At the Gate

18 hours to Thunderbolt – 3 p.m. Mountain

Cynthia Walker was surprised her plane was able to land on the last thick wave of the red dust blanketing Denver. But she had not expected to see her father inside the terminal bar. She yanked her carryon and stormed over to him, her gut twisting with anxiety. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

He looked too pleased with himself, arms open as he walked toward her. “Cynthia. My dear lavender moon.”

She folded her arms. “You promised to stay home.”

“No,” Manny said with a sly grin, wrapping her in a hug and pecking her cheek. “I promised to stay out of trouble.”

“You were telling stories again.” Cynthia stepped back. “You’re not in the classroom anymore. You’ve got to stop this nonsense.”

He pried her hand away from her chest, his eyes twinkling. “You should’ve seen me as I expounded my conclusions. I’ve never had an audience so excited.”

Cynthia’s lips twitched in spite of herself. That old light hadn’t been in his eyes since Mom died. “I did see it—at least the tail end. Abba—” The old name surfaced uninvited. She blinked and shook her head. “Dad, I mean—”

He released her hand, walking to the window with arms outstretched. “See? The dust started. A lot sooner than I thought.”

“I know. We followed it from L.A. And now, you need to go home.”

He tilted his head, still watching the red haze outside, though it was dissipating. “You think I’m too old to travel? Too old to bring my message to the world. I’m not dead yet.”

“I think you’re going to get into trouble again. I don’t want you hurt.”

He gave her a sharp look, his voice low but intense. “I can’t go home now, Cynthia. A lot of people will die soon. I have to get to that conference. You can get me in.”

She raised her hand, trying to calm him. “You got thrown out last time and embarrassed me.”

“This isn’t about your career, my dear. It’s too late for that. The planet is nearly here.”

Embarrassed, Cynthia glanced around. People were staring. She lowered her voice. “Please. Keep it down.”

A tall, handsome man in the frumpy slacks and a jacket with an academic patch, approached her and Dad. Cynthia bristled, even though he had an attractive, you-can-trust-me face and he was smiling which did funny things to her already upset stomach. “This is a private conversation. Do you mind?”

He extended his hand. “David Mitchell. Friend of your father’s.”

Manny grinned.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t I know you?”

David smiled as his eyes surveyed her up and down—slowly. “Yes. We met at last year’s conference. I’ve read your work on fracking and seismic swarms.”

Cynthia reluctantly shook his hand. He had a good, strong grip. “Thanks. I guess.” Could he read? “What do you want?”

“No need to be hostile.” David put his hand on Dad’s shoulder like they were old friends. “I was just telling your father he can come as my guest.”

Manny’s eyes lit up.

“No,” Cynthia gritted out. “My father is going home.”

“Now, Cynthia,” Manny said, grinning like a fool. “David and I had a lovely conversation in the bar. Smart man. I think he’s beginning to accept my work might have some validity.”

Cynthia grabbed Manny’s arm, pulled him aside. “Don’t do this. He’s not your friend. I saw how he just walked up to you from another gate.”

“Maybe you should pay attention,” Manny said lightly. “He’s not bad looking. Smart. And not a volcanologist.”

Cynthia froze. What had he brought up Ethan and thus her grief, why her heart was broken. Her chest tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry. I forget how fresh it still is.” Dad looked away. “I’m not going home.” He pointed out the big window facing east. “The dust’s stopped.”

Cynthia glanced at the window. Most of the red dust has thinned. “That. I have a private flight to catch. Please, Dad. Let’s not do this.”

David called over. “Manny, let’s go. Our ride has arrived.”

Manny squeezed her hand then slipped from her grasp. “Sorry, my dear. But I’m leaving.” He turned to David. “On my way.”

Cynthia followed, feeling defeated. “Where’s your luggage?”

“Don’t need it. I’ll buy what I need in Washington—if it’s still there.”

At the curb outside, a sleek black limo idled. The driver opened the door. Cynthia and David bumped into each other as they both attempted to get in at the same time. Sparks burst between them. Stupid physical reaction, just like a false tremor of the ground.

“Excuse me,” David said. “Where are you going?”

“In this limo. I’m expected at a Signature Aviation Den in thirty minutes.”

“So am I. Funny how that works.”

She tightened her grip on her briefcase and carryon. “Looks like we’re on the same plane.”

David’s smile should be registered for a weapon of mass destruction. She ignored it.

“So, it would appear,” he pointed to front doors. “After you.”

Cynthia slid into the limo’s back seat, Manny scooted in beside her. David sat across, eyes flicking to her legs. She yanked her tight skirt down.

At the private hangar, the driver unloaded their bags. Inside, a man and a woman waited. The woman dashed forward, hugging David. Her dress clung to her compact, but lithe little body like cellophane. “David, mi pequeño Volcán. So good to see you again.” She planted a big kiss on his lips.

“Elena,” David’s face reddened, and he muttered stiffly, stepping from her arms. “It’s been a while.”
Cynthia froze. Elena Ruiz. Of course. The women who killed her Ethan.

Elena focused briefly on Cynthia, an eyebrow raised. “Hello, Doctor Walker. Good to see you again.” Her tone was cool, detached. She grinned at David. “David and I are old friends,” Elena said with a dazzling smile. “He got me interested in volcanoes. Together, we spent lots of time on Mount St. Helens, didn’t we, my little Volcán?” She tweaked his cheek.

Cynthia’s jaw clenched. “How sweet.”

She turned to another man who walked up behind Dad. “Dr. Cynthia Walker…”

She paused, her whole body ceased with shock. She hadn’t heard that voice in years. It still had the power to wreak havoc with her heart. She should have recognized the infamous, Doctor John Grady, Oceanographer extraordinaire, and breaker of women’s hearts. How could she forget the other man who broke her heart.