Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Dante
Even under the soft glow of yellow light, the image of myself that I wish to present to Luna holds. I see her inspecting me as I loosen the laces of her boot. It’s a painstaking business, because I don’t want to jolt the ankle.
The sock is going to pull off with the boot. Slowly, inch by inch, Luna’s foot is freed.
Tempest’s niece is brave. She gives a stifled squeak of pain and shock as we get our first look at the damage.
The ankle’s a mess. Black and blue with bruising, and stipples of congealed blood lie under her translucent skin. Her high-top boot and thick woolen sock saved her flesh from the trap’s rusted maw.
For one glorious moment, I feel her pulse beating steadily through her veins before I step back and give Luna her space.
The omnipresent hunger whispers in my ear. You got your invitation—time to take advantage of it.
But I have so many questions I need to ask Luna, so I have no trouble suppressing my instincts.
Running my fingertip over the top of her toes, I ask her if she can feel that. Biting back a sob, she tells me no.
“Do you think there’s nerve damage?” Her brave mask slips as her worry peeks out.
It has to be done. My tickling turns into a sharp pinch. I even dig my nails in a bit. Luna’s reflexes are fine. She reacts with a gasp as her foot pulls out of my grasp.
She’s so happy that she felt something, Luna does not object to the way I got her to react.
“I felt that! Oh, thank God. Do you mind putting on the gas heater for me? I really need to get warm.”
I forget that she will need reheating—just like the soup.
The sound of the bubbling takes me back into the kitchen after I get a flame burning on the gas heater. Riffling through the well-stocked cupboards, I find a packet of crackers.
Picking four cellophane wrapped packs—‘cause I figure she’s got to be hungry for carbs after her captivity—I stick a spoon in the pan and carry it over to her. The smell of canned tomato soup wafts along with me.
With spontaneity that I’m coming to recognize, Luna blurts out, “Are you single?”
“Yep. Long time now. Why do you ask?”
Pointing to the soup in the pan, she chuckles. “Only a singleton would serve soup like this. Saves on washing up. You know.”
No, I wouldn’t know. But I’m glad she told me so I can learn from my mistakes.
Settling into the high-backed armchair, I adopt the most natural pose I can think of—leaning back, spreading out my legs in front of me, and crossing my arms. I smirk when I realize this is how I would lie in a coffin if I were more dead.
“What’s so funny?” Luna’s hazel eyes have flecks of green, gold, and brown in the iris. Finally, I start to notice little differences between Tempest and her. Tempest’s eyes were as green as glass, and the freckles were dark on her skin when she was young.
Tempest. Her death is disastrous.
“Nothing is funny. Tempest is dead. Forgive me if I don’t find that amusing.”
“You’re the one who’s smiling,” she reminds me, “but you’re going to have to give me a pass on feeling anything but gratitude towards my aunt. You see, I never knew her.”
Time for me to step cautiously.
“Why is that?”
As she empties the pan while sipping daintily from the spoon, Luna brings me up to speed.
“About… um, let me see now… two months ago, I got a phone call from an estate planner attorney. He informed me Tempest was dead. I was surprised by the call, of course, but I was downright shocked when he told me she had left me everything.”
Clocking my lifted eyebrow, Luna explains.
“Tempest was my mom’s elder half-sister.
My maternal grandmother left her husband, remarried, and had my mom.
Gran’s first husband took Tempest with him.
They must have lost contact with one another.
” Scraping the pan with her spoon, Luna looks contemplative.
“I think that’s sad. Family is important. ”
So far, her story scans.
Time for me to interject one of those empathetic grunts to show her I’m listening.
I’m not just listening, though. I can’t take my eyes off this woman. Not only is she temptingly lovely, but I’m already starting to enjoy some of the little gestures and expressions she makes.
When she talks, her hands move in lyrical circles, sweeping from the wrist into the air. If she needs to emphasize something, she points, finishing with a thoughtful nibble of her fingertip.
The sound of the nail tapping on her tooth enamel as she gnaws the finger entices me to smile again.
With her neck propped against the couch arm, her hair falls to the floor in a cascading waterfall of color. Russet, orange, ruby. There might even be a hint of vermillion in there, too.
But it’s her face that I find the most interesting.
The freckles sprayed across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones are pale gold, fading as the summer sun moves further away from the earth.
The traces of mascara cling to her lashes and stains under the rim of her eyes.
A network of blue veins make patterns under her skin.
Her mouth is in constant motion, even when she is silent. The pink lips pout but are quickly bitten by her pearly teeth as a thought crosses her mind. The moment her bite releases the soft rosy plumpness, the corners of Luna’s mouth tilt up in a smile.
“Who did you come to visit? I suppose you came across the same land bridge as Linda. She seemed real anxious not to miss the tide yesterday.”
It is a fair question.
“Linda would have spent last night at her parents’ house and then returned to the mainland by boat. She was probably driving her father’s car. There was no land bridge yesterday, or the day before.”
Her eyes brighten. “You know about the tides? That’s great. Tempest left me a note saying I must post the tide times on the inn bulletin board. So…?” She won’t let it go. “Who did you come to visit?”
I make a judgment call. Luna is going to find out sooner or later.
“We came to see Tempest. No, that’s not the right way to describe this particular visit. Rather, let me say we came to check up on her.”
Turning onto her side so that she can face me, Luna tucks a cushion under her head.
“Please go into a bit more detail, Dante. Like I said, you know more about Tempest than I ever will. Who is this ‘we’ you mention?”
Where to start?
“We are the Midnight Riders. We are a motorcycle club. And we are referred to by the locals as the Curfew Crew.” I pause in case she has any questions.
“Why do the locals call your club the Curfew Crew?”
My mouth twists into a grim smile.
“Curfew comes from medieval times. When the artisans had to cover their fires at the end of the work day to prevent accidents. Couvre-feu. Cover the fire. A curfew allows night to hold sway in the empty streets and fields—and whatever else comes with it.”
Luna gets it. “Midnight Riders like to come out and play at night. Are the locals really that scared of you that they implemented a curfew?”
“Scared? Nah. Maybe long ago they were, but not anymore. Tempest initiated a truce for us a good many years back. Her daddy built the inn and we use the clubhouse. Lets us have free rein to come and go as we please. It was a highly symbiotic relationship.”
“Sym-what?” Luna lifts her eyebrows.
“Symbiotic. When one hand washes the other.” I make the gesture of washing with my hands. “Both sides win. To everyone’s mutual benefit.”
“Okay.” Luna doesn’t miss a beat. “What did you do for my aunt in exchange?”
I am watching her closely, hoping against hope that Tempest’s niece holds the key to the question burning inside me.
“We offered Tempest protection. Your aunt was a genius, you know. She produced marvelous things in that distillery of hers…” No flicker of recognition in Luna’s face. Her fingers play nervously with the cellophane cracker packet.
“Do you have any idea how she died?” I have to ask.
Silence, only filled by the rustle of cellophane and Muohta’s snoring as Luna collects her thoughts.
“I don’t know how Tempest died. Mr. Bryant didn’t tell me. But two things are bugging me, Dante. Firstly, what did my aunt need protecting from? Is Landslide a dangerous place? And secondly, you couldn’t have been very good at your job, because Tempest is dead.”
“That’s three things.”
She doesn’t find my comment amusing. Luna lies on the couch like a fallen angel with her right foot propped up. Her fingers twiddle with the wrappers.
I decide to play nice. “Rowdy guests. There’s a bar inside the inn. And a home brewery in the basement. We acted as bouncers during the summer. Tempest was a single lady, middle-aged. There’s no way she would have been able to run the place without us.”
“Mhm, okay.” Luna nods her head, but I can tell she’s still in judgmental mode, so I continue.
“And no, Landslide is not dangerous. Everyone is cordial to one another and we all get along for the most part.”
From her expression, I can tell that Luna hasn’t got it yet. “Tempest must have died on the mainland, because she sure as hell didn’t die here, darlin’.”
Luna nods slowly. “Ye-es, my aunt wrote that in her notebook, but it leaves me with so many questions…”
Doing my best to move slowly, I stand and walk to the couch. Crouching, I sit by her feet. “Luna, is there any way you can find out what happened to Tempest? I have to know. She is—was—important to me.”
“Were you a couple?”
Shaking my head, I remind her. “I told you. I’ve been single for a long time. Tempest was my friend. A fierce ally of the MC. Can you at least tell me where her body was found? Was it an accident? A sudden death after an illness… a murder?”
Rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, Luna spreads specks of mascara over her cheeks.
“Damn it, Dante. You’re making me feel like a heel for not knowing. Mr. Bryant didn’t tell me. But he must have been instructed to act as Tempest’s executor by someone. And he wouldn’t have done that if they couldn’t produce a death certificate.”
She’s tired. Patting her shoulder, I pick up the pan and go put it in the kitchen sink. Flicking the faucet on, I fill the small saucepan with water to rinse off the thick, red tomato sludge.
Muohta looks up as I step over him, giving me a doggy smile before going back to sleep.
Glancing at the woman on the couch, I decide to take a big risk. Opening the kitchen side door that leads to the mud room where Tempest used to keep the lumber, I dash to Luna’s car. Finding the first aid box, I flit back in.
That must have taken me all of two seconds.
I close the side door noisily, making Luna look up.
“You must have brought the first aid box inside when you were unpacking.” Waving the box in the air, I go and sit on the floor next to her. “Do you have bandages in here? A good bandage for support and some arnica on that bruise, and you’ll be feeling like your old self in no time.”
Luna isn’t looking at the first aid kit. She is delicately sniffing the air with her eyes half-closed.
“Did you go outside? I can smell pine needles and fresh air on you.”
I am impressed. This woman is sharp. Like some beautiful animal, she uses all of her senses to funnel information to her brain.
“Side room, where the lumber is kept. That’s where I found the first aid kit.” Placing the box down, I click the snap open. Finding a soothing cream and a bandage, I hold the cream for Luna to apply.
Her calico eyes fix on me as she massages the cream gingerly onto her skin with light strokes. “I always leave the kit in the car.”
Time for me to use my powers of persuasion.
“No, you left the first aid kit in the mudroom. You must have taken it from the car to the house without thinking.”
My gaze is locked on her as I pronounce each syllable clearly.
Luna seems to be immune to my charms, however. I can tell from the stubborn way she folds her arms that I might as well be banging my head against a brick wall instead of trying to make her change her mind.
“No… I left it in the car.”
We glare at one another, neither one of us willing to back down. Pressing the bandage end down with one finger to keep it in place, I start to wrap the gauze around her ankle while making sure the binding is firm, but not too tight.
When the bandage is on, I break away. “Someone must have come here while you were stuck in the forest and taken it out of your car.”
This is enough to distract her. “Ben Magoo? I suppose that’s possible. So long as he was here doing that and not busy looking for trespassers on his land.”
Giving herself a small shake, Luna finally allows her exhaustion to show.
“Dante, I hope we can be friends. And… I would love for the club to stay on at the inn until I sell everything.”
Now that’s something worth knowing. “You’re selling the inheritance that Tempest left you?”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Luna sighs and nods. “I have another life waiting for me in the Twin Cities, Dante. A life with wi-fi and laptops and working cell phones. I could never stay here.”
Moving to the door, I stand with my hand on the handle.
“Do you need help getting upstairs—to the bedroom?”
Luna wipes her hand across her eyes as if she is trying to block out an unwelcome memory.
“I’ll be okay. The ankle feels a lot better now the bandage is on. Thank you.” Propping herself up on an elbow, she calls out to me before I can leave. “You can take the key to the clubhouse off the keyring if you like. But it was open when I went there earlier.”
A low chuckle rumbles in my throat as my dark humor rises.
“No one would dare go into Midnight Riders’ clubhouse, Luna, with or without a key. Good night.”