A Glimpse of the Dark Side: Adult Paranormal Erotic Romance Collection by Eden Laroux Read Free Book Online Page A

you get anything else, call me."
    "No," she told him. "I'm going with you."
    Ash already had the door open, and stopped. "You
are not going with me. If Lianna is there, then so is whoever is
keeping her." The Morgans exchanged frightened looks. "You don't
have any business in a situation like that."
    "Don't you get it?" January said, "The closer we
get to her, the better our connection is going to be. I can help
you find her." She was already putting her jacket back on.
    Ash shook his head. "I knew you were going to
argue with me. Alright, let's go. Sorry to disturb you again, Mr.
and Mrs. Morgan. We'll be in touch."
    Ash was already on the phone on the way to the
car.
    "Talbot," he said. "I need you to meet us. We
may have found Lianna."

Chapter Ten
    IT WAS SUNDAY, and the aviation museum was
closed. Ash made a series of phone calls in the car, the last one
to an irate property manager.
    It was raining a little as they got close to
where they were going. The blank highway landscape turned into
pastel-colored shopping strips and condominium complexes with
exciting maritime names.
    They passed a gleaming shopping mall complex and
turned off onto a bumpy side road. The control tower was an older
yellow brick building in an empty cul-de-sac with a small parking
lot. It wasn't as tall as January figured it would be-only a few
stories.
    They got out of the car and walked toward the
tower. January searched with her mind for a trace of Lianna. She
felt nothing. Doubt blossomed in her mind, but she ignored it.
    The property manager, a barrel-chested man
sweating through his suit, was already waiting for them. "Hank
Armitage," he said, offering his hand to Ash and January. "Now,
what in God's name is so important that I had to leave my family in
church to high-tail it over here?"
    "Thank you for accommodating us on such short
notice, Mr. Armitage. We suspect there may be something in the
museum that might lead to a kidnapping victim," Ash said.
    Armitage looked at Ash suspiciously. "Hm. Well,
if you're right, I guess the good Lord will give me a freebie for
today." He took out a large key ring with a confusing array of keys
on it, and let them into the building.
    Inside was a dingy entryway with a hallway and a
staircase painted an institutional green. The walls were covered
with photographs of the naval station in its operational years.
    "Does anyone else have access to the museum
during off-hours?" Ash asked.
    "Just Brian, the groundskeeper, but he's not
working today."
    "Can you call him please?"
    Armitage made a call and waited. "Brian, it's
Hank. I need you to call me as soon as you get this." He hung up
and shrugged his shoulders.
    They went up the stairs into the museum's main
chamber. It was a small, square room with dusty floor-to-ceiling
windows-the observation room of the control tower. January had the
impression of standing in midair. Outside, she could see the mall
grounds, the pink and yellow beachfront condos, and beyond that,
the rolling gray of the Pasquotank River.
    "Take a good look around," Armitage said.
"Normally it'd cost you $5.50 to be up here, so enjoy it."
    January wandered around the room, past
photographs of airplanes and pilots-tall, square-jawed, unsmiling
men in flight jackets and wide pants. Some of them looked barely
old enough to shave. Bronze plaques explained the stories behind
the people and the planes. There were models under glass, airplane
engines, a few paintings, and even some historical clothing. It was
the kind of place Mr. Morgan would have loved.
    Her eye fell on a huge, wall-size photograph. It
was taken in color, although the airplane in it was very old-a
beautiful bomber, gleaming silver in the sunlight. A pilot in
vintage clothing stood next to it, with a group of smiling children
posed around him. They were holding a banner, reading "15TH ANNUNAL
NORTH CAROLINA AIR SHOW."
    January looked at the plane more closely.
Painted on its nose was a buxom pinup blonde from a long-departed
era