by James Tate
I frowned in the direction Steele had disappeared. "Why do I get the feeling he just lied to us?"
Archer let out a heavy sigh. "Because he did." My brows shot up, and he scrubbed a hand over his short beard. "Let me talk to him."
Before leaving the security office, he pressed a quick kiss against my hair, his arm tight around my waist.
"Stay with Kody. I don't trust anyone." His words were whispered in my ear, and my eyes widened. I gave him a small nod of understanding, though, and he left the office to track down Steele.
Sampson muttered something about getting a trash bag and left as well. Kody blew out a breath, slinging an arm over my shoulders.
"Just you and me this morning, huh, babe?"
I winced and looked at the stalker gift. "And a dead cat."
A dead, steel-gray cat named Max.
7
Steele evaded me for most of the day, and when I ran into Archer, he just told me not to worry about it. Like that wasn't going to make me worry more about it. Fucking boys just didn't get it sometimes.
Which is why I finally snapped as we were about to leave for our meeting with Demi at 7th Circle.
Archer, Kody, and I were already waiting in the Range Rover when Steele came out in a pair of distressed black jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, basically looking like he’d stepped off the pages of Bad Boy Weekly.
If that wasn't already a magazine, it needed to be.
"I'm taking my bike," Steele called out to Archer, bypassing the Range Rover to head toward where his motorcycle was parked.
Annoyance sparked, and I climbed out of the car. "Wait up; I'll come with you," I called out after him.
He paused, then spun around to eye my outfit critically. We were meeting Demi in a nightclub, so I'd dressed for the occasion in a sequined, silver mini-dress and strappy, black high heels. My hair was up in a high bun and my makeup was heavier than usual. Because, why the hell not? I looked great, and with people trying to kill me every second day, I deserved the boost to my own confidence.
Also, having the guys watch me like predators every moment I moved was a hell of an ego stroke.
"You're gonna ride on the back of my bike in that, Hellcat?" Steele's lips curved in a challenging smile, and I propped my hands on my hips.
Batting my lashes, I threw him an arrogant smirk. "What, like it's hard?"
Steele just snorted a laugh and indicated for Archer to go without us. Security would be following both them and us, regardless, so we weren’t concerned about splitting up for a short drive. As for my lack of protective clothing? Fuck it. A little part of me enjoyed the danger.
We stared at each other until the Range Rover pulled out of the driveway, then Steele folded his arms over his chest.
"I'm not avoiding you, Hellcat. It just makes sense to have a secondary vehicle in case something goes wrong." Bullshit. The tight set to his shoulders told me a whole different story.
Holding up a finger, I started pointing out some facts. "One. You lied to me this morning about the cat thing. Two. You've most definitely been avoiding me all damn day. Three. You shouldn't even be driving right now, let alone riding a motorcycle. Are you suicidal? And four. You swore you wouldn't lie to me anymore, Max. What the hell?"
He deflated, his shoulder slumping and his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry, Hellcat. I shouldn't have lied to you."
I waited for more of an explanation, but none came. What the fuck?
"Give me the keys," I demanded, holding my hand out to him. "I'll drive."
Steele's gaze snapped back up to mine, and he scoffed a laugh. "Not a chance, Hellcat. Come on, I promise I'll spill all my secrets when we get home."
He took a few more steps toward his motorcycle, but I needed to push him harder.
"Why not now? This obviously has something to do with me, so just tell me now, Max." I folded my arms and ignored the scratch of my sequined dress.
He let out a heavy sigh, holding out a helmet for me to take. "Because, Hellcat. It also has to do with Rachel, and I'd really, really appreciate the distraction of your naked body when I need to drag up painful memories of my dead twin. Okay?"
"Oh." That was the best response I could muster up because I hadn't expected that response from him. Crap, now I feel like a total bitch.
Steele gave me a weak smile and helped me fasten my helmet. "So, can you just wrap those gorgeous thighs around me for a few minutes and let me park this topic for a few hours? I promise it's not detrimental to your safety; it's all ancient history."
I jerked a nod, then climbed onto the back of his bike after he was seated. No verbal response was really needed, so I just did as he asked. I pressed my whole body to his, my arms tight around his torso without hurting his chest.
The drive to the warehouse district where 7th Circle was located went by surprisingly fast, but when Steele pulled in to park and helped me off, my teeth were chattering.
"Told you that dress wasn't suited for my bike," he scolded as he wrapped me in his warm embrace and rubbed my frozen arms. "It's sexy as sin, though."
I shot him a grin. "No pain, no gain, Max Steele."
He grimaced and rubbed a hand over his chest. "You can say that again. Come on; the guys are probably inside already."
With our fingers linked together, Steele walked straight past the burly security guard at the front door with nothing more than a small nod. Inside the old warehouse, the whole place had been fully transformed since the last time I'd seen it. Where it had still been a work in progress during our photo shoot, it was now fully finished and totally polished.
"I thought Archer said this place wasn't open yet," I said over the music as we wove our way through the crowd.
"It's not," he replied. "This is a trial run night. Everyone is here on invitation only to put the staff through their paces and ensure they're ready for an official opening."
"Makes sense," I commented, then spotted Archer and Kody at the bar. I pointed them out to Steele, and we made our way over there to find drinks already waiting for us.
"That was quick," Kody teased, handing me a fruity cocktail identical to his own. "All that metal giving you dysfunction, bro?"
Steele scoffed. "You fucking wish. Demi not here yet?"
"She's in the mezzanine bar. We wanted to wait for you two before heading up there." Archer indicated to the area toward the far end of the warehouse where a mezzanine bar overlooked the main hall. The two featured runways each ended in a spinning pole that extended all the way past the mezzanine level—dangerous as hell if one of the dancers fell from that height. Also a seriously cool design feature.
Archer laid a gentle, yet possessive, hand on the small of my back as we made our way up the staircase that took us up to the next bar. A security guard waited at the top, but he simply stepped aside to let us pass.
Inside, the entire bar was all but empty, just one bartender and my lawyer, who sat at one of the tables near the balcony.
"MK, good to see you," Demi greeted me, standing up from her seat. "Come and sit." She was dressed in a sharp, white pantsuit with the edges of a royal-blue lace bra peeking out of her blazer. Her Louboutin shoes were a matching royal blue, and she looked exceptional.
I sat down on the sofa she indicated to, opposite her, but when Demi held up a finger to Archer, none of the guys sat. Archer huffed an irritated sound.
"MK, I have information for you about your mother. I'm happy to tell you in confidence, if that's what you'd prefer." Her gaze was locked on me, and I filed that little power dynamic away for future reference.
With a smile, I shook my head. "No, it's fine. They can stay. Archer and I have... started working out our differences."
She grinned back at me, making a small signal that they boys could join our table. "I thought as much but wanted to give you the choice."
Archer, the petulant fucker that he was, decided to reinforce my statement. He slid onto the couch, then pulled me into his lap and looped his arm around my wai
st. Like he fucking owned me.
Bastard.
"Sunshine," I said with sugary sweetness. "Are you lost? There're plenty of other seats." And by plenty, I meant there was enough space between us and Steele for us both to sit. Kody dragged over an armchair.
Archer just dropped a kiss on my shoulder. "Hush, Kate. Demi had something important to tell us."
My cheeks flamed at his unnecessary display of big dick energy, but Demi just smiled.
"Working through your differences looks entertaining," my lawyer commented with a cheeky grin. "But let's get down to the important things, shall we? I located your mother's family."
Shock froze me. "You did?"
She jerked a nod. "I did. After Archer provided me the paper trail he’d originally covered up, it was enough of a thread for me to follow through to the source."
"That was quick," Archer commented, his fingers flexing against my dress. "My people have been working on that for over a year and still coming up blank."
Demi was pure smug satisfaction. "You need better guys."
"So it seems," Archer murmured. His grip around my waist relaxed slightly, and he brushed a soft kiss across my shoulder, almost like an unconscious gesture.
Demi reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a folder of paperwork. She placed it on the small table between us and flipped it open. On the top page was a photograph of a beautiful, older woman, maybe somewhere in her seventies. There was something shockingly familiar about her face.
"Meet Katerina Orlova of Moscow, Russia. Your maternal grandmother." Demi watched me closely as she tapped a long, nude-painted fingernail on the photo.
My mouth went dry as I studied the image. "I know her," I whispered as fuzzy edges of long forgotten memories tried to resurface in my mind. But the harder I tried to grab onto them, the further away they seemed. All I could grasp was that I knew this woman and that I'd loved her... once.
"Katerina, I believe, is why your mom added Kate to your first name. She died a little over ten years ago," Demi continued, "which seemed to be the catalyst for your whole matriarchal line being buried by your mother."
My gaze snapped up to meet Demi's curious gaze. "My mom hid it? I thought... I just assumed my dad had something to do with it."
Demi shrugged. "Your dad is a piece of shit, no question there. But this was done by Deborah herself. I can only imagine it was an attempt to keep you safe from whoever killed her mother."
I swallowed heavily. "And whoever ended up killing her."
"Probably," Demi agreed.
None of my guys spoke, but I could feel their strength and support like a tangible thing. I was glad not to be learning these truths alone.
Shifting in Archer's lap, I reached out to flip the page. The next sheet of paper showed a photograph of an unfamiliar man. He was younger than the image of Katerina, but the photo also looked a whole lot older.
"Abel Wittenberg of Pretoria, South Africa. Your grandfather. Died when your mom was fourteen and left full control of his company to his loving wife, Katerina." Demi paused, sitting back and linking her hands together in her lap. "The rest of the information is all there, but I'll give you my summary on what I think happened. Take it with a grain of salt because maybe I'm adding two and two, then coming up with twelve. But..." She gave an elegant shrug.
I nodded. "But in your professional opinion, what do you think happened?"
Her smile was sharp. She knew I didn't mean her profession as a divorce lawyer. "When your grandfather died, he left everything to his wife. From what I can deduce, they were very much in love, despite their marriage originally being a business arrangement. She was heartbroken, understandably, and apparently lost interest in running Abel's company. Instead, she assigned it to a trusted CEO and then left South Africa with her teenage children. She came to America and set up a new life."
"Children?" Steele commented, voicing the same question echoing through my head.
Demi nodded, then reached out to show us the next photograph in her folder. It was of a handsome boy, maybe only sixteen or seventeen years old. His blond hair and blue eyes were vaguely familiar, but I'd never seen him before. Or I was pretty sure I hadn't.
"Declan Wittenberg," Demi told us, "your mom's twin brother. He was killed during a home invasion several years after they arrived in America. I've included the case notes, but it's still an unsolved crime."
I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking. "Okay. So, what then?"
"Then, nothing much… until the man your grandmother assigned as her CEO died of a heart attack. A week later, Katerina was flying back to Pretoria to attend the funeral, and her plane crashed somewhere over the Middle East." Demi pursed her lips, looking grim. I'd put money down that my grandmother's crash hadn’t been deemed an accident.
"Someone wanted her dead," Kody muttered, like he was just thinking out loud. "Someone that stood to gain from her death."
"But my mom would have been the only heir, right?" I asked, puzzled. "She'd be the only one to gain."
Demi nodded. "Which probably explains why two days later Deborah employed a very highly skilled gentleman to start erasing her paper trail. She went into hiding for her own safety, and for yours."
Archer's fingers flexed on my stomach, making me guess he'd thought of something. I turned slightly to meet his pensive gaze.
"Of everything, it was your records that had been most thoroughly wiped. I bet Deb was hiding the fact that she had a daughter at all"—Archer's brow was tight as he thought it through—"eliminating you as a target for the killers who would eventually be coming for her."
Annoyance rippled through me. "So, what? She just went into hiding here in Shadow Grove, got some guy to do a half-assed job covering her tracks, then crossed her fingers and hoped for the best?"
"What would you have done?" Demi asked, genuinely curious. "In her position as a woman in a loveless marriage with an eight-year-old daughter to care for... what would you have done differently?"
I gaped at her in disbelief. "Seriously? Anything else. She just stuck her head in the sand and hoped whoever had just murdered her mother would give up and move on? No way. I'd hunt that fucker down and make damn sure he wasn't threatening the people I loved any longer. I sure as hell wouldn't be content to live in fear."
My heart was pounding and my palms sweating, but Demi just gave me a long, considering look. "Yes, I can believe you would do that. You're a strong woman, MK. Was Deborah? I never met her; I couldn't say."
Her question made me hesitate. What did I really know about my mom? She'd died when I was only eleven, and more and more I was realizing huge chunks of my childhood memories were missing. Had she been a strong woman? Something told me that Katerina had been, but Deb?
"No," I admitted with a long exhale. "No, I guess she wasn't."
Every little girl wanted their mom to be perfect, and I used to think mine was. But with the clarity of hindsight, I had to admit she’d been deeply flawed. She’d been selfish and impulsive, quick to anger, then quick to forget. But she’d loved fiercely, and I knew she’d loved me. Sometimes, that was enough.
Sometimes, it wasn't.
She probably could have left Shadow Grove when she suspected someone had found her. She could have done any number of things to keep herself—and me—safe from this fucked up life of death and violence. But she'd stayed... because of Zane. Of that, I was sure.
"Okay, so then I guess the only question here," I said, gritting my teeth against a spike of bitterness toward my dead mother, "is who inherits if I'm dead? Archer?"
His muscles tensed, his arm around me going rock hard. "Kate, if you're asking whether I killed your mom—"
"I'm not," I cut him off. "I'm just pointing out the fact that people are still trying to kill me now, eighteen months after we were legally married. Although, you said you wouldn’t get access to my trust until I was twenty-one, didn’t you?”
Archer nodded, his rough cheek brushing my shoulder. “Th
at’s right. If you die before you take control of your trust, it goes to the next blood heir.”
I frowned. “Right. So there is something more complex going on." Then another thought crossed my mind. "Demi, what line of business was my family in? What was Abel's company? I'm assuming that's what is up for grabs here."
Demi's brows rose. "You don't know that much?" Her gaze shifted to Archer behind me. "You paid Samuel Danvers fifty-two million dollars to purchase his daughter and her trust fund. How was that even put on the table without seeing the financials?"
I turned my face to catch him glare daggers at Demi. "It wasn't about the money, Demi. You, of all people, know that."
Well, color me curious. Demi gave a tight smile in return and dipped her head. "Fair point." She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to me as Archer's arms tightened around my waist. Like he was reminding me that he wouldn’t let go...
"Wittenberg has a number of smaller businesses under the parent company, but the jewel in the crown, so to speak, is Brilliance." Demi paused, letting that information sink in.
I blinked at her several times. "Brilliance," I repeated, dumbstruck. "Wittenberg owns Brilliance."
Demi cocked her head to the side, seeming amused by my shock. "No, sweetheart. You own Brilliance as you're the heir to Wittenberg."
I spluttered a laugh, sure I must have somehow slipped into a delusion. "What the fuck is even happening right now?" I whispered, running a hand over my face and shaking my head.
Kody blew out a long breath. "That... was not what I expected."
"Fuck me," Steele muttered.
"Well. Suddenly all the assassination attempts make a shitload more sense," I murmured.
Because if Demi was telling the truth, then I was the heiress to South Africa's—and the entire world's—largest and most profitable diamond mine.
Holy. Fuck.
8
Demi had unraveled a whole shitstorm for me—about my mom, my grandmother... about an uncle I’d never even known existed, and most of all, about my real inheritance. It was a lot.