BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn (3 page)

14

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

Even with the windshield wipers on high, he could barely see the aisles between the rows of cars. If he hadn’t known exactly where he was going, he might have bumped into something. As it was, he was able to judge his whereabouts by the flashes of lightning gleaming on the parked cars he rolled slowly past and found Bronwyn McGregor’s navy blue sedan with little problem. He parked behind her and slightly to the left of her driver’s door, leaving plenty of room so he could open his door to usher her inside his car.

Not averse to getting out in the slashing rain, he made sure the passenger-side door was unlocked then exited the sports car. By the time he reached her side of the sedan, he was soaked to the skin. Lifting his hand to tap on her window, he thought he saw the shadow of someone sitting in the car with her but when he called out, the shadow melted away.

“Bronwyn?” he called again, this time louder.

Bronwyn flinched, looking at the watery figure standing at her door. She turned her key in the ignition so she could lower her window. Rain splashed through the opening as it lowered.

“Hi!” the soaking-wet man said, leaning toward her. “I’ve come to bring you to your mom.”

Bronwyn wiped away the water stinging her face. “I can’t leave my dog. She’s afraid of the storm,” she said, licking at the moisture on her lips.

“Bring her along. I wouldn’t think of leaving her.”

Bronwyn gave the stranger a grateful smile. She twisted in the seat to retrieve her purse from the backseat. “Can you take this?” she asked, thrusting the large shoulder bag toward him.

“I don’t know. It really doesn’t go with my outfit.”

A sharp shriek of lightning rent the air. Bronwyn screamed, dropping her pocketbook through the window as she covered her head with her arms.

Sage felt the woman’s absolute terror and made no effort to pick up her bag. He snatched open the car door, thrust his arms under her knees and behind her back, and lifted her from the vehicle. “Come on!” he commanded the fat bundle of fur crouched against her mistress’s leg.

The dog didn’t appear to need to be ordered again. She bounded from the car, following as close to Sage’s heels as space would permit. She whimpered as he stood Bronwyn on the pavement, yanked open his car door and ushered his charge inside.

Before he could shut the door, the dog leapt into Bronwyn’s lap and trembled.

Sage ran back to Bronwyn’s car, rolling up the window before shutting her door and picked up her pocketbook. He cursed when he realized some of its contents had spilled on the wet pavement. Scooping up what items he saw, he jammed them into the bag and sprinted back to his car.

15

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

* * * * *

As the black sports car rolled carefully back into the underground parking garage, a hand snaked under Bronwyn’s car to retrieve her wallet, lying behind the driver’s side rear wheel. Wet fingers unsnapped the leather wallet and folded back the top section to reveal the recent driver’s license.

While thunder shook the ground and brilliant flashes of light scrawled childlike across the firmament, Bronwyn McGregor’s driver’s license was slipped from its plastic casing before the wallet was placed once more beneath the car.

* * * * *

“Good Lord, you are soaked through!” Deirdre exclaimed as Bronwyn ambled into Sage’s office.

She laughed. “You think?”

“She said she needed a bath anyway,” Sage observed.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” his father snapped.

“Ah, if you’ll notice, this is where I’m supposed to be,” Sage said dryly. “This is my office, I believe.”

Neal Hesar ignored him. “I am Neal Hesar, this lout’s father. Do you remember me from Albany?”

“Yes, sir,” Bronwyn admitted. “Vaguely, though.”

“I hope we’ll get to know one another quite well.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to Baybridge and Wynth Industries. We are so pleased you decided to take the job.”

Bronwyn wiped her wet hand down her equally wet suit jacket then took his hand.

“I’m happy to be here, although I swear I didn’t bring this weather with me.” She grinned. “When I left Florida, it was sunny and bright.”

“If you don’t like our weather, just wait a few minutes and it’ll change,” Sage advised.

“Don’t pay any attention to my poggleheaded son. His mother dropped him early on and he hasn’t been right since.”

“Mom said
you
dropped me. Wish you two would get your stories straight.”

After casting his son an annoyed look, Neal looked at Deirdre. “I’m sure Bronwyn would like to get out of those wet things, DeeDee. Why don’t Smart Mouth and I leave you two to chat?” He caught sight of Brownie and blinked. “Is this the lovely Schnoodle?”

Bronwyn laughed. “That’s Brown Stuff. Ask me how she got her name.”

“Bronwyn Fiona!” her mother groaned, her face turning red.

“Glad to see I ain’t the only one who makes ye olde parental units blush,” Sage whispered to Bronwyn.

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BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

“Brownie for short, though, eh?” Neal asked with a twitch of his lips. He squatted and gave the dog a gentle pat. “My, but you are a precious little thing.”

“The Terminator will love her,” Sage said.

Bronwyn frowned. “Terminator?”

Deirdre sighed. “That’s what Neal named my Chihuahua.”

“Her jealous suitor,” Sage corrected. “The blasted little booger chewed up a pair of Dad’s best loafers.” His black eyes twinkled. “He shouldn’t have left them under DeeDee’s bed—”

“Out!” Neal said, shoving his son toward the door. He sent Sage staggering into the hallway then firmly shut the door behind them.

Deirdre put her hand over her mouth and turned away, her face infused with color.

“Is there something I need to know, Mom?” Bronwyn inquired.

Her mother went to the sofa to get her purse. “He’s a very nice man and quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“He looked like a drowned rat to me.”

“A drowned…” Deirdre shook her head. “I was referring to Neal, not Sage.”

“Oh, him. He seems quite pleasant and, yes, he is very handsome.”

“As is his son.”

“I’ll let you know when I see him without his hair plastered to his forehead, although—” she linked her arm through her mother’s “—those clothes he was wearing clung to all the right spots, you know?”

Deirdre snorted. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

Bronwyn opened the door for her mother. “Then tell me about Dr. Hesar and the loafers.”

Deirdre ducked her head. “You know we have been friends for many, many years.”

She glanced at her daughter. At Bronwyn’s nod, she took a deep breath. “He’s asked me to marry him.”

“Good. You’re too young and vital to live alone the rest of your life.” She patted her leg. “Come on, Stuffie.”

Brownie trotted out the door in front of them.

“Is that your grandmother’s old locket?” Deirdre asked, casting a look at her daughter.

Bronwyn touched the locket that had somehow worked its way from beneath her blouse. She tucked the gold chain back where it belonged. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It needs cleaning.”

“I suppose it does, but I never take it off.” Bronwyn arched a brow at her mother.

“And stop trying to change the subject. What about Dr. Hesar?”

17

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Your father wouldn’t have approved,” Deirdre said quietly as she stepped into the hall.

“Yes, well, Daddy was jealous of Dr. Hesar, as I remember.” She closed Sage’s door.

“May I ask what happened to his wife? Rosemary, wasn’t it?”

“They’ve been divorced for four years. Neal took your father’s job after—” She cut herself off. “Rosie didn’t like Iowa. She gave him an ultimatum—her or the job. Since they hadn’t been getting along for quite some time and didn’t even share a bedroom, he chose the job and she got his parents’ house at Doubletree in Albany.”

“Wow,” Bronwyn said with a whistle. “That was some house. Is he gonna build you something like that? If so, I got dibs on an east-facing bedroom.”

Deirdre stopped walking and looked at her daughter. “Do you have any objections to the marriage, Bronnie? Any at all?”

“None whatsoever.” Bronwyn embraced her mother. “I’m thrilled for you. I wish you two all the happiness in the world.”

The two women commenced walking.

“East-facing, huh?” Deirdre asked.

“It was a joke, Mom. I’m too old and too set in my ways to live with my mother ever again.”

“Well, you’ll have to bunk with me tonight at least. How much furniture are you having brought in?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I have about fifteen boxes of junk, an old overstuffed chair and a futon. That’s the extent of my household goods. Everything came from Goodwill, and most of it, including my dishes, went back to Goodwill when I left Pensacola. I figured I’d start fresh out here.”

“Oh, good!” Deirdre exclaimed. “We’re going to have a ball shopping!”

Bronwyn grinned. “I thought that would make you happy.”

“We’ll get up early and zip over to Des Moines. There’s an absolutely delightful furniture store out near Valley West mall.”

Brownie padded down the long corridor and turned a corner, disappearing from view.

“Wrong way, Goldfarb!” Bronwyn called. “Here’s the elevator.” When Brownie didn’t come trotting back, Bronwyn sighed and called her again.

“I’ll hold the elevator,” Deirdre said, pushing the button.

Bronwyn jogged to the end of the corridor, whistling for her dog. “Brownie, come on!” As she rounded the corner, she saw Brownie far down the hall, sitting in the middle of the corridor, staring up at a tall man unlocking one of the doors.

“Brownie!” Bronwyn called. “Come here, sweetie!”

The dog turned to look at her mistress then swung her head back toward the man.

She let out one of her excited barks, the kind she used when she wanted to play.

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BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

Exasperated, Bronwyn clucked her tongue, patting her leg as she walked. “Brownie, come here!” she said, her voice tight.

The man never once looked in Bronwyn’s direction. He opened the door and went inside, closing the portal behind him with a snap.

Brownie whined and trotted to the door behind which the man had disappeared.

She lifted her paw and scratched at the metal.

“No!” Bronwyn hurried forward and picked up Brownie. She tapped the dog’s nose with her index finger. “Bad dog!”

Brownie huffed and wiggled in Bronwyn’s arms.

“No, you aren’t getting down. Not until we’re in the elevator.”

Deirdre was standing at the cage, her hand against the panels. “She doesn’t mind very well, does she?”

“Normally, she does. I think she made a new friend and didn’t want to say goodbye.”

Deirdre frowned. “Who?”

“Tall man, goatee, long black hair, dressed entirely in black.” Bronwyn saw a strange look pass over her mother’s face. “Do you know who I mean?”

“Yes, I do.” Deirdre smiled, but the smile did not quite reach her eyes. “Let’s get you into a hot bath while I call up for some room service. What would you like?”

* * * * *

He reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out Bronwyn McGregor’s driver’s license. He stared at it for a long time before easing the thumb of his right hand over the lower portion of the photograph, stroking the plastic as he had stroked the little dog’s muzzle a few minutes before. He brought the card to his face and inhaled the scent of its owner that still clung to the plastic, closing his eyes to the intoxicating scent.

The phone rang but he ignored it. Instead, he walked through the darkness of his office and sat at his desk. He stared at the license as the phone continued to ring, but when the answering machine clicked on, he leaned back in his chair and turned to stare at the offending appliance.

“If you must, leave a message,” he heard himself snarl.

“I know you’re there,” his caller said. “Please pick up.”

With a sigh of annoyance, he leaned forward and jerked up the handset. “What?”

“Did you have a good ride?”

He did not reply as he flexed the license between his thumb and middle fingers.

“Have you seen her?” the caller asked.

“What do you think?”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Is there going to be a problem?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t want there to be.”

“Then there won’t be,” he declared, and hung up.

Slumping back in his chair, he swiveled his head to one side and brought the license closer to his face. He stared into the smiling eyes of Bronwyn McGregor for a long time, then pulled open a desk drawer and flicked the license inside.

20

BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn

The next day, the sun was shining as though the rain had never visited the plains state. Everything looked fresh and new, and a slight scent of newly mown grass wafted on the air.

“I’ve spent more of your money today than I spent in eight years of college,”

Bronwyn complained, shifting the weight of the shopping bags.

“But it was fun, wasn’t it?” her mother queried.

“I’ll let you know how much fun it was when I pay you back.”

“W.I. will reimburse me, dear. You won’t have to.”

The loud roar of an engine startled them. They turned to see the same motorcycle Bronwyn had encountered the day before, now racing down the access road in front of the condos.

“Who is that man, Mama? He almost ran me off the road yesterday. He came barreling around the corner and almost hit me head-on.”

“I bet I know exactly where you were. That road can be very dangerous in the wintertime.”

“He could have been hurt if we’d collided. Don’t you have a helmet law out here?”

Deirdre shook her head. “Iowa doesn’t require one and I doubt he’d wear one even if they did. Sometimes I believe he thinks he’s indestructible. He’s in charge of the S.S.”

Bronwyn turned to her mother and arched a brow. “The S.S.?”