The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos)

by Scarlett Cole

  Cars started to line the road as she got closer to the house. A valet was standing at the top of the driveway. She pulled alongside and explained that this was her father’s home. She had to wait a moment while he checked the list before being granted permission to drive inside.

  “Holy shit, Lia. It’s probably really uncouth of me to mention this, but your family is honestly worth a shitload of money.”

  Distracted, she looked up at the house, but then pulled the car to a sudden stop, narrowly avoiding an elderly couple walking up the drive, the last-minute maneuver making her laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Reid asked.

  “Well, I’m here because my father is concerned that I may damage part of his campaign, but I think he’d be really pissed if I ran over one of the couples likely to fund it. That’s Hildie and Eddie. More money than the Rockefellers, but way more private. And to address your uncouth statement, my father could probably fund his entire campaign personally, but being the great salesman he is, why should he when he can persuade other people to pay for it for him?”

  Lia pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed the small purse she’d slid down by Reid’s feet. Dropping the keys inside the purse, she turned to Reid. “Are you ready to do this?”

  Reid placed a hand over hers and stopped her from leaving the car. “Last chance, babe. You walk through your parents’ front door, and I’ve got your back. But I won’t think any less of you if you just want to put those keys back in the ignition, reverse out of the driveway, and head home. Your mom is making her own choices here. Anything that happens as a result of them is not your fault.”

  “You know what, I actually think I’ve got this. Maybe it’s because you came with me, but I still feel like me, even if I’m wearing a different costume.” She raised her hand to the long ponytail tied back with black ribbon.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, while you look cute and all, I much prefer your hair the way it was when you woke up this morning. Wild and all over me.”

  Reid grinned as he reached for her hair and gently pulled her toward him over the stick shift. He placed his lips on hers, a chaste yet reassuring kiss that told her they were in it together.

  They stepped out of the car and headed hand-in-hand to the front door, where they were greeted by a man she’d never met before. He was wearing a formal suit.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Madam,” he said as they approached. “Could I take your names please?”

  “I’m Julianna Carlisle. This is my father’s house.”

  “Ah, Miss Carlisle. Your father is expecting you. And you, sir, what is your name?”

  “That’s okay. He’s with me,” Julianna replied.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Carlisle, but nobody is allowed to enter unless they are on this list of invitees.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, too, because this is my home, and I will not be told by you who I can and cannot bring into it.”

  Lia, holding fast to Reid’s hand, tried to step over the threshold, but the doorman grabbed her shoulder, bringing her to a halt.

  “I suggest you take your hands off of her right now,” Reid growled.

  “When my father hears—”

  “Julianna,” her father’s voice boomed down the hallway. “What is going on?”

  Lia felt a little ill as her father looked her up and down as he approached them. She could see the cogs turning inside his head, his eyes checking her over, running down the little checklist of things she needed to do to comply.

  Resisting the urge to actively agitate her father, but also embracing Reid’s encouragement to stay true to herself, she’d dressed to the conservative end of her own wardrobe. Technically the tattoos on her arms were covered, but the fitted white shirt à la Kathryn Hepburn had more buttons left open than her father would be comfortable with. And the fitted cream capris showed off her figure, but left a single tattoo on her calf exposed, a classic Sailor Jerry–style shark representing courage and will. She’d stuck with simple makeup, but had added layers of pearls, and worn leopard-print platform pumps.

  From the look in her father’s eyes, she hadn’t met his expectations, and yet ironically, in trying to compromise, she still didn’t fully feel like herself, either.

  “There seems to be some confusion,” she said diplomatically. “I was just explaining that regardless of what the list says, my guest is allowed to come into my own family home with me.”

  “Of course she may bring a guest,” her father said to the doorman. “Please let us take the introductions to my office.”

  Despite the fact it was her home, Reid took her hand and led her down the hallway in her father’s wake. It felt reassuring and gave her the strength she needed for the conversation she was certain would follow.

  “Is this some kind of game, Julianna?” he asked as they walked into his office.

  “Reid Kennedy, sir. I’m a friend of Lia’s.” Reid held out his hand, but her father ignored it and him.

  “I asked you a question, Julianna,” he repeated.

  “Reid, I’d like you to meet my father, Franklin Carlisle. Daddy, I would like you to meet my good friend, Reid Kennedy.”

  Her father exhaled a dramatic breath. “Today, of all days, you choose to bring home your latest flavor of the month in some pathetic attempt to try my patience? And what do you do, Reid?” he asked, looking at him like he was used goods. “Let me guess. Tattoo artist. No, that would be too obvious. You strike me as a bartender.”

  Concerned, Lia turned to look at Reid, but was relieved to see nothing but composure. He squeezed her hand three times quickly but never looked away from her father. “I run my own garage in Fort Pierce, and last time I checked, my vote counted just as much as each of those people you have standing in your back garden right now just waiting for you to kiss their asses, so you need to say something of value to me real quick.”

  Lia looked down at the cream carpet and smiled in spite of the awkwardness.

  “Franklin,” her mother’s voice sounded outside the room. She knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Franklin, the Boveys have just . . . Lia, darling, I wasn’t informed that you’d arrived.” Her mom hurried over and air-kissed in the general direction of her cheek. She took in Reid but turned to face her husband. “The Boveys have just arrived, and you told me you wanted to be informed as soon as they were here.”

  Her father simply grunted and nodded. “Very well. Julianna, I will be very disappointed if you attempt to pull any kind of stupid stunt today. And Mr. Kennedy, mark my words, I don’t need your vote, and any attempt to assist my daughter in any kind of foolish action will result in your immediate rejection from not only this house, but from this island.”

  “Duly noted,” Reid replied.

  With that, her father left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “I think he really liked me,” Reid said before kissing the back of her hand. His lips were warm against her skin, and it reminded her of the way they had felt while he sucked on her nipples earlier that morning. Unusually, she felt her cheeks blush.

  Grace looked between the two of them. She fiddled nervously with one of her diamond studs, the color high in her cheeks. But she was wearing the closest thing Lia had ever seen to a full-blown smile. “Mom, this is Reid. My . . .” What? They’d never really talked terms. And she didn’t want to presume.

  “Her boyfriend,” Reid filled in cheerily. “What your daughter seems to have some trouble spitting out is that I’m her boyfriend.”

  * * *

  “That is a great question, Ryland. Our current schooling is creating namby-pambies who don’t know how to operate as adults. They have no concept of how to self-start because everything is given to them. They have no sense of what it means to win, or to fight. If we want to eradicate the apathy that defines Generation X and beyond, that sense of permanent entitlement, we’re going to have to change the way we teach them.”

  Reid took a sip of the overly sweetened iced tea that Grac
e Carlisle had given him and rolled his eyes in Lia’s direction. Quite frankly, he’d had enough of Lia’s father’s ramblings.

  To some people, her father appeared defiant. To others, sycophantic. At least four times that Reid had counted, Franklin had contradicted himself arguing both sides of the same coin to two different people.

  Guests continued to come and go, but one thing was reasonably constant. They were white, elderly, and richer than the Treasury. There wasn’t an ounce of diversity to be seen, and there sure as hell wasn’t anybody who looked like Lia. Even subdued, she still stood out like a lit firework in the night sky, and he suddenly had a sense of what it must have been like for Lia to grow up in an environment like this. She was too much . . . everything. Too bold. Too smart. Too colorful. She was a rainbow in a sea of beige.

  Lia found her way over to him. She’d spent much of the afternoon in the kitchen helping her mother keep food moving amongst the guests while interacting with them as little as possible. It also meant her mother could be outside, in prime hostess position, which, Lia had told him, her father had insisted upon, yet Grace despised.

  “Having fun yet?” Lia asked.

  He reached for her hand, pulling her closer. “You just got here, so yes.”

  “You sweet talker. I almost believe you. Did Daddy convince you to contribute to his campaign yet?”

  “Ha-ha. He keeps giving me the side eye. I think he’s worried I might attempt to steal something.”

  Lia looked in the direction of her father. When he caught her eye, he gestured her over. Lia groaned. “How many minutes and seconds until this is over?”

  “There’s nothing keeping us here, babe. Say the word and I’ll rescue that pretty little ass of yours. I think we should have a call sign, like if you need to be rescued from your dad, tilt your head to the right and flip your hair over your left shoulder.”

  “Funny. This is worse than high school.”

  “No, if this was high school, you’d pass a note to that woman standing next to your father who’d pass it to the woman standing two people down, who’d pass it to me.”

  He watched Lia as she walked toward her father. To the untrained eye, everything seemed completely natural. The way her father put his hand on her shoulder was almost proud, his smile as he introduced her to the group he was talking to was almost relaxed. Even Lia was pulling off a grade-A performance as she said a few words and shook hands with the members of the group. There was something so . . . robotic about it. And painfully false.

  He switched from foot to foot, impatient for the whole thing to be over. Then they could go back to her place and he could convince her that nothing was worth putting herself through this.

  Someone appeared behind Franklin and both he and Lia turned to greet the person. Reid couldn’t see who it was, but the stricken look on Lia’s face as she turned toward him suggested he wasn’t going to like it. As Franklin stepped to one side to make room, a face he hadn’t seen in six years came into view.

  Winston Bell.

  Reid had never believed in the stages of grief. For the last six years he had flitted backward and forward through them. Just when he thought he’d hit acceptance, he’d hear an article on the news or radio about a beaten spouse, and he’d flush right back into anger. And there were days when he was so lost that he felt like the sadness might drown him. But right now, standing in Lia’s father’s garden, he felt all of the stages simultaneously. Denial that Bell was there at all. Anger at Bell for what he had caused. The fact that bargaining was what had gotten him into this mess. Depression that there was nothing he could do about it. Well, actually it wasn’t all the stages of grief, because nowhere in there was acceptance. He was so far away from fucking acceptance that he wasn’t even sure he could spell it.

  Before he’d finished processing his thoughts, his feet had already started to move. Lia shook her head an infinitesimal amount, just enough for her to show that she didn’t think it was a good idea. But he couldn’t stop. Somewhere between his brain, which was telling him that what he was about to do was a monumentally bad idea, and his heart, which appeared to be telling the rest of his body to move, a decision was unconsciously made. His heart won out.

  He came to a standstill about two feet away from them and waited for Winston to spot him. At first, it was simply a casual glance, the kind someone would take when talking to somebody without wanting to stare. But then came the double take. Franklin followed the direction of his stare.

  Lia hurried toward him and put her hand gently on his chest. “Not now,” she said.

  Reid barely managed to hold himself back. His hands clenched into fists as he looked at the man that had caused so much pain. Years of guilt and bitterness burned through him. He wanted to confront him, punch him, anything, but Lia’s hand felt like a warm brand on his skin reminding him that right now was not about him, it was about Lia and her own fucked-up relationships. But it was too late.

  “Mr. Kennedy.” Winston removed a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and dabbed at the beads of perspiration on his brow. “What a . . . pleasure . . . to see you after all these years.”

  Reid swallowed hard, trying to force the words buzzing in his head to quiet. He wasn’t going to engage in Winston’s bullshit, especially when Lia was begging him not to with those damned eyes of hers.

  “Is that sister of yours here, also?” Winston asked, his lips in a tight smile.

  Fighting the urge to punch Winston hard in the mouth, Reid tugged on Lia’s hand. “We should go,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Go?” Winston laughed. “I’m surprised someone of . . . your questionable moral background . . . would even be at an event such as this in the first place.”

  “Morals? What about you? Are you happy now that your son has attempted to ruin my sister’s life twice?” He turned to Franklin. “Makes sense that this is the kind of guy you hang around with. He suffers from an abject lack of morals, too.”

  Winston causally shrugged, but his eyes turned cold and hard as they met Reid’s. “I am pretty certain this is neither the time nor the place to have this conversation. I’m here to simply support a friend—”

  “You aren’t here to help a friend. You are here to help somebody who has the power to help you. You forget I’ve known you a long time, Winston. Your definition of philanthropy is paying for what you want.”

  “Gentlemen,” Franklin said in a bright tone that he probably hoped would defuse the situation. “Why don’t we take this inside to my office and allow all of these wonderful people to continue to have a pleasant afternoon?”

  Franklin held out his hand in the direction of the office and encouraged first Winston and then Reid to take the offer. Neither man moved.

  “Please, gentlemen. I would very much appreciate your cooperation without the assistance of security,” Franklin said.

  “I don’t need to be hidden away in a room,” Reid said. “Or threatened with security for voicing my opinion.” Lia slid her hand into his and tugged gently. He gripped her fingers but didn’t move. “It won’t work,” he said to Bell. “Whatever it is you have planned to screw up the trial again. I’m not going to fall for your stupid tricks, and my sister is stronger than she’s ever been.”

  “Mr. Kennedy, as I was attempting to say earlier, I have no interest in having this conversation with you.” Winston slid his handkerchief back into his pocket. “What happened in Illinois is over, and my son is in his current situation because he spent time in prison. A place your sister sent him to. A place your sister attempted to keep him in and—”

  “Are you really so fucking delusional that you think your son was somehow set up by my sister? That this had nothing to do with the fact that he attacked her with a knife and scarred her for life?”

  The small crowd around them gasped.

  “Who knows?” Winston hissed. “Without spending time with those criminals in Marion, he might not be in the situation he is today. So it is absol
utely my intention to do everything I possibly can to ensure that my son spends the minimum amount of time incarcerated.”

  “Which likely involves coercion, blackmail, intimidation—”

  “Enough,” Franklin barked. “Lia, I should have known better than to allow you and your drama to join us.”

  “Allow? You didn’t allow me to do shit. You coerced me, using Mom as bait.”

  Franklin took a step toward Lia, and Reid pulled her closer to his side. It would be easier to defend her if he needed to.

  “Be very careful what you say, Lia,” her father snarled.

  “Or else what, Daddy? You can’t threaten me.”

  Franklin looked around the garden and shook his head, obviously aware of the scene they were making. “What was I thinking, allowing you to invite the lowest common denominator to join us?” he said quietly.

  “Lowest common denominator?” Lia cried out, and Reid gripped her hand, stopping her from taking a step forward.

  While he appreciated her coming to his defense, he didn’t want her to end up in trouble on his behalf. He’d fight his own battles.

  “There is not a single person here who is perfect, Dad. Least of all you.”

  “Lia. Let us not resort to old-fashioned histrionics to get what we need.”

  Her father’s tone was cold and controlled, and the hair on Reid’s neck stood on end.

  “If people knew what you were really like, there would be nobody here today. I’ve a good mind to tell—”

  “Enough! Don’t you dare threaten me,” her father shouted, spittle leaving his mouth. The words hung between them for a moment. Yet as quickly as the outburst had occurred, he smoothed his hair back into place, cricked his neck, and sniffed arrogantly. “Please say your good-byes and take your friend home before I call the police and have him, or you, arrested for disturbance,” he said, his voice totally even again.

  Reid stepped back and looked around. An elderly gentleman was escorting his wife away from them, and another group of attendees watched them carefully. Winston stared at him, but Franklin glared at Lia.