by Meghan March
The news about Reyes stops the tears faster than anything else could. “He is? He’s . . . gone?”
“Forever. Which means all those plans I’ve got for you are about to unfold. I hope you’re ready.”
“Do I get a say in those plans?”
Moses leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. “The cops want to question you, and so does the FBI. They think they’re gonna pin all three murders on you.”
My mouth drops open. “What? All three?”
“Hey, hush. It’s okay. They’re not getting to you. Mount’s lawyer has them so twisted up in paperwork right now, it’ll take some time for them to wade through it.”
“But all three?” I whisper.
“Yeah. Reyes’s brother, Desiree, and Brandon’s wife.”
“But I didn’t—”
“I know, and we can prove the two of them for sure, but I’m not having you sit through a trial to determine you killed Ortiz in self-defense. So . . . you gotta answer one question for me.”
“What?” I ask, drowning in those pools of light green.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” I reply without hesitation.
“Good, because I’m not gonna sit around and wait for them to finally connect Reyes to the murders instead. We’re gonna free you from all of this, and we’re starting a brand-new life. Don’t worry, you’re gonna love the ocean breeze and picking pineapples out of our yard.”
My brain puts together what he’s saying. He’s going to fake my death and erase me . . . and we’re running away to a tropical paradise. Maybe another girl would have questions, but after everything we’ve been through, my answer is simple.
“How soon do we leave?”
I can tell by the smile on his face that my answer is everything he needed.
“As soon as you’re healed up, mama. I’ve got your girls coming back from the beach right now. Trey set up an online scheduling program for them, and they’ve been letting all the clients know.”
Appreciation fills me. “Thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of them. The house . . .”
“It’s already been cleaned by a crew. The girls will never see anything.”
I get quiet, thinking about things that will never be the same, and say a silent prayer for Desiree.
“I want Taylor to have the house now. Free and clear. Desiree’s girls can stay for a couple of months while they make other arrangements, but Taylor has always wanted to turn it into a spa.” I laugh quietly and shake my head. “I think she’s a little crazy, thinking a whorehouse can become something else, but I’m willing to let her try.”
“Mama, anyone and anything can change. All it takes is a decision. You tell me how you want it done, and I’ll get someone working on it.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, not sure I could love him more than I do right now.
“Good to see you awake.”
Mount’s voice comes from the doorway, interrupting our moment, and my entire body tenses.
I cost him. Him and Keira. They invited us into their home, and I brought Reyes to them.
The guilt of that weighs on my soul.
I meet his black gaze and speak from the heart. “I’m sorry, Mount. I’m so sorry for bringing this to your home and for what it cost you. I wish I could make it right, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.”
Moses tenses beside me, as though he’s ready to jump between me and the king if he says something Moses doesn’t want me to hear. But I can take it.
Mount’s expression stays even and calm. “Whatever guilt you’re carrying because of this—let it go.”
My head jerks back against the pillow. “But you . . .” I start and trail off before I can even form a complete sentence.
Mount steps farther into the room. “I would’ve handed the pope over to Hannibal Lecter if it meant getting Aurora back. It wasn’t personal. And you can’t be held responsible for what Reyes did. You were swept up into something that had nothing to do with you. You’ve got no fault in this.”
“What do you mean? I killed his brother.”
“This was all caused by a cheating husband and a scorned wife. They’re responsible for every drop of blood Reyes spilled. And when I find Alberto Brandon, he’s going to pay the consequences for what he caused. In fact, I was just walking out a friend of yours who is going to find him for me. He was particularly motivated when he learned how Brandon’s actions affected you.”
“A friend?” I’m blanking.
“I believe you played chess together.”
My gaze cuts to Moses as I realize Mount is talking about Rhodes—who Moses met at the club under less-than-ideal circumstances, but he doesn’t look remotely affected by the information.
“It’s okay, mama. It doesn’t bother me none. This Rhodes dude seems like he might be useful in the future. Probably could’ve used his help before.”
“He says he’s the best at what he does.”
“I am the best at what I do,” the man himself says, stepping around Mount. “Sorry for intruding, but it was worth it.”
Mount looks at him, his eyes darkening with unpleasant surprise. “You shouldn’t have been able to get back in.”
Rhodes smirks. “And you’ve got security issues that need handling if you want this place impenetrable. Don’t worry. I’ll get you sorted out. No one will be breaching this place when I’m done. Call it a favor. You can owe me one.”
Moses and I lock eyes, and I can see he’s just as shocked as I am that Rhodes doesn’t bow down to the king.
He steps around a stunned, but surprisingly amused Mount, and comes toward me. Before he reaches the bed, he glances at Moses.
“You mind, brother? Promise I think of her like a sister.”
Moses just grins. “You’ve got balls of steel, man. Say what you want to say. You don’t need my permission. Magnolia’s her own woman.”
He’s definitely getting a blow job for that comment—when I’m feeling better.
Rhodes closes the distance between us and drops down on one knee. “Glad you’re okay, Mags. The world would’ve been a hell of a lot less bright without you in it.”
“Thank you.”
He presses a kiss to my hands and squeezes them before turning back to Moses. “She’s all yours, man. Just let me borrow her for a chess game every now and then. She’s that good.”
Moses’s lips curve up in a smile. “If you can find us, you can play her anytime you want.”
“Challenge accepted,” Rhodes says with a wink at me. Then he turns back to Mount. “Now I’ll show myself out—and send you a detailed list of all the shit I’d change for your security. You need my help implementing, you let me know.”
And with that, he’s gone, and I’m left shaking my head.
Mount stares after him. “He’s going to be trouble.”
I can’t help but giggle. “Yeah, he is. But he’s good trouble.”
Moses shoots me a look.
“What? You know I only want you and that Moby Dick of yours.”
“And I think it’s time for me to excuse myself,” Mount says, and Moses’s laughter and mine chases him out of the room.
Epilogue
Magnolia
One year later
“Shhh . . . If you keep crying like that, you’re gonna wake Mama, big man. And you know she was already up twice with you last night.”
The sound of Moses’s voice comes through the baby monitor on our dresser.
A warm, humid breeze blows through the wall of open sliding glass doors and the sheer white mosquito netting hanging around our bed, carrying the salty tang of the ocean with it.
I stretch and roll out of bed, reaching for the red silk robe I tossed over the bench at the foot last night.
I pad silently into the nursery next door to see my entire world bathed in the light of the brilliant orange sunrise turning the morning into a work of art.
Moses coos to our son as he walks him around the room
, cradling him in his arms.
It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
Then again, I think that every single day when I wake up here, in our tropical paradise where no one knows my name as anything but Magnolia Gray. I have no past, and the future is as bright as the sky. Even Bernie would have approved. Her letter to me, asking my forgiveness for what she’d done when I was sixteen, and telling me she loved me and wished she’d had a chance to redo it all, rests in a place of honor in my bedside table.
Moses turns when he hears me, and the brilliant smile on his face melts my heart.
A woman has never been this loved before. I’m certain of it.
“Ah . . . see, bud? You got her up.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say, coming toward them with my arms outstretched. “I don’t want to miss a minute.”
Moses hands Abraham to me, and I settle into the rocker to get my hungry boy fed.
My husband stands by the window, looking out at the beach, and says, “I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s coming today.”
I look up as Abraham latches on. “What kind of surprise this time?”
Moses just grins. “You’ll see.”
Three hours later, Abraham and I are settled on a lounger near the pool, an umbrella shading us from the bright Caribbean sun. Jules rolls a crate down the concrete walkway that stops at the beach that serves as our front yard.
Jules and Trey take turns rotating between our guest house and my place in the Quarter—which legally belongs to Jules now. Both men have been invaluable in helping the girls, especially after news of my “death” reached them. Taylor’s business is thriving, especially since all of the girls who were still turning tricks for Desiree have either moved on or joined her. The old house where Moses and I met is now a day spa, and I couldn’t be prouder.
I just wish I could tell her.
But after the elaborate operation Moses pulled off to fake both of our deaths, that’s just not possible.
According to Trey, with his camera feeds and phone hacks, when Cavender got news of our demise, he didn’t believe it. He demanded to see the wreckage of our car-bombed vehicle and what was left of the bodies, and was shocked when his investigation led back to a bank transfer to a known hit man hired by Laura Brandon, dated before her death. That’s when the whole case came together for Cavender and the FBI.
With the help of Trey’s digitally planted bread crumbs, law enforcement came to the exact conclusions we hoped. Reyes was linked to Laura Brandon and Desiree’s murders, and the cases are considered permanently closed. Well, except for the case of Reyes’s death in the street. Mount was never implicated, and I’m willing to bet he never will be. That’s just how Mount rolls. As for Ortiz’s death in my old condo building, from what Trey can tell, Cavender has left it alone in favor of counting the days until his retirement at the end of the year.
Only Mount and Keira know for certain that we’re still alive and kicking. Well, them and Rhodes. God only knows how he found us, but he’s been down twice to play chess. Moses welcomed him with open arms—after interrogating him about how he did it. Rhodes told him that every loose end has been tied up, and no one else could possibly find us now—which is a damn good thing, considering Mount and Keira will be meeting us on a neighboring island for a clandestine vacation soon.
It’s my fondest hope that our babies become even better friends than we are. They’ll see each other at least every few months, if Keira and I get our way. Which means it’s a foregone conclusion. Good thing our men have the skills and the cash to make that happen without exposing any of us to danger.
Then there’s Celeste. She still calls and leaves voice mails of readings every few weeks on my old number—which has never been shut off. I don’t know how she knows, but she does. And thanks to Trey, it looks like the messages are never checked so as not to raise suspicion.
“What’s in there?” I ask Jules.
“Boss’ll tell you. Or show you. I got a shit-ton more of these. They took up half our container.”
More curious than ever, I pick up a smiling Abraham and walk over to the crate. Jules slides the dolly out from under it and heads back up the path, presumably to get the next one.
“What in the world did your daddy get us now?”
“If you’ll give him five minutes, he’ll show you,” the man himself says as he steps out of the house onto the patio with a crowbar in hand.
“Oh Lord, it’s going to be a hell of a day if crowbars are required.”
The laughter that springs from his lips is a sound I hear all the time, and it makes life sweeter than I could have ever imagined.
A few minutes later, the crate’s sides fall open and Moses unwraps what looks like a black statue.
“What is . . .” I trail off when I see the crown carved at the top. My mouth drops open, and I look at Moses. “Oh my God. Please tell me that’s a chess piece.”
His grin stretches from ear to ear as he comes toward me. “You’re damn right it’s a chess piece. I had them made for us so they’d be big, but still light enough that we can move them easily on the sand.”
My excitement is off the charts. “We’re turning our beach into a chess board?”
“You okay with that?”
“As long as you’re okay losing almost every game to me.”
Moses’s arms wrap around me and Abraham, bringing us both close. He lowers his head to whisper in my ear.
“Mama, I win every day I wake up beside you. I call that the ultimate checkmate.”
THE END
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Now that you've finished Moses and Magnolia's story, go back to the beginning with Ruthless King (FREE on all platforms right now!!). It's the perfect time to binge read both Keira and Temperance's stories in the Mount and Savage Trilogies (Warning: they are HOT and TWISTY). There's a sneak peek of Ruthless King coming next if you need more convincing! After that, I've included a taste of The Fall of Legend, where you can meet Moses in the Legend Trilogy before be made his way back to New Orleans to claim Magnolia. It is an EPIC love story that will give you all the feels. It's time to get your binge-read on! xoxo, Meghan
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Sneak Peek of Ruthless King
ABOUT THIS BOOK
New Orleans belongs to me.
You don’t know my name, but I control everything you see—and all the things you don’t. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met.
I don’t need to lend money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt.
She doesn’t know she caught my attention.
She should have been more careful.
I’m going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her.
It’s time to collect what I’m owed.
Keira Kilgore, you’re now the property of Lachlan Mount.
* * *
Ruthless King is available for FREE by tapping on the title.
Chapter One
* * *
Keira
Are those footsteps?
I freeze outside the door to my locked office and stare at the handle like it’s tainted with anthrax.
My employees wouldn’t dare. They know my office is off-limits. And my parents are seven hundred miles away in Florida, living it up as retirees on the monthly payments I send them from the dismal profits of the distillery. It’s barely hanging on, even after four generations of clinging to life making Irish whiskey in New Orleans.
This basement isn’t haunted. This basement isn’t haunted.
I repeat that truth like a ch
ant until my heart slows to a semi-normal pace. My dead husband’s ghost better not be inside, or heaven help me, I’ll kill Brett again myself.
Summoning the same iron will it has taken to dig this company out of the trenches, I grasp the handle, yank the door open, and fling myself inside, attempting the element of surprise. Or false courage. Or . . . something.
“Trying to make an entrance?”
The deep voice that comes out of the dark chills me to the very marrow of my bones.
I’ve only heard it once before, through the battered wood of the same locked door I just barged past, but it was delivering threats I didn’t understand, not asking a question in that cool, controlled manner.
There’s no way I want to be in the dark with this voice.
He’s not a ghost. He’s worse.
He’s the frigging boogeyman, whispered about in the shadows but never mentioned in polite company, almost as if saying his name will make him appear. And no one wants that.
I’ve never said it. I don’t even want to think it now, but my brain conjures it anyway.
Lachlan Mount.
I fumble around, slapping the concrete wall to find the light switch, but when I flip it, nothing happens.
Oh, sweet Jesus. I’m going to die and I won’t even see it coming.
My antique desk chair creaks just before the dim glow of my desk lamp clicks on.
I see his massive hands first, then darkly tanned forearms with white cuffs rolled up. The light doesn’t reach his face.
“Shut the door, Ms. Kilgore.”
Swallowing back the saliva pooling in my mouth at the fact that he knows my name, I move my hand as though directly responding to his command. I grope for the handle behind me, when all I really want to do is turn around and run.