Desolation Road

by Feehan, Christine

  “That isn’t the point,” Czar said calmly. “They deserved everything they got and more. I applaud her for her ingenuity and the fact that she planned so carefully step by step and carried out exactly what needed to be done. The point I’m making, Absinthe, is that you were not safe with her. My concern is that you behaved recklessly and out of character and it can’t happen again. None of you can do that kind of thing, taking chances with your lives. We’re responsible for one another. All of us. We’re family and we’re all needed even when it feels as if we’re not. You get me, all of you?”

  He looked around the table with his piercing eyes. Not singling out any one of them, but touching on Savage, Lana and Absinthe, on all of them. Absinthe felt the heat and weight of that gaze. He nodded, just as the others did. It was a fair assessment. He couldn’t argue with Czar. In the end, he was right.

  “What happened when Robert Jr.’s body was found?” Steele asked, diverting attention away from Czar’s very real concerns.

  “Robert Sr. found the body. He was beside himself and then the letters were made public. At first, he was told about the letter by the owner of one newspaper who was a friend of his. But two others published the letter on the front page of their newspapers. The chief of police showed him the letter sent to them. Holden Sr. claimed it was a forgery. Then he claimed it was written under duress, that someone held a gun on Junior. The investigation was very thorough. I went over the police files,” Code said. “There was zero evidence that anyone had entered Robert Jr.’s home. He had a detailed diagram on his computer of how to make the clapper dating back two years earlier. It’s not difficult to make and he had seemingly put together the device using his own tools.”

  Absinthe had to admire Scarlet. She had planned so carefully. Clearly she had planted evidence on Robert Jr.’s computer two years earlier and then taken the time to break into his home on more than one occasion to use his tools to construct the clapper.

  “The materials were gathered from construction sites around the estate. Everything traced back to Robert Jr. Holden Sr. refused the findings and went to his friend the governor, insisting Scarlet Foley was involved. The governor had the Feds take a look into the case and they came to the same conclusion as the first investigators.

  “This time, Scarlet took exception to once more being dragged through the mud at Holden Sr.’s whim. With her attorney by her side, she stated that while she felt terrible for the man, she was tired of him trying to ruin her life. She sued him and won a very large amount of money and he was court-ordered to stay away from her and stop harassing her. She moved to Sonoma and became the librarian there,” Code continued.

  Absinthe looked at him sharply. Code didn’t sound like he was finished. The report should have been, but clearly it wasn’t. A worried Code meant all of them should be worried and in this case, especially him.

  “What is it?”

  Code reached back and rubbed at the nape of his neck. “In my opinion, from everything I’ve read about him, Holden Sr. isn’t the type of man to just fade away. One of the things his son wrote in the letter was that his father told him to do whatever he wanted with women now while he could and then marry as much money and advantage as possible. From that point on, you had to be careful, protect that, but it wouldn’t be near as fun. It didn’t much matter what the bitch you married looked like, you had money enough to pay for whatever you wanted, just make certain it never came to light, no matter how you had to do that. Holden’s wife didn’t like that much, and she initiated divorce proceedings.”

  Absinthe waited as did everyone else. There was more and none of them were going to like it.

  Code sighed and continued rubbing his neck. “Holden Sr. couldn’t talk his wife out of divorce, and it’s turned really nasty. She’s dug up all sorts of dirt on him in light of that letter. She was an heiress and there was a prenup, and naturally quite a bit of it had to do with cheating on her. If she can prove that he did, and her PI has turned up quite a few women his enforcers are having a difficult time intimidating, he isn’t going to have quite such a cushy life. That being said, he’ll still have millions. He also is planning on taking out a contract on his wife. He hasn’t done so yet. He wants to make certain nothing can come back on him, but I’ve seen the exchanges with the head of his security company.”

  Absinthe continued to wait, feeling as if he was holding his breath. He felt as if the entire club was. Code’s assessments were always right on point.

  “Holden Sr. blames his entire world falling apart on Scarlet. He believes she’s taken everything from him. I don’t think for one moment that he’s finished with her. He’ll wait until the heat dies down, just the way she did, but he believes she killed his son. He doesn’t know how, but he holds her responsible. Not only for the death of his son, but also his two friends. Now, for his divorce. I think he’s going to come after her.”

  Absinthe was certain Scarlet thought the same thing. That was why she was always so careful. So, what was she doing in the restaurant the other night in front of the window? They had so many secrets between them. That had to stop if they were going to be a couple and work together toward any kind of a future. He wanted that. The big question was, did she?

  She was skittish and after everything he’d learned, he didn’t blame her. He was going to have to find a way to reel her in. That meant coming as clean as possible. He would have to do his best over the next few days to persuade her to come to him. If that didn’t work, he would make another trip to the library. If that didn’t work, he was damn well going to fall back on what he did know would work—with regret—his voice.

  EIGHT

  Scarlet was thankful the library was closed and she had time off—three days in a row. She needed to talk to Absinthe. She’d thought about nothing else over the last few days. He’d called her every night and texted her multiple times during the day. She looked forward to every call, every text, too much so. It was time to make up her mind. She either had to commit to a relationship with him and that meant coming clean—or as clean as she could without going to prison—and risking everything or telling him she didn’t want to see him again.

  She couldn’t imagine not seeing Absinthe again. He was her one chance at happiness. She had been so certain her life was over. She would live within the walls of a library, inside of books, and be okay with that because she’d made that choice after Robert Barnes-Holden Jr. and his friends had destroyed her younger sister and all but taken her life. She knew she shouldn’t blame them for what her stepfather and mother had done, but she still did. She’d lost her entire family because those men had thought they could savagely assault a young girl.

  She would always feel guilt that she fought back. She couldn’t help playing the “if” game. If she hadn’t fought back and gotten the knife they claimed she’d taken from one of their belts—that had been a lie; she’d really knocked it out of Robert’s hands when he’d threatened her with it—then most likely they never would have gone near her baby sister. They would have done what they always did, had Daddy’s lawyers buy her off with money or, if that didn’t work, Daddy would have sent his MC “security team” to intimidate her into shutting up. There were so many “what-ifs.” So many regrets.

  She would have to tell Absinthe about her family and about her time spent overseas and the threat Holden Sr. represented. She couldn’t admit guilt because incriminating herself would be just plain stupid and she wasn’t that. She’d worked hard to ensure she had airtight alibis for every death. She could live with what she had done. Absinthe shouldn’t have to, but he had to know there was a possible threat and it could turn very ugly fast.

  Still, just the idea that she might actually have a real chance of being with a man like Absinthe. That he’d just walked in out of the blue and found her. He was … everything. Perfect. Just thinking that way was exciting. She was really going to do it—commit to a relationship with him. It was scary to actually think she could jump off that cliff with
both feet and trust a man enough to have the kind of a real connection she wanted and needed to have with a partner.

  Scarlet had the type of personality to be all in or nothing and she knew it. With everyone else over the last years, since she’d been seventeen and her boyfriend—Robert Barnes-Holden Jr.—had betrayed her in such a terrible way, she had refused to allow herself to ever believe in a man. Absinthe changed all that.

  She had become aware of the fact that not only was she very intelligent, but she had psychic gifts as well. Before, when she was very young, she thought she was just intuitive. She began reading about various talents and how to improve them, especially once she was in prison. She began trying to work on the talents she thought she had to make them stronger. It wasn’t like she could find a mentor to help her, but she had a lot of time on her hands to work on herself. She did find references to different psychic gifts and how different countries had tried to utilize the gifts in various ways. She followed up on those references, tracking them from book to book, even learning languages so she could understand more.

  Scarlet had a good, very fast motor in her little nondescript car, and several times she glanced in the rearview mirror, a little worried that someone was following her as she sped down the freeway toward the cutoff leading to Highway 20. It was more of a feeling than anything else. Sometimes her radar went off and usually it was good to act on it. She didn’t spot anyone following her, and she slowed down to allow anyone to drop in behind her just in case, but no one did. She waited a length of time before speeding up again and moving into the fast lane. No one seemed to move with her. Still, she was careful, frequently watching her mirrors.

  She could drive when she had to, she’d spent a great deal of money on instructors teaching her how to race around every kind of obstacle and through streets and alleyways. She had confidence in her skills. She had worked at learning to spot tails as well. There had been months of training with experts recommended to her by women she’d met in prison. She never stopped practicing and working at those crafts.

  Occasionally she visited the four women who had helped her so much, just chatting, knowing everything they said was being recorded. She wanted them to know she was still alive and doing well and that she would always remember what they had done for her. They had no idea the fullness of the dark path she’d traveled down, and she would never tell them. They thought they had provided her with the ability to always protect herself from men like Holden Jr. and Sr. In return for their generosity in helping her, she always did her best to let them know they had a friend with money on the outside.

  The plan was for Scarlet to meet Absinthe at a coffee shop near Fort Bragg, not in Caspar, where he said he lived. She was grateful that he was still seeking to make her feel comfortable with him. It was a public place, not his home. She had decided the fastest route would be to take the 101 freeway straight up to Willits and then cut over on 20 to Fort Bragg. She wasn’t certain why Absinthe wanted to meet her at the coffee shop, but now that she was a little anxious, she thought it was just as well. She didn’t want to lead Holden’s people to him just in case she was being followed.

  She had packed enough clothes for the weekend and brought the one thing that really mattered to her: her sister’s photograph. She had a picture of her parents as well, but she had that in the go-bag in the wall back at the rental. She hadn’t been able to make herself look at them. Maybe someday. They’d left her alone to face her sister’s death. Perhaps they blamed her the same way she blamed herself.

  There was a part of her that wanted to pull her car over and go through her phone to look at all the text messages Absinthe had sent to her. She’d done so a hundred times. Probably more. She lay in bed at night, unable to sleep, thinking about him, going over every word he’d said to her when they’d been in the redwoods together. Every expression on his face. He couldn’t fake that. Not what was in his eyes.

  Out in the redwood forest, she had deliberately touched him, bringing one of her strongest psychic abilities into play, almost hesitant to do so at first, moving her hands over his body, exploring the play of his muscles. But there was very little information she retrieved, other than that he was really, really into her. Intensely into her. That had added to the excitement of being with him. Everything about being with Absinthe was intense.

  Whenever his blue eyes looked directly into hers, she felt her stomach drop away, and with it, walls inside her mind seemed to crumble to reveal the woman behind them—the real Scarlet. He was gentle. He didn’t pound her defenses down, he just looked at her and the carefully constructed bricks and mortar just fell away.

  He had talked to her in that voice, so low and soft, so commanding, and it resonated through her entire body. She loved being with him every single moment of that day in the redwoods. On the motorcycle. She’d felt safe to be herself the instant she had climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. When the big Harley roared to life and they’d begun to move together through the streets with the cars so close, she hadn’t cringed, she’d just held him tighter and moved with him.

  The entire day with Absinthe felt surreal, a dream, a fantasy out of one of her romance novels. She told herself it was too perfect. Men like Absinthe really didn’t exist and there had to be a terrible catch she wasn’t seeing. She had proven already she didn’t have good judgment when it came to choosing men, yet here she was, her small bag sitting next to her in the passenger seat, and her stomach in knots while a thousand butterflies flew around in a chaotic mess. The closer she got to the coffee shop, the more her heart accelerated out of control and her blood went hot and rushed through her veins straight to her sex.

  She’d even gone shopping for more sexy lingerie. She couldn’t help herself. She had a favorite boutique online and she’d had the bras and panties overnighted to her along with the sexiest transparent boyfriend shirt she could find. She hoped Absinthe liked green. She looked really good in green. Just the thought of his eyes moving over her body had her nipples getting hard and her breasts aching for his touch.

  She really needed to get some perspective. The light turned green and she was on Highway 20, a twisting, turning road that was really only thirty-three miles to her destination but took an hour to drive due to the road conditions. Panic began to set in. What was she doing? She was crazy. She couldn’t make a commitment. She needed to pull over on one of the turnouts and think. Get her head straight. She couldn’t let the best sex in the world sway her. Or just knowing he might be the smartest man she’d ever met. Or the kindest.

  Her heart really began to pound, but not in a good way. Her lungs burned for air. She had killed people. Murdered them. Most likely Holden was going to send his motorcycle maniacs after her. She would manage to kill a few of them, but eventually they would get her. She would go down fighting, because she wasn’t going to let them rape her. Or sell her into trafficking as Holden Sr. would want to see happen to her. He wouldn’t have her killed; he would want her to suffer in a big way.

  She looked for a place to pull over, but if she did, she knew she would turn around, go back to Sonoma, pack her bags and make a run for it. Absinthe, with his brains, his gentleness, killer sex and sweet ways, was far too much of a temptation. And he wouldn’t just leave her alone, he would show up at the library and try to persuade her. She would have to go. Run for it.

  Her phone went off and she glanced at the wide radio screen. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. She couldn’t stop herself.

  “Absinthe.” She breathed his name, knowing she sounded way too excited and he’d know she was thinking about him. Worse, he’d probably know she was thinking about having hot, amazing sex with him.

  “Moya literaturnaya ledi.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and then began to pound. Her stomach did that slow roll and she found herself smiling. She loved the sound of his voice, even coming over her car speakers.

  “I’m checking to make sure you’re on the road. If you’re no
t, I’m heading your way. It’s been too long and I swear, miledi, I can’t wait another day.”

  She loved that it was too long for him as well. Sonoma and Caspar were too far apart. Couldn’t he practice in Sonoma? Did they have a library in Caspar? She’d have to find out where the closest one was. She didn’t mind moving. She loved the coast. Was it too soon to think about that? Probably. She didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. It had to come from him. She couldn’t wait to see him.

  “I’m on my way. I’m about just past Willits now and heading up 20.”

  “You were thinking of turning around and leaving me, weren’t you?”

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel. How did he know? He had crawled inside of her. That wasn’t good. She wasn’t a good person.

  “Baby. You were, weren’t you? What did I do or say wrong?”

  That was worse. So much worse. His voice, that stroking velvet voice that moved over her skin like the touch of fingers, uncovering every one of her senses so that she was acutely aware of every nerve and cell in her body.

  “Not you, Absinthe. It’s me. You’re so amazing. You’re just …” She trailed off, her foot on the gas, her hands on the wheel, flying toward him, knowing she shouldn’t. “I’m just not a good woman and I don’t want anything bad ever to happen to you. Nothing can happen to you, not because of me.”

  There were tears on her face and she thought she’d cried them all out so many years ago. She’d forbidden herself to cry. Absinthe had found that woman again, the one she’d hidden away. Now, just the sound of his voice brought her out.

  “Scarlet, I have a friend who will drive me to you. We can leave now and meet you. He’ll ride the Harley back and I’ll drive your car. I don’t like you driving when you’re upset.”

  The genuine worry in his voice washed over her. When had someone in the last so many years ever worried about her? She certainly couldn’t remember because the answer was no one.