Roark

by AC Arthur

  “You still trying to buy your way outta shit,” he spat the words, hatred filling every crevice of his damned soul. “I never gave a damn about your money.”

  Ronnella gasped, and he knew that was the moment she recognized him. “No,” she whispered. “It’s impossible.”

  He took a second to look at her, to really see her this time. She was still pretty, her skin a soft sand complexion and those same expression-filled hazel eyes. Her hair was shorter now with no gray at all. Ronnella would’ve never allowed it to turn gray. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement and shifted his attention, firing the gun when he saw Tony extending his arm to the nightstand where the phone was.

  Tony yelled as the bullet ripped through his shoulder, and Ronnella screamed again.

  “Kaymen, no!”

  His twisted mouth moved into a position he recalled as being a smile, and he chuckled. “You remember me.” Of all of them, a part of him had hoped she would.

  The others hadn’t, not until he’d told them and then they’d begged and lied just as they always had.

  He wasn’t going to wait for that now.

  With Tony cupping his shoulder and screaming in agony, his blood dripping onto the light-colored sheets, Ronnella continued to stare and shake her head. “Kaymen.”

  He hurried around to the side of the bed where she was then, still pointing the gun at Tony as he dug his free hand into his pocket and pulled out the syringe. “Lay back!” he instructed her.

  Tears were rolling down her face now, and her hands were shaking. “Kaymen, please.”

  “Shut up and lay back, or I’ll shoot you in your lying face right now!” For the first time, he trembled.

  He’d wanted to save her for last, but he hadn’t been able to track down Tony—now he knew why. They were together, and that was just as well. A two-for-one would give him extra pleasure.

  She lay back slowly, her entire body shuddering as she sobbed now. She was afraid and probably just starting to feel the icy pricks of regret. Well, good for her—she should have regrets. All of them should.

  When she was down, he moved faster than he normally did, jabbing the syringe between her toes and listening as she screamed again. That noise would stop in just a few seconds, and then he’d only have to deal with Tony. Because he’d presumed Ronnella would be alone, he’d brought one syringe, but that was fine, his gun was working just fine to keep Tony still.

  “You lay back too!” He directed his former roommate and walked around to stand in front of the bed. “Since you two were always fucking around behind my back, it makes sense that you both get to lay there and die together.”

  “Dammit, Kaymen! Hold the hell up, man! What’re you doing?”

  Kaymen leaned down and removed the top from the can of gasoline. “Shut up!” His head was throbbing now; the headaches he’d lived with for forty-five years was more intense than he’d ever felt it before. Anger boiled inside him and his hands trembled momentarily. “Shut up and lay there! Lay there and die!”

  “Kaymen!”

  He ignored Tony’s next call and started pouring the gasoline right there. From the second it splashed onto the carpeted floor and the scent wafted up to his nose, Kaymen went into a zone—the place where there was nothing existed but the heat, the scent of burning flesh, the sound of ferocious flames licking along the skin and tearing it away until there was only bone. The sound of screams, his this time, echoing in his mind.

  He walked faster, pouring gasoline all the way around the bed. When he was on the side where Tony was holding his shoulder, the stupid motherfucker tried to lunge at him. Kaymen landed one hard punch to Tony’s jaw and when he fell back on the bed, Kaymen poured gas directly on his ex-friend’s screaming body.

  When the can was empty, he searched his jacket pockets for the lighter he always carried, but it wasn’t there. He cursed as he searched again.

  A whispery sound came from Ronnella and he jerked his head in her direction. She was staring directly at him. Her eyes so glassy now they looked fake, her lips trying to move. He paused for a moment and then walked closer to her. With a flame-resistant gloved hand that had been splashed with the gasoline, he touched her cheek and then her hair. Tony continued to howl from across the bed, and Kaymen leaned down closer to Ronnella.

  “I’m…sorry…Kaymen,” she whispered, her breath hitching as the drug relaxed every muscle in her body. “I’m so sorry.”

  He tried to kiss her forehead the way he used to do whenever she felt sad, but it didn’t feel right. It felt dirty and sordid and he yanked away from her, yelling, “It’s too late to be sorry.”

  With purposeful movements, he yanked his jacket open and reached down into the pocket of the jeans he wore beneath the turnouts. The bright light of victory soared through him as he felt the lighter in that moment.

  A match would’ve been preferable to some, or anything with a flame that he could’ve dropped onto the gasoline-drenched floor and ran as the flames exploded, but Kaymen had an up-close and personal relationship with fire. It obeyed him. So when he kneeled down and flicked the lighter’s switch, that flame hit the gasoline, and a blinding spark of yellow-orange erupted. He stepped back then, as easily as if he’d been moving from one room to the next, but he didn’t leave. He only moved back enough so he could watch the flames without any of them getting on him.

  Ronnella opened her mouth to scream again, but the sound was stilted by the drug steadily seeping into her system. Tony yelled and intended to jump off the bed, but as soon as his legs went over the side, they were met by the rising flames that had traveled along the gasoline path. In seconds, the bed was surrounded and two of the people he’d thought would be his friends for life were about to take their last breath.

  Painswick

  One Week Later

  * * *

  “This isn’t the cottage,” Sandra said as she stepped into the front foyer of the clubhouse. “It’s too fancy.”

  “Yes, this place is fancy,” Tuppence answered from behind them.

  Tamika rolled her eyes but vowed to remain silent as she and Roark ushered the women inside.

  The cottage needed renovating as well as cleaning work as a result of the fire, and after a spirited debate with Roark about who was going to pay for everything—she’d won—the contractors were scheduled to start work next Monday morning. She’d let him buy her clothes and she was staying at this gorgeous—or as her mother had just said, “fancy”—B&B free of charge. No way was she going to let him take on the price of the renovations to her parents’ home. Even if the insurance company hadn’t indicated they’d pay the claim, Tamika had a comfortable savings account she would’ve drawn from without hesitation.

  “It’s just temporary,” Tamika reminded the two prickly women. “As soon as the repairs to the cottage are complete, you can move back in.”

  Geoff had sent them to the hospital in a limousine this afternoon so her mother and Tuppence would have comfortable space during the twenty-minute ride back. Two black SUVs with armed guards rode with them. Tamika was glad to hear her mother talking so much, but a little worn by all the negativity and speculation in Sandra’s tone.

  “Looks like royalty lives here,” Tuppence was saying as they moved into the parlor.

  It was the closest room right off the foyer to the left, and she’d wanted them to sit down for a few minutes to catch their breath before going up the stairs to the rooms Dorianne had prepared for them.

  “Not royalty,” Roark said as he helped Tuppence onto one of the floral couches. “My family owns the place but we rent it out, similar to the way you used to rent out your cottage, Mrs. Rayder.”

  “Your family.” Her mother sat back on the end of the couch Tamika had taken her to, and Sandra stared across the room at Roark.

  Tamika had noticed her looking at Roark this way in the hospital when he’d entered her room and Tamika had introduced him. Both she and Roark had wondered how her mother would react to hearing hi
s name. Tamika had already told him and Pierce that her mother admitted to knowing Maxine Donovan had been sending her father letters, but her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about that conversation since that day over a week ago. And truthfully, Tamika had been afraid to push for more information, because her mother looked so fragile with bandages still covering the scars on her arms and neck.

  “You’ve got a big family, don’t you?” Sandra asked Roark.

  He stood next to the couch where Tuppence was sitting and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “Then you’re blessed,” she said. “Never forget how blessed you are to have a lot of people who love and care about you.”

  “No, ma’am, I won’t.” Roark glanced at Tamika then, but she looked away from him because she didn’t want to see his subtle push for her to find out what her mother knew about their group of friends and any grudge one of them might be holding against the others.

  While Tamika wanted to find out who was doing this, she wasn’t willing to risk her mother’s sanity for it, and something deep inside told her it was only going to take one more thing before Sandra went to the point of no return with her depression.

  “Bet y’all have had some big parties here,” Tuppence said. She was short, so her feet didn’t touch the floor, and she looked around the room, eyes wide as she took everything in.

  Each time Tamika stared at the woman, her heart warmed. Not only because Tuppence had helped save her mother’s life, but that she was still here with them also. The infection that had begun after her surgery had cleared up quickly, which was why she’d been released along with her mother. There’d been no drugs in Tuppence’s system, but traces of succinylcholine had been detected in her mother’s.

  “Actually, we’ve never spent time here as a family,” Roark said and then frowned. “I don’t really know why not, but this is the first time any members of my family have been here.”

  “Shame—this is a great room. A big ‘ole Christmas tree would look wonderful in that corner near the window. And all the presents spread out. The fireplace would be lit, and somebody could start singing Christmas carols.” There was a light in Tuppence’s eyes when she spoke. “You remember we talked about our favorite Christmas stories, Sandra. We sat in front of that little tree, the only size I could carry by myself, and just talked for hours.”

  Sandra rolled her eyes. “You talked, Tuppence. I listened.” Because five months ago she hadn’t been in the mood to talk. Tamika hated that she hadn’t been here sooner, to help her mother get through her grief.

  “Well, Dorianne has promised to cook a big dinner, so we’ll all sit together in the main dining room and it’ll be just like having a family dinner.” Roark’s announcement shocked Tamika a little, because in the time she’d been here with him, he hadn’t talked about this place with the adoration she saw in his eyes and heard in his tone now.

  “Ah, that’s right. If you’d like, we can help you both upstairs to your rooms, where you can get some rest until its dinnertime.” Now that they were here, she wanted them to get as much rest as they could. Their healing was her number one priority at the moment.

  “Is there a television in my room?” Sandra asked.

  “Yes, Mama, there is. And it has all the premium channels, including one that runs classic Black movies, so you can settle down and watch some of your favorites.”

  “I’d rather have a window than a television,” Tuppence began easing herself to the edge of the chair, attempting to get up on her own.

  Roark was immediately at her side, wrapping an arm around her and taking her hand to ease her off the couch slowly. Sandra continued to stare at him. “There’s a huge window in your room, Ms. Gregory, and I’ll move the chair closer to it so you can sit and look outside.”

  “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you to call me Tuppence, but yes, I’d like to sit in front of the window for a while. Seems like I’ve been laying down forever.”

  As Roark moved past them with Tuppence, and Sandra lifted shaking fingers to cover her mouth.

  “Are you alright, Mama?”

  For a few seconds, Sandra didn’t answer. When Tamika kneeled down beside her and placed a hand on Sandra’s knee, her mother finally shook her head. “I’m fine.” Sandra cleared her throat. “Just need to take a nap.”

  “Are you sure?” Tamika asked. “Does Roark remind you of someone?” His father maybe? The man she’d gone to school with and whose wife had been killed almost a month ago.

  Sandra’s gaze shot to her daughter’s quickly, her eyes opened wider than they’d been before. She’d dropped her hand from her mouth and now just blinked at Tamika as if she were confused. “I need a nap,” Sandra repeated, and this time, Tamika helped her upstairs so she could take one.

  It took twenty minutes to get her mother out of her clothes and into the more comfortable cotton lounge pants and matching top she preferred—the items were new since, all of her mother’s things had been destroyed in the fire. Like the renovations, Tamika had paid for her mother’s and Tuppence’s replacement items. Her savings was taking a big hit, but she didn’t care. When her mother was settled, she went in to check on Tuppence, who loved the window seat Roark had created for her.

  Now, Tamika was walking down the stairs again, in search of Roark. He hadn’t been in his room when she’d checked, so she’d assumed he was either in the kitchen trying to coax Dorianne to let him taste whatever she was cooking, or in the study on the computer continuing to search the names of each member of the group Pierce had given them last week.

  She’d just come to the bottom of the stairs when the front door opened and in walked a man she’d never seen before with Pierce right behind him. The guards out front already knew to let Pierce in, so she presumed this other guy was safe as well.

  “Hey, Tamika, where’s Roark?” Pierce asked after he’d closed the door behind them.

  The other guy with the startling sexy gray eyes—or were they green?—continued walking until he was just a few steps away from her.

  “I was just coming to find him.” She answered Pierce but continued to stare at the guy who was also staring at her. “Hello,” she said when the staring was getting out of hand.

  He extended his hand to her and cracked a brilliant smile. “Hi, I’m Cade, Roark’s cousin.”

  Were all the guys associated with Roark hot as hell? If so, she was gonna have to call up some of her girlfriends in Arlington and introduce them to these fine-ass men. Of course, that would have to be after this investigation was over.

  “Hey, man. What’re you doing back here so soon?” Roark came in, walking directly to where she and Cade still stood shaking hands.

  “Had to come make sure my big cousin was safe.” Cade stared at her a few seconds longer before casually gazing at Roark.

  “Yeah, okay, let her hand go.” Roark touched Tamika’s wrist, removing her hand from Cade’s since it didn’t seem like Cade was going to do what he’d just asked him.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Pierce’s tone was stern and tinged with urgency.

  Cade immediately sobered. “Yeah, he’s right. We’ve got some news for you.”

  Roark nodded and linked his fingers with Tamika’s. “Okay, let’s go in here and sit down.”

  Roark directed them to the parlor, where just a short while ago they’d been sitting with her mother and Tuppence. She didn’t release Roark’s hand until he guided her to the couch and waited for her to sit down. He remained standing, just as Pierce and Cade did. Tamika didn’t know how to feel about all that testosterone surrounding her.

  “There was another fire,” Pierce said without preamble. “A week ago in London, about six miles from where your mother lived.”

  Roark folded his arms across his chest. “And someone died in this fire?”

  Cade held up two fingers. “Two people. Ronnella McCoy and Tony Graves.”

  Now Tamika stood. “That means the arsonist has to be—”


  “Kaymen Benedict,” Sandra said, and everyone turned to see her standing beneath the archway. “Max said he was going to come. In her letter to me, she said she knew he was alive and he was going to come for us.” Sandra lifted a shaking hand to her chest and swayed.

  Roark was immediately by her side, holding her up. “Come and sit down, Mrs. Rayder.”

  “No. No. I don’t want to sit. I want my Lem back.” Her mother looked exhausted, and Tamika walked over to her.

  “I know, Mama. I want him back too, but that’s not possible. Now, we’re trying to stop anyone else from being hurt.”

  “I couldn’t sleep ‘cause it’s time y’all know.” Sandra sighed. “He wants us all dead. That’s what Max said. He told her he wanted us all dead, for real.”

  Tamika shook her head as her mother said those two words again. She couldn’t figure out what they meant and by the way her mother was shaking, she was afraid to ask her for any information Sandra wasn’t willing to provide.

  “Do you know where he is?” Cade asked in a calm and compassionate tone.

  Sandra finally let Roark and Tamika lead her to the couch. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t seen him since he stood over my bed and told me it was my turn to die.”

  Part III

  “Only love and death change all things.”

  —Khalil Gibran

  Chapter 15

  Roark watched Sandra as she talked. Her frail fingers were clasped and resting in her lap. The white gauze bandages going midway up her arms and around her neck were a stark contrast to the dark cranberry-colored robe she wore. Earlier today he’d watched as Tamika had brushed her mother’s hair back and styled it in two neat braids. Sandra’s eyes, which were almost identical to Tamika’s in shape and color, searched the room until she found the fireplace and let them rest there, even though no fire was lit.

  “Tony was the oldest.” She began talking after everyone in the room had been quiet for a few minutes, giving her the time and space to decide if she wanted to say more. “He’d turned twenty-one that Wednesday, but we all had lots of studying to do for mid-terms the next week. We couldn’t risk going out on a school night.”