Midnight Sun (14 page)

T
he street dance was in full swing when they arrived, not long before midnight. From the size of the crowd, it looked like every resident and tourist was present. Food and souvenir booths were set up along the waterfront park, and the parallel street was closed off for dancing. Max Midnight, the band Archie had mentioned, was set up on a platform at the end of the street. The sound carried for miles, and there’d been no need to string up lights, as the daylight would continue for weeks.
 

On the drive to town, the electrical workers they’d seen earlier had all shifted to the blown transformer. Sienna suspected the mask had visited one of those workers and caused him or her to make a mistake that triggered the blackout. She hoped dearly no one would get in trouble for the “accident” that had saved Rhys’s life.

She took Rhys’s hand and squeezed it, caught in a mix of emotions. Being with him made her giddy, but fear and apprehension over who they might meet in town had her stomach in knots. Someone had taken a shot at him today, and later, Adam Helvig would have killed him had they stepped outside at the wrong moment.

Was the shooter Adam or one of the Pelligrew brothers? Had whoever it was poisoned Chuck?

“Adam would be a fool to show up here, and we agreed to avoid the Pelligrews. So why are we here?” she asked Rhys.

He grinned. “It’s a street dance. We’re here to dance.”

She paused. How long had it been since she’d gone dancing? Not since grad school, at least. But then, she’d cut out all fun in grad school, not due to her coursework but because she’d caught her then-boyfriend—and fellow grad student—getting a blowjob from another student in the department study room. After that, she’d focused on school and nothing else. Somewhere along the way, she’d given up on having fun. On the night of her graduation, she’d tried to rectify that by picking up a guy at a bar, but the experience hadn’t been what either of them would call a good time.

So here she was, three years later, wondering if she remembered how to dance.

“Please? Dance with me?”

She nodded, and he led her to the cordoned-off dance area.

“We have just enough time for two more songs before we take a break to watch the fireworks,” the lead singer of Max Midnight said, then they launched into “In the Midnight Hour.”

A familiar soul tune with an easy beat, it was a good song to break her dance abstinence with. She started swaying her hips, and slowly, the rest of her body joined in. It was like riding a bicycle—or sex. Her body knew what to do as long as she didn’t let her head get in the way.

Rhys wore a sexy grin as he moved in time with her, and they brushed against each other with a seductive sway. The world was reduced to her, Rhys, and the beat. The song ended, and the band changed to a female vocalist for the last song of the set, the sexy jazz standard, “Midnight Sun.”

Rhys took her into his arms for a slow dance. The perfect song for the moment. Was there anything more romantic than dancing at midnight in the full light of day, with Kotzebue Sound and the Bering Straits to the east and south and low, rolling arctic hills to the west?

His arms tightened around her, their bodies pressed together as they rocked to the music in a rhythm that mimicked languorous sex. By the time the song ended, she was ready to drag him back to the house, forget watching the extravagant daylight fireworks display.

Rhys, however, was eager to see the fireworks and led her to the beer garden, where he found them seats in the packed space. “We should be able to see the whole show from here.”

They ordered drinks, which the waitress delivered quickly. Sienna sipped her beer, an Alaskan brew she’d never tried before but discovered she quite liked, and looked out over the water. “So. You really like fireworks, don’t you?”

He smiled. “I’m a guy. They explode. Need more information?”

She laughed. “Not really.”

“Seriously, though,” he said, settling back in his seat with his gaze fixed on the barge floating on the Sound from which the fireworks would be launched. “I did two tours in Iraq, defusing IEDs, C-4 bombs, unwilling suicide bombers, you name it. When everyday survival depends on understanding explosives, something like this is interesting and more than just a pretty show. I want to see the setup, how it’s designed. It’s part of who I am now, I guess.”

“Are you okay with the flash and boom?” she asked. “Does it trigger memories?”

“Yes and no. Yes, I can handle the noise—because I know it’s coming. Today in the storage unit nearly did me in—because it was real—and I wanted to shove Officer Tourney’s head into the wall when he suggested I’d suffered from a bout of PTSD panic upon hearing a random firework.”

“I did too,” Sienna said.

He smiled. “I’ve had PTSD issues, but nothing like some of the guys I know. I’ve had time—seven years now—and therapy. I had a bigger problem missing the adrenaline rush. It’s not exactly a healthy line of work, but I’ve learned to refocus.” He fixed her with a sexy smile. “And found other ways to get my rocks off.”

She flushed with heat.

A loud boom rent the air, drawing their attention back to the barge. The first volley was a streak of blue smoke, eliciting a gasp from the crowd when the end burst into a yellow, sunlike shape.

The display was slow, as a slight breeze was needed to wash away the previous sky painting before moving on to the next. But the pace was fitting for a show that was more like an aurora borealis than the flash and spark of normal fireworks. On the barge, white and gray smoke billowed prior to each low explosion, signaling the next image.

The show was long, loud, and beautiful as colors filled the bright blue midnight sky. The report of the explosions bounced off the water and echoed from the hills. The sound vibrated through her body with a resonance akin to the mask, making her wonder where the mask was, and what had made Adam desperate enough to steal it again.

The finale was a grand, burnt-sienna-colored sun that rivaled the real midnight sun. After the boom faded, the silence was deep and stark in contrast.
 

The crowd remained silent seconds longer than Sienna had ever imagined a group of revelers could, until the peace was broken by a woman’s scream.

T
he body had been dumped on the bandstand. The bass player had screamed when she found him sprawled over an amplifier. Whispers filtered through the crowd, finally reaching Rhys and Sienna: no one recognized the dead man.

With a sense of foreboding, Rhys led Sienna to the stage. Officer Tourney was there, behind the hastily strung-up crime scene tape. Other officers from Itqaklut were present as well. “Tourney,” Rhys called out. “Let us take a look. There’s a chance Sienna will recognize the guy.”

“It’s a head shot,” he said. “Gruesome.”

Rhys turned to Sienna. “Can you handle it?”

Her face was pale but her gaze resolute. “Yes. We need to know.”

To the officer, Rhys said, “Let her in.”

Tourney nodded, and Sienna pulled Rhys with her. When the officers objected, she stood her ground. They let him pass the barrier with her.

She glanced quickly, then away. She gave Rhys a sharp nod, which was good because Rhys had a harder time recognizing the man with the hole in the middle of his face.

To Tourney, Sienna said, “His name is Adam Helvig. He’s a museum curator and lives near Tacoma. He’s the person we suggested might have taken a shot at me earlier, and the man we suspect might have stolen a box from me with an artifact inside. I called it in about an hour ago.”

Tourney frowned and insisted on questioning them separately. It took the fool thirty minutes to round up witnesses in the crowded beer garden who verified Rhys and Sienna had been enjoying drinks during the entire firework display, precious minutes in which the Pelligrew brothers—if they’d shot Helvig—could be fleeing Itqaklut… except, there were no night flights, so maybe the snail pace of the investigation wouldn’t be a disaster.

Rhys considered the night a success when neither of them was arrested for murder.

Chapter Eleven

R
hys pulled the damaged SUV into Chuck’s driveway and paused, wondering if the house was safe. And if it wasn’t, would the mask be able to tell Sienna? It had, after all, been stolen, and with Helvig dead, who knew where it was now?

“I can still feel it,” Sienna said. “I live fifteen miles from the museum, but it sent me nightmares every night. I don’t think a few miles matter.”

“What’s it saying? Is the house safe?”

“It’s saying nothing, so I guess so?”

“Okay, then. Here’s how we’re going to do this: I’m going to search the house—with my gun out. I want you right behind me.”

She nodded.

The quick search showed the house was empty, and Sienna flopped onto the couch. Rhys leaned against the open bedroom door. He was so tired, it took a moment for him to realize they were both in the same places they’d been at the start of the dream.

Some of the tiredness left him.

Not being one to mess with what had been successful in the dream, he quickly shucked his shirt. She laughed and tugged her shirt over her head, then stood to remove her jeans. In seconds, she stood before him in nothing but a black bra and panties.
 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, meaning every syllable. Her body was athletic and strong, yet soft in all the right places—thighs, ass, belly, breasts. He loved her curves. He’d made love to her once, but had yet to taste every perfect inch of her. Time to remedy that.

He took a step toward her, but she held out a hand to stop him. “No. Lose the pants first. I want to see all of you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” In moments, he stood before her, fully naked.

“Lights are on, and neither of us has died in the last ten minutes. Promise me this isn’t just a dream.” Her voice was husky. Sexy as hell. She took a step toward him.

“Gorgeous, this is one hundred percent real.” He closed the distance between them, placed his hands on her perfect hips, and pulled her against him. His erection pressed against the soft skin of her belly, drawing a groan from him as he leaned down to kiss her.

Her satin bra rubbed his chest. As sexy as it was, he needed her skin, all of her soft, smooth, sweet skin against his. His tongue slid inside her mouth as he undid the clasp. Her bra hit the floor, and he shifted to her panties, peeling them off her without breaking the kiss. He had her naked in a flash and cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her hard nipples as he dropped his mouth lower to kiss her neck.