by Tara Lain
“Yes, you do. You have the right to ask a man who’s your lover to be honest with you and with the world about who he is. You’ve honored me by allowing me to be your lover. I need to keep up my part of the bargain.”
Jeremy’s heart beat in his throat, and he couldn’t speak.
Bo inhaled. “I’m going to go home and tell my family that I’m gay and that I have a boyfriend—if you’ll have me.”
If Jeremy’s ears had turned solid gold and filled with myrrh, the sound of those words couldn’t have been any sweeter. But if Bo Marchand was his boyfriend and everyone knew—“No, don’t.” Bo looked like he’d been slapped. Jeremy grabbed his arm. He couldn’t help it. “It’s probably not best to rock any more boats until this whole murder thing is solved. If you confirm our relationship, O’Hara’s going to doubt you twice as hard.”
“I think he already knows.” He still appeared confused and sad.
“And if you say we do have a relationship, he’ll be sure you lied, and he’ll move heaven to prove I’m guilty.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Oh God, I’m so sorry. Jeremy took Bo’s hands in his own. “I’m so touched and happy that you’d do such a thing for me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. You’ve done so much for me, Bo. Of course, I trust you. And you don’t need to ruin your life with your family and your friends to prove that you care about me. Dear God, no one has ever done a tiny fraction for me what you have.”
“But—but Jeremy, how can we be together if I don’t come out?”
Bo looked so wounded, Jeremy wanted to carve out his heart and lay it at his feet. He tightened his grip on Bo’s hands. “We’ll find a way, dear.” Man, I’m such a liar.
Bo quietly took his hands back. Yes, don’t blame him. “So what’s next?”
“I guess I should go home, clean up, get my car, and go to the winery so my staff can stop worrying about me.”
“What about the little shit?”
Jeremy snorted. “In his defense, when Christian walked in on me with Ottersen’s body, I was laughing hysterically, so he might have had a reason to believe I’d just killed the asshole. I’ll admit to being of two minds, because the man’s an idiot, but he gets shit done. Still, I won’t have to fire him if he decides he betrayed me and doesn’t show up for work. I really can’t afford to keep anyone who’s not actually growing grapes.”
Bo crossed his arms. “I don’t think you’re safe in that house by yourself.”
“I lay on that couch helpless last night and nobody killed me.”
“But who the ruddy fuck drugged you?”
“Some asshole named Sean. He was hitting on me, and I wasn’t cooperating. I think he decided to use chemical persuasion. But it sounds like Russ saved me. I’ve got to seriously thank him.” Except he’d never see Russ again.
Bo leaned down and started the car with its funny whirring, clicking noises. “I’d feel better if you came and stayed at my house. No one would dare take on my mama.”
Jeremy burst out laughing, and the tension in the car lightened. It only took a few minutes to cover the short distance to Jeremy’s house. Jeremy found himself gazing at Bo’s beautiful face as he watched the road. So this man was willing to not only jeopardize his business, his wealth, and his friends for Jeremy; now he wanted to transform and threaten his relationship with his family, around whom his life revolved, so he could be with Jeremy. Giving back a gift of that magnitude ripped Jeremy’s heart and shattered his spirit. Even if he survived, there’d be nothing to survive for.
At his house Jeremy hopped out and gave Bo a kiss through the window.
“Will you call me when you get to Hill Top? I want to know what happens with Christian.”
“You bet.” He kissed him again. “You’re a miracle from heaven, my friend. I must have had some really saintly past life to have earned the right to know you in this one.” He forced himself to smile.
Bo swiped at his eyes. “Can I see you tonight?”
“Yes.” He pecked his lips against Bo’s patrician nose, then stood back.
The tears that rolled down his face as Bo drove away were left to dry on their own as Jeremy ran to the living room, grabbed the emergency travel bag, double-checked to be sure the windbreaker with the credit card sewed into the elastic waistband was in there, grabbed a shovel, then headed for the woods behind his house to get the rest.
Couldn’t think about what he was leaving behind. You always knew the day might come. Don’t bitch. Still, the tears kept flowing as he ran toward the big tree with his shovel and tried to prepare his heart to dig in the soft dirt he’d hoped never to have to disturb—or at least not until he was planning for his own wedding. Crap, that made him cry harder, like some kind of frigging drama queen. The tree still loomed a few yards ahead, but his vision blurred with tears, and he fell to one knee and buried his face in his free hand.
This time the blow with the butt of the gun landed on its intended target.
Chapter Twenty-five
DAMMIT, ANSWER. Bo pressed the phone to his ear for the third time in fifteen minutes and listened to the ringing. Nothing. Damn.
“Bo, want to try the 2013?” Luther, his winery supervisor, held out the glass with a sampling of red wine.
“Yeah, thanks.” He stashed his phone, buried his nose in the glass, and inhaled deeply. That made him smile. He took a sip, swished it in his mouth, and then spat it out in the receptacle they kept for such purposes. He licked the inside of his mouth. “Wow.”
Luther shared his mouthful of teeth. “Good one, right?”
“Yeah.” Bo took another careful mouthful, and this time he swallowed. “I think we’ve got a winner.”
“We’ve missed the San Francisco competition, but I’ll bet we could enter it in LA, the Critics Choice, and some others.”
“We’ll make it so.” Bo handed back the glass to Luther, then looked at his phone.
“Everything okay?”
Bo glanced up and tried not to look frantic. “A friend who’d had some troubles. I can’t get a hold of him, and I’m worried.” He shoved the phone back in his jeans pocket. “He probably just left his phone off or something.” He waved and walked toward the door of the big processing room. “Thanks, Luther.”
Outside, he dialed Jeremy’s phone again. He actually gasped when the thing went straight to voicemail without even ringing. “Jeremy, it’s me. You’re kind of freaking me out. Call me, please, so I know you’re okay.”
He hung up and stared at the phone. What’s going on? Without even forming the thought, his finger pushed the number for Llewellyn’s cell.
“H-hello, Bo.”
“Hi. Can I come talk to you?”
“Y-yes. Shall w-we come there?”
“No. Too many prying eyes. When and where shall I meet you?”
“My house as s-soon as you can get there.”
“I don’t want to break into your workday.”
“N-not a problem. B-bring wine.” He chuckled.
“Will do. See you soon.” He hung up and walked into the tasting room. RJ polished the tasting bar and chatted up two couples who were sampling wine. Bo walked behind the counter and picked three bottles he thought Llewellyn and Blaise would enjoy. RJ gave him a big, uncomfortable smile—like all the smiles he’d shared since their Dionysus conversation. At least, Bo was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining a change in RJ’s attitude toward him.
Bo smiled at the guests and said to RJ, “I have an appointment. If you need any help, ask Tanya to come in, okay?”
“Sure.” He glanced toward the guests and turned his back to them a bit, saying softly, “Everything okay with the cops?” Everyone on his staff knew he’d had to answer questions.
“Yes. Just questions about—you know.”
RJ frowned, and a slight flush touched his sculptural cheekbones. “Terrible thing. I heard they had Jeremy Aames in custody.”
“Just questioning because it’s his tasting room. H
e’s out now.”
RJ’s eyebrows shot up. “Really.” He adopted a smile, though he looked a little… what? Disturbed. “That’s great to hear.”
“I’ll be back later, but I might miss you.” Bo knelt down by the small refrigerator they kept under the counter and grabbed a wedge of cheese. When he looked up, RJ was still staring at him. As he stood, Bo said casually, “Ever hear any more about that Dionysian mystery?” He laughed.
For a second RJ looked shocked, then laughed too and shook his head. “Best get back to the guests.” He hurried over and poured the next wine for each taster. “You’re going to like this one. It’s a light red with a lot of forward fruit.”
Bo packed up his cheese, stashing it along with his wine bottles in a Marchand Winery bag like the ones they sold to visitors. Interesting. He’d thought a couple of times that maybe he’d imagined RJ’s uncomfortable reaction to his questions previously, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want to spook RJ. The guy was a valuable employee. But damn, he did act weird at the mention of the god of wine.
Nodding at his customers, he walked from the tasting room and climbed into his car. Reflexively, he dialed Jeremy’s phone. Straight to voicemail. Which meant his phone was dead or turned off. Why would he do that?
He pulled out onto the highway, pointed the car toward San Luis, and let his brain drift. He knew Jeremy hid a lot of things—from Bo and probably everyone else. Yes, it meant he didn’t trust Bo with the truth of his situation or past, but he also seemed genuinely worried that he was bringing a lot of problems, maybe even danger to Bo.
Bo sighed and flipped on music, willing his mind to relax until he could talk it all out with Llewellyn and Blaise. Mystery was their business.
Fifteen minutes later Bo pulled into the driveway of the beautiful old Craftsman-style home where Llewellyn and Blaise lived. As Bo climbed out of the Prius, Blaise waved from the big front porch. Bo grabbed the bag of goodies from the back seat and carried it up to the front door. He grinned at Blaise. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching?”
“Llewellyn told me you were bringing wine. How could I resist? Besides, I don’t have a class this afternoon.”
Blaise took the bag from Bo, and they walked into the entry, then the living room, where Llewellyn had his laptop on the coffee table. He perched on the couch, talking on his phone. “Th-thank you, Tick. Tell us w-when you c-can have dinner.” He listened and nodded. “Y-yes, soon.” He clicked off, looked up, and smiled at Bo. “W-welcome.”
Blaise held up a finger. “Bo, please sit. I’m going to serve this wine and amazing-looking cheese. Say nothing until I return. Clear?”
Even though he was antsy, Bo chatted with Llewellyn and forced himself not to stare at his phone screen until Blaise walked in carrying a tray with three glasses of red, some sliced apples, and a big plate of cheese. He set the tray behind the laptop, offered a wineglass to Bo and then to Llewellyn, and finally grabbed his own glass and sat next to Llewellyn on the couch. He sipped, and his eyes widened, then closed. “Oh wow. Nobody makes wine like Bo.”
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Llewellyn savored a swallow. “D-delicious.”
Blaise leaned forward, wineglass cradled in his fingers. “So tell us what’s happening? We know that Jeremy was released. We know he had an alibi, but not what it is.”
“Me.” Bo grimaced.
“W-we suspected as m-much.” Llewellyn gestured with his wineglass. “G-go on.”
“I told the police I was watching his house because I was worried about him and found him lying on his couch at home, passed out and still wearing his jacket. I said he couldn’t have left the house by car without me seeing.”
“How much of that is true?” Blaise asked.
“None. But what idiot would kill someone everyone knew he hated and leave the body in his own tasting room? Seriously?”
“M-maybe someone who w-wanted us to think exactly th-that.”
Bo shook his head. “Jeremy didn’t kill him, but I think he knows who did.”
“Who?” Blaise glanced at Llewellyn, then at Bo.
“No idea. But Jeremy’s been acting weird ever since I got hit. I know he never tells me the whole truth, but since that time he seems particularly jumpy and worried, mostly about me. I believe he suspects who might have hit me. And the worst part is, now he’s not answering his phone. It’s going straight to voicemail, and I’m going out of my ever-lovin’ mind.”
Llewellyn said, “Y-you really c-care for him.”
Bo breathed deeply and nodded. “I told him I’d come out for him, that I wanted to be together.”
“Oh, Bo.” Blaise pressed a hand to his own chest.
“The bitch of it is, he turned me down.” Bo tried to look cool but ended up wiping at his eyes. “Actually, he said we shouldn’t rock any more boats right now and make the police even more suspicious of my story exonerating him. I guess that’s sensible, but truthfully, I didn’t want him to be sensible. I wanted him to be thrilled. How’s that for an ego as big as a Georgia peach pie?” He sighed.
“It actually was sensible, but I understand your point of view.” Blaise smiled.
Llewellyn slowly rotated his glass and stared into it like a deep red crystal ball. “Remember w-we told you th-that Jeremy is not who he s-says?”
“Yes, but who is he?” Bo had to stop gripping his glass so hard or he might break it.
Blaise said, “We don’t know for sure. What we’re finding is that his background has the look and feel of witness protection, but our contacts in the police department don’t know anything about it.”
“S-so we think he’s disguised his identity on h-his own.”
Blaise nodded. “And done a damned good job of it. He looks to the world like an orphan who started his winery on an inheritance from his dead mother.”
Bo said, “I think that’s true. There’s a certain emotion attached to the mother story that rings authentic.”
“Might be.”
“H-he knows w-wine, in-inside and out.” Llewellyn sipped and smiled, then said, “W-we are l-looking at the w-wine-growing regions.”
“New York seems likely.” Blaise gave Llewellyn that significant glance again, seemed to get an affirmation, and went on. “There’s a chance of organized crime connections in New York City.”
Bo’s heart practically broke his ribs it slammed so hard. “Mafia?”
“Yes. Italian probably rather than Russian, since some have legitimate wine-growing operations in upstate New York. Of course, so do the Russians.”
Bo put down his glass so hard he almost tipped it. “That means the mafia might have killed Ottersen?”
A crease between the brows made Llewellyn look even smarter. “Y-yes, but why?”
“Because they kill people!” It was a wail.
Blaise said, “Maybe they thought Ottersen was hurting Jeremy, so they killed him?”
“If J-Jeremy was h-hiding from them, why w-would they protect him?”
Bo could barely breathe. “But Jeremy may be missing. Maybe they killed Ottersen to make it hard for Jeremy to stay here so he’d have to go—where? Home?”
“P-plausible.”
Bo gripped his hands behind his neck or his head might fly off into space. “Jeremy could have been taken by the mafia. Dear God.” Do not pass out.
Neither Llewellyn nor Blaise said anything, and the weight of the silence was crushing.
“I’ve got to find him.”
“B-Bo, you don’t even know he’s b-been t-taken.”
“I feel like he has.”
Blaise shook his head. “Maybe he ran. You said he’s been jumpy. If he thought these people found him, he may have gone into hiding.”
“I think he’d let me know somehow.”
“It’d be dangerous—for you. He’d never do that.”
“H-how would y-you find out who’s after him?” Llewellyn peered at him with those smart brown eyes.
Like some
harbinger of—doom? Joy? Bo’s phone rang. He grabbed it so fast he dropped it to the chair cushion, it bounded to the floor, and he had to juggle it. He slammed it against his ear. “Hello! Hello!”
“Bo? Oh God, Bo.” Female. Fuck! Crying. For a second all his brain screamed was Not Jeremy.
“Uh, Sage?”
“Y-yes. Sorry. Oh, isn’t it awful?”
“Yes, terrible. Are you okay?” He glanced up at Llewellyn and Blaise. Blaise gestured Shall we leave? by walking his fingers, and Bo shook his head, then mouthed the word Sage.
“Yes, but so terribly sad. I just can’t believe this whole thing. I mean, who does something like this?”
“Lots of people, sadly.”
“I heard they arrested Jeremy.”
“No. They took him in for questioning, but he had an alibi. Plus why would he kill Ernest and leave him in the Hill Top tasting room?”
“He hated Ernest so much.”
Hard to argue with that fact.
She snuffled. “And the sad thing is, he shouldn’t have.” Bo’s back stiffened, but she kept talking. “I called some of our new customers, and they told me that someone contacted them and said that Hill Top was having trouble meeting its contractual obligations. They were told they shouldn’t trust Jeremy. So they gave the business to Ernest, but they wouldn’t have otherwise. They said they loved Hill Top.”
An arrow pierced Bo’s chest. “What the hell? Who could have done that? Ernest?”
“No. They said it was someone from Hill Top. Someone they knew.” She started to cry again. “So, see. Jeremy didn’t even have a reason to hate Ernest.”
“Jeremy didn’t kill him.”
“If you say so. But isn’t it awful that he hated him so much?” She broke into sobs.
“I’m so sorry, Sage. Yes, the whole thing’s a total mess. We’ll find out who killed Ernest. I promise.”
“Thank you, Bo. You’re a rock. I hope I see you soon.”
“You will. Get some rest.”
“There’s so much to do here. It’s not clear who’ll inherit Ernest’s property since he wasn’t married. His parents are elderly.” She sighed loudly. “Oh, Bo, this is just awful.”