Money Shot (16 page)

“Goose,” he said softly, and reached for her.

Then the night air was rent by the bellow of an enraged moose and the bright twinkle of breaking glass.

GOOSE RACED down the street with Einar trailing behind at a leisurely amble. She’d never seen him move faster than a reluctant trot, now that she thought of it. Which was fine with her, considering the wicked intent she’d recognized in those Caribbean-blue eyes back on the dock. Lord knew she didn’t want the guy moving any faster than absolutely necessary.

She spotted a knot of people standing in the street between Lila’s place and Ben Barnes’s. Rush was there already, his shorn head and closed face looming over his aunt, and Goose jogged over to him. She slipped a hand into his elbow and tugged.

“Rush, hey.” She threw a wayward hank of hair away from her mouth while Rush angled himself to shield her from the wet slap of the wind. “What happened?”

“Sounds like our rogue moose was looking for love in all the wrong places again,” Rush said.

“It’s that damn garbage pile in your backyard,” Ben Barnes said to Lila. “How many times do I have to tell you? Compost only works if you maintain the pile. You can’t just throw your trash out the back door and expect not to attract wildlife.”

Lila tossed her head. “The wildlife was here first, Mr. Barnes. I don’t think my compost has anything to do with a rogue moose who’s confused about when mating season ended.”

“It seems,” Rush interrupted when it looked like Ben was about to go for Lila’s throat, “the moose was stomping around by Lila’s compost pile and caught his own reflection in Ben’s bay window across the yard. Pretty bright moon tonight, I guess. Took offense and charged himself.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got the shattered window to prove it,” Ben said bitterly. “You know what it costs to replace a window that size?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and glared at Lila. “My insurance premiums are going to go through the roof.”

“Not necessarily,” Goose said. “Not if somebody else’s insurance processes the claim.”

Lila frowned at her. “You want
my
insurance to pay for
his
window?”

“Of course not.” Goose gave her arm a reassuring pat. “I was thinking more of the Park Service’s insurance.”

Rush frowned down at her. “The Park Service’s?”

“Sure. Isn’t it their job to manage the moose population on Mishkwa?”

Lila and Ben both bent a stern look on Rush.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “It is. That could actually work. I’ll make some calls.”

“In the morning, though, please,” Lila said. She checked her watch. “We have esbat in a few minutes, and we’ll want to get started right on time. There’s a spell casting tonight. Libby Lane’s fibromyalgia is acting up.” She glanced at Rush, hope in her eyes. “You
are
coming?”

Rush looked up from the notepad where he was scribbling something. “Ah . . .”

“Rush. You promised.”

“Okay, all right. I’ll just see Goose back to the Ranger Station,” he said. “Be back in half an hour. Forty-five, tops.”

Einar appeared at Goose’s side and she jumped. She’d forgotten he was even there. Whoops. “May I see you home, Goose?” he asked.

“But then you’d miss esbat.” She blinked innocently at him and hoped the subtext would sink in without further effort on her part.
I’d rather you go to church than try to kiss me again, ’kay?

“They come once a month.” He smiled deep into her eyes. Seductively. Crap. “There’ll be another one.”

“Still.” Goose turned to Lila in near desperation. “I’m about to be unforgivably forward,” she said, “but do you think I could come? To esbat?”

Lila clapped her hands in delight and Ben heaved a disgusted sigh. “You seem like a decent enough girl,” he said to her. “Why would you want to get mixed up with a bunch of naked, aging hippies?”

“Why, Ben!” Lila laughed. “Have you been spying?”

He flushed. “Hard to miss a conga line of idiots chachaing through my backyard in the altogether, Lila.”

“And you all alone in that big house,” she said softly. “You must be dreadfully lonely.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Ben shook his head and fixed an eye on Goose. “There’s a nice Catholic church in Hornby Harbor if you’re feeling the need for services. Wednesday and Saturday nights, Sunday mornings.”

Goose put a hand on his arm, gave him a warm smile. “Thanks, Ben,” she said. “I’m more curious than faithful, though. I’ve never been to a pagan service.” She turned to Lila. “Do you mind if I sit in?”

“What a wonderful idea!” Lila gifted her with a warm smile and turned to Rush. “Rush, isn’t that a wonderful idea?”

“Yep.” He sounded distinctly less than thrilled. “Wonderful.”

Goose peered through the darkness at Rush while Lila disappeared into the house, presumably to gather equipment or robes or incense or, cripes, for all Goose knew, broomsticks and pointy hats. Einar followed her and Goose nearly sagged in relief. The reprieve was temporary, of course. She knew that. He’d try again. A guy like Einar always had a second act. But for tonight, anyway, she was in the clear.

“Come on, then,” Rush said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the footpath running between Ben’s and Lila’s front porches.

“Where are we going?”

“Esbat.”

She blinked as he led her deeper into the darkness between the two houses. “Wait, there’s not really a naked cha-cha during this thing, is there?”

Rush threw her an unreadable look over his shoulder. “A cha-cha? No. It’s been a while, but I’d remember that.”

“I should hope so,” Goose murmured. It didn’t escape her notice that he hadn’t addressed the naked part of her question, and she took a moment to wonder what she’d gotten herself into. It was warm out for December, but not so warm that she was interested in taking off even her mittens, let alone her clothes. Then again, if Rush went first—

She nearly plowed into his back before she realized he’d stopped on the path ahead of her. She peered over his shoulder toward the people milling around Lila’s backyard.

“Aren’t we supposed to be out there?” she asked, nodding toward the minglers.

“In a minute.” He dropped his chin, leveled her a shrewd look. “Just as soon as you tell me what you’re up to.”

“Up to?” She gave him very big eyes. “I just want to observe the esbat.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He folded his arms, planted himself. “Why?”

“I like a good show?”

“It’s church. Not theater.”

“Oh, please. What church isn’t theater? I’ll bet Lila knows her way around a dramatic moment, too.”

He maintained a skeptical silence.

“And, all right, I’ve also got my eyes open for a power-mad counterfeiter with bloody fingers. Don’t pretend you aren’t looking, too.”

The silence grew. Goose rolled a shoulder.

“And it’s possible, I suppose, that I wanted out of Einar’s chivalrous offer to see me home.”

“I see. And why is that?”

“Sir Humpalot threw him off his moves earlier but he was ramping up for another pass, okay? I didn’t feel like making excuses.”

His brows came together. “Einar moved on you?”

“Not like it was a big surprise. I think he moves on every woman in a five-mile radius. It’s like a reflex or something.” She frowned. “Which isn’t very flattering, now that I think about it.”

“So you took evasive action? Why bother? He doesn’t hear ‘no’ very often, but he understands the basic concept.”

She hesitated. “It’s not that simple.”

His eyes went flat, cool. “No?” He stepped back. “I thought it was.”

She stepped forward. “Rush, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Isn’t it?”

“God, of course not! It’s just—” She broke off, looked around him to the crowd gathering in Lila’s backyard. Candlelight danced on the air, laughing voices rose and fell. This wasn’t the time or the place to get into what exactly she was doing with Einar. What she suspected him of.

“Just what?”

“It’s time for esbat,” she said. “Can we please talk about this later?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but sidestepped him and moved into the yard. It was full of brown-robed people in many of whose living rooms she’d sat and sipped tea and nibbled cookies a few days ago. Rush followed like her own personal storm cloud, though only she seemed aware of the dark menace in his frown. Hands reached out from all directions to pat his shoulder, touch his elbow. People greeted him with surprise, with smiles but above all with welcome.

They’ve missed him
, she thought as she joined the line of women waiting to enter the candlelit circle. Rush joined the line of men.
This is his family, and they’ve missed him
.

Lila stood just inside the circle, greeting the men. Einar stood beside her, greeting the women. When Rush reached the front of the line, Lila dipped her fingers into a small bowl, smeared something oily on his forehead and said, “In the name of the goddess, in the name of the god, I bid you welcome to this sacred place.” Her voice dropped, went husky with emotion, and she placed ritual kisses on both cheeks, a step she’d skipped with everybody else. “Merry meet, nephew.”

A sniffle sounded from inside the circle and Goose saw Ronnie Samuelsson blink back a tear. She wasn’t the only covener watching aunt and nephew with suspiciously bright eyes, either.
He’s home
, Goose thought again, her heart squeezing unbearably. He was finally back home and everybody knew how much it meant except him. Even Einar.

Maybe especially Einar, she thought. He stood in front of Goose, his fingers stiff on the bowl of oil or whatever it was he and Lila were anointing people with, his eyes fixed on the little scene between his aunt and cousin. And he wasn’t crying happy tears, either.

Goose cleared her throat and Einar turned back to her with a smooth smile. He touched wet fingers to her forehead and said, “In the name of the goddess, in the name of the god, I bid you welcome to this sacred place.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Merry meet, sister.”

She gave him an automatic smile and moved into the circle described by the candles. After a few moments of distracted milling about, three bells sounded and Lila raised her voice above the crowd.

“Welcome, peace and love to each soul in this place.”

“Welcome, peace and love,” the coven murmured.

“We’ve got a full schedule tonight,” Lila said, smiling out over the crowd. “We’ll have the Rite of the Full Moon, plus a spell for healing for Libby’s fibromyalgia. Are there any announcements before we begin?” She let a long beat of silence pass, then lifted her arms and turned to face the yellow candle at the circle’s entrance. “Hail to the East . . .”

 

TWO HOURS later, Rush hiked back to the Ranger Station with the moon riding high and ripe in the night sky overhead, and temper rumbling low and ominous inside him.

“You didn’t tell me Einar was a pagan,” Goose said from behind him. “Let alone a pagan
priest
.”

“Was I supposed to?” He kept his tone carefully even. He didn’t want to talk about Einar. Einar with his Greekgod face and his affable charm, who’d just tonight tried to put his sticky, greedy hands all over the only thing Rush had wanted in years.

Mine
.

It had chimed inside him, this inconvenient
mine
, the instant he’d kissed her in that ugly old truck. It was like his moral compass had just woken up and declared Goose true north. She
drew
him now in some fundamental way he couldn’t even explain, let alone argue with. Then along came Einar—pretty, amusing Einar—and threw his ante into the pot. Shit.

“Does the Secret Service care what religion he is?” Rush asked now, perhaps a trifle sharply. “Do you?”

“No,” she said slowly. “It’s just interesting. I mean, his religion is none of my business, obviously. But paganism seems to be an integral aspect of the island community. An integral aspect of his—and your—family history.”

“And you care about the family history?”

“Of course.”

He stopped, turned on her. “Why?”

She blinked, those dark eyes going wide with surprise. “Why?”

“Yes, Goose. Why are you interested? So there’s a pseudo-hippie population here that likes to strip down and perform ceremonies under the full moon. So what? It’s a national park. If there weren’t naked hippies, I think we could lose funding or something. What is it about it—or him—that you find so fascinating?”

“I just wondered if it was new,” she said. “Einar’s devotion to the family religion.”

He stepped closer, and his belly hollowed at the sight of her guarded, bottomless eyes in the pale wash of the moonlight. She was keeping something back, he thought with a dull thud of dismay. Hiding something. Not the investigation. He already knew about that. Feelings for Einar, then? Feelings that would hurt poor, pathetic Rush? She wouldn’t want that, would she? Of course not. God.

“New? How could it be new? It’s like you said—it’s been going on as long as my family’s been tangled up with this place.”

“But for him,” she persisted. “Is it something he’s always believed in?”

Was she really going to pump him for information on her new crush? He laughed, even as anger rose inside him. Even as it twisted together with the hunger and grew to an aching want. A sharp, compelling need. “You want to know what Einar believes? He believes in getting what he wants.”

“Which is?”

He jerked his shoulders in a rough shrug. “Everything. He’s like a fucking seagull, okay? If it’s bright, he wants it. If it’s shiny, he wants it. If other people have it, God, does he want it. Gets it, too. He’s good that way.”

He loosed an ugly chuckle. “You’re not his usual, but I can see why he wants you.” He yanked off his glove and reached for her. Her eyes were huge in her angular face, but she didn’t flinch away from him, and the thumb he ran over the sharp blade of her cheekbone was, thank God, gentle. Because what burned inside him was anything but. “You’re so very, very shiny, aren’t you? Polished bright as a new penny.”