The Red Roots

by Andrea Johnson Beck

  “Kata, the assassins, everything.”

  “What is going on?” Isla tugged from his arms and moved her arm too fast. She cried out and reached over her shoulder. “Was I shot? Did you have me shot?”

  With a puckered face Reed guided her to the bedroom’s sitting area. They sat down on the loveseat. She yanked on the dress holding the slit together. His lack of an answer cemented Isla’s accusation.

  “You were never in any real danger.”

  “I disagree, as does the hole in my shoulder.”

  “You weren’t shot, merely grazed.”

  “Soothing.”

  He explained Kata’s involvement. Ellis informed Reed of her plan to abduct Isla, set into motion by an unknown enemy. Ellis hired his own people to take her out. Reed was at the hotel setting a trap. They assumed it was Martin who sent her but there wasn’t any proof—yet. Isla explained to Reed her visit from Joe earlier, casting further doubt in Martin’s direction.

  “Explains why Ellis wanted me at the office.”

  Reed looked to the ceiling. “You never listen.”

  “How was I to know? You’ve been out of contact for days, searching for answers you won’t find.”

  “Terrible being left in the dark, isn’t it?”

  “This is my punishment. My payback . . .” Isla took a breath to calm down. “Is this Ellis’ safe house?”

  “One of many, and it’s where you will remain until we figure who hired Kata. And if it was Martin, the families will need to convene and decide a suitable punishment. On the chance it isn’t Martin—”

  “I’m not staying here.”

  Reed stood and let out a slight laugh. “This is not up for debate.”

  “I planted a device. We’ll nail Martin, plus, I bargained with the rat Joe. He’s going to talk to Detroit and set a meeting. We’ll get them all at once.”

  “Are you out of your mind? You made that decision without discussing it with me first? Jesus! Our marriage isn’t a contractual boardroom deal to me. You may not feel the same but I refuse to be like my sister and Gavin. All business, nothing more.”

  She rose and walked over to him. “The secrets I keep overpower me and put people in danger, especially those who know who I am and . . . what I’ve done. I’m not some poor, weak, abused girl . . .” She shut her mouth, regretting she ever opened it.

  Reed’s pupils darkened. She could see in an instant his feelings for her changing. Isla could see his pity. She wanted none of that but as he backed further way from her and closer to the door, emptiness surrounded her.

  “You should finish getting ready. I’ll send Rosa back in.”

  Isolated. Weighted by the past. Reed’s abrupt exit was what Ronan had intended. No man would love a marked woman.

  Isla walked back into the bathroom, she turned, and over her shoulder, she pulled the back of the dress down. A patch of gauze covered the wound and the tip of her tattoo.

  Another scar to cover.

  Isla flinched and hissed while Carys dabbed the alcohol soaked cotton ball over her back in her bathroom. The fermented aroma stung her nostrils.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright.”

  “I’m calling my dad.”

  “No, you aren’t. He can’t know.”

  Carys capped the bottle. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I need to disappear for a while. Then I’ll contact Henry and he’ll help me.” Isla laid her palm onto her flat stomach. “He’ll help us.”

  “That answers my next question.”

  She knew what Carys meant.

  Isla slipped her shirt back on, careful not to brush hard against the open cuts. Carys sat behind her on the bed and gathered Isla’s hair into her hands. The teeth of an ivory comb raked through her nearly dry strands. Isla tipped her head back and filled her lungs.

  “No more hitchhiking. I’ll take you wherever you want to go tomorrow.”

  “Bossy.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Carys carefully wrapped her arms around Isla. “I’ll miss you at school.”

  “I’ll miss you too, but I’ll return one day.”

  For a moment she was safe. Ronan did not dare look for her at Ellis Pierce’s estate. He hadn’t a clue of Isla’s close friendship with Carys. She’d started her plan months ago but everything changed when the pregnancy test she stole from the pharmacy closest to her school changed to a pink plus sign after a handful of nail-gnawing minutes.

  Isla was pregnant with her abuser’s child. Ronan’s child.

  The next morning, as Isla rose, something tugged on her skin. She padded to the bathroom, each step pulled harder. Isla gasped while she worked her arms through the sleeves. She tugged at the stiff fabric, and started to lift the shirt. She cried out.

  Isla took a deep breath and yanked the fabric like a Band-Aid from her back and lifted it over her head. She dropped the shirt to the floor, arched and grabbed the counter. Tears streamed down her cheeks and crashed near the tips of her toes. Isla gathered herself and turned her head.

  Crumpled, the stained shirt laid on the floor.

  With gentle movements, she picked it up and from one sleeve to the next. Isla held it in front of her. Embedded in the snow-white fibers were expanded wisps of dried blood. The color wasn’t red or rust. It was darker, much darker—near black.

  The stained pattern of black bowed with magnificence like wings of a raven or a dark angel. Her peripheral vision caught a shadow in the mirror. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t separate from Isla. It was Isla. Her foul wounds revealed what Ronan preached to her, “And it was not Adam who was deceived by Satan. The woman was deceived, and sin was the result.”

  She’d never forget him. Each time Isla looked in the mirror or at Jules, he would be there.

  Ronan would always be part of her, but would she feel the same if she took his life?

  During a one-year period in the U.S., 16% of youth ages 14 to 17 had been sexually victimized.

  *Statistics from Crimes Against Children Research Center*

  ISLA RELEASED A guttural scream. Her throat burned, fingernails dug into her palms. She bent forward as her stomach lurched and rippled.

  Rosa’s soft, plump arms wrapped around Isla. The elderly woman helped her to an armchair near the window.

  She stroked Isla’s hair. “It is okay, Freyja. It is okay.”

  “No. I’m not okay. This is not okay.”

  “It will be.” Rosa rose and walked over to the counter. She picked up a small silver bag and pulled a tissue from the box next to it. Rosa knelt in front of Isla and dabbed her face. “No more tears.”

  “Why do you call me, Freyja?” Isla said.

  Rosa made an odd gesture with her hands and pointed to Isla’s back. “She is a Norse goddess, leader of the Valkyrie, and she rules over the afterlife with beauty and power.”

  “I am not a beauty.”

  “Yes. You are chosen.” Rosa stroked her cheek. “I see your soul and the soul of another. You rid of other people’s ugly. You help them feel strong. You think you are dark, and you are not. You prove to the world you are not worthy but you are. You are.”

  Rosa viewed Isla as a beauty. She saw a light within her. What did Reed see? What would he see if she told him the truth?

  The silence inside was to break soon. She felt a tremor. Isla’s skeletons begged to be set free.

  AUGUST 5, 2005

  Wings of black

  Flutter free

  Set me loose

  Help me see

  Above the city

  Beneath the dirt

  Guide me there

  Take the hurt

  Slice me open

  Watch me bleed

  Hand to earth

  Plant the seed

  I am cold

  You are death

  Take me

  Steal my breath

  Torment

  Taunt

  Loss of soul

  Time to haunt

>   “COME SEE.”

  With pride, Rosa helped Isla to the mirror. With the glow of copper and bronze, Isla’s complexion shimmered. Her eyes were lined in dark green, and a sweep of brown and ivory covered her lids. Isla’s hair was secured in a rich dark topknot.

  “Wow.”

  “Not this,” Rosa pointed to Isla’s heart. “This is beauty. I see it. So does Reed.”

  “My scars.”

  “Strong souls.” Rosa said and gave her a small smile.

  The statement stung Isla. Like stone, she said nothing. She didn’t move. Exposed, Isla swallowed down any sentiments to hide her emotions. But her heart posed a question to the gentle woman: Can I keep you?

  A knock came from the door. Rosa hurried to open it.

  A tall, robust man with a shaved head and shiny, alabaster skin filled the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”

  Rosa encouraged her to follow. “Go slow, Erik. She is in pain.”

  He nodded and escorted Isla through a short stone corridor. Barefoot, she walked light. Erik opened a dark-paneled door carved with palm trees and sunbursts.

  Below a heaven of blue, trellises of wood and vines canopied the tile path which led to a staircase. Flits of sunlight peeped through the leaves. A manicured lawn rolled beside them. She couldn’t see beyond the impending stairway.

  Anxious about what lay at the bottom of the stairs, she slowed her pace. It was family but Ellis was unpredictable, and he knew her secrets. It was one of the stipulations to marrying his son and becoming a Pierce. He allowed her to do what she wanted with Ronan as long as it didn’t interfere with family business. Isla was consumed with revenge and drawing it out over years satisfied her greatly.

  Each headline detailing Ronan’s failures drove her. Exposure of his financial indiscretions and his incompetence banished the Walkers from their elite country club and had them removed as board members at their church. Ronan’s money was filling the pockets of his attorney’s more with each passing year. Henry was smart and secured his portion of the company before Isla started her retaliation.

  Erik waited. Isla reached the stone staircase. Her gaze roved over the view. The wind stirred through the plants, grass, and trees in a soft serenade. Bamboo swayed. An ivory tent, lit candles, and a stream of turquoise encircled the quaint island.

  “Isla.” She stopped mid-step and turned around, watching Reed bound down the stairs. “Allow me to escort you.”

  “How sweet but I’d rather swallow shards of glass.” She smiled and turned from him.

  Erik snickered under his breath. He offered her his arm, and Isla happily accepted it. Reed found no amusement in her actions and cursed under his breath while buttoning his suit jacket.

  Reed leaned close to her ear. “Why are you upset?”

  Because you left me when I let it slip out about the abuse. This is what happens when I feel, when I let you in, when I say things I shouldn’t. How can I trust you with my secrets? How can I trust you with my daughter?

  Instead, she went with, “The past few hours have been the equivalent of a Twilight Zone episode and, to be honest, just looking at you irritates me.”

  “We had a moment.”

  “You have amnesia. I don’t recall a moment but do I recall my gag reflex.” Harsh sarcasm was her defense mechanism; that, and being a full-on bitch.

  Erik leaned toward her. “You are a funny lady. I like that.”

  “I’ll be here all night.”

  They crossed a small teak bridge toward their destination. Erik’s laugh caught the attention of Ellis. His suave demeanor covered him like the bronzer his intern slathered onto him each morning. Dark caterpillars he called eyebrows rose with interest.

  “Nice to see you alive, Isla.”

  “Ellis,” she said. “I assume I’m in a lot of trouble.”

  “Depends on how the night unfolds.”

  Touché.

  Ellis approached with an extended hand. Isla accepted. “You tremble.” He snapped his finger and within seconds, Isla was served a champagne flute. “All will be fine.”

  “I failed to immobilize Martin.”

  “I’m aware. You are distracted.”

  “I apologize. I won’t allow any more obstacles.” Isla said and glanced over at Reed. He tipped his glass of liquor at her. “We’re going to remedy those obstacles tonight.”

  What the hell does that mean?

  She gulped down the ominous statement with the champagne. The bubbles tickled her throat. Even with a railway yard of lines surrounding his eyes, Ellis was handsome. Head of the Pierce family, his opinion was the only one that mattered. His word was final, or it used to be anyway. His brother-in-law decided to stir the families into a frenzy when talk of Reed holding the majority of Amaranthine shares began. Martin wasn’t happy to say the least.

  The families functioned by way of each having a boss who held a position on the board, and their appointed heir ran their respective companies. Amaranthine was the parent company of five corporations established in lucrative markets. Some of the men held executive roles, but held less shares, allowing the next generation to head up the companies. It took Isla some time to untangle who controlled who but once she understood, she was all in. She influenced more women to step up within the families, like Martin’s daughter, Mia. She was more than happy to become involved if it meant she could snort her daddy’s fortune up her nose.

  Isla’s innovative plan had backfired, and Crosby was paying the price. Perhaps adding in the women was too hasty. It wasn’t part of her original plan, but over three bottles of wine she, Carys, and Crosby formed a female code of their own: stand, fight, empower. In typical Carys fashion, she suggested matching SFE necklaces with pink encrusted diamonds. Crosby had pushed up her black framed glasses with her middle finger. Isla laughed and shot Moscato out of her nose. She loved those ladies, but no matching anything, especially in pink.

  “Let us sit. Dinner will be served momentarily.” Ellis guided Isla to the chair next to Reed’s. She wanted to ask about Carys and Crosby, and she was curious about what was happening at home. However, now didn’t feel like the right time. The seat across from her was set. Who else was joining them?

  She sat down and sniffed. Did Reed guzzle the entire bottle of whisky? His hand inched closer to hers atop of the table.

  “I bite.” Isla whispered.

  “Perfect.”

  “Is this a new method of coping? Now is not the time to be drunk.”

  “I’m capable of enjoying a drink or two without your scolding. You’re not my mother.” He slurred.

  He obviously wanted to be punched in the face again.

  “Reed, you’re weren’t raised by wolves. If you can’t conduct yourself properly you may leave.” Ellis turned his attention to Isla. “How is your injury?”

  “Better, thank you. Rosa is very sweet.”

  “She has a healing touch. I apologize in the way you were brought to me. My men are brutal, and they think with egos, not brains.”

  “Martin is out of control,” Isla blurted out.

  “I agree. Betrayal holds consequences, but let us not concern ourselves with that. I’m famished.”

  A chorus line of attendants lifted silver domed trays and served each of them a plate of scallops and shrimp drizzled with a butter sauce alongside a creamy risotto. Isla laid her napkin down, smoothing it over her lap. Reed nudged at her hand. She shot him a side glare and swatted him away. Isla focused on Ellis.

  “Any news on Crosby’s father? How is she?”

  “Not your concern right now.”

  “Is Carys safe?”

  “She’s with Gavin. All the families are on alert,” Ellis said while digging into his meal.

  Isla had to phone Henry so she could hear Jules’s voice. They’d have to leave the ranch and change identities. They may even need to leave the country which would be fine. Her daughter’s French and Italian were impeccable. Henry travelled overseas a lot; he often mentioned his love of Europ
ean culture, especially the Mediterranean region.

  The surrounding live oaks shook with disapproval, their dried tendrils swayed in the sea breeze and whispered, “Do not hide amongst the thorns. Bare your scars.”

  Or, perhaps standing together was the answer, united as a family. Ellis never gave her a reason to distrust him. He held her confidences with silence and assigned her with confidential information about the other families. Had Isla gone about it all wrong, wasted years of nothing but idle work? Years of time lost with Jules?

  Seagulls squawked nearby bringing her back from her quiet doubts.

  Or maybe it was the champagne fizzing into her rationale. Isla pushed the empty glass away and asked the nearest server for a glass of water with lemon.

  WATER AND CEMENT walls surrounded Ellis’ strip of balmy paradise. Guards checked the perimeter, guns in hand. His palace blocked the sunset. Where Isla had been recuperating was one of three heavily secured guesthouses on the property.

  Ellis wiped the corner of his mouth as he inquired about the hotel shootout. “What did Kata say?”

  Isla choked on her bite of shrimp. She covered her mouth and coughed as the pepper burned on its way down. With a big drink of water, she cleared her throat. “That she knew Reed, and that they shared common interests. He instructed her to follow me, keep me out of trouble.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You believed her?” Reed piped up.

  Isla dropped her fork onto the plate. “Joe got me riled up . . .”

  Reed threw his napkin down and pointed to his chin. “I know. Does my sister know who you’re screwing behind my back?”

  “Quiet,” Ellis said and waved his plate away.

  A server cleared his space and darted toward the house. Isla, near vomiting, looked to Ellis for help.

  Shame had an element of immensity. The area, which left a person numb and unable to recognize all the deceptions, was to be bared.

  Ellis nodded at her. He made the decision for her. It was time to tell Reed everything.

  “This reminds me of a dinner I shared with you and Carys some years back. I saw fire in your eyes, determined to destroy all who crossed you. Do you feel the same?” he said.