Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani))

by Alers, Rochelle

  “It’s not so much the name, but everyone living on the horse farm refers to themselves as a Blackstone. If you were to ask anyone where they’re from, they’d say ‘Blackstone.’”

  “Is it the same at Cole-Thom Farms?”

  A beat passed. “I think it’s getting there. You have to remember Blackstone Farms has been around for more than forty years, and I’m a newbie. Everyone is excited because when Peyton and I marry, it will be like merging the two farms.”

  * * *

  Greer sat behind the cousins, listening to their conversation. If and when she married Jason, she would become part of a family with rituals and traditions passed down and continued with subsequent generations. Unlike family reunions that were usually held during the summer months, the Coles gathered for an entire week beginning Christmas Eve through New Year’s Day. And it was always held in West Palm Beach.

  This past week had been one in which their lovemaking had become deeper, more intense. When they weren’t making love, Greer and Jason had talked—about everything. He had told her about the circumstances where his father had met his mother. As CEO of Cole-Diz, David Cole had traveled to Costa Rica to negotiate the sale of a banana plantation and had found himself hostage to a madman—who had intended to use David as leverage to get the American government to release his son who’d been held on drug trafficking charges. David, who’d been injured during the abduction, was nursed back to health by Serena Morris. During his captivity Serena and David had fallen in love, and when the Coles had employed their means of rescuing David, they were forced to bring Serena with them because she was pregnant with David’s child. They had named the baby Gabriel after Serena’s brother who hadn’t been a drug trafficker but an informant for the DEA.

  Then her brother Gabriel went into the witness protection program, and the only communication Serena had had with him was a Christmas card with updated photos of his three children and six grandchildren.

  Jason was forthcoming when he had told her about the contract against his sister’s life and how it had all ended when Basil had died unexpectedly from a heart attack. Greer couldn’t tell Jason that the threat hadn’t ended with Basil Irvine’s death, and that Chase had somehow uncovered that the danger had shifted from Ana to Jason. Greer hadn’t asked Chase how he knew this because he never would tell her. She’d met former elite operatives who were employed by the CIA, and they would forfeit their lives rather than compromise their missions. Flying to Virginia in a private jet and attending a wedding at a horse farm secured around-the-clock by armed guards ensured Jason’s safety.

  For the next two days Greer planned to forget about Chase’s warning and her job—trying to identify who was stealing guns and selling them to criminals unable to pass a mandatory background check with licensed gun dealers. However that wouldn’t stop those from making straw man purchases at gun shows where background checks weren’t required. This weekend she wasn’t ATF Special Agent Evans, but just Greer.

  Traffic lights disappeared as they entered horse country. They passed mile after mile of white fences and private roads and signs identifying the farms, the dates they were established and a few posted the names of winners of major horse races. She saw the sign indicating the number of miles to Blackstone Farms.

  “Blackstone Farms is one of the largest horse farms in the region,” Nicholas said, not taking his eyes off the dark road. “They employ more than forty people.”

  Greer leaned forward in her seat. “Do they all live on the farm?”

  “Yes. Most farms have resident employees.”

  “That must be costly,” she said.

  Nicholas chuckled. “Running a horse farm is not for the faint of heart. It takes an incredible amount of money to take care of one horse, and when you’re talking about racing thoroughbreds or breeding Arabians, the cost increases exponentially.”

  “How did you get into horse breeding?” she asked Nicholas.

  “I’ve always liked horses, so when my military career ended, I indulged in what had been a boyhood fantasy.”

  Jason shifted in his seat, smiling over his shoulder at Greer. “Nicholas broke with family tradition when he went to Annapolis instead of West Point.”

  Nicholas grunted. “Only Uncle Josh had his nose out of joint because I didn’t follow him and Michael to West Point. I didn’t know if he was serious or joking when he called me a traitor.”

  Jason nodded. “It’s hard to tell with Uncle Josh. Greer, you’ll get to meet my very scary uncle at Christmas.”

  “How is he scary?”

  “All he has to do is look at you and—”

  “Stop trying to frighten her, Jason,” Nicholas interrupted. “We know he’s a pussycat.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jason snorted. “You have to decide whether he’s a cheetah or a leopard. What you don’t want to do is get on his wrong side.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “It’s Matt Sterling you don’t want to cross.” He took a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “Matt’s son married our cousin Emily. Matt’s a former mercenary and he’s one scary dude.”

  “I think I’m going to need a playbill like they give out at theaters. Then, I’ll be able to identify the cast of characters as heroes or villains,” Greer said jokingly.

  Jason winked at Greer. “The men in the family believe they’re bully badasses until they have to deal with their wives. The women always say they rule while their men are there to serve them.”

  “Is it true?” she asked.

  “Hell, yeah!” Jason and Nicholas chorused.

  Greer thought about the Cole men serving. Jason made it a point to get up early and prepare breakfast for her. It was the only meal they shared because she ate lunch and dinner at Stella’s. She would’ve preferred sitting down to dinner with him. It was what she considered the family meal. It’d been that way with the Evanses after her father was transferred from the field to supervisor at the Baltimore-D.C. field office. Gregory Evans loved presiding over the dinner meal wherein he used his wife and children as his captive audience in his attempt to practice jokes. It took her father many years before he acknowledged he was a frustrated stand-up comedian.

  Most times Greer laughed, not because her father was funny but so ridiculous, while her mother rolled her eyes in supplication. Esther didn’t have the heart to tell her husband that he wasn’t funny because she’d spent too many nights staring at his empty chair during prolonged periods when he’d gone undercover.

  Greer knew how her mother felt about undercover work; Greer would call Esther to let her know she was working, yet could not tell her where she was working or what she was involved in. Tracking illegal gun sales hadn’t been her only objective. She’d been assigned to track a group of men purchasing cigarettes in Alabama, changing the stamps from Alabama to counterfeit New York stamps and reselling them to owners of bodegas and corner stores in New York City to avoid paying the cigarette tax.

  Her musings were interrupted when Nicholas turned off the local road and onto one leading to Cole-Thom Farms. Motion sensors lit up the landscape, giving her a glimpse of the gleaming white fences surrounding the horse farm. She gasped, the sound echoing inside the truck when she saw the warning sign Trespassers Will Be Shot on Sight and if Still Alive, Then Prosecuted.

  Nicholas glanced up into the rearview mirror again. “This is private property and we police it ourselves.”

  “So I see,” Greer said under her breath.

  Nicholas slowed when he reached a manned gatehouse. He waved to the man inside the spacious structure and the electronic gate opened. Greer stared through the windshield at the trio of chimneys atop the three-story antebellum great house at the end of the allée of live oak trees as Nicholas maneuvered up an incline. A full-height columned porch wrapping around the front and sides of the spectacular Greek Revival mansion came into view, and sh
e felt as if she’d stepped back in time.

  Nicholas parked in front of the house, and as soon as he cut off the engine, Jason was out of the truck, opening the door for Greer, helping her down. She waited as he and Nicholas retrieved their luggage. She followed them up the porch, and after wiping her feet on a mat inside the entry hall, she walked into the living room. She stared up at the massive crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling rising more than twenty feet above a parquet floor bordered by an intricate rosewood-inlaid pattern. Her gaze lingered on the twin curving staircases leading to the second story.

  Nicholas climbed the staircase with their garment bags. “I put you in the west wing. It’s the last place when the sun comes in, so that will give you a chance to sleep in a little late. Don’t worry about getting up for breakfast. There will a buffet breakfast in the dining room until noon. I don’t know what you plan to wear, but the wedding’s going to be business-casual. Ties are optional.” He opened the door to a bedroom at the end of the hallway. “Sweet dreams.”

  Greer noticed an elusive dimple in Nicholas’s left cheek. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  He winked at her. “There’s no need to thank me. You’re family.”

  Jason closed the door to the bedroom while she surveyed the space where they would sleep for the two nights they were in Virginia. A four-poster mahogany bed draped in sheer mosquito netting, a matching decoratively carved armoire, two chintz-covered armchairs with matching footstools, a padded window seat spanning the width of three tall, narrow windows all were from a bygone era. Greer didn’t know if the furnishing were antiques or exquisite reproductions.

  “This house is magnificent,” she said reverently.

  Jason placed their bags on luggage racks. “Nicholas has invested a lot of money in this house, land and horseflesh.”

  Slipping out of her running shoes, Greer placed them in a corner. “I can’t wait to see the horses.”

  Crossing the room, Jason cradled her face. “You can use the bathroom first.”

  Going on tiptoe, she kissed him. “I won’t be long.”

  Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom in a pair of cotton pajamas. Greer had packed pajamas because she was uncertain whether she would have to share a bedroom with someone other than Jason. “I left you some hot water,” she teased when he patted her softly on her bottom.

  “Don’t wait up for me.”

  Greer doubted whether she would be able to keep her eyes open even if Jason had asked her to stay awake. She dimmed the lamp on Jason’s side of the bed and slipped under the lace-trimmed sheet and feather quilt. Within minutes of her head touching the pillow, she was asleep.

  * * *

  Greer descended the staircase, slowing when she saw a petite raven-haired woman staring up at her. They were similarly dressed in jeans and flats. Greer had turned back the cuffs on her man-tailored shirt.

  “Good morning,” she said in greeting, continuing her descent. As she came closer, she knew intuitively the woman was Jason’s twin sister. They had the same black curly hair, large golden-brown eyes and olive complexion. She extended her hand. “I’m Greer Evans.”

  * * *

  Smiling, dimples deepening, Ana studied the woman who’d succeeded where so many had failed with her brother. She held out her arms and wasn’t disappointed when Greer hugged her. “And I’m Ana Cole Jones.” Easing back, she reached for Greer’s left hand. “¡Mierda!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry about that,” she apologized. “I know my brother didn’t pick this without some help.”

  Light from the chandelier reflected off the blue and white prisms in the diamonds. “We picked it out together.”

  “I knew it because Jason hates shopping. Your ring is ab-so-lute-ly gorgeous.” She’d drawn the word out into four distinct syllables. Ana looped her arm through Greer’s. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you to my cousin Celia, and Nicholas’s mother and fiancée. You’ll meet the men later. They’re probably sleeping in because some of them had an impromptu bachelor party over at Blackstone Farms. Nicholas said they were drinking moonshine. He decided not to join them because he knew he had to meet your flight.”

  * * *

  Greer felt the nervous energy radiating from her future sister-in-law. She gave her a sidelong glance, marveling how much she resembled the photographs of her Cuban-born grandmother. She walked into the dining room with Ana, her gaze sweeping over the occupants. The older woman with stylishly coiffed gray hair had to be Nicholas’s mother, and the woman sitting next to her had to be Celia. She looked like a delicate doll with large dark eyes, pert nose, full lips and a mop of black hair framing her café au lait complexion.

  “Everyone,” Ana announced, “this is Greer Evans, my future sister-in-law. Greer, the lady with the perfect hair is Nichola, Nicholas’s mother. The chica on her right is her daughter Celia. And the blonde who keeps telling everyone she’s not experiencing any premarital jitters is Peyton Blackstone.”

  Greer found herself surrounded as the three women complimented her on her ring while welcoming her into the family. “Thank you. I feel like a Cole even before I marry Jason.”

  “How and where did you meet Jason?” Celia asked.

  Nichola gave her daughter a pointed look. “Let the child get something to eat before you begin to interrogate her.”

  Greer smiled at the older woman with not only perfect hair but who was also elegantly dressed in a pale blue raw silk suit and Ferragamo pumps. “I just want some coffee right now.” A coffee urn and chafing dishes were set up on a buffet server.

  Ana took charge. “Sit down, Greer. I’ll bring you a plate. How do you like your coffee?”

  “Light with one sugar.”

  “Could you please bring me a cup, too?” Peyton asked.

  “No coffee for you,” Ana and Celia chorused.

  A blush darkened Peyton’s palomino-gold face. The added color made her large cool-gray eyes and natural ash-blonde hair appear lighter. “I usually add lots of milk.”

  Celia shook her head. “No coffee. I know you don’t want your baby born with a caffeine addiction.”

  Peyton rested a hand over her flat belly. “I don’t know why, but I’m craving coffee.”

  “The first three months of my pregnancy, I couldn’t tolerate the smell of brewing coffee,” Celia admitted.

  Ana set a plate of scrambled eggs, home fries, turkey bacon and beef sausage in front of Greer. “If I could have a baby without experiencing cravings, morning sickness, swollen ankles or not being able to bend over to tie up my shoes, I’d have a dozen of them.”

  Celia met Ana’s eyes. “If you eliminate salt, then you won’t retain fluid.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Faulkner. Which one are you? Dr. Faulkner or Cole-Thomas?” Ana asked.

  Celia gave her a facetious smile. “It’s still Cole-Thomas. Cole-Thomas is on my medical license, so I see no need to change it. What about you, Greer? Are you going to be Greer Cole or Greer Evans Cole?”

  “I’ll probably drop Evans.”

  Nichola took a sip of tea. “It makes it a lot easier for your children if they don’t have a hyphenated surname. My mother-in-law insisted on retaining her maiden name when she married, so Timothy was saddled with Cole-Thomas.”

  Celia glared at her mother. “Please, Mom. Don’t start in on Abuela.”

  Nichola put down her cup so hard it rattled on the saucer. “I don’t understand my children. They invariably defend their grandmother at every turn.”

  “Mom, don’t be so melodramatic,” Celia said when Nichola stood up and stalked out of the dining room. Puffing out her cheeks, Celia blew out a breath. “Peyton, Greer, you’ve just witnessed the family drama queen in all of her spectacular glory.”

  Ana sat down next to Greer. “I love Nichola, but there are times when
I can’t deal with her theatrics.”

  “That’s because Daddy entertains the theatrics,” Celia added.

  Peyton waved a hand. “Can we please drop this topic? I’m carrying Nichola’s grandchild, and I’d like my son or daughter to have a positive relationship with their grandmother.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Peyton. My mother is a very good mother and an even better grandmother. It’s just that she refuses to get along with Abuela.”

  “Greer, how did you meet my brother?” Ana asked, deftly shifting the topic of conversation.

  She told them about waiting tables at Stella’s and Jason asking her to make a demo tape after hearing her sing on Karaoke Night. Celia asked if she was waiting tables so she would be available to go on auditions.

  “No. I’m a former schoolteacher. I’m working at the restaurant to help out my uncle.”

  “Do you plan to return to the classroom?” Peyton asked.

  “No,” she repeated. “I’m going to eventually run my uncle’s restaurant.”

  Ana gave Greer a long, intense stare. “You and Jason are not going to have a bicoastal marriage.” The question was a statement.

  Greer smiled. “No. We’re going to live in Oregon.”

  Ana smothered a curse. “I don’t mean to beat up on you, Greer, but when was my brother going to tell me this?”

  “Tell you what?” Jason asked, walking into the dining room. He made a beeline to Greer, leaning down and brushing a kiss over her parted lips. “Good morning, babe.”

  She touched his arm, smiling. “Good morning.” He looked shockingly virile in a white T-shirt, relaxed jeans and running shoes. He hadn’t shaved and his hair was still damp from a shower.

  Jason rounded the table, kissing Celia and then Peyton. “I’m Jason,” he said, introducing himself. “Congratulations on the baby and welcome to the family.” He kissed Ana, ruffling her hair. “Hey, kid.”

  “When were you going to tell me that you plan to move to Oregon?” Ana questioned.