“Do you think she’ll talk to Martine?”
“If she doesn’t talk to her, I think she’ll talk to me. And if keeping Martine in the know means taking Jay off my hands, at least for a little while, then I’m on board with that. I just need to find out who’s behind the Company.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon. Until then…” I brush my lips over his, flickering my tongue along his lower lip.
When I pull away, he cups my nape and guides me back, holding us together as our mouths reacquaint. He trails his lips from mine, drawing hot kisses down my neck and over my chest, teasing my nipples into aching points.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this here,” he mutters without much conviction.
“It’s a big house.”
He groans. “We should have gotten a room.”
“Tristan?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to shut up and fuck me…please.”
He exhales roughly, his eyes darkening. My heartbeat ticks up. Something about the dangerous fusion of lust and challenge swimming in the depths of his look prickles my skin and wraps me in a welcome heat. Like he’s a stranger capable of the darkest deeds wrapped in a lover I know. The lover I need…
I roll my hips. Slowly and deliberately, making no mistake of my desire against his. “I don’t want to think about anything except how you feel.”
With a low growl, he shoves me to his side and quickly takes the advantage, holding his weight above me and using it to pin me to the mattress at once. He nips at my collarbone. Rakes his blunt nails down my thigh until I’m bucking against him. “My dirty little saint. Now I want to make you scream.”
Clawing the sheets, I silently beg him to. I don’t want to alert the rest of the house to all the ways I need him, but when he kicks away the last barrier of his clothing and slides into me, I cease caring.
We move together, grabbing and holding on to each other like one of us might slip away. But the world only seems to contain the two of us. Two lost souls climbing toward that one pinnacle moment when everything that haunts us can fade into the darkness. I’m torn between the journey and destination, but the climb is too fast.
I’m trembling at the edge of release when my name slips off his lips. Then a needy groan that disappears into his next savage kiss. His thrusts speed up. “Come for me. Need to feel it…”
I whimper into the electrified air between us, tumbling into the pure possession of his movements. Then, as if his words alone had the power to summon it, a fierce climax like none other rips through me. He swallows my screams, extends the feeling when he pounds out his own fevered release, pulling me further into the drowning wave. Until slowly the wave flows back out to sea, leaving us to our racing hearts and humming skin.
He rolls to the side, bringing me with him so there’s no space between us. I catch my breath and trace the planes of his ribs and stomach. I close my eyes, letting my fingertips memorize the scars I wish I could take away.
He stills my restless touch, threading our fingers together with a sigh. “I think you officially reclaimed all of my attention.”
I giggle and nuzzle against his skin, wrapped in contentment I know can’t last.
TRISTAN
The morning is lively—an almost surreal contrast from the tense meeting the night before. With an apron cinched over her sunshine-yellow dress, Martine is the captain of the kitchen, tending to the pans on the stove and directing everyone else. Zeda is cutting up fruit and placing it into little bowls while Skye arranges place settings in the dining room. Jay joins from upstairs just as Isabel and I are noticed.
Martine lifts her eyebrows. “Miss McKenna. You showed up just in time. I have toast that needs butter.”
“I can do it,” Skye offers.
“Nonsense. Your hands work, don’t they?”
Jay glances nervously between Martine and me. I bite the inside of my lip, holding back a laugh at the hilarity of it all. After a moment of hesitation, Jay comes to the island and wordlessly starts in on the task.
Martine turns down the burners and waves me over. “I need you too. Take this to the table for me, please.”
She arms me with mitts to relocate a cast-iron pan of fried potatoes that might weigh as much as she does. And after several more minutes of fussing and directing, she calls everyone to sit. We dig into the hearty breakfast in unison. I’m not especially at ease here, but I allow myself to accept the normalcy of it. Too, I recognize how the comforts of the home Martine’s created draws her tenants in and keeps them here long enough to brainwash them into loyalty and glorified servitude.
If I weren’t convinced Martine kept a mountain of secrets hidden under all that light she pretends to spread across the land, I might become a willing follower, with my stomach full and my basic needs more than met after weeks on the run. But I know better, and I suspect Jay soon will too.
Conversation is thin, limited to small talk about the goings-on in town. A street festival coming up soon. A small mention of Noam, who will no doubt be relieved to see Isabel back in the studio again.
Then the dishes are cleared and Martine’s proposition lingers, unspoken but ever present. She pushes back from the table, crosses her legs at the knee, and focuses on Jay.
“Miss McKenna, how did you sleep?”
Jay smiles politely. “Very well. You’ve been more than hospitable.”
“I appreciate that. We’re all fresh now and our appetites are satisfied. Seems as if this might be a good time to settle the matter of whether you’d like to stay here with us.”
Jay clears her throat and lifts her chin. “What exactly are you offering? I’d like clear terms, if you don’t mind, since my life is on the line.”
“Certainly. You may stay here at the house as long as you wish. Rent free, obligation free, save a few household to-dos that we all chip in with.”
“I don’t care about buttering toast. I’m more concerned about what happens if my whereabouts become known.” Jay’s silver tongue is revealing itself. Once more she’s the calculating manager who’s lethal behind a desk, even if she can’t hold her own when faced head-on with the men she uses as weapons.
“I know many others who would bring you under their roof without hesitation,” Martine says. “If it’s a matter of protection, you have my word that we will provide. Keeping our sisters safe is of paramount importance.”
The muscles in Jay’s jaw tense and release. She shakes her head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m certain you have the best intentions, but I’m not sure you realize who you’re up against.”
Martine’s face lifts into an easy smile. “Child, I’ve brought governors to their knees. I’ve faced off with bankers and lawyers and the worst kinds of men, here in our city and all over the country. I keep a rather colorful range of people in my acquaintance—some well-meaning and others not as much. This is all to say, I know very well where I sit in the grand scheme of things, both in the hierarchy of the world we read about in the papers and the real one that exists in the underbelly of our society. I’m certain you work for some powerful forces, but if that sort of thing scared me, I’d hardly be in a position to help anyone.”
Jay pauses, seeming to take that all in. “And if I were to tell you more about those powerful forces, in detail, what do you intend to do with that information?”
I lean in to speak. “You said you know everything, so what’s the difference if you’re already marked?”
If Jay starts revealing information based on what she thinks we’ll do with it, we’ll only get a fraction of the picture. And I want the whole thing. Every piece of the puzzle.
She narrows her eyes. “Because, Tristan, if you or anyone else here take action against them using the information I give you, you have no idea how aggressively they’ll maneuver to destroy you. You have no idea.”
Martine and I share a look. A hungry glimmer of anticipation.
“Martine’s given you her word that she can keep you safe. W
hy don’t you just tell us what you know, Jay, and let us worry about the rest?”
Jay takes in a deep breath. Wrings her fingers in her lap. And for a few tense moments, her choice hangs in the empty silence.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Isabel
“I take my orders from a man we call Soloman.”
Jay’s pallor is evident, her expression notably grim, as if someone has just handed down her death sentence. Her gaze zigzags around the table, like there’s a map drawn on it.
“What does Soloman do?” I ask, hoping to urge her forward, lest her anxiety keep her from divulging the details we so desperately need.
“Soloman is a broker. He used to deal in precious stones. Blood diamonds. Rare finds. He facilitated deals between private buyers until he was so well connected that he realized he could broker other things. Artwork, black-market items.” She pauses. “The real money came with the brokering of favors, though. Arrangements that needed to be handled discreetly. To protect his clients and keep his dealings under the radar, he soon realized that he had to keep a very small roster of clients. The richest of men, the most powerful, and sometimes the most dangerous.”
She brings her hands to the table and draws lines in the wood grain with her fingertips. “Favors started to overlap. One favor could benefit one client and gravely hurt another. So the list got smaller. The favors got more expensive. Not because they were worth more but because the people who could make these requests were so few.” Her voice grows quiet. “So they formed a group. A small circle of men and women whose power and influence outrank their competitors’. When a favor is requested, it’s put to a vote. Unanimous decisions are preferred but not required. Matters are always up for debate. All alliances must be considered. This is how things are decided.”
“How does Vince play into this?” Tristan asks.
“His father, Kristopher Boswell, was invited to a seat. His company has grown exponentially in recent years. The Chalys Pharmaceuticals footprint on the economy is substantial, and their influence can already be felt among the other members. Of course, membership is both a privilege and a concession. Members must learn to yield to the same power they wish to wield in a room of giants.”
Tristan frowns. “You’re saying you kept all of us busy with a handful of clients? How many people could they possibly need to take out?”
“It doesn’t work like that. Requests are made by members but more often through them. Jobs are considered from their extended network, accepted in return for favors that would benefit others in the circle. Sometimes money alone is accepted, though that rarely will instigate a hit.”
She looks to me. “Naturally, a request made by a member of the circle is of the utmost importance. That’s why Tristan was sent for you. That’s why Crow was nearby, on standby, from day one. I was to leave nothing to chance. Not because you were a danger to anyone but simply because a man of the highest order wanted you dead, and it had to be taken care of no matter what.”
“No one knew that he might recognize me?”
She shakes her head. “I research every job as thoroughly as I can, but the details had to do with your life in Rio and the history between your family and Boswell. I wouldn’t have dug that deep into your past relationships. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I failed to recollect your father’s involvement with Tristan early on. I vet every contractor for the Company before they’re onboarded, but it had been years since I referenced those files. It was pure chance and possibly one of the worst times for Tristan to fail.”
“I didn’t fail,” he says.
“In their eyes, you did. You didn’t exactly have a vote.”
He ignores her reply and pushes on. “If Boswell is so precious to the operation, why did you give up information on Vince and his nephew?”
“We underestimated you. Vince had his tickets booked for New Orleans nearly the minute I told you. We planned to beef up security at his residences and work once he got back. I had no idea you’d maneuver so quickly.”
One glance at Martine and I recognize the hint of satisfaction in her eyes. Tristan may hate the way the situation went down, but there’s a touch of glory in having gotten to Boswell first.
“So how do we get them to forget about us?” I ask.
“The good news is that Crow will likely be making a mess with the names I gave him. Even his family ties won’t save him when he crosses the Company. The bad news, of course, is they’ll know the information came from me. But as long as we all stay out of the way for a little while, I think we’ll be safe here.” She looks to Martine. “If you or this place was never on my radar, it shouldn’t be on theirs.”
Tristan rises and paces to the window. “That’s reassuring, but until they find the bodies—yours and mine—they won’t stay satisfied with us being out of sight for long.”
She nods, starts tracing the lines in the wood again. “If you go after them, they’ll kill you, Tristan. Their power and influence have no bounds.”
“They’re expecting him,” Skye says. “Like you said, we’re not on their radar.”
Jay’s skepticism doesn’t need to be uttered aloud. It’s palpable.
Zeda smirks. “You don’t know us, and we’re just getting to know you. We took care of Boswell in less than three days. What makes you think we can’t do worse?”
“That was you?”
“It was all of us,” Zeda says.
Jay shoots a questioning look to Tristan.
He shrugs. “I didn’t exactly give my blessing, but yes, it was a team effort. Unfortunately Isabel sacrificed the most. Boswell was lucky to leave with his life after what he did to her.”
“Even so, he was unguarded. The people in this circle are not,” she says.
“Then you tell us. Where are their weaknesses?”
“Together?” She lifts her brows. “They have none. They’re impenetrable. Individually, of course, everyone has vulnerabilities. How and when you choose to take advantage of them is another matter.”
“And that is something we will carefully consider, Miss McKenna,” Martine says. “Thank you for your trust in us. We’ll honor it by treating this information with great care, and I believe that together we can devise a plan that will protect you and others they wish to harm.”
Jay sighs heavily, though she looks anything but unburdened.
“For now, let’s get you well. I have a private physician who can come by this afternoon to see you and tend to your injuries. Skye, would you be so kind as to help outfit Miss McKenna with some basic necessities? I’m sure she could use some clothes of her own.”
“Of course.”
Martine smiles serenely and stands. “I’ll be in my office for the next couple hours if anyone needs anything. If you’ll excuse me.”
With that, she leaves and the others disperse. Tristan lingers at the window, seemingly lost in thought. I go to him.
“What now?”
He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here.”
TRISTAN
The sky is a murky gray as we walk through the park. Manes of Spanish moss hang from the live oaks that line the broad path. The scenery is picturesque and moody. Romantic even. But I’m only physically here. The rest of me is retracing dozens of hits knowing what I know, replaying the conversations with Jay, and trying to make connections that could be useful.
The original plan to track hits back to their instigators isn’t out of the question, except now everything is complicated by this extra layer of interest—the mysterious circle of deciding members. If money isn’t a motivator, everything is a power play. To protect it, threaten it, or further it.
“Look.” Isabel points ahead. An egret launches from its nearby perch and sails over the pond with a squawk.
I follow her gaze, trying to pull myself back into the moment. She’s patient and thoughtful by my side, her hand in mine as if it’s always belonged there. Being with her is beginning to feel that way now—like it’s been this way
forever. Part of me wonders if it’s my latent memory lending to the feeling or if it’s simply an evolution of our brief time together. It’s been a month. Already I’m possessive and consumed in ways that should require more earning of those emotions. But we’ve also faced death, which quickly condenses quality of life into the space of a moment.
She leans her cheek against my arm. “What are you thinking, Tristan? Talk to me.”
“Ten thousand things. I’m having a hard time narrowing it all down into a coherent thought. My head can be a hectic place to be sometimes.”
“Do you think Jay will be okay at Halo?”
“I have no idea. It’s definitely not her style, but I think her tolerance of the situation will depend a lot on how Martine chooses to use the information Jay gives us.”
“And how do you plan to use it?”
I shrug. “The plan hasn’t changed that much. Except I’m starting to get a better idea of who we’re up against.”
“The way Jay talks about them… She’s scared to death.”
“She has good reason to be. The secrets she’s privy to are more valuable than anyone’s life. They’ll go to great lengths to protect them. She knows this better than anyone.”
Isabel’s quiet a moment, as if she’s taking that reality in.
“Have you heard from Makanga yet?”
“He sent me a message this morning. They’re safe. He has Aguilera tucked away in a little town south of Atlanta where he has contacts. Figured out that she was having an affair with the senator.”
She looks up at me, her eyebrows high. “Oh.”
“The bigger ‘oh’ is that she’s three-months pregnant, and she won’t give it up. She’ll be due right before the midterm elections, which I’m guessing won’t be great timing for the campaign.”
“Makanga can’t keep her hidden forever. What are we going to do?”
The Red Ledger, Book 4 Page 8