident f**kups.”
“I’d feel better knowing where he was.”
“You and me both, buddy.”
“Where you headed now?”
“Billy’s.”
“It could be a trap.” He should go with him.
“I don’t have a wife, Mac. My family thinks I’m crazy and stays away as it is. There’s no emotional garbage this asswipe can use against me.”
Neil rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin.
“I could use some backup, man.”
Neil glanced at the Taser in his hand. Maybe it was time to move on. “I need to secure a few things first.”
Rick blew out an excited whistle. “Hot damn. I knew I could count on you.”
“Where are you now?”
“Washington State. Let’s hook up in Colorado in four days. That give you enough time?”
He looked around the empty walls of what he called home. “Yeah.”
“Rock and roll. It’ll be like old times.”
Neil thought of the ones who didn’t make it home. Let’s hope not.
As much as Neil wanted to leave the acting to the man Karen had just married, he needed to step up and put an end to any romantic ideas Gwen had about him. He was going to play with her mind and break anything that might have been between them.
He had to.
His conversation with Smiley reminded him why men like Neil didn’t have normal lives. Look what love cost Billy.
Two hundred Taliban soldiers armed to their teeth, willing to blow themselves up for their cause didn’t take Billy out…but add a woman to the mix, and his friend was dead.
The chances of finding Billy’s wife alive were less than zero.
Being responsible for his own life Neil could live with.
Not Gwen’s.
Neil worked his way to the back of the estate and let himself in the kitchen. Mary sat at the kitchen table with newspapers and glue everywhere.
“What are you doing?”
“Not cooking. I can tell you that.”
The newspaper clippings were pictures of Karen and Michael from every tabloid in LA. He noticed one of Karen and Gwen eating in an outside café.
“It’s a scrapbook for Karen. Can you tell I’m bored?”
Mary was a good woman.
“Women like these things,” Neil told her.
Mary picked up a paper and looked at the one below. “Yeah, they do.”
Gwen was art at the end of a camera lens, Neil thought.
He looked closer.
The girls were standing beside Gwen’s car. Gwen had something black in her hand.
Neil grabbed the paper.
“Hey, you’ll mess up my system,” Mary scolded.
He read the caption bellow the photo. Lady Gwen isn’t as fragile as she looks as she clears a dead crow from Karen Jones’s path.
Every muscle in Neil’s body tightened. He twisted the paper in his hands. The article had been written a week ago.
“Jesus.” Dead crows…Ravens. Rick’s words filtered in his head. They found a dead raven shoved inside Billy’s coat.