Page 21 of Frost and Venom

Harlow shrugged, doing her best to look nonchalant. “Trust me, Rainier’s on it. He has the file.”

“File?” Zahra protested. “Just how many death threats have you received?”

“I come from a political family,” Harlow said. “Many politicians and members of their families are threatened. It just so happens the senator always made it public that he intends to run for the White House. He made a point of staying in the media, and he did so on very conservative family values. He portrayed himself as a good, God-fearing man with the perfect family and preached his values to everyone who would listen. He has charisma and good looks. Women fall for his bullshit lies. He makes enemies right and left with his rigid policies, which, by the way, he doesn’t follow.”

Raine reached out to her, touching her hand. That small gesture sent a ripple of emotion through her. She sometimes was starved for touch since she avoided it so much. That was such a dichotomy: needing human touch, craving it, and yet avoiding it completely if she could.

She stopped herself from continuing when she heard bitterness creeping into her voice. She had promised herself she wouldn’t allow her father’s or mother’s hypocrisy to affect her any longer. She’d built a good life for herself, and she’d done so without their help. She was happy in Knightly with her friends and the beauty of nature surrounding her. She didn’t need the doors in her past creeping open and letting that battered child or shocked teen out. Not when she’d finally found some peace.

“I think meeting here for Harlow’s night is a good thing,” Raine said. “Whether I’m out of traction or not doesn’t matter. I’ll love the company and welcome the distraction.”

Harlow heard the sincerity in her voice and was glad. She hated deceiving everyone, not telling them Wilder was in her home, but right now, Rainier and Wilder believed someone was hunting him. The fact that he’d been ambushed on an assignment he’d been sent out on was proof that someone in the organization was betraying them. It was terrifying to think it could be his own boss.

She had an intense need to keep Wilder safe. She didn’t want to delve too deeply into the why of it, but she knew she’d do anything to make certain no one was able to harm him. Sooner or later, one of her friends would stop by her house, and the truth would come out. She could try to explain at that time.

“Zahra, thank you so much for taking care of my Daisy. I would be worried sick if you hadn’t volunteered.”

“No worries. My little Misty loves her, and they play endlessly, wearing each other out. You know how energetic Misty is.” Zahra gave an exaggerated sigh. “I detest running, but I have to run at least three times a day to keep her happy and healthy. Daisy loves it. I do not.” She sprawled dramatically into a chair. “I have to take them along the canal in order to have a long enough run. We’re going to get attacked by a bear one of these days. I tell the two little monsters it isn’t safe, but they don’t listen. They run rings around me.”

“You’re obsessed with bears,” Shabina said. “Bears leave people alone for the most part. Unless it’s a mom with cubs or you’re between it and its favorite food.”

Zahra rolled her eyes. “People are their favorite food. They try to trick you by backing away part of the time, but I’m not fooled, and as much as you’ve gone backpacking, you have to know I’m right.”

“Bears want nothing to do with humans,” Stella assured.

Zahra’s mouth did her famous pout, which only made her look adorable. “I appreciate your attempting to make me feel safe when I have no choice but to risk my life for my little Misty.” Her gaze shifted to Raine. “And Daisy.”

Raine kept a straight face. “Thank you, Zahra. I know Daisy can be a little holy terror if she doesn’t get her exercise. If she gets to be too much, let me know. Rainier said he could have his men take turns running her.”

Zahra looked outraged. “No way are they going to look after Daisy. She wouldn’t like being with strangers. She misses you like crazy as it is. I’m not about to let those men who think the only dogs in the world are Belgian Malinois take care of her. Smaller dogs are just as worthy.”

“That’s true,” Raine soothed. “Daisy is very good at talking. If she doesn’t like someone, she has no problem growling her little head off. And no one can get near the house without her alerting me.”

Harlow refrained from saying the smaller dogs couldn’t take down a bear because that would become an entirely different conversation.

“We’d better go before we get kicked out of here and told not to come back,” she said, leaning down to brush a kiss on Raine’s forehead. “You hang in there. We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“Are you coming back to the café with us?” Shabina asked.

“One of Rainier’s men returned my camera, so I’m going to spend time in my studio. I desperately need to. You know how I need that…” She broke off. She’d almost said alone time, but she quickly changed it. “Creative time. That part of my brain goes crazy if I don’t feed it.” That much was true. She really needed to work in her studio. The moment she was in possession of her camera, she was excited to see the various shots she’d gotten.

—

Harlow loved everything about her studio. It was open and airy; the high ceilings, curved windows and glass doors leading to the outside appeared to bring the surrounding trees and flowers right into her workspace. She had divided the studio into three sections. Her first love was photography, and she had a massive space to work, including a darkroom. With the newer digital age, she knew not a lot of the up-and-coming photographers worked with a darkroom, but she loved hers. She could create magic there.

The second-largest space was given to her pottery work. She truly enjoyed making pottery, but she didn’t feel she was good enough to sell it in the galleries that sold her photographs. To her, making pottery was therapeutic. She liked to do it for her friends, creating special items she thought they’d love. She had two kilns, one for glass and one for clay. Her preference was clay. She liked the feel of it. But glass was intriguing, and she was learning.

The third space was dedicated to comfort. Misha’s bed, crate and toys were there, along with two very comfortable and somewhat artsy chairs. The chairs faced her vegetable garden. Her closest neighbor, Helen McKay, kept chickens. They were free range for the most part, which meant they often traveled to Harlow’s property. They ate the ticks and bugs out of her garden and went home at night to their coop, where they could be safe from predators. Helen traded fresh eggs for vegetables, and the arrangement suited them both.

Harlow was eager to see the photographs she’d taken at the old barn. She had traveled when she could to photograph several historic barns in various states. Most she found in the backcountry. To her, they were beautiful and indicative of the history of the areas they were built in. She loved the old barn on the property outside of Knightly. She’d photographed it many times, but never in the early morning, when the sun was rising and frost was still on the ground. She was excited to see the results and what she could do with the pictures she’d taken.

When she was developing and working with photographs in her darkroom, she always lost track of time, just as she did when she was doing her pottery or climbing. Her far-too-active mind focused completely on her projects and allowed her to relax and enjoy every moment of what she was doing.

She studied every shot she’d taken of the barn in the frost. The effect of the early sun hitting the shimmering ice particles was beautiful, particularly where the vines crawled up the sides of the barn to meet the large webs of the garden spider. The frost glistened on each of the spider’s long, intricate lines, turning the side of the barn into an amazing piece of art.

She loved spiderwebs and how lacy and different each web could be. She’d noticed garden spiders in particular built very large webs with complex and different patterns. The pictures of the web on the side of the barn led her to study the photos she’d taken of the floor of the barn and the ground just outside.

The holes, cracks and fractures in the floorboards were interesting, especially where the morning sun hit in streaks, but the effect didn’t have the impact of the ones on the outside of the barn. Still, she knew she could do something special with them.