Of Stone and Sky

by Charissa Stastny

  His eyes narrowed. “Stop being so unyielding.”

  She smiled. His uncle hadn’t ruined him completely. Angel still used English words for specific purposes.

  “Uncle’s changed. He helped us. Helped you. We would’ve both been locked up in jail or deported if not for him.” He pulled her mama’s necklace from his pocket.

  Saemira inhaled sharply. As much as she’d acted unaffected, she’d grieved the loss of this amulet. It was the one thing tying her to Mama. And Baba, since he’d given it to her.

  “You stole it from him?”

  “No. Duke had a bag of loot to pay us. I grabbed this before anyone else could take it.”

  She cradled the amulet to her heart. “Thank you.”

  “Come with me.”

  “Not until you make the right choice.” A lump formed in her throat as she waited for his answer. When he frowned, she pushed him away. “Don’t find me again until you’re done with Duke.”

  “Gemma.”

  She slipped inside and shut the door, clutching Mama’s precious stone to her heart.

  Gemma

  Goosebumps prickled up and down my arms when I saw Angel. Not even two weeks ago, he’d held a knife to my throat to force Lincoln to transfer millions to his evil uncle. Had he started this fire, and now played hero out of guilt?

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  Angel coughed. Lincoln groaned, and I turned from my former friend to help my new husband.

  “Lincoln?” I rolled him onto his back as a hacking cough seemed to rip his poor lungs apart. But he lived! I kissed my husband’s eyes, his cheeks, his lips. “Are you okay?”

  He tried to sit up. “I’ll…” cough cough “…be fine.”

  I looked up to find Angel watching me with a stricken expression.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Sirens sounded. Lincoln leaned over to retch. When he looked up, I could tell the instant he registered Angel’s presence. He tensed, and then burst into adrenaline-fueled action, tackling my skinny friend to the ground.

  “Bastard!” He pummeled Angel with his fists.

  “No!” I tried to pull him away.

  Someone pulled me away instead. Two policemen manhandled my husband and Angel apart, and the scene blurred through tears as Lincoln collapsed and started choking.

  A paramedic began taking my vitals but I pushed him away. “I’m fine. Where’s my husband?” In the melee, he’d disappeared.

  “The paramedics took him to the ambulance, ma’am. He needed oxygen.”

  “What about the other guy?” I couldn’t say my friend. I didn’t know if Angel was friend or foe. But he’d saved Lincoln.

  “Ma’am, calm down.”

  “Take me to my husband,” I said. “Please.”

  He led me around to the front of the house, where all sorts of emergency vehicles were gathered, their red and white lights making me dizzy. My stomach churned as I looked for my husband. When I spotted him inside an ambulance, a mask over his face, I ran to him.

  Another paramedic helped me into the back of the vehicle. Lincoln reached for my hand, and I hid my face in his chest. He’d almost died! He would have if Angel hadn’t pulled him out of the burning house.

  He caressed my hair. “It’s all right, love. They caught the bastard who did this. One of the kidnappers. I’ll press charges and see that he rots in prison.”

  “No.” They had the wrong man. Angel had defied Duke by helping us escape. His uncle must’ve exacted revenge by framing him for the fire. Angel never would’ve sanctioned burning Lincoln’s house down, knowing I was inside.

  A police officer approached. “My men are taping off the area for an investigation. You and the missus can go in with Officer Mendoza real quick, to dress and pack up some essentials to see you through the week.”

  We both donned oxygen masks and followed the officer inside. Only a couple of rooms on the south side had been burned, but smoke had filtered through the entire house.

  My eyes stung. This was my fault. First, the ransom money. Now, the loss of his beautiful home. He’d almost lost his life as well. I bent over, sick with the realization.

  Duke would never leave me alone.

  I had to leave and pray Lincoln would honor his promise to care for my brother. I couldn’t wait around for something else to happen.

  Lincoln wrapped an arm around me. “It’s okay, Gemma.” His voice sounded raspy. “We’re safe now.”

  He and Altin would never be safe as long as Duke hunted me.

  The officer led us to Lincoln’s bedroom—our wedding suite not too many hours ago. He stood outside the door as we entered and walked into the closet. Lincoln gently sat me on an ottoman and took my face in his hands.

  “You’re going to be all right, love.”

  I swiped at my eyes. If I loved him—and heaven knew I did!—I must leave him.

  “I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re okay. I love you.” That was dangerous to say, but I wanted him to know the truth.

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” He yanked off his robe, and I gawked. He grinned. “You’re not embarrassed by my nudity, are you, Mrs. McConnell?” He coughed and grabbed a pair of boxers.

  “I just don’t want Officer Mendoza to walk in and get an eyeful.”

  He chuckled, which eased the pain in my heart. He’d be okay. His lungs would heal. His heart would, too. Lincoln was resilient.

  I slipped into my own clothes, knowing I had one more wrong to right.

  “There’s been a mistake.” I sat on the ottoman, not feeling steady on my feet. “That boy didn’t start the fire. He pulled you out of the house. I saw him.”

  “After he almost killed me. And you! They found gas canisters by the side of the house. It was arson.”

  “No. He’s innocent. Engjell fell in with the wrong crowd and has done bad things, but he isn’t a bad person.” Neither was I, I almost added. “Please don’t press charges. We need to help him.”

  Lincoln gaped at me. “What did you say?”

  “He’s innocent.”

  “No. You said his name.”

  I cringed.

  Lincoln grabbed my shoulders. “How do you know his name?”

  “He’s my friend,” I sobbed, the dam of control I’d barely shored up breaking completely. “We grew up in Albania together.”

  His fingers dug painfully into my skin. “You lied to me?”

  I winced, and he let go and stepped back, blocking my only escape route.

  “I-I didn’t w-want to. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was afraid you’d hate me. Hate Altin.” Oh, God of heaven! What would happen to my brother? “You’ll take care of him, won’t you? You said you loved him.”

  “You’re one of them?” he spat.

  I looked at the ground, unable to bear his disdainful look. I’d seen it in Esad’s face when he’d thrown rocks at me. I’d seen it in Mr. Shehu’s expression when he’d informed me he had zero-tolerance for theft and gypsies, as if they were the same. I’d seen it in Duke’s shadowed face that night he violated me.

  “Tell me everything.”

  I sniffled. “My real name is Saemira Elira Nikolla. I’m half-Roma, or gypsy.” Why I chose to reveal that fact when there were many other details to share I’d never know. Maybe the smoke had affected me.

  Lincoln staggered back another step.

  “Please,” I said, knowing by his icy glare that I’d lost his heart forever, if I’d ever really held it. “Give Angel a second chance.”

  And me, I wanted to beg.

  Rock of Dignity

  “Oh, love! That is to be two, and yet one.”

  The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo

  50

  Lincoln

  Every muscle in my body spasmed. She’d lied to me! This woman—this stranger!—had manipulated me even more than Angeline had. She’d deceived me, making a mockery of sacred marital vows.

  “Mr. McConnell,” I heard the officer call from outsi
de the room. “We should probably get going. Are you and the missus almost done?”

  I scowled at Gemma, or whoever the hell she was. Her face was blotchy from tears. The woman was a good actress, I’d give her that.

  “Just another minute,” I said, grabbing a suitcase.

  Gemma crept toward the door.

  I lunged and gripped her forearm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Just let me go,” she cried. “You’ll be safer if I’m gone.”

  I’d be safer when she was in prison, where her gypsy gang belonged. But I wouldn’t turn her over to the cops just yet. I needed answers. God as my witness, she would pay for her lies and go down on my terms, not the cops’. They could have her once I knew the full extent of her part in all of this.

  I yanked her behind me, and with my other hand, pulled clothes from her side and mine into the suitcase. Keeping a firm grip on her arm, I gathered essentials and zipped the luggage.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” I said. “We’re going to march out of here and leave. If the cops question you, give them the basics. None of what you just told me. Understand?”

  She nodded, and I had to avert my gaze from her pitiful expression. Even knowing her crimes, I felt myself softening at her distress.

  But it wasn’t real. Or if it was, it was because she was desperate to escape now that I’d found her out.

  She wouldn’t get that chance.

  For the next hour, I performed the greatest act of my life. Academy-Award worthy. Officer Mendez escorted us out of the smoky ruins of my home, and the paramedics insisted on checking us again. I kept a sharp eye on my wife, not letting her get more than a few feet away as we both received more oxygen. I answered questions for the police. The cops left Saemira alone, judging her to be too distraught to be of any help. She probably did this type of acting every day.

  One hoodwinked paramedic kept her in the ambulance after releasing me, worried that her vitals weren’t normal.

  Superb acting indeed.

  Keeping an eye on her, I called Lionel and my security chief to work out details for when we left here. When we were finally allowed to drive away, Gemma spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Lincoln. I wanted to—”

  “Silence!” I growled. She was a master liar, manipulating me into marrying her, getting me to give her my heart. Somehow, I must get it back. The first step was not to let her get back inside my head.

  She cringed, making me feel bad. But no! That was her game, to confuse me so I couldn’t see through her lies. I wouldn’t feel bad now that I knew who she was—a deceitful, criminal mastermind. A gypsy.

  Ha. She’d probably had a good laugh that day she’d lectured me about the difference between gypsies and pirates.

  But I’d been right. They were one and the same.

  The clock showed that Gemma and I would’ve been lifting off right now from the airport to fly to Aruba for our honeymoon. Instead, I sat alone in my office, wanting to punch something. I’d left my wife—if that traitorous woman could even be called that since she’d lied about everything—under watch in the rental I’d let her live in for the last couple months. Lionel had booked a wing of rooms at a hotel for me to stay in until my house was restored. I’d sent Miss Tina there with Altin. I needed to figure out what to do about the kid. Was he even related to Gemma? He wasn’t a gypsy, going by his skin tone.

  I tipped a bottle of Scotch to my lips. It had taken intense self-control not to hand Gemma over to the cops. When we’d arrived at my rental, my security chief had been waiting. Gemma had freaked out when I’d asked two of Brown’s men to escort her inside.

  She’d turned to me, tears in her eyes, and lied one more time. “I understand why you’re angry, Lincoln. But I do love you. I didn’t lie about that.”

  I took another swig of Scotch and glared at the police reports in front of me. She wouldn’t know truth if it hit her in the face. The proof of her treachery rested on my desk. The crimes at EcoCore had begun a week after she’d started working on the janitorial staff in 2020. Mostly petty crimes. These reports hadn’t come to my attention until I’d asked security to bring me all incident reports from the last two years. When Gemma had moved onto Joe’s team six months ago, the incidents and frequency had ramped up.

  What was her part in it all?

  Before leaving, I’d warned Brown and his men to be on guard. My wife would play the innocent and try to twist their loyalty. They were not to listen to or give heed to anything she said. I’d also tasked Brown with searching the place for any evidence of foul play.

  I clenched my aching fingers. Gemma had worked her way into my life so smoothly, I hadn’t even guessed that I’d played right into her nefarious plans. I’d given her my heart. My trust. I’d been ready to give her everything.

  I pounded the desk, seeing the kidnapping with new eyes. She hadn’t been a victim, but a player. She’d known we would be in Park City and had given her comrades the details to know where to stage a kidnapping.

  Disturbed by this realization, I called Brown again. She was more dangerous than I’d considered. Maybe she was the damned ringleader. She was definitely smart enough.

  “Yes, Mr. McConnell.”

  “Assign two more men to Gemma Stone’s place. Secure the perimeter and don’t let anyone near the place.”

  “Is there something I should know, sir? Is your wife in danger?”

  I grimaced, not liking the reference to her new title. “She’s a flight risk. Suffice it to say I need her contained until I do more investigating. Make sure no one tries to break her out. She’s not to leave the house for any reason. Evidence has come to light that…” I paused, hating to admit how manipulated I’d been. Once again, I’d trusted and fallen for the wrong woman. “She may be working with the gypsies that’ve been giving us trouble.”

  I tossed back the rest of my drink, feeling like the most gullible man on the planet.

  51

  Saemira

  Someone knocked, but I didn’t lift my head from my knees. Why bother? I couldn’t leave or go anywhere. Lincoln had made me a prisoner in my own house. Well, his house, technically, which made it worse.

  Speak of the devil. He cracked the door and called in. “Are you decent?”

  I didn’t answer. What did he care? He could see me stark naked and it wouldn’t be as humiliating as his judgment had been. In his eyes, I might as well be a serial killer.

  The rustle of cloth and a daunting pressure inside my head alerted me that he stood nearby. Too close. I looked up at my husband.

  His eyes narrowed. “Get changed. And then you will eat. No more of this forced fasting to prove some moot point.”

  “Go away.” I had no appetite. Honestly, I’d tried to eat when my guards had fed me. But the little I’d forced down had come up later. The thought of food still made my stomach churn. Or maybe it was the knowledge that my husband hated me so much and trusted me so little as to believe I needed four jailers.

  “I will not go away until you eat.” He lifted a plate.

  The smell of lamb from Shish Kabab didn’t thrill me because the look on his face revealed no sweetness behind the gesture.

  “I’m not hungry.” A lie. But my body wouldn’t let me eat.

  “Bring it in here,” he said to someone outside. Two of my jailers—who’d been pretty decent guys, as far as jailers went—carried a folding table in and set it up next to my bed. Lincoln set the styrofoam container down as two other jailers carried in chairs.

  Lincoln pointed to one. “Sit.”

  I obeyed, not because I was compliant, but because I felt dizzy. He sat across from me and pushed the container in front of me.

  “Now eat.”

  I nibbled on a spoonful of Basmati rice, avoiding his hostile gaze. The one positive of having four jailers was that Duke couldn’t touch me. But I also couldn’t run. And I had to get out of here. What if Duke tried to hurt or kidnap Altin or Lincoln while I was locked up?

  �
�Where’s Altin?” I asked.

  “Somewhere you’ll never find him.”

  His coldness sliced through me like a machete, especially cruel after what we’d shared on our wedding night.

  Stupid tears welled up in my eyes. “You promised you’d care for him if anything happened to me.”

  Lincoln scowled.

  “You promised you wouldn’t hand him over to the state.”

  “I made those promises to a woman who turned out to be a figment of my imagination. They hold no merit.”

  I dropped my fork and put a hand to my mouth. Please, God! Don’t let my brother be hurt by my actions.

  “He’s fine,” he snapped. “Pick up your fork and keep eating.” He looked away. “He’s with Miss Tina, somewhere safe.”

  My throat burned as I tried to swallow food.

  “Why does it matter who has him?” he snapped. “Even the worst foster home would be better than what you’ve subjected him to.”

  His words hit me like acid to the face. “You’ve always assumed the worst about me.”

  “You haven’t given me a reason not to.”

  My fingers squeezed the fork. That was cruel. And unfair. I’d been a damned good employee, going along with his farce of an engagement and marrying him. When my feelings had become real, I’d even given him my heart, for all the good it’d done me.

  “What bothers you most? The fact that I’m a criminal or a gypsy? Or are they the same to you?”

  He banged the table. “Don’t try to manipulate me. You knew the guy who tried to burn my house down, with me in it.”

  “Yes. I know him. You don’t. His name is Angel, and he was your literal angel that night.”

  “He—”

  “You were not conscious,” I yelled, standing up and looking down on him. “I was.” My chest heaved with emotions. “I woke up frantic when the smoke alarms went off. You were gone. I ran through the house, screaming your name, trying to find you.”