Page 20 of White Wings of Desire

Not tonight, My Pretty Dove. I blow her a last kiss before I turn away from the house, and disappear back into the thicket of the forest to where my car is parked off the path.

Tomorrow.

Chapter 19

Evelyn

My fingers wrap around the sleek handrail of the stairs as I make my way down. The house is filled with the high-pitched laughter of my friends bouncing off the wooden walls and the smell of fresh scrambled eggs and bacon in the air. A delicious breakfast is waiting for me. If it weren't for last night, I would be looking forward to the meal, but now that I know we're not alone, my stomach is churning with nausea. And I won't be able to enjoy one more second of this trip.

"You look like a mess," Lily says as I walk into the kitchen, her comment followed by an offer of a fresh cup of coffee.

"Good morning to you, too." I roll my eyes as if I didn't know. The bluish circles under my eyes are proof that I didn’t sleep a second last night. It's not that I didn't try, but with the knowledge that he's out there watching not only me, but my friends as well, my brain hasn't managed to settle down. All night, I ran through the house to make sure he didn’t force his way in, but after disappearing into the woods, he didn’t come back. How on earth did he find me? I hadn’t seen him in the days leading up to the trip, and the apartment was empty day and night. There was no way he could have seen me leave, and he couldn’t have been following us since we left the city. He looked pretty upset, despite that stupid handsome smirk on his face.

I take a sip of the coffee Lily handed me. My eyes land on my purse sitting on the sofa, and a sudden idea pops into my head. I need to know if my suspicion is true, so I walk over to the sofa and put my coffee down. I reach for my bag and open it, rummaging through my belongings. My wallet catches my attention. I pick up the black clutch and open every compartment, and just as I thought, I find the tiny flashing tracker in the back pocket.

That son of a bitch, I curse under my breath. As if it wasn't bad enough that he's spying on me, that he has the nerve to break into my apartment whenever he feels like it, but now he's put a tracker on me? Because he was watching me non-stop, the thought of him doing something like that never crossed my mind, but thinking back, the moment I saw him at the restaurant in that ridiculous fancy car should have made me suspicious.

"Eve, is everything okay?" Sarah asks in a worried tone.

"Ah," I look up from my wallet, a fake smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Yeah, I was just checking to see if I had any sleeping pills for tonight," I say with a soft chuckle, easing the mood. I drop the bag back on the sofa, stand up, and walk back to the kitchen.

Just as I'm refilling my cup of coffee, a loud, shrill scream interrupts the somewhat peaceful morning. Everyone drops what they are doing and runs to Lily, who is standing in the door frame of the patio door. I push past her and stop in my tracks when I see what caused the commotion. My eyes widen, and my stomach twists into a tight knot at the sight of the lifeless dove lying on the clean wooden boards of the back porch. It’s not a beautiful, spotless white one, perfectly posed like the one in the package. No, this one is covered in blood, with messy, ruffled feathers, as if it had been in a merciless fight with a predator. In big, bold letters, the word RUN is written in blood on the ground under the dove.

"I'm going to call the police!" Lily says through sobs and runs back into the house, our friends chasing after her. The police are the last people I personally want involved in this mess. Sticking their noses where they don't belong puts us all in danger. But I also know that the best thing for my friends to do right now is to call them and have them come over and investigate the matter. If I try to convince them that we don't need the police, they will only become suspicious.

An hour later, we are standing on the back porch with two police officers around the dead bird. "Sorry ladies, there's nothing we can do," The chubby one says with a casual shrug. "Some kids probably saw the New York City license plate and decided to pull a prank on you." It's not surprising that they don't take this ordeal seriously; if I didn't know the meaning behind the situation, I would probably assume it was just a prank as well. Although I think a prank involving a dead animal is a step too far. They advise us to call back if anything else happens, and now that they are aware of the situation, they promise a quick response. Bullshit. They are gone twice as fast as it took them to get here.

"They could have at least removed the dead bird!" Lily complains, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her foot nervously tapping against the wooden floor, probably fighting the urge to kick the bird off the porch. I place my hand on her shoulder and turn to face the group.

"Why don't you all go inside," I smile reassuringly, "I'll take care of it. I really don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, leave it to me."

"Thank you," The group says, and they head back into the house.

With rubber gloves, a bucket, and a broom in hand, I squat down next to the dove, cautious in case something else is waiting for me when I pick up the bird. To my surprise, the dove itself has no external injuries. If the blood isn't from the actual bird, then who is it from? Is it his own? My heart skips a beat, and my stomach flutters at the thrilling thought of him willingly hurting himself to prove a point. Heat spreads across my cheeks when I realize where my mind is drifting off to, and a heavy sigh falls from my lips. I should be ashamed of myself.

It’s almost two a.m. I'm tossing and turning in the sheets since I went to bed at midnight. With my face buried in the pillow, I let out a muffled scream, beating the mattress underneath me. There's no point in trying. I'm wide awake, the adrenaline and fear working better than any coffee ever could. I toss the pillow aside, push myself up into a sitting position, and reach for my glass of water, which is empty.

Pushing the blanket off myself, I slip out of bed. I try to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake any of my friends, but the wooden stairs creak under my weight with every step. When I reach the kitchen, I place my glass on the counter, open the fridge, reach for the bottle of filtered water, and pour myself a new glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the door that leads into the living room; a warm, flickering light shines through the gap. I furrow my eyebrows. Did we close the door when we went to bed?

Tiptoeing to the door, my steps are silent. I put my ear to it, trying to hear if it's just one of the girls who, like me, can't sleep because of the dead bird. But I can't hear anything other than the crackling sound of the fire. There is no way we forgot to put it out. Wrapping my fingers around the door handle, I take a deep breath to prepare myself for whatever I might find. With a careful push, the wooden door swings open, and I freeze halfway when my eyes land on him, sitting cross-legged in the comfortable armchair by the fireplace.

"Finally," he says, pushing himself up and spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, as if he is waiting for me to run up to him and throw myself into his arms. "I was beginning to wonder how long you would keep me waiting."

"What are you doing here?" My heart is pounding in my chest. I take a cautious step into the living room, and let the door fall shut behind me to keep our conversation somewhat private. I look him up and down; he is wearing a tight black shirt with a bulletproof vest over it, showing off his heavily scarred muscular arms. Instead of suit pants, he wears black combat pants, and thick combat boots have replaced his expensive leather shoes. A set of pistols is tucked into the holster of his vest, and a black hunting rifle leans against the armrest of the chair. He looks like he is ready to go hunting.

"Don't act stupid. You know why I’m here." He stays where he is, with his arms still open for me.

"I’m not acting. I don’t know why you are here, Noah."

His lips curl upwards the moment his name rolls off my tongue. "So you found out my name." He takes a step forward, forcing me to take one back. He stops the moment he sees my reaction. "I admit I'm impressed, My Little Dove."

I move through the room with slow steps, keeping an eye on him at all times while I bring the sofa between us, with the door that leads to the hallway behind me and the open patio door just a few steps ahead. "Can you just answer my question?" I beg. "Why are you here?"

His arms drop to his sides, and he lets out a sigh. His eyes roam over my body, his pupils dilating and the bright green fades into the background, making his eyes appear even darker in the dimly lit room. "Because you've been a naughty girl," he says, "trying to run away when I've been nothing but nice to you."

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