Common Ground
Chapter Four
Co written by Caeria and deb
"You should have seen it, Cait. Here's this great big boat-" Dom's hands spread wide to indicate the size of the craft, "-with these four guys sneaking around in wet suits. They had half the pirates taken care of before we even started shooting! And when they said they wanted a diversion, String let her loose." Dom's hand came down in a slaloming motion. "He dive bombed the ship and skimmed along the upper deck."
"What she should have seen was how the SEALs managed to pack themselves into The Lady. Four men, air tanks, flippers and the rest of their gear." Hawke leaned back in his chair and rested a glass of lemonade on his knee. Unlike Dom, he was flying first thing in the morning. Hawke grinned at her. "I don't want to hear you complaining any more about how crowded it is in the back."
"Hey, a girl's got to have her space." Caitlin brought in a bag of chips and another beer for Dom then settled onto the other end of the sofa, mindful of the Italian's grandiose gestures. "So you didn't have any trouble, then?"
"Other than the overcrowding, the assault on the boat was pretty uneventful. I thought you were doing to go out to Knightsbridge and follow the action? Or did Michael get tired of you and kick you out?"
Hawke's mention of Michael stirred memories. Almost of their own accord, her fingers went to her collarbone, brushing the lingering remains of the fading bruise through the fabric of her shirt. Luckily, the mark was low enough on her shoulder that it didn't show. "No, he didn't throw me out. I was at Knightsbridge, but trying to follow the action via a few radio calls and the radar telemetry is nothing like being there." It had, in fact, given her a perspective on how Michael surely felt every time he sent them on a mission.
"Things didn't get tricky till we hit their base," Dom said, jumping back into his story. "Then all hell broke loose. The crazy bastards started firing mortars at us – or at least in our general direction." There was more waving, a motion that seemed to suggest a wave of enemy projectiles spewing forth. "Not that they could really aim the things, but it sure kept String busy bobbing and weaving."
Hawke shrugged. "Better them than the Stingers we thought they had. I'd rather deal with a barrage of mortars than heat-seekers."
"Well, that's sort of how it ended. String fired a couple of Mavericks, and the heat pulled them right into the mortar tubes. Brought the whole cliff down."
Caitlin's gaze flashed between the two men. She knew them both too well. Hawke would downplay whatever had actually transpired, while Dom would turn one mortar into twelve. The truth undoubtedly lay somewhere between. "I'm sorry I missed it, but you're both back safe and sound. That's the most important thing."
"Well, I don't know about that. I damn near got frostbite up at Thule. Never been so cold in my damn life."
"You're just getting old," Hawke teased.
"Hey! You were complaining about the weather just as much as I was."
Her attention on Santini, she didn't pay attention as Hawke levered himself to his feet and headed for her bathroom.
"You think I'm kidding, Cait. It never got above zero either time we were there. Windy, too. I've gotta say, judging from their reaction, I don't think they see a lot of helicopters up there."
Before Caitlin could answer, Hawke returned. "So, who's your new beau?"
Beau? Did he mean Michael? How the hell-? She tried her best to keep her voice level. "What new beau?"
"The one who left his fancy cufflinks next to your sink."
Caitlin bit back a groan. She'd seen them there, that morning after he'd left. She meant to return them, but she hadn't wanted to do it at Knightsbridge. And, if she was truly honest with herself, she rather liked having a reminder of Michael around.
She spit out the first thing she could think of. "Don't be silly. Those are mine."
Hawke raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've taken to wearing cufflinks?"
Well, that story might not been the best idea she'd ever had, but now that she'd said it, the only option was to play it through. "I can see you don't read a lot of fashion magazines, String. Wearing men's shirts is the new thing this year."
Hawke snorted. "I swear, if they said potato sacks were in style. . ." He shook his head. "If I find any of my clothes missing, at least I'll know where to look. Come on Dom. One of us has to work in the morning."
Once she had ushered the two men out, Caitlin went into the bathroom and retrieved the pair of cufflinks. She stood there fingering them for a long moment before taking them into the bedroom and stashing them in a corner of her jewelry box. She would find an opportunity to give them back, she promised herself. Eventually.
A*I*R*W*O*L*F
Busy rebuilding the tail rotor assembly from the used Hughes that Dom had just purchased, Hawke didn't stop to investigate the car he heard pull to a halt outside. He did, though, note the solid thunk of the Mercedes door being slammed shut. He looked up to see Michael headed into the hanger.
"We've got company," Hawke said quietly to Dom, nodding in the direction of the approaching agent.
Dom rolled his eyes. "Great. Just what we need right now, another mission. String, as much as I love the Lady, we've got that film shoot for Paramount. If we put them off again, we're going to lose the gig."
"Yeah." Hawke grabbed a shop rag and wiped the grease from his hands. Michael always seemed to show up at the most inopportune times. Running Santini Air as a successful business was hard enough without the occasional unplanned excursion half-way around the globe.
"Gentlemen," the agent said, as he reached them.
Dom scowled, no doubt expecting the worst. "What is it this time, Michael?" he asked, his tone echoing his displeasure. "What crisis do you need Airwolf to avert today? Madman with a nuke? Gunrunners? Somebody overthrowing a friendly third-world government?"
Michael shook his head. "Nothing so earth shattering, Dominic. I'm not looking for Airwolf." He paused. "I'd like to hire an aircraft and a pilot for a few days." He looked toward Hawke, then back towards Dom. "Either of you will do. I need to be in Odessa, Texas starting tomorrow and through the weekend. I realize this is last minute and I understand the inconvenience. Whatever your usual rate it, I'll double it."
That was unexpected. Hawke knew that normally Dom would welcome the business, but they were already committed. "Can't do it, Michael. Dom and I have a contract flying for Paramount. Besides, don't you have a staff for that?"
"This isn't business, Hawke. It's personal." Michael fidgeted, one long finger stroking his mustache. Hawke knew he was stalling. "Family funeral," Michael finally admitted.
Which explained a lot. Including, Hawke suspected, why he didn't want to use someone from the Firm. "Sorry." He saw Dom nod in agreement, his expression softening.
Michael appeared to take a sudden interest in the head of his cane. He shrugged slightly. "We weren't close, but I need to put in an appearance."
There was a whole lot there that Michael wasn't saying, Hawke was sure of that, and he felt something of a pang of sympathy. That didn't change the facts, though. "I wish we could help you, but as I said, we're already under contract. Have you checked commercial flights into Midland?"
"I have. I can't make the connections work." He scowled. "Hawke, when it comes to flying I trust your judgment. You've got plenty of contacts in the business. Can you recommend someone else who might be interested? As I said, I'll pay double whatever is standard, and I'll put the pilot up at a 5-star for the duration."
Hawke considered it. He knew a perfectly good pilot, one who could use the money. The only problem was that he just wasn't sure he liked the idea of her spending that much time in the agent's company. He did trust Michael, in his own way, but dealing with Michael always came with strings. Finally, Hawke pushed away his concerns and turned toward the office. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Caitlin!"
A moment later the office door opened. "String, did you-" She spotted Michael. To String it almost seemed as if she froze for a second before a smile graced her face. "Oh, hello." She stepped from the office, closing the door behind her. A moment later she had joined them. "So, what's up? Have we got a mission?"
"There's no mission," Hawke answered, noting her slight frown of disappointment at the news. "You've been pleading poverty lately. I've got a job for you." He fought a grin. "I'm not so sure about the company, but the pay is good."
That definitely piqued her interest. "Hey, good company doesn't pay the rent. What's the job?" She glanced toward Michael. "Let me guess. The Firm has some foreign dignitary who wants to go sight-seeing?"
There was a definite hesitation before Michael answered. "You wouldn't be flying for the Firm. I need a personal pilot, and Hawke tells me he's not available. I have to spend a few days in Texas, beginning tomorrow. I offered Hawke double the going rate. That stands. If you're interested, I'll arrange for a hotel and meals. Rental car, too, if you'd like. I'll be tied up with obligations so you won't see much of me, but I trust you can amuse yourself for a few days." He gave her a look, something that Hawke couldn't quite decipher. "Assuming, of course, that you're not busy this weekend?"
"You can take the 402," Hawke told her, with a nod toward the Cessna. "Dom gets standard rate on the plane, you can keep the rest. Close as you're going to get to a paid vacation." He knew Dom tried to help Caitlin out financially when he could, and wouldn't object.
Caitlin's gaze flickered between them, almost nervously. "Um, yeah, I guess I can do that. You guys are sure you don't need me for that film shoot?"
"It'll be tough, but we'll manage," Hawke teased. "Just finish accounts payable and get them in the mail before you leave."
She turned back toward Michael. "Okay then. I guess we're going to Texas. So, details. Where exactly are you headed, and when do you want to be there?"
"Odessa. You can fly into Midland and I'll drive down from there. I need to arrive by mid afternoon and return late Monday."
"Let me think for a second." She closed her eyes, and Hawke could almost see her doing the math in her head. "If we take off around nine tomorrow morning that should put us in Midland by one. That would be three o'clock Texas time. Will that work for you?"
"That would be fine."
"Meet me here at 8:30?"
"I'll be here. I'll also call and reserve rooms. Would you like a rental car?"
"In Odessa? No." She gave a quick shake of her head. "That's too far from my old stomping grounds. I'll just hang out at the hotel."
"Okay, I guess we're set, then. I'll file a flight plan. See you in the morning."
Hawke watched them go, Caitlin returning to the office and Michael back to his Mercedes. Once they were out of earshot, he scowled, eyes lingering on the office door. "Considering the circumstances, I can understand Michael's attitude, but did Cait seem a little hesitant? I thought she'd jump at the chance to make some extra money."
Dom shrugged. "Probably had a date. Or maybe she just doesn't relish the idea of four hours in a plane alone with Mr. Clean. That should be a barrel of fun."
"Yeah, that could be it." Hawke chuckled. "Then again, the way Cait likes to poke her nose into things? She's going to drive him crazy."
Dom laughed at that. "You know, for once I think I almost feel sorry for the guy."
A*I*R*W*O*L*F
Michael pulled into a parking spot in front of Santini Air and shut off the car. Climbing out, he popped the trunk to retrieve his suitcase and garment bag. Juggling bag in one hand, suitcase and cane in the other, he walked around the building to enter through the open hanger door.
"Anyone here?" he called out, "Hawke?"
"Hasn't come in yet." Caitlin appeared from behind an antique Stearman. "Dom's out with a student. Said that if he didn't get back before we left to just lock up." She reached for the garment bag. "Let me take that and we'll get everything stowed."
He allowed her to take the bag from him, and followed her outside toward the waiting Cessna. "I'm sorry, Cait. I had planned to hire Hawke. I hope you realize this wasn't my intention."
"I know. It's okay," she said, giving him a small smile over her shoulder. She opened the baggage compartment. "We're both responsible adults, right? We're not a couple of horny teenagers. We can behave ourselves."
Michael bit back a sigh. He didn't want to behave. What he wanted was to strip her naked and bury himself in her. Mentally, he ran through the list of reasons why that was an extremely bad idea. Hawke, Santini and Airwolf were only the beginning of that list. "We're adults," he agreed, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to be one.
"We are." She tucked his suitcase into the nose compartment beside another that was already there. Hers, no doubt. He caught himself wondering if she'd packed the lacy rose-colored underwear she'd been wearing the night he stayed at her apartment. That was a line of thought he didn't need to pursue.
"Dom's not back yet, so I'm going to go lock up. You can wait in the plane if you'd like."
He did as she suggested, sliding into the co-pilot's seat. He watched her through the window as she jogged back to the hanger and closed the doors. A few minutes later, she returned. "Riding up front?"
"If you don't mind?"
"Of course not. It's nice-" She cut off whatever she'd been about to say, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. Turning her attention to the controls, she busied herself with the mechanics of flight. Contacting the tower and getting the plane in the air. Setting their course.
It seemed to Michael that she was taking much longer accomplishing the rudimentary tasks than they usually entailed. At first he thought she was just overly cautious. Finally, he realized that she was stalling, perhaps unsure what to say to him.
Michael wished that he could blame Hawke for this, but it was his own fault. He was the one who had gone to Santini Air looking for a favor. He'd never considered the possibility that the two men might be otherwise occupied and would suggest that he hire Caitlin instead. Once Hawke had made the suggestion, there'd been no graceful way to decline without Hawke asking too many questions.
"So. What's in Odessa?" Caitlin asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"A funeral, unfortunately."
She glanced toward him. "Funeral? One of your agents?"
He had no desire to drag Caitlin into his family drama, but compared to other things they could be discussing, it was a safe topic. "William Shipman. My younger brother. Automobile accident."
"I'm so sorry. I-"
"Don't." He cut her off, shrugging. "To say that we weren't close would be an understatement."
She winced. "Ouch. That bad?"
"William is. . .was. . .a lawyer. Made a living defending the dregs of society. Gang members, mobsters, drug dealers, and the like. Somehow he managed to make his clients look like saints. I always wondered if his involvement with some of those clients might have been more than just legal representation, but I never had evidence of it." Sometimes he thought he should have looked harder, dug deeper. But it was water under the bridge, now. "The family never looked at who he was defending. They always saw him as the good, dutiful son who followed in his father's footsteps."
"His father's?"
"My father was killed in the war a few weeks before I was born. My mother remarried."
"Ah. I take it that you don't get along with your step-father."
"I did, and I didn't." Michael caught Caitlin's look. "He's been gone for nearly thirty years."
"Does your family know what you do?"
"No. My cover is that I'm in the import export business. Over the years it's helped to explain the international travel. Unfortunately, my sister and her husband spend a fair amount of time in Washington and I've run into them a few times in places and situations I wasn't at liberty to explain. They've assumed- well, let's just say they have their own theories about what I do."
She didn't say anything for awhile. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Another one?" he teased.
Her answering snort wasn't particularly lady-like. "Considering your relationship, why are you even going to the funeral? You don't strike me as the type to do something just because it's expected."
"My mother called and asked me to come." He didn't add that no one else had even bothered to inform him of William's death.
Caitlin didn't question that further. She seemed to realize that his relationship with his family was a strained one. Michael wondered at that. Some comments he'd heard exchanged between Cait, Hawke and Santini made him think that her own family dynamics might be equally as complex.
"Single car or multiple?"
"What?" Mind elsewhere, he hadn't quite caught her question.
"Your brother. I was wondering if you knew whether it was a single car accident or involved multiple vehicles?"
"Oh. Single. Out in the country south of Odessa. According to the local sheriff, he was speeding – which doesn't surprise me. Lost control on a curve and went off into a ditch."
Her brow knitted. "You said he was south of Odessa?"
"That's what they tell me."
She fell silent, unnaturally so. He could sense that there was something she was tempted to say. "Cait?"
"Just thinking. I used to patrol that area. Mostly straight roads, and pretty much flat land. There are few places where there's any appreciable drop off."
He could read between the lines, and hear what she wasn't saying. "You're suspicious."
"It's probably nothing, but, well, given what you told me about your brother's involvement with unsavories. . ." She hesitated, frowning. "You said the local sheriff? Didn't the state investigate? They're usually called in on fatals."
"No idea." The call from his mother had been scarce on details. "I should be able to find out more once we get there."
Caitlin's reluctance was obvious, but she finally spoke. "I know you said they called it an accident, but sometimes the local boys don't have the best training, and sometimes-"
Sometimes they weren't entirely honest. While she might think it, he suspected Caitlin would be hesitant to voice it. Michael tended to see her as a skilled pilot and an excellent, if unofficial, operative. It was easy to forget that before she'd first encountered Hawke and Airwolf, she'd been a member of the Highway Patrol. He knew that officers – even former ones – tended to support one another until it was proven that that trust was misplaced.
Loyalties aside, he understood what she was suggesting. "So the accident might not have been an accident."
"Maybe. Or maybe it really was just an accident and he simply wasn't paying enough attention to his driving. It's hard to say without seeing the accident scene and the car. If you want me to look into it. . ."
If it was something more than a simple accident, Michael wasn't sure whether he even wanted to open that can of worms. "I'll think about it."
She nodded at that, and let the subject drop.
A*I*R*W*O*L*F
Opening the hatch, Caitlin lowered the aircraft's steps. Climbing from the plane, she stepped out onto the tarmac and took the opportunity to stretch, fingertips reaching for the sky above her. Twisting from side to side to work out the kinks, she sighed as her back popped with the movement. She loved flying, but the cramped cockpit of the 402 wasn't particularly comfortable for long flights.
As she waited for the lineman to join them, she let her gaze drift back to the plane, where Michael was standing framed in the doorway. If she was feeling stiff and a little sore, she couldn't imagine what was he was feeling. She caught the pause he took to gingerly stretch his damaged left leg before descending the steps, but she never saw any other indication that he was feeling discomfort. Once, she wouldn't have given it a second thought. Now, she knew damn well that he was in pain, he was just incredibly good at hiding it.
He'd become quieter during the journey as they drew closer to the Midland airport. She wasn't sure he'd actually said anything at all during the last forty minutes of their flight. His expression was guarded now, his shoulders set in a tight, controlled line. This was Archangel, she realized, not Michael. It said something about his family if this was his preferred method of dealing with them.
Caitlin knew she could be a bit much at times. According to Dom, she chattered too much, and maybe she really was as bossy as Michael claimed, but even she could see that this trip was bothering him. Biting her tongue on all the things she wanted to say, she left him alone to his thoughts. He would talk to her when he was ready. All she had to do was exercise a little patience.
"Howdy, ma'am. Welcome to Midland." The young man's voice and outstretched hand pulled her from her thoughts. She returned the greeting and made arrangements with him to have the Cessna secured and serviced. Opening the nose compartment, she pulled out Michael's suitcase and garment bag along with her own small carryall. As if on cue, he appeared at her side and took his luggage from her.
With a nod of his head, Michael indicated the office. "If you'll take care of the paperwork, I'll see about our rental."
A*I*R*W*O*L*F
Signing off on the last of the airport paperwork, Caitlin tossed off a cheerful wave to the man behind the desk who had been helping her. Grabbing her suitcase, she headed towards the exit door with the "Ground Transportation" sign hanging above it.
Waiting at the curb she actually heard the car before she spotted it, the muted roar of a powerful engine drawing her attention to the left. Seeing the sleek, black Porsche slow as it approached her, she knew without a doubt that this was the car that Michael had rented. Picking up her bag she waited as the car rolled to a stop in front of her.
It took only a minute for him to get out, unlock the small trunk, and toss her bag in. Then they were moving, Michael switching lanes smoothly as he moved through the outbound airport traffic, shifting through the gears with a small smile on his face.
"It didn't come in white?"
He flashed her a grin, obviously enjoying himself and the feel of the car beneath his hands. "Sadly, no." He swung into the right lane and took the exit for I-20 West. "Odessa's about fifteen minutes from the airport. The clan has gathered at William's place, which is about another twenty to the south of town. I thought we'd stop there first, pay my respects to my sister-in-law and then head back to the hotel. I booked rooms at the MGM Grande. If you're feeling up to it, we can grab some food afterwards."
"I wouldn't mind a good burger."
"How about a steak instead? I know a place, if you don't mind blaring country western music and peanut shells on the floor."
Caitlin laughed. "Hey, don't forget, I'm from these parts. I grew up on country music and peanut shells." From the moment that Hawke had first suggested it, the idea of going off with Michael had made her nervous, but she was starting to feel more at ease. She told herself that what had happened between them before had been only an aberration, a response to stress and nothing more. If she tried very, very hard, she could almost make herself believe it.
They slowed to turn off the interstate. She caught the momentary grimace as he engaged the clutch, and judging from his sheepish glance in her direction, he knew she'd seen it. "Yes, I know. If I had any sense I would have rented an automatic." His words confirmed her suspicions.
"So why didn't you?"
He grinned. "Open roads and poorly enforced speed limits."
Given the sparse traffic and long stretches of arrow straight highway, she couldn't bring herself to fault him for that. Not to mention, driving the car seemed to have lightened his mood. That didn't mean she could resist a little teasing, though. "Remember that I used to be one of the people enforcing those limits."
That brought a chuckle from him. "Lucky for me the operative term is 'used to be.'"
There was still enough "cop" in her that Caitlin averted her eyes from the speedometer as he pressed down on the accelerator. Instead she watched him; his hands keeping a loose but confident grip on the wheel, his attention fixed on the road ahead.
"We're almost there," Michael announced as they slowed to a more respectable speed and turned onto a long gravel drive. Caitlin looked around curiously. Open fields stretched along both sides of the road. No cattle were evident, but she could see a couple of horses grazing in the distance. One raised its head as they passed, but seemed more curious than alarmed.
The house at the end of the drive was a stately brick manor fronted by heavy columns. Several expensive automobiles were parked around the circular driveway. Michael pulled the 928 into an empty spot between a Mercedes and a BMW and shut off the engine with a sigh.
"Well, I guess it's time to get this over with." Despite his words, Michael didn't move.
Caitlin could sense his reluctance. It hung over him like a dark storm cloud.
He turned his head towards her. "Come in with me, Cait?"
She was no more eager to enter the house than he was, but with a deep breath, Caitlin nodded. She reminded herself that Michael had walked onto a ship loaded with explosives to come to her rescue. This couldn't possibly be any worse, could it?
A*I*R*W*O*L*F
Caitlin fidgeted nervously as Michael rang the bell. She felt out of place here. She might be Texan, but this wasn't her Texas. Her Texas was family and farms and neighbors across the fence, not this vast tract of land with a mansion plopped square in the middle of it.
The door swung open to reveal Bugle Boy denims and a dark shirt topped by a head of longish dirty blond hair. The teen had a portable phone clamped between ear and shoulder. "Can't tonight," he was saying into the phone, "I'm at my uncle's. Yeah, everyone's here. Ma expects – hang on." He wedged one hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "Hey," he said, treating the word as if it was an acceptable greeting. "I think Aunt Elizabeth is in the den." Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back and returned to his phone call as he retreated into the house and left them alone.
Michael glanced toward Caitlin and shrugged, seemingly unsurprised at their reception – or lack of one. "Andrew. My sister's eldest," he said by way of explanation. As she stepped into the hallway, Michael reached around to close the door behind her.
"This way," he said, and she fell in beside him. The house was no less impressive from the inside, formally furnished with uncomfortable looking antiques. The sort of house meant more to show off one's wealth and position than to be lived in. Michael led her through a confusing maze of rooms until they reached what she surmised to be the den. There, they found a tall, dark haired woman leaning into the embrace of an even taller gentleman who appeared to be some years her senior.
The woman pulled away abruptly at the sound of their approach, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue she held. "Michael, you made it. I'm so glad." He lips curved in a forced smile that didn't reach her eyes and she moved closer to give him a perfunctory peck on the cheek. "Michael, I don't believe you've met my husband's partner, Richard Long. Richard, this is Maddy's eldest. William's half-brother, Michael Briggs."
Long was at least fifty, with a full head of silver hair. "It's good to meet you. William spoke of you often."
There was an undercurrent in the words, hidden meanings that left Caitlin in the dark, but Michael only replied with a dry, "Yes, I'm sure he did."
Richard seemed flustered for a minute before awkwardly adding, "Well, I wish this meeting could have been under different circumstances."
Michael agreed with a nod, turning his attention to the woman. "Liz, while William and I may not have been close, I hope you know how sorry I am for your loss."
She sniffled, dabbing her eyes again despite the lack of visible tears. "Thank you." She turned her attention to Caitlin. "So, who is this you've brought with you?" The abruptness of the question bordered on rude and Caitlin wasn't sure how she was supposed to take it.
"Liz, this is Caitlin O'Shannessy, my pilot. Caitlin, let me introduce Elizabeth Shipman, my sister-in-law."
"Ah." Elizabeth made a non-committal sound that Caitlin couldn't quite translate. "Will you be joining us for dinner this evening, Michael?"
He shook his head. "We've just come from the airport. By the time we get our rooms I'm afraid–"
"That's too bad. You'll be missed, then," Elizabeth said, in a tone that suggested he wouldn't be. "You will be at the calling hours tomorrow night?"
"Certainly. In the meantime, if there's anything I can do?"
"Everything is being taken care of." She glanced to the side, toward where the other man stood waiting. "Richard has been wonderful, a steady rock through this whole ordeal. He's handling all of the arrangements."
Michael inclined his head slightly. "In that case, I'll take my leave until tomorrow. Good afternoon, Liz, Richard."
As they left the room, Caitlin glanced behind her. Liz had already turned back to Richard and they had their heads together in conversation. She saw that Michael had noticed it, too, but he didn't remark on it.
She trailed him back through the house, uncertain whether the route they were taking was the same path by which they had entered. He was looking about as if he was looking for something – or someone.
"Michael?" She asked, as they paused in what might have been termed an overgrown foyer.
"My mother is here somewhere. I was hoping to see her without running into. . ." He looked to one side, down an intersecting hallway. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Shit."
The clicking of heels announced the woman long before she stepped into the room. Half a foot shorter than Caitlin, she carried herself with the presence of a much taller woman and had that classic hourglass figure that Caitlin had always envied. Her tailored suit was both expensive and tasteful. Blue eyes and a certain resemblance identified her as one of Michael's family, as did the dark blonde hair that was pulled up at the sides in a way that was both business-like and completely feminine. When the woman's frosty gaze swept over her, Caitlin immediately felt even further out of place than what she'd felt when she entered the house.
"My God, Michael. William isn't even in the ground yet. You couldn't show at least a little respect and manage for once without bringing along one of your whores?"
Whores? Caitlin bit her tongue, holding tightly to her sudden surge of anger. She glanced at Michael, but he was staring at the woman, his face expressionless.
"Ms. O'Shannessy, may I present my sister, Sara Matthews. Sara, my pilot, Caitlin O'Shannessy."
Caitlin startled at hearing herself addressed so formally, especially after just being called a whore, but Sara never even looked back over at her, her gaze still fixed on Michael.
"Your pilot. Of course she is, Michael."
Complete dismissal in seven words, each of them dripping with sarcasm. If Caitlin hadn't been so furious she'd have been impressed by Sara's cattiness.
"Dinner is at six thirty. Mother has requested that you join us." Her tone indicated that she personally wanted nothing of the sort.
"Sara, we drove straight here from Midland. We still need to check into the hotel. I thought-"
His sister glanced at her watch. "You'll have plenty of time if you don't dawdle. Don't you dare keep us waiting." Spinning on her heel, she headed towards the door, pausing just as she reached the entrance. Turning slightly, her gaze swept over Michael's clothing. "And for God's sake, dress appropriately."
Her heels clicked purposely down the hallway outside. As the sound faded, Michael blew out a breath. "That went well."
Caitlin nearly snorted. "Really? How could you tell?"
He looked at her a bit sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Sara has always been a bit of a bitch, and to make matters worse, she's been angry with me for a very long time." He shook his head. "Well, so much for escaping the family dinner. Let's get the hell out of here." He turned to head back the way they had come in.
Caitlin followed. She cocked her head towards him, lowering her voice. "Michael, what exactly does your family think that you do?"
He waved off the question. "You don't want-"
A voice called from their left, cutting short whatever else he might have said. "Angel! Come here, dear, and give your mother a hug."
Angel? Caitlin bit her bottom lip and tried hard not to laugh as Michael was enveloped in the arms of the older woman who'd approached them from the doorway.
The woman released him, stepping back to eye him up and down. "How are you, dear? You're looking well, all things considered."
A long-suffering sigh. "I'm fine, Mother." He looked her over. "I see you haven't changed a bit. Still beautiful and not a day older."
"And you're still a charmer." She smiled at him. "So who is your young lady, Angel?" Bright blue eyes inspected her curiously.
Michael's lips stretched in the first genuine smile Caitlin had seen since they'd left the airport. "Mother, this is Caitlin O'Shannessy. She's the pilot I hired to fly me down here."
Caitlin stepped forward, her hand out to the woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shipman." The hand that clasped hers felt fragile with age, the skin soft and thin, but the grasp was firm and full of confidence.
"Call me Maddy, my dear. Short for Madeleine."
Caitlin smiled at the other woman. "Then please, call me Caitlin."
"Mother, about dinner . . . We've come directly from the airport. I haven't had a chance to check into the hotel and I really should be getting Caitlin–"
"Nonsense, Angel. You can make it to your hotel and still be back here for dinner." Maddy turned slightly to include Caitlin. "And I'm sure Caitlin would love to join us for dinner, wouldn't you dear?
Caitlin hesitated, unsure of what she should do.
Her pause was all Maddy needed. "Excellent." Maddy clasped her hands together like some decision had just been made and agreed to by all parties. "Dinner is at six-thirty." She glanced down at a slim silver watch encircling her thin wrist. "You'd better leave now so you can be back in time. Sara will have a conniption if you're late." Maddy held a cheek up to Michael which he dutifully kissed.
As Maddy disappeared into the depths of the house, Michael scrubbed a hand up through his hair before directing her towards the door. "It's probably best we flee while we can," he said, wry tone suggesting that he was only half joking.
He was silent as they left, the crunching of the gravel driveway beneath their feet filling the void as he fell back into his more pensive mood from earlier. Only when the car had been started and they were moving down the winding driveway towards the road did Michael speak. "I'm sorry about that. I had hoped that having to check into the hotel would release me from any further family obligations this evening."
"It's alright. I understand. My own family . . . well, family never does what you expect them to." She fidgeted with the seat belt, giving her hands something to do. "It was nice of your mother to invite me, but I can't join you anyhow."
He shot her a swift glance in surprise.
"I didn't bring any clothes with me," she explained, waving a hand down at her t-shirt and jeans. "I brought jeans and a bathing suit. My plan was to lay by the hotel pool and read trashy romance novels."
"If we can get you something to wear, would you be willing to join me?" There was a wealth of hesitancy buried in the question. She caught his profile, but he was staring straight ahead at the highway, not looking at her.
"I-" She shook her head. "You know this is a bad idea?"
He had the grace to give her a sideways glance. "Not the first I've had. I know I'm asking a lot." He paused. "I'm afraid I'm going to ask for more though, even if I don't have the right."
"More?"
"I've been thinking about what you said, on the trip down. About William's death possibly not being accidental. I'd like to pursue that, even if it's just to ease my own conscience." He glanced at her again. "We can drive out to the scene tomorrow morning, and I'll find out where they took his car. Additionally, I'd like to get a look into William's study. Especially his computer."
She nodded slowly, thinking it through. "What do you need from me?"
He exhaled, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing as he took her words as agreement to help. "I've stayed at this hotel before. There's one of those little clothing boutiques in the lobby. We can get you clothes there. Dinner this evening, of course. Then the visitation tomorrow. I'm not sure about the funeral Sunday morning. At some point I should find a chance to slip into the study. Possibly during visitation, as there will be a lot of people coming in and out of the house."
She nibbled on the edge of her thumbnail as she thought. At least two changes of clothes. Shoes as well, although she might be able to get by with one single pair of good black heels. Realizing what she was doing, she pulled her thumb away and looked down at her hands. She kept her nails short, but her hands looked like what she was – a pilot and a part time mechanic who was often up to her elbows in bearing grease. She grimaced. No time for a manicure.
"I would appreciate your help in this." His voice grew a bit softer. "And your presence."
His words tugged at her heart. This wasn't Archangel. This was Michael, vulnerable in a way that she doubted few ever saw. "You had only to ask." Seeking to lighten the mood just a bit, she added, "Angel."
He made a face, but chuckled. "If you ever tell anyone, I'll have you thrown in jail for treason."
"So is that where?"
"Indirectly. My . . . recruiter. . . happened to be there one day when my mother called. Even then I had a propensity for wearing white when I wasn't undercover. Between the two-"
"You became Archangel."
"The leader of heaven's forces in their triumph over the powers of hell." He quirked an eyebrow and gave her a sideways grin. "If only I had the same power over certain relatives."
She laughed with him before they both fell silent. Caitlin watching the countryside roll by as Michael was again lost in his own thoughts. Patience, she reminded herself.
