by Rene Webb
“I’m so glad, sweetie.” Aunt Kitty smiles. “I was with your dad when he picked it out.”
“Really?” I smile, fingering the smooth fabric that lays against my neck.
“He was always thinking of you.” Her voice is sad, holding the same pain my own heart feels with his loss.
“I miss him every day,” I confess, sighing.
“Me too.” She smiles sadly before taking a deep breath and saying brightly, “Let’s get this done, go back to the hotel, and have manicures.”
Laughing now, I move to take the photographs off of the bulletin board. I smile and set aside the one of Peter and me from last summer. That one I will take home with me. My hand shakes as I pull the pin out of the one containing my mother, stepfather, and me at my high school graduation. Instinctively, I tear it into little pieces.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Aunt Kitty asks, brushing away a tear that was unknowingly falling down my cheek.
“It was a picture of him, Mom, and I,” I murmur, putting the pieces of torn paper into her open palm. She kisses my temple wordlessly and dumps the pieces into the trash can.
Aunt Kitty leaves the room and finds a large trash can. Between the three of us, it doesn’t take long to go through the small room and pack everything I want to take with me.
“Look what I found!” JoJo says, surprised, from where she shifted the dresser away from the wall to see if anything had fallen behind it. “It must have been pushed underneath.”
Standing back up and smiling, she holds my laptop in her hand. I go to take it from her, but she pulls it away and says, “I’ll need to have it checked first.”
“Right,” I mutter.
“I’ll call this in,” JoJo says, setting the computer slowly on top of the desk and pulling out of her phone.
I move over to the suitcase to help Aunt Kitty refold my clothes and pack them neatly.
By the time we’re done neatly packing my suitcases, a tall thin man wearing a weathered leather jacket and worn jeans arrives. JoJo greets him warmly and introduces him as “Stroke,” an operative from a London-based agency they often partner with. He takes the laptop and places it into a metal suitcase before leaving as quickly as he arrived.
As I walk out of the room behind JoJo and Aunt Kitty, rolling my suitcase behind me, my new cell phone rings in my pocket. Stopping, I quickly pull it out, expecting to see Finn’s name “Boss Man” flashing on the screen. Instead, it’s an unknown caller. My heart races, wondering who’s trying to call me.
“Hello,” I answer, my voice cracking slightly.
“Hey, sweetheart.” The sound of Peter’s voice releases all the tension in my body.
“Hey, Peter,” I breathe, continuing to follow the others, who have now stopped and are both looking back at me in concern.
“Are you and Mom behaving yourselves?” He laughs in my ear.
“Yes,” I tell him drolly. “We just cleaned up my ransacked dorm room, and we are now heading back to the hotel for much-needed manicures.”
“What?” he says, with a distinct edge to his voice. “Your dorm room was ransacked? Was anything taken?”
“Yes, it was, and no, not that we could see,” I explain as we reach the sidewalk. JoJo is standing next to me and, although she looks relaxed, I can tell she’s keeping a watchful eye. Aunt Kitty is hailing us a cab. “And no, I don’t know what the bitch was looking for.”
Chapter Eight
~ Finn ~
“You’ve put your sister in danger?” my mother’s voice accuses me angrily as I answer her call.
“I would never intentionally put Riley in danger,” I snap, my back straightening in my office chair.
“I just spoke to your grandmother.”
I groan, realizing my mistake in telling Grandpa what happened when he called this morning, concerned about the report he’d heard on the news reporting the explosion and fire. We’ve always been close, but after all these years, I should’ve known he would tell Grandma everything. Although it’s admirable that they don’t keep secrets from one another, it can be damn annoying at times.
“Then she would’ve told you that it wasn’t my fault. What should I have done?” I ask sarcastically. “Left Lily there?”
“Of course not,” she snaps. “But you should’ve thought about your actions and how it would affect people around you.”
“Which is why Trevor is with Riley and not here helping me deal with my destroyed warehouse,” I growl, wondering why I even bothered to pick up the phone. After knowing the woman for 35 years, I should have anticipated her reaction. “You do realize my company was attacked, right?”
“Your sister is more important than your damn company,” she snaps at me acidly.
“I know,” I fire back. “Riley is fine. I talked to her earlier. And she completely understands.”
“If anything happens to your sister, I’m blaming you,” she says before ending the call in a huff.
I throw the phone down onto the desk.
It begins ringing.
Seeing that it is the owner of Pride Security, Derek Lion, I don’t hesitate to answer it, hoping they have some updates for me.
“What have you discovered?”
“Good news. With our help, the FBI have arrested the bomber, and he’s talking. Mayer not only hired him for this job, but he was also contracted to set fire to Mayer’s house. Most likely for the insurance payout.”
“Do they have enough to arrest Mayer?”
“Yes. The agent I spoke with, an Agent Farris, said they are just waiting on the judge to issue the arrest warrant. They know he’s on a plane flying back from Paris to Boston, and they’ll pick him up at the airport.”
“Thank God!” I exhale, feeling the weight of the danger he posed fall away. The two women I love, my sister and my princess, would now be safe.
“Yes,” Lion agrees, then continues firmly, “you don’t need to worry, since we know who the culprit is, but Johnson phoned in earlier to tell us that Miss MacKay’s dorm room had been searched.”
“What?” I throw myself back into my chair, running one hand through my hair.
“Yes. Nothing was missing, so they didn’t find what they were looking for—”
“Who was it?”
“We are fairly certain it was the woman Tiffany Woods who befriended Miss MacKay in London. While she was tearing the room apart, she brought back Miss MacKay’s bags from Paris.”
“So thoughtful of the bitch,” I mutter.
Mr. Lion chuckles in my ear before continuing, “We are having Miss MacKay’s laptop checked out by a specialist there in London, but there is still the question of Mayer’s wife and how she enters into the equation.”
“Have you learned anything new?” I sigh deeply. Even though my mother drives me insane on a good day, I know she’d never intentionally harm me. “The woman hasn’t spoken to Lily in over three weeks!”
“For the past ten days, Mrs. Mayer has been at an exclusive spa and retreat in Arizona. According to their literature, they don’t have Wi-Fi and discourage contact with the outside world. As to her involvement in Miss MacKay’s kidnapping, I have seen no evidence that she knew what her husband was doing,” he tells me before taking a deep breath. “However, she and Mayer may have colluded in the past in regard to her first husband.”
“Arthur died slipping on ice and then falling down the steps.”
“I’ve read the police report. And it seems fairly straight forward. He had been drinking, arrived home late, and the walkway and stairs were icy. And no one knew he had slipped until they found him the next morning.” He pauses.
“Yes?”
“I can see why the conclusion of accidental death was reached, but several things don’t add up for me. The first being, why didn’t his wife go home with him that night from the party? Secondly, why didn’t the outside lights go on when he arrived home? And thirdly, where was Mayer that night? They were supposed to be celebrating a new lucrative partn
ership, and he was absent from the party.”
I close my eyes, remembering that night, where the wine and celebration at MacKay International flowed all around us.
“I was at that party,” I tell him. “Arthur was so proud of everything Peter had done to get the deal to happen. I honestly didn’t notice Mayer wasn’t there. It was Peter’s night.”
“It may never be proven, but it would’ve been easy for Mayer to arrive at the house before MacKay, tamper with the lights, and then ensure that MacKay slipped and fell in the dark,” Lion hypothesizes.
“Find out as much as you can, especially about Mrs. Mayer. Lily is understandably upset about the lack of concern and contact. And let me know the second Mayer has been arrested.”
Once Mayer is behind bars, and I know Lily and Riley are both safe from him, I’ll finally be able to relax. And my woman will be able to come home.
“Will do.” Lion ends the call.
Relaxing into my chair, I press Lily’s name in my contacts and attempt to reach her. We haven’t spoken since yesterday afternoon. I want to see what is happening with her dorm room and to check in. It rings three times before I receive a text from her.
Lily: We’re at the spa, call you back xoxo
Finn: Are you okay?
Lily: Yes. Peter called with the good news. I can come home!
I am irrationally irritated that Peter was the one to tell her that Mayer had a warrant out for his arrest, making her think she could come back to Boston right away.
Finn: No arrest made yet. Call me later.
Lily should not be coming back to Boston until Mayer is behind bars and the question of her mother’s involvement has been answered.
Lily: Yes boss man.
I can’t help but chuckle at the nickname she’s given me.
Lily: How’s your warehouse?
Finn: Destroyed. Bomber arrested.
Lily: :( I’m sorry… glad they caught the asshole. Mani time, type laters. Xxx
My phone vibrates on my coffee table. Glancing over at the screen, I quickly press ignore. After the day I’ve had, I’m in no mood to go another round with my mother. I got home an hour ago and am now in the middle of reading one of several contracts the head of my legal department, Cynthia Maul, handed me before I left.
Just as I’m halfway through a contract, there’s a loud knock on my door. I groan in annoyance and stalk into my front hall. Peeking through the peephole, I spy Peter, standing there holding a pizza box. I hadn’t told Mrs. White that I’d need dinner, so hunger gets the better of me, and I open the door.
“The pizza can stay,” I tell him, taking the box out of his hands and turning to walk toward the living room.
“What about the beer?” I hear him ask as the door clicks closed, and he follows.
“Depends what kind,” I reply, placing the box on the coffee table.
“Sons Royal.” Peter smiles, holding up a case of my favorite Vermont-based microbrew and setting it down next to the pizza.
“What are you doing here?” I flip open the pizza box and grab a slice, taking a large delicious bite before flopping onto the couch.
“I thought we should talk.” He grabs a slice for himself and sits on the other end of the couch.
“Are you going to finally tell me what’s been going on?” I open the drawer of the coffee table and, digging through it, find the bottle opener.
“Yes.”
I grab two beers from the pack and open them both before handing one to Peter. We both take a long swallow in silence.
“About a year ago, I noticed some irregularities in the accounts.” Peter sets his beer back onto the table. “Mayer said it was an error, and I believed him. But something bothered me about it, so I decided to start looking more closely at accounts and do some digging into the past.”
“And you found something,” I surmise.
“What is it they say about curiosity?” he asks, taking another bite of his slice. “It killed the cat. Well, I uncovered what Uncle Arthur had. That Mayer was fleecing the company.”
“So, you went to the FBI and became their CI?”
“Not at first. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I mean, I’ve always thought the guy was half an asshole, but I honestly never thought he’d betray Uncle Arthur—his best friend.”
“You know,” I say tentatively, “I talked to the head of Pride Security, and Mayer could’ve killed Arthur.”
“As much I don’t want to believe it, I do.” Peter shakes his head and takes another long sip. “Long story short, Mayer tried to pay me off in order to keep me quiet.”
“Like you’d betray Arthur like that.”
“I love Mom,” he chuckles mirthlessly, “but she had men in and out of our lives my entire childhood. Uncle Arthur was like a father to me. He was the only steady male influence I had. I’d never betray him or his legacy.”
“I know,” I said, understanding him completely.
My own father may have bolted soon after my sister was born, but I had my paternal grandfather, who was both a role model and father figure—I have spent my entire adult life trying to make him proud.
“So I went to the FBI and became their CI.” He tosses his crust into the box. “Which was a good thing because it would’ve taken me a fuck of a lot longer to find Lily on my own.”
“You would’ve found her,” I tell him with confidence, taking another bite.
Chapter Nine
~ Lily ~
“My girls will be so jealous when I tell them about this view,” JoJo says, smiling, as we look out across Mayfair on our suite’s terrace.
“Want me to take a picture of you with your phone?” I offer, setting my own phone down with a clang onto the metal cafe table.
“Would you?” JoJo hands her cell phone over to me and turns her chair so that her back is to the view.
“Smile.” I snap several pictures when her phone vibrates suddenly in my hand. “Your phone’s buzzing.”
I pass her back the phone, and she quickly checks her messages. Her expression is serious.
“Lee’s sent me a picture.” She beams at us, turning the phone around.
Two beautiful Black girls, dressed in matching navy polo-shirts, smile out from the screen. The youngest’s hair is braided and covered with a dozen colorful clips. The oldest’s hair is slicked back into a ponytail of curls. Between them is a large white man with an identical smile.
“Your girls are beautiful,” Aunt Kitty tells her truthfully. “They definitely have their father’s smile.”
“Lee’s not their father,” she says quickly.
“He must be special if you named your daughter after him,” Aunt Kitty comments, taking a sip of her tea.
“Lee was there when she was born.” JoJo smiles sadly. “He saved both of our lives that day.”
“After giving birth to Peter, I said never again,” Aunt Kitty commiserates. “I remind him every year on his birthday about the hours upon hours of torture he put me through. Then I make him take me out to dinner.”
I’ve heard Peter bitch about having to take his mother out on his birthday to her favorite restaurant, but I know he secretly doesn’t mind. He appreciates all she’s done and sacrificed for him, as she raised him on her own.
JoJo laughs. “I’m telling my girls I’m canceling their parties this year and having one for me.”
I giggle into my teacup.
“Don’t laugh, missy,” Aunt Kitty admonishes with a smile. “One day, you’ll understand.”
“I’m not having kids,” I state firmly, grabbing a croissant from the plate of pastries in the center of the table.
I know Finn doesn’t want children, and being a mother has never been anything I was interested in. In that way, he and I are perfect for each other.
“That’s what I said.” Aunt Kitty smiles, reaching out and grabbing a shortbread from the plate.
“So did I,” JoJo admits, grinning.
My phone buzzes on the m
etal table, and, snatching it up, I grin happily at the name of my video caller.
Boss Man
“Finn,” I greet him, smiling into the camera.
"They've arrested Mayer,” he announces, his face breaking out into an all too rare smile.
“That's great, baby,” I exclaim, bouncing in my seat. “I can come home!”
Simultaneously, JoJo and Aunt Kitty's phones ring, rattling the table and the china tea set. From the expressions on their faces, I can tell they are hearing the same news.
“Lily,” he growls. “What have I said about calling me that?”
“How much you like it.” I grin at him.
“Where are you?”
I can see him squinting and scowling at me, trying to figure out where we are.
“Having afternoon tea alfresco with JoJo and Aunt Kitty on the terrace.”
“Peter and the FBI are going to make arrangements for you and Kitty to come back to Boston,” he says before adding tentatively, “The lead FBI agent on the case needs to talk to you as soon as you arrive.”
“Okay,” I mutter, biting my lip. Holding the camera in one hand, I pick at my croissant with the other.
“I’ll be there the entire time,” Finn promises. “You’re not getting rid of me!”
I smile brightly at him. Even with Finn thousands of miles away, warmth fills me at his words. I wholeheartedly want to be with this man.
An hour after Finn’s call, we check out of the hotel and head to the airport to begin our eight-hour flight back to Boston. The FBI allowed Peter to book us all first-class tickets, so we are at least comfortable.
Aunt Kitty, JoJo, and I are greeted by the FBI and Peter the moment we step off the airplane.
“Miss MacKay, my name is Special Agent Margret Farris, the lead investigator on the Mayer case,” the petite Asian American woman states as she shakes my hand firmly, suddenly seeming taller. Her hair is pulled back into a severe-looking bun, and she’s wearing a pinched, angry expression. “And this is Agent Kyle Duponte.”