by Elise Noble
Ana squeezed my hand. “And if the timing fits, you know what we have to do.”
Go and sob quietly in a corner somewhere? Because if Black had been involved in the theft, it meant he’d lied to me—perhaps by omission, but it was still a lie. I thought back to the way he’d defended Alaric for failing to tell me about his daughter. Had he been feeling guilty because he’d done a similar thing?
No, I couldn’t quite see it. Black didn’t feel guilt. It was one of the traits that allowed him to do his job and still sleep at night.
Stay objective, Emmy.
“Yes,” I told Ana. “Somebody needs to make a test jump.”
CHAPTER 33 - EMMY
“TELL ME AGAIN why I’m doing this instead of, say, Mack?” Luke asked. “Or you know, just asking Nate to do a search on his inbox instead of us digging through years’ worth of archives.”
“It’s a potential personnel issue. I don’t want anyone from Blackwood involved at this stage in case it turns out to be nothing.”
“The old ‘no smoke without fire’ gossip.”
“Exactly.”
“What did they do? Steal roof tiles?”
“At the moment, I’m not sure they did anything.”
“Okay, I’m in. Give me the time frame again?”
“Eight years ago. Early summer.”
I paced the den in Luke and Mack’s apartment. I didn’t go over there often, and I’d brought a box of cakes from Mrs. Fairfax as a cover story. Would it be rude if I ate one? I suspected Bradley visited from time to time, though—the army of throw pillows lined up on the floor next to Luke’s leather couch was a dead giveaway, as was the sparkly pot of pens that was about to fall off the edge of the desk. I nudged it closer to the nearest monitor and picked up a mini chocolate muffin.
“Don’t drop crumbs,” Luke told me. “Not on the keyboards, anyway.”
“When you have kids, they’ll get crumbs everywhere. And toys, and mud, and baby vomit.”
“Mack told you?”
“That you’re trying for a baby? No, she just said you were looking for a house with a yard, and it seemed like the logical explanation.”
Plus she had two assistants now. If she wanted to take maternity leave, it was the ideal time. Not that I could see her staying away from a computer for six months or even six hours. She’d probably be coding in the delivery room.
“I suppose it is. You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be upset?”
“I guess… I guess because of our past?”
“We broke up over three years ago, and I don’t even want kids. Just don’t expect me to babysit.”
Yes, I was fine. My husband might have ruined my ex-boyfriend’s life and nearly gotten us both killed, but everything was tickety-boo.
“We’re planning to get a nanny.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say. Good luck? Have fun?”
“Hey, here’s the email.” The relief in Luke’s voice was evident because neither of us wanted to have that conversation. “Twentieth of June, Nate said he’d come and fit the new roof sensors the following Friday when he’d returned from Mexico.”
Right. He’d been away, hadn’t he? It was coming back to me now. A carnival in Carmen’s home town and her little brother’s birthday bash. And when had the Emerald shit gone down? On the twenty-third.
Fuck.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t sound happy. Is that everything you needed?”
“I really appreciate you doing this.” And at that moment, I was thinking perhaps I’d been a little hasty in ditching Luke. He wouldn’t pull this next-level shit with Mack. No way. Sure, he was boring, but he’d never parachute onto a roof then creep through a tunnel and steal ten million bucks. “Please, just keep it between us?”
“I won’t lie to Mack if she asks a direct question, but I won’t volunteer any information either. Good enough?”
“Good enough.”
See? Luke was a straight shooter.
My heart sank faster than the elevator as I made my way to the basement parking garage. For a moment while I waited on the top floor, I’d considered opening a window and taking the quick way down. If Black had done this, the entire foundation of my world would be shaken. He was my rock. My mentor, my lover, my friend. I’d put my life in his hands a hundred times, a thousand, and I could only do that because I’d thought the trust between us was absolute. Now? Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Last night, I’d had to lie beside him in bed, make love to him as if nothing had happened. When he asked what was wrong, I was the one who’d had to lie and tell him Ridley’s drugs had left me feeling weird.
Damn him for forcing me into this position.
Ana was waiting for me back at Little Riverley. But before I could go inside, I had to get past the truck in my driveway.
“What the hell is this?”
Tension hummed through me, and I didn’t need any more shit to deal with. Enough was enough. One of the security guards who usually manned the gates was standing beside said truck, watching with his hands on his hips as the driver lowered a BMW coupe from the back. Not a bad vehicle, admittedly, but what was it doing outside my house?
“Your new car?” the guard asked. He must have caught my puzzled expression. “You didn’t know about it?”
Last time a car turned up unexpectedly like this, it had been a late birthday present from Black, but my fake birthday was last month and my real birthday wasn’t until December.
“Are you sure it’s come to the right place?”
“It’s got your name on the plate.”
What the fuck? I took a look, and sure enough, the vanity plate read “E BLK.” It also had a picture of a horse on it.
The driver stopped what he was doing and fetched a sheaf of papers from the cab. “Paperwork says it was ordered by a Mr. B Miles. Friend of yours?”
I. Was. Going. To. Kill. Him.
Or at least, I was when he came back from New York. I took out my phone and pressed speed dial two.
“Bradley, why is there a BMW on my driveway?”
“Oh, excellent, it arrived.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You have three gas guzzlers, and we should all be doing our bit to save the planet. So I got you an electric car.”
Give me strength. We’d had this discussion the other day. Bradley wanted me to go green. I pointed out that if I was driving somewhere in a hurry, I needed to fill up with gas, not wait hours for a battery to recharge. He said he’d look into battery ranges and charging times, which in Bradley’s world clearly meant just go out and buy a damn car.
“I thought you were going to research this.”
“I did. But what better way to test a car than to drive it around? You’ll love it. The seats are heated, and if you press the button on the steering wheel, the cupholders pop out.”
“It has a vanity plate. I don’t do vanity plates.”
Because how was I meant to run surveillance if the target could look in their mirror and literally see who was following?
“The gentleman at the auto dealership threw those in for free.”
Arguing about the car was pointless, I realised that. If Bradley had decided I was having a fourth car, then I was having a fourth car, and I had to concede that the other three drank petrol like I drank gin. But my patience was at breaking point that day.
“Get rid of them.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll have them changed. How about the horse? Can the horse stay?”
“Just get me plain, regular, bog-standard plates.”
Did anything else want to try me?
Ana was laughing at the window when I made it inside, and I scowled at her.
“It’s not fucking funny.”
She schooled her features into something more appropriate. “I’m sorry.” One corner of her lips quirked. “You make dictators nervous, yet your assistant runs rings around you.”
> “Shut up.” A long sigh escaped. “We need to talk.”
Immediately, she grew serious. Funny how tradecraft kicked in, wasn’t it? No phone calls, no text messages, no emails, even while my life got flushed down the toilet. And we went outside to speak in case Bradley had bugged the fucking house again. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have listened in on our initial conversation, or the whole world would know about our suspicions by now.
“And?” Ana asked.
“The timeline fits.”
She didn’t say anything, just hugged me. Ana wasn’t a touchy-feely person, not at all, but she gave good hugs when the need arose.
“I spoke to Sam,” she murmured. “He’ll make the jump.”
“I thought we were keeping this between us?”
“Sam won’t say a word. And besides, I didn’t tell him the whole story. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just helping us to settle a bet.”
That wasn’t entirely untrue. I wasn’t thrilled about another person being in on the secret, even marginally, but I trusted Ana’s judgement, perhaps more than I trusted my own at that moment. The jigsaw was finally coming together in the most horrible way, and all I wanted to do was flip the board.
“When?”
“Anytime you want. He’s working from home this week and next.”
“I’ll have to check the schedule. We obviously can’t do it with Black watching, or Bradley, or anyone else who might talk.” We’d basically have to clear the estate. A logistical nightmare. “I’ll need a few days.”
“Take as much time as you want. It’s been eight years—another week or two won’t make a difference.”
But it would.
Because every minute was another sixty seconds that I’d have to spend acting normally while I was falling apart inside. The nine months when I’d thought Black was dead were actually easier to deal with, and I’d had a full-on breakdown back then.
I found out just how difficult things were going to be when Black arrived home half an hour later. Was it too early for a drink?
“Missed you.”
He leaned down to kiss me, a kiss that quickly turned heated. If I closed my eyes and blocked out the dark clouds hanging over us, if I didn’t think, perhaps I could forget the knife that was inching its way between my ribs?
“Missed you too.”
I wasn’t lying. My heart craved him, even if my head wasn’t so sure.
“I thought we could go flying this afternoon. It’s been a while.”
Oh, shit. Did he know? My spine stiffened as a reflex, and I willed myself to relax.
“I was planning to check on Sky in the gym and then go for a run.”
“Take a day off? You’ve earned it after the weekend.”
“I had too many days off in Kentucky. And too many carbs.”
“Too many carbs? I never thought I’d hear you utter those words.”
“Well, you live and learn, don’t you?”
“I could do with a run too. We can go out for dinner afterwards. Something healthy. How about that new sushi place downtown?”
Next time, I needed to think before I opened my damn mouth.
“Sure, sounds great. Meet you on the terrace in half an hour?”
This time, he picked me up for a kiss. I wasn’t small, not by normal standards, but beside Black, I always felt tiny.
“Don’t be late.”
We parted ways, and as soon as he disappeared around the corner, I sagged against the wall. Maybe I was overreacting? Just because Black could have committed the crime didn’t necessarily mean that he had. But deep down inside, I knew what I’d been denying to myself for years—that Black was the best suspect. In the immediate aftermath, I’d discounted the possibility, and nobody else had pushed me to consider it. Of course they wouldn’t. Black had an alibi, and the execution of the theft was perfect. I’d have expected nothing less.
But now Ana was here, and Sky, both looking at the case with fresh eyes. I barely knew Sky, but she was smart, and I trusted Ana implicitly. My whole life, I’d scoffed at the idea that blood was thicker than water, but then I’d met my half-sister and we’d just clicked. Bonded over a shared hatred of our father and the fact that our pasts had followed eerily similar paths despite us growing up on different continents.
When I got to the gym, Sky was on the mats at the far end, sparring with Rafael. I paused in the doorway to watch them, and it was as if I’d stepped back in time eighteen years and looked into a mirror. A young girl who didn’t have a clue what she was doing being schooled in the lethal arts by a man who choreographed death like a ballet.
I cleared my throat. “Can I have a minute?”
“With who?” Sky asked.
“You.”
Rafael didn’t speak, just stalked silently past me and vanished along the hallway. The Grim Reaper reincarnated as a panther. I’d kidnapped him once. Wasn’t sure I could manage it a second time.
“What?” Sky asked. She didn’t look at me.
“I need to apologise. For being a bitch yesterday.”
“You saw where I grew up. You think I’m not used to that shit?”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t get it from me.”
Now she met my eyes. “Forget about it.”
That was as close to an acceptance as I was going to get.
“So…” I picked up a pair of hand wraps. “What did you learn while I was away?”
“A detour to the office won’t take long,” Black said.
“For the last time, I don’t need to see Dr. Kira again.”
My husband stood in the bedroom, half-dressed—flannel slacks on the bottom half, nothing on the top. Ordinarily, I’d have lain back on the bed and enjoyed the view, but this wasn’t an ordinary day.
“You were drugged, Emmy.”
“Most likely with ketamine and a side of benzodiazepine. That’s nothing. And it’s worn off now. I just scrapped with Sky in the gym then ran ten miles, for crying out loud.”
“You’re out of sorts.”
“I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Do you want to stay in tonight?”
Yes, but that would only lead to even more questions.
“Let’s just have a quiet dinner out and an early night.” A sigh escaped my lips as he tugged on a T-shirt. “A girl’s gotta eat.”
Damn Black for making this harder.
When he was in work mode, he took no prisoners, and more often than not, he pushed me to the point of pain and beyond. But in husband mode, he still made me swoon even after fifteen and a half years of marriage. Yes, we’d only been a proper couple for three of those years, but he’d always been a gentleman and tonight was no different.
As Black topped off my drink and pressed his thigh against mine under the table, I wondered if it was too late. Could I pretend the last two days hadn’t happened? Besides me, only Ana and Sky truly suspected Black’s duplicity. I’d already shut Sky down, and Ana would drop the matter if I asked her to. Emerald’s trail had gone cold. It would be easy to back off and let her fade into the night again.
It would also be wrong.
Alaric had only ever tried to make me happy, and he’d suffered for it. Somebody needed to make things right, and that somebody had to be me.
But for tonight, I buried all the fear and sadness along with my head in the sand, and when Black took my hand at the end of the evening and led me upstairs to bed, I let him undress me and caress me and bury himself inside me. And as the moon rose ever higher and the stars twinkled over the balcony, I thought back to my childhood, to the mother I hated so much. When I was little, maybe five or six years old, Julie Emerson had told me that people like us weren’t destined to be happy. I’d spent my whole life trying to prove her wrong, but maybe it was time to accept that just for once, on that single point, she’d been right.
CHAPTER 34 - BETHANY
“THANK YOU SO much. I’ll be sure to pass on your condolences.”
I took the covered dish and
carried it into the kitchen. Hmm… Where to put it?
Alaric looked up from his spot at the table.
“Tell me that’s not another casserole.”
“The lady said it was biscuits.” But not cookie-biscuits. These were scone-biscuits, and I knew which I preferred. That wasn’t to say we didn’t have plenty of cookies too. They’d been arriving all day.
Harriet had been at Irvine’s bedside late last night when the doctors turned off his life support, right after the results of the election came in. Aidan O’Shaughnessy took the senate seat, although the news barely merited a mention on TV. It was playing second—or rather fourth—fiddle to Irvine’s tragic demise, David Biggs’s impending divorce, and Eric Ridley’s denial of any involvement in Kyla’s death. Apparently, he’d just walked in and found her like that.
Alaric shuffled the dishes around to make space for the new offering, and I grabbed the ringing phone.
“Harriet?” a lady asked.
“No, this is her friend Bethany.”
“It’s Wilma Turner—one of Harriet’s neighbours. I’m so sorry to hear about Irvine. If Harriet needs anything… A casserole?”
“We’ve got plenty of food at the moment, but thank you for the offer. If you have any spare time, though, Harriet would love some help with the animals.”
“The horses? I don’t know a thing about those beasts. I could pick up groceries or do laundry?”
That was everyone’s story. We had enough food to sink an aircraft carrier, a rota set up for washing and ironing clothes, and even a lady coming over to vacuum. But nobody had the time or the inclination to muck out.
“Fetching groceries might be useful. Could I take your number and phone you back?”
She read it out, and I added it to the list. I’d turned into Harriet’s assistant rather than Sirius’s, but Alaric didn’t seem to mind. He’d even answered a few calls himself. Harriet was sleeping now, and I was beginning to think Alaric was right about Stéphane—he hadn’t left her side since the ambulance ride to the hospital.
And Alaric had barely left mine, apart from when he slept on the sofa at night. Harriet, Stéphane, and I had taken the three upstairs bedrooms, and nobody was going to suggest Alaric sleep in Irvine’s wing. It was too soon. Harriet was raw. Raw with pain at losing her father and also with guilt that she’d spent more time with the horses than with him during his final weeks.