Like Honey (16 page)

G
ray stood in the center of the fifty hives that just yesterday had been healthy, full of fat, buzzing bees. He felt as if he had stepped into an eerie cemetery. Bees are good creatures. They are clean, they work hard, take care of each other, and people, too.

But this.

This.

The breeze ruffled through the leaves on the trees.

Gray blinked back a tear.

This was murder. Jennifer was right.

An old poem his mother used to whisper played through his mind:

Gray didn't realize until that moment how much he loved bees. It was something he'd always known, but never admitted. Not until now, among the dead bees.

He twisted around and saw the bird, went closer to examine it. Freshly dead, he thought, happened sometime this morning. Maybe when the police were at the other end of the property.

He took several photos of the bird, reached into his bag, and pulled out a baggie. He placed the bird into it and zipped it. It was a hooded crow, all right, and that is what he was afraid of. He knew the bird and what it symbolized. He just took the Mafia off his list, international or Italian. This was no Mafioso symbol. This was Celtic.

In Celtic folklore, the bird appears on the shoulder of the dying Cú Chulainn, and could also be a manifestation of Morrígan, ancient goddess of battle, strife, and sovereignty. This idea has persisted, and the Hooded Crow is associated with fairies in the Scottish highlands and Ireland; in the eighteenth century, Scottish shepherds would make offerings to them to keep them from attacking sheep. Gray's grandmother also told him stories about how a maiden would go out on Candlemas morn and throw a stone, then a bone, then a clump of turf at a Hooded Crow—if it flew over the sea, her husband would be a foreigner; if it landed on a farm or house, she would marry a man from there; but if it stayed put, she would remain unmarried.

He bent down and scooped up several dead bees and placed the bodies in another bag. He needed to get to the post office. Fast.

At least he now knew what group he was dealing with—a Scottish organized crime organization for whom the Hooded Crow was a symbol. But someone far higher up in Homeland Security told them that lead had played out—there was no longer such a group. Either they were wrong, or a new branch had started up. Question was: what did they want with Jennifer D'Amico and her bees? Were they the group who was running drugs through her honey to export to China? The drugs that were funding some of the biggest illegal weapons dealers in Asia? What the hell?

He called Kasey, explained what happened, told her that he was on his way to the post office. But when he turned around, Jennifer was walking over the crest of the ridge.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” he said.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked. And he didn't have an answer.

He started to walk away from her. He needed to get to the post office and send the bodies of the crow and the bees to Edinburgh headquarters as soon as he could.

“I have to go to town,” he said. “I can't stay here and argue with you.”

“Why do you have the crow in a plastic bag?”

“I'm sending it off to authorities, along with the bees. Hoping they can tell us what killed them,” Gray told her, and kept walking. He had a job to do. His job was not really master beekeeper. He wanted to tell her that. But he could not go against orders.

“Good idea,” she said as she tried to keep up with his brisk pace. “But why not just call the police?”

So many questions!

“I have a friend,” he said. “I have a friend who can tell us what we want to know much more quickly.”

“Have you checked on the other bees?”

He stopped, looked at her, and held her by the shoulder. “No and please don't do it yourself. I'm begging you. I'll get right to it as soon as I get back.”

“Gray, these are my bees. This is my property. Don't tell me what to do. Everything I've planned. Everything I've worked for!”

“I know,” he said, and pulled her to him, held her for a moment.

She pulled away. “Who are you, Gray?”

He stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I don't believe you are who you say you are. I think you have secrets. A past you're running from, maybe?”

“Now, hold on—”

“No. You hold on. I'm your boss. If there's anything you need to tell me . . . I mean I'm more than your boss. We are . . .”

“Lovers,” he said.

“Well, not now, not since . . .” she mumbled.

He needed to go. Damn. Why did this conversation come up now?

“Look, Jennifer, we will have a serious talk soon. I promise,” he said. “But you are right. There's stuff about me I haven't told you. Once I do, the rest will be up to you.”

A hard ball formed in the pit of his stomach.

She looked so beautiful standing on the hillside, her form against the violet sky, breeze blowing through her hair, that he just had to, um, had to reach down and kiss her. A kiss met with promise and a stiffening between his thighs.

J
ennifer watched him walk away. As if she had a choice. The insides of her thighs were trembling. She wasn't certain that she could walk yet. That kiss was not just any kiss. It was the kind that's started at your mouth and spread through your body in one fell swoop, turning your insides to mush and heat.

He looked good walking away. She was frightened and perplexed, but not dead. So she enjoyed the view of him as he made his way to his truck. She was following now, slowly.

“I think it would be best for you to wait in my cottage,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because nobody would expect to find you there.”

He opened the truck door and placed his filled baggies inside.

“But I have work to do.”

“Go and get your laptop and work from my place today. Nobody is expecting you to work with all that's going on. I mean you should cancel meetings and so on. I'll be back as soon as I can,” he said, and slid into the truck.

After grabbing her laptop, Jennifer planted herself on the back porch of the beekeeper's cottage. A place she loved. She sat the laptop down on the chair and spread out over the glider, looking out over the river and spotting her bees flying from flower to flower, feeding on the nectar and taking it back to their queen.

She mulled over this morning's events. Awakened out of a sound sleep by the police, listening to Gray's story about how he went walking and ran into the body of Liam Grady, his mother having a shotgun and attempting to enter her house. Could she be the one responsible for the death of Jennifer's bees? The poor woman must be mad with grief.

She rocked the glider and slumped even farther into it. She warmed as she realized this was the very spot she and Gray had had sex. Not just any sex, either. Earth-shattering, if-I-come-one-more-time-I-will-die sex.

Now the delicate yellow primrose was blooming, as was the common scurvy grass with its small white clumpy flowers. Ren always considered that a weed, but she loved it and talked him into keeping a few around the property. They looked so pretty with the green grass and the primrose.

Mmmmm, Ren. She missed him, still. She listened as the wind rustled through the trees and birds were chirping. She rocked in the glider and closed her eyes.

She woke up several hours later, disoriented. She sat up and realized she had been having a very sexy dream about Ren and Gray. She laughed out loud. Wow. Wait. It was Ren and Gray and her masked almost-lover at the Mead Maker's Ball. Was it two men? Or three?

She caught a chill in the air and reached for her laptop. She needed to get inside. Where was Gray?

She looked out the window to see if any cars or people were still around the big house. It was empty. She wanted to go back to her place, but she had promised. And maybe whomever had destroyed her bees waited for her there. Best to wait.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. She was still so sleepy. Her neck ached because of falling asleep on the glider. She spread out on his bed and remembered her dream, biting her lip.

As in the way of dreams, she only remembered bits and pieces. But, she was in bed with Ren, who had always said he'd love to see her having sex with another man. She always told him no. But in this dream, he said he had a surprise for her. And the next thing she knew a man was coming up behind her. She didn't need to look at his face to know it was Gray. She knew it from the shape of his flesh as it pressed against hers, the way his erection was shaped, the exact way in which his hand felt as it moved along the small of her back.

“Relax,” Ren said.

She started to turn to look at Gray.

“No,” Ren said. “Don't look at him until you're ready. Timing, my love.”

Next, she was lying on top of Gray, her back up against his front. He held her arms down, gently stroking them now and then and kissing her neck, and Ren held her legs apart as his mouth and tongue played at her center. Gray's cock pressed in between her ass cheeks, where it throbbed.

Was that even possible? She laughed to herself, knowing that neither Ren nor Gray would probably want to be that close to another naked man. But still the image delighted her. At the same time it made her blush. Something about Gray made her feel wild and free and like she could explore fantasies that she didn't know she even had.

She rolled over on her side—just like she ended up doing in her dream. But in the dream, Ren was inside of her, and so was Gray. But he was in her ass—and she felt this delicious pull between them as they found their rhythm. What would it really be like to be with two men? To be tangled in their strong arms, legs, feeling so submissive, yet so cared for?

What a dream.

As she thought it over, a curl of desire erupted within her. She thought of Gray and wondered where he was. It had been hours. A delicious thought formed. What would he do if he came home and found her naked beneath his quilted covers?

T
he bird and bees sent overnight to the lab in Edinburgh, Gray stopped in to see Kasey, where she told him the latest—Liam Grady was not a Grady. He was a D'Amico. She confirmed it with the coroner, who had known Liam and his mother for years, and in fact was the town doctor who had delivered Liam when he was a baby.

“According to the doctor, Ren Senior knew about the boy, but was busy with his own son, Ren, who at the time was about six months old,” Kasey said.

“So Ren and Liam were half brothers,” Gray said. “All of this could be related. His mother had a shotgun and came after Jen this morning. It's beginning to feel like an old Scottish tale of clans and bastard heirs.”

“Let's not get distracted by this. We need to figure out where the drugs fit in, if at all.”

“And I've still not seen any trace of drugs on the property or heard any talk of drugs,” Gray said.

“Then you're looking in the wrong places.”

“No shit.”

“Listen, we know that honey from this farm has helped to hide and move cocaine—millions of dollars' worth—right?”

He nodded. “That is an absolute. We also can confirm that Jennifer doesn't know a thing about it.”

“But did Renaldo?”

“We'll never know that.”

“Perhaps Liam?”

“We'll never know that, either.”

“But Liam has brothers and a mother.”

“A crazy-ass mother, evidently. Maybe we should start there.”

“Funeral duty.”

“Yep,” he said. “I'm off. I left Jen at my place alone. Figured it was safer for her there.”

“Her safety is not a priority,” Kasey said.

She was a coldhearted bitch. He'd always known that, but her good looks and lovemaking skills made that easy to overlook in the past. Not anymore.

She raised an eyebrow. He suspected that she knew about his relationship with Jen. He didn't want that. At the same time, he couldn't disregard her safety. In fact, he could never disregard the safety of any innocent bystander the way Kasey had over the years—which was probably why he'd never be promoted.

“I know that,” Gray said. “I know it's not a part of the mission, but at the same time, we don't want another death, do we?”

“None of these deaths had a thing to do with us. They would have happened with or without us. The D'Amicos. Liam. Our mission is to find the folks running the drugs through; we are not to get involved with these people.”

”I'm not involved,” he said, but he knew he was lying to her. It wasn't the first time he had lied to Kasey. But he was very involved, not just with Jen, but the Grady brothers—who he had come to respect and like—and also with the place, the land itself, which he had fallen in love with. He loved the people, the skies, the rocky earth, and the bees. He couldn't deny it. Maybe he needed to move on to his next job before he got in too deep.

“I also think that Jen could be useful to us. She's smart and has been involved here longer than us. Still no word from your boss?”

She shook her head. “In the meantime, it probably is a good idea to keep her in your cottage. Maybe you could ask her questions, gain her trust.”

He tilted his head. “I think I already have that.”

“Let's hope so,” she said as her eyes swept up and down the length of him. “Do I need to remind you to keep it in your pants?”

“C'mon Kasey,” he said, and looked away.

She walked away from him. “I know you,” she said.

“You think you know me and I'm a little tired of this bullshit. Either you trust me or you don't. I'm a good agent and I know my job.”

“Jennifer?” She said it with an edge in her voice and a looked that said who-do-you-think-you're-kidding.

“Okay, I like her and she's hot,” he said. “But it's in perspective. I know I'll be moving on, so does she and it's cool.”

Kasey laughed. “Men,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

“Listen,” he said. “Jennifer is really different from any other woman I've known. She was hurt in a deep way when she lost her husband. I'm aware of that. I don't want to play with her.”

“Well, well, well,” Kasey said. “I think you're finally maturing.”

He laughed. “I hope not. Jesus. Look, I better go. I don't want to leave her alone much longer. If she's been caught in some kind of clan or drug war, they will be coming after her soon.”