She sank into a black beanbag chair and stared at her knees. They weren’t very nice. They were lumpy. Ugly. The knees of someone men would lie to and dump rather than endure a brief, uncomfortable conversation. She hated her knees.
The boat’s engines were humming now, and it lurched to the side, then smoothed out. Strangely, Monroe didn’t even care if the boat sank, so she didn’t freak out about the possibility that Thomas might not know what he was doing.
He probably did, though. Golf, the Hamptons, Harvard, working nonstop. Of course he was comfortable with yachts. Some cardigan-wearing woman was going to be very happy to have him.
The door opened and Tara entered. “Are you ok?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Monroe said. “Are you?”
“Strangely, yeah, I am. Is it ok if I pull up a beanbag?”
“Be my guest.”
“Guess I am your guest,” Tara said. “You’re like, royalty, dating a guy like Koenraad. When he walked into that bar, I swear every woman licked her lips and every guy took a self-conscious step back. What a man.”
“Let’s not—”
There was a loud grinding noise from the engine, then it quieted to a smooth purr.
“If I hadn’t known he was yours, I would have handed him my panties and asked him to make me forget my cheating husband.”
“Oh, Tara.”
She waved away Monroe’s concern. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m not mad.”
“Of course you are. You’re furious. You’re just repressing it.”
“But I’m not. I think I’m angrier that it didn’t come out sooner, that I didn’t trust myself. Because I knew something was wrong.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Technically, I did about two months ago. You told me Lee would have to be crazy to cheat.”
Monroe winced, and Tara grabbed her hand. “Don’t feel bad. You were right! He is crazy. And it’s so liberating. We haven’t been truly happy. I feel like… I was spending all my energy trying to convince the world that everything was fine. My only regret is that he didn’t have the balls to tell me.”
Monroe must have looked as skeptical as she felt because Tara burst out laughing.
“I consider myself lucky,” she said. “Suppose I’d never found out? Suppose I’d gotten pregnant? I can’t even imagine how awful that would have been. Of course I’ve got regrets, and I bet this gives me major trust issues, but I feel free. And you know, seeing you so happy with Koenraad after suffering for all these months with Thomas… It was a real eye-opener.”
“Well, if you change your mind and want to talk about it, I’m here,” Monroe murmured.
“I want to talk about you and Koenraad. He’s so into you.”
Monroe kept quiet because she couldn’t very well ruin Tara’s insane fantasy right now. Despite Tara’s protests, Monroe didn’t believe for an instant that she was ok with all of this.
“You should have seen the relief on Koenraad’s face when Thomas said he could take the boat to Aruba. I asked him if he’d rather keep you here, and you know what he said?”
“No,” Monroe said, because that’s what she guessed his response would be.
“He said he wished he could keep you here forever. I swear, I melted.”
“He said that?”
Tara nodded. “I don’t know why you sound so surprised. He’s obviously crazy about you. He even gave Thomas a lecture about what would happen if you got so much as seasick. That’s a quote, by the way. You really hit the jackpot.”
Chapter 16
Koenraad stopped the SUV just around the corner, out of sight of Free Luv.
He got out and cautiously jogged back the way he’d come, sticking to the shadows where Monroe wouldn’t be able to look up and see him.
He caught sight of her talking to Thomas. It was just small talk, and rather stilted, but Koenraad grimaced. It had taken him a couple of minutes in the bar, but he’d eventually realized he’d heard Thomas’s voice before. It had been over the phone, when Monroe first came to stay at his mansion. She’d been in the bedroom, so she surely hadn’t realized that he could hear the entire conversation as she begged Thomas not to come to Tureygua.
Koenraad had assumed Thomas came anyway, though he’d hoped Monroe would voluntarily tell him about it. He’d given her opportunities, but she’d been vague about what was bothering her. It was easy to forgive her, though. Humans sucked at lying to shifters, and he’d known her intentions were good.
Handing Monroe over to her ex-boyfriend hadn’t been easy. Now she was vulnerable and hurt, and Thomas would be there, waiting. The only consolation was that Thomas would make sure she got home safely. Well, as safely as an untrained human could manage. Koenraad hoped it would be enough.
He heard a car approaching, and he could tell by the way it slowed that the driver was watching him, but his eyes remained glued to Monroe.
What he hadn’t expected was for an unfamiliar voice, attached to a familiar and despised smell, to waft toward him.
“Van Buren!” Bamboo Menendez called out.
Every instinct in Koenraad’s body told him not to leave his back exposed to the bastard who had terrorized Monroe. But he couldn’t look away from the water. Not until Free Luv lurched away from the dock.
She was gone, but he could still hear bits of the conversation. He could still smell her sweet scent.
“Van Buren! Are you deaf? The Council wants you, and you’re late.”
Koenraad turned and finally set eyes on the shifter he was going to kill. Menendez wasn’t as unattractive as in his photo, but with his bug eyes and small chin, he was far from handsome. He sat stiffly behind the wheel of a Council car.
A smile spread across Koenraad’s face. And here he’d thought he’d have to work to track the bastard. Having Menendez come to him was almost too convenient, like finding chum in the water. A trap, maybe. There was an easy way to find out.
He started toward the car.
Menendez anxiously held up a hand. “You can drive your own car,” he said.
“How did you find me?”
Menendez opened his mouth, and a torrent of words poured from his thin lips. “Luck and a good nose. They told me you’d be at your beach house. I was driving around, looking for you, and I caught your scent,” he said. “It’s what I do.”
Koenraad cursed silently. If Menendez had been able to do that, he’d definitely noticed that Monroe bled shifter blood. He’d also be able to smell her now, and while he wouldn’t necessarily guess she was on a boat, if he sniffed around, he’d figure it out. On top of that, if Menendez disappeared right now, Koenraad would be the prime suspect.
That made his decision easy.
He would have to go and see what the Council wanted. It wouldn’t be anything worse than a formal questioning, to settle the matter of what Darius had called Victoria’s “fantastical story,” whatever that was, but playing along would buy time for Monroe to get away.
And he’d take Menendez with him.
“I always wanted a full-time chauffeur,” Koenraad said, getting into the back seat. He’d been in these cars before, but always in the front. The back was reserved for shifters who were in trouble. The windows were bulletproof and nigh unbreakable, as was the partition behind the front seat.
Menendez engaged the locks.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” Koenraad said. “I’d never hurt someone who didn’t hurt me first. Or hurt my friends. You can understand that, can’t you?”
No reply.
He met Menendez’s nervous glances in the rear-view mirror with a smile, imagining how satisfying it would feel to rip the shifter’s head from his shoulders. He would wait, lure him into the ocean and do it there. After the week Koenraad had lived, tearing something apart was going to be very therapeutic indeed.
Better to think about that than to feel the hole in his heart growing wider by the second. He wondered if Monroe was standing
on the deck, watching Tureygua grow smaller. He wondered if she would ever forgive him.
When they reached Council headquarters, Menendez cleared his throat. He started to say something, interrupted himself, tried again. “Listen, about earlier. I didn’t…”
Finally he got out and went inside the compound, leaving Koenraad locked in the back. Koenraad wasn’t surprised given the threat he’d made, but an alarm quietly went off in his head. He tried to ignore it, but there was something… His eyes swept the crowded parking lot as he tried to figure out what was off.
He’d never seen so many strangers here before, but that was because of the sick in the water. More sharks in town, and it was easier for them to stay in the compound. They’d be nearby when they were needed.
As Koenraad scrutinized the cars, a cold sweat broke out on his brow. Now he saw what was wrong.
The vehicles of many, if not most, of the ten judicial Council members were there. The judges had flexibility to keep whatever schedules they wanted. Some, like Darius, did a few cases a week, depending on his other Council business. Others, like Sawyer, who lived on Bonaire, only showed up when absolutely necessary. Most disputes required three judges, and rulings were based on majority vote.
If they were all here at the same time, that meant there was going to be an execution-level pre-trial or trial.
For him.
Surely he was being paranoid, but the fact was he’d broken the law several times. He’d transfused his blood into a human, and not only hadn’t he come forward with knowledge of a shark-on-human attack, he’d covered it up.
No, he realized. They couldn’t possibly know about Brady.
This had to be Victoria’s doing, but a trial would require either two witnesses or some damned good physical proof. If she’d had proof of anything, she would have mentioned it that morning.
Menendez? But the Council wouldn’t have sent a witness to pick him up.
The facts went around and around in his head. Giving a transfusion wouldn’t automatically get a shark executed. It was far more dangerous for the human.
There was no reason for him to be on trial. The presence of the judges was either a coincidence or related to something he hadn’t heard about. He’d been busy the last few days. He was out of the loop.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and waited for Menendez to grow a pair of balls and let him out.
Three guards emerged from the massive stone archway in the middle of the compound and headed straight for the car.
He felt like he’d been dropped into the middle of a hurricane. He wasn’t paranoid. There was no doubt now.
Koenraad quickly re-weighed his options. His two years patrolling the coasts had gained him respect. His family’s extreme wealth didn’t hurt his standing, either. So long as he acted calm, the approaching guards wouldn’t manhandle him into the building like a common criminal. He could exploit that—wait until the perfect moment and then attempt an escape.
But Free Luv wasn’t out of danger yet. She was far from the fastest boat on the island, and Thomas had gotten off to a slow and cautious start. That made sense in terms of safety, but it would be too easy for a faster boat to catch her.
If the Council happened to have proof that he’d given Monroe blood—and he was increasingly convinced that they must—they could demand the return of that blood. They could slit her open like a hog and drain it out of her.
If he ran, it would be construed as guilt. And he’d be caught. Someone would eventually see him searching for Brady, and he wasn’t willing to abandon his son. They’d go after Monroe.
No, running wasn’t an option. Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, he walked into the building.
The guards escorted him to a large stone auditorium nestled between the two tallest buildings. It had always reminded Koenraad more of an ancient Roman stadium than a place for serious trials. It was cold, often damp, and thoroughly uncomfortable, and those were the conditions for the judges and spectators.
Seven rows of concrete benches circled a stage, where a single stool waited. Koenraad kicked it aside and stood there, staring up at the growing crowd.
Where the hell was Spencer? He was on the island and he tended to hang out with other shifters. Surely he knew this was happening. Koenraad combed the crowd in vain, looking for his friend.
What he did notice was that quite a few shifters were hoping for his blood. He could smell their excitement. A minority looked down with pity in their eyes. These were local shifters who knew him.
Their faith was humbling. Guilt bubbled inside him, and he quashed it. He’d done what he’d needed to, and he had no regrets about saving Monroe.
The auditorium became increasingly packed, and then the judges filed in, one after the other.
Victoria brought up the end. She wore a somber black suit, and her mane of dark hair was pulled into a severe bun atop her head. Despite the harshness of her attire, there was a spring in her step, a glow in her cheeks.
She was here as a witness, but she didn’t know about the transfusion. Did she? And then he remembered that when he’d returned home after searching for Brady, he’d smelled her. He’d thought it was a ghost trail from the morning.
His sense of smell had been screwed up, making everything much fainter than it should have been. But he hadn’t realized it then. If Victoria’s scent had truly been from the morning, he wouldn’t have smelled her at all.
She’d been back at the mansion, and she would have been looking for something to hang him with. He’d cleaned the pool, so either she’d brought an entire forensic lab with her, or she’d found something he’d overlooked.
Victoria turned and looked behind her, and a moment later, Arnie came out, head bowed. Arnie, who was more like her willing slave than an employee.
Two witnesses. Shit.
He stared straight ahead and waited.
Kendra, a small, gray-haired shifter, consulted a paper and began speaking. “This pre-trial is to gather information about the deeds and state of mind of the accused, Koenraad Van Buren. Because the accused is known to the judges, and because of his relationship to the Council, we request that every question be answered so as to save time. If at any point the judges decide the accusation is misguided, we will end the questioning immediately. This pre-trail may serve as a trial proper, with binding sentencing.” She looked up from the paper. “Do you understand what I just said?”
This wasn’t how pre-trials usually began. He should have been told what he was being accused of, for starters.
Koenraad decided not to answer. Kendra sighed.
The judges took turns asking other bizarre questions.
Did he understand shifter laws?
Had he been feeling unwell? Stressed? Out of control?
Was there anything he wanted to get off his chest? To that he wanted to say, No, but there’s someone I want to get off my back.
He didn’t understand the reason for all the psychological questions, but he didn’t answer any of them.
Darius seemed detached from the proceedings. He repeatedly passed when it was his turn to ask a question, and he mostly avoided looking at Koenraad. It was like the crafty old shifter felt guilty, but guilt wasn’t in Darius’s repertoire.
Finally Darius posed a question. “Did you kill a human at—”
“No,” Koenraad said, shocked out of his silence. He’d already started speaking, so he continued. “I have never killed or attacked a human.” His mind raced. Killed. This wasn’t about the transfusion at all. But he knew he hadn’t killed anyone, so why was he here?
Darius tapped a finger on the table and pursed his lips. “We have witnesses who will testify that you killed the human female who was your lover these last few days.”
Koenraad stared right at Victoria. “Your witness is either insane or a liar.”
Arnie ducked his red head.
Victoria stood slowly. “You know what you told me and I saw the evidence. Your pool was full of her blood.
”
He said nothing. What jumped out at him, though, was that she’d said “was.” She knew the pool had been cleaned. She hadn’t found anything, but she’d probably thought about the amount of blood and had concluded that Monroe was dead.
“Oh, Koenraad,” Victoria said. “I know you swore me to secrecy, but I couldn’t allow the poor woman’s murder to go unavenged.”
“The second witness,” Kendra said.
Arnie stood. “I was in the area, and I overheard it when he confessed to Victoria that he’d murdered the woman.” He sat.
“We saw the body,” Victoria said. “It was awful.”
Arnie stood again. “We saw the body.” He didn’t sit so much as collapse.
Murmuring came from the audience. Koenraad wondered if they were happy with the show. Because that’s what it was. A show. A sham.
“Questions from the audience?” Kendra asked.
“I have one.” A slightly breathless Spencer sat at the edge of the top row. He must have come in while Koenraad was glaring at Victoria.
“Recognizing your right,” Kendra said.
“If you didn’t kill her, where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” Koenraad told his friend.
“Surely you must have an idea. I know you broke up, but she’s gorgeous. The kind of woman I’ve been looking for. I really wouldn’t mind finding her.”
Stunned, Koenraad stared at his friend. “What?”
Victoria sighed loudly. “Aren’t spectators limited to one question per member?”
The rule was seldom enforced, but it was on the books. It could go either way. When Kendra nodded, Koenraad knew it was over. For whatever reason, they already believed he was guilty.
Spencer caught his eye, and suddenly Koenraad realized he was being given a chance to ensure Monroe’s safety.
“I’ll answer the question. I don’t know where she is. Personally, I’m a big believer in free love. My partners can go wherever they like.”
Victoria scoffed, and Darius shot her a warning look. Spencer, however, nodded once, and Koenraad felt weight lifting from his shoulders. Spencer now knew Monroe was aboard Free Luv. Unless someone had disabled the GPS, he’d be able to easily follow the yacht and make sure she arrived safely.
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