A Woman Without Lies

“Paris, actually. London was the next call.”

“Then Tokyo again.”

Angel shook her head. Having to look at a globe and have a clock that kept time in every world zone before you even answered the phone struck her as an unnerving way to do business.

It seemed to come easily to Hawk, though. She could see his quick intelligence assessing every possibility and lining up arguments even as he reached for the phone. His concentration, memory, and patience were phenomenal.

He would make an excellent fisherman if she ever got him out on the water long enough to teach him anything. As it was, they were only going to get a short distance up the coast before dark.

“Well, as long as we’re late anyway, we might as well stop in at Brown’s Bay,” Angel said. “We’ll top off the tanks, catch up on the fishing gossip, and then head over to Deepwater Bay for the night. If we’re in luck, we might even get in some salmon fishing.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

“It’s early for salmon to be there, but,” Angel shrugged eloquently, “we have to get our lines wet somewhere.”

“Or you’ll go crazy.”

“That is a distinct possibility.” She gave Hawk a sideways look out of green eyes. “Have you ever considered taking a vow of silence for a few days?”

The left corner of Hawk’s mouth curled slightly.

“Tired of my phone calls?” he asked.

“You could say that. And then you could say it again.”

“I’ve been meaning to break this to you gently.”

“What?”

“I have to check in with Tokyo tomorrow evening.”

Hawk saw the combination of disappointment and irritation that crossed Angel’s features.

“We don’t have to go back to Campbell River,” Hawk added. “I can patch through on the radio.”

“Do you mind if I fish while you talk?” Angel asked crisply, exasperated by the unending demands of Hawk’s business.

“It’s not always this bad.” The corner of Hawk’s mouth lifted again. “Sometimes it’s worse.”

Angel shook her head in despair.

“Most of the time it’s better,” added Hawk.

He measured Angel’s disappointment and wished he could be sure that it was his company rather than the chance to fish that she was missing.

“The deal I’m working on is rather complex,” Hawk said. “Tomorrow’s call should be that last major hump for a few weeks.”

Angel made a neutral sound. She had heard that before. Yesterday, to be exact.

Automatically, Angel cut back the speed as she turned into Brown’s Bay. The first thing she saw was the black, long-line troller tied at the dock. Her hand tightened on the throttle.

“Carlson!” Angel said, delighted.

As she guided the boat into a berth near the fuel pumps, Hawk watched her intently. Anger turned deep inside him when he saw the clear light of pleasure erase for a moment the haunting sadness that was so much a part of Angel’s eyes.

Hawk looked away from her, raking the marina with his dark glance until he spotted the battered troller tied opposite the pleasure boats. Black Moon was painted on the troller’s side. Men were unloading fish from the ship’s hold into wheelbarrows and pushing them up the dock to a scale. There the fish were weighed and put into a refrigerated truck to be hauled to market.

Quickly Angel shut down the engines and left the cockpit. The manager of the station tied off the bow while Angel leaped out and tied off the stern, leaving Hawk standing in the boat.

“All the way to the top, Don,” Angel called out.

Then she sprinted up the dock, turned, and ran down an intersecting dock toward the Black Moon, calling Carlson’s name with every breath.

Hawk leaped lightly to the dock, following Angel with long strides. He was halfway down the intersecting dock when he saw a very big man descend from the Black Moon and stand waiting for Angel, his massive arms spread wide.

Angel threw herself into Carlson’s arms and was lifted and spun around and around like a leaf in a whirlwind. She laughed and held on, letting the colors of the world blur around her.

“How are you? Was the run good? When are you going back? Oh, Carlson, you look fantastic!” Angel said, questions and words tumbling out of her. “Was the storm bad? Did you get any smileys?”

Carlson’s laugh was as big as the rest of him.

“Slow down, Angie.”

Angel threw her arms around Carlson’s massive neck and hugged him with all her strength, burying her face in the rough, masculine textures of his work shirt. He smelled of sea and salmon and sweat. The combination brought a storm of memories sweeping over her.

Shaking, Angel held on to Carlson until the storm passed.

Gently Carlson let her down onto the dock, cradling her head against his chest. He knew that seeing him always brought Grant Ramsey back to her. Dead, Grant was between them as much as he had been when he was alive. Carlson accepted it as he accepted bad fishing and violent storms. Some things were not meant to be.

For him, Angel was one of them.

“How’s it been for you, Angie?” Carlson asked.

He tugged gently on her thick French braid, remembering when her beautiful eyes had held a quality of dawning laughter rather than silent shadows.

“How’s the glass?” Carlson asked.

“The Vancouver show was good.”

“No, you’re the one who’s good.”

Angel smiled up into Carlson’s brilliant black eyes.

“I have so many new designs I want to do,” she said. “One of them is the Black Moon and the sea and the salmon beneath like a silent silver storm. Would you like that?”

“I’d love it, but I can’t afford it. Fishing has been real slow this year.”

Angel looked shocked. “It’s a gift!”

“Your smile is gift enough,” Carlson said quietly.

Then he glanced over the top of Angel’s head into a man’s icy brown eyes.

“You must be Hawk,” Carlson said.

Hawk nodded once.

“I’m Carlson.”

Hawk took the hand that was offered. Both men measured each other with a strong handshake that stopped well short of the adolescent knuckle squeezing that some big men indulged in.

“How’s fishing?” asked Carlson.

“It’s – ” began Hawk.

“Don’t ask,” interrupted Angel. “I’m going to have to surgically disconnect Hawk from the telephone if I want to catch any salmon this summer.”

Carlson smiled, his teeth like a white half-moon against his dark face.

“You haven’t missed much yet,” Carlson said. “The run is just starting.”

When he looked down into Angel’s face, his smile faded. The lines and shadows of the past were there for him to read just beneath her smooth surface.

“I’m glad you found me,” Carlson said. “I’m heading back out tomorrow morning. Derry said you were going to be gone for five days. Will he be alone tonight?”

Angel nodded slowly. “For a while. He said he didn’t mind. He was going to have some friends over later and play cards until he couldn’t see straight.”

Hawk caught the ripple of emotion beneath Angel’s words. It irritated him, just as watching her held in