Page 52 of Cast in Shadow
“Glad you think so.”
“I do.” He waved his hand in her general direction. “Does that help?”
“Meditation?”
He nodded.
“Yes. It’s great for clearing the mind and improving focus. Have you ever tried it?”
“No. Tattooing does that for me. I lose myself in it. The hum of the machine. Taking feelings and memories and turning them into art that means something. Not the bangers,” he clarified. “Not the premade designs that everyone gets, but the ones that come from the soul. Those that honor a loved one or turn intangible beliefs into something that can be seen and touched.”
“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.
She rose from the ground and straddled his lap. His hands rested lightly on her hips while she ran her fingers over his chest and arms. Such intricate designs, all different and yet in perfect harmony.
“Do all of your tattoos mean something to you?”
“Most of them do. Some I got when I was young and stupid.”
“What about this one?” She pressed the pads of her fingers to one of the larger images, a complex piece that covered his shoulder, extending down his arm and onto his chest. It incorporated animals—a wolf and a raven—around what looked like an ancient compass, etched with runes and surrounded by symbols. “It looks Nordic.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “A nod to my Viking ancestry.”
She trailed her finger farther down his torso, then across to his arm and the frog skeleton hidden among more symbols. “And this. I’ve seen this before. It’s a bone frog, isn’t it? You’re a Navy SEAL.”
He gently grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Yes, it’s a bone frog. And, no, I’m not a SEAL. Not anymore.”
His tone warned her not to ask any more questions. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned her upper body against his and rested her head in the crook of his neck in a gesture of acceptance. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, and she knew he’d gotten the message.
She pressed a kiss to his lips and changed the subject.
“Do you think Sam’s still alive?”
“Yes, I think he’s alive,” Zeke replied after considering her question. “Alive and hiding in the mountains. He grew up around there, right? He’s an avid hunter and fisherman. Those skills and his knowledge of the area are to his advantage, but they won’t last forever. I’m more concerned with why he ran. Based on his behavior and the things he said, he knew he was in danger. If he was an informant, why wouldn’t the FBI protect him?”
“Maybe he didn’t think they could. Or maybe it was the FBI he was afraid of,” she offered, thinking of what had happened to the Boston bank president.
He didn’t immediately discount the possibility. “A dirty agent?”
Aggie shrugged. “It’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone abused their position to line their own pockets.”
“No,” Zeke agreed darkly. “It certainly wouldn’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aggie
They left the next morning under mostly cloudy skies and the threat of rain. Typically, she felt mentally prepared and eager to be embarking on a new adventure. This time, however, uncertainty hovered around the edges of their departure from the chalet. She wasn’t going alone. She had to consider someone else in her decisions, which was both comforting and worrisome.
She’d booked them flights—under assumed names and with professional-quality fake IDs, of course—to cover the bulk of the distance as quickly as possible, then procured a vehicle to take them the rest of the way.
“Why are we heading north?” he asked when Aggie directed him toward the interstate turnoff.
“You said a real-time, detailed satellite map of the mountains around Parryville would be helpful.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, we’re going to get one.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “Trust me, okay?”
