The Red Roots

by Andrea Johnson Beck

  “I do.”

  “Did Carys tell you?”

  “I saw the papers.”

  Isla leaned back a bit to look into his eyes. “I killed him.”

  He didn’t flinch.

  He didn’t look at her with disgust.

  He simply kissed the corner of her mouth. “I killed Ronan. We did it for our family.”

  To justify sin was all Isla knew, she couldn’t feel guilty about it now. Joe and Ronan deserved their violent ends. Not knowing what Carys had told him of their plans, she started to fill him in but he stopped her. Reed guided her to the leather couch, he laid down and patted the space next to him.

  “We can exchange battle stories later. I just want to hold you for a bit. Is that alright?”

  She nodded and lay down next to him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arm behind her. His harmonic smell of patchouli and cinnamon soaked into her as she closed her eyes.

  The fire cracked and popped.

  “You said you loved me. Did you mean it?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m hundred percent stupid in love with you.”

  His chest vibrated as he laughed. “You’re far from stupid.”

  “I feel like I’ve been in a haze the past few years and neglected what was important. Maybe Carys was right. I should’ve dealt with what happened to me, but instead I allowed it to blind me.”

  “You were seventeen, alone, and pregnant. There are no words to ease the ordeal, but you sacrificed for Jules. You’re a fighter, and you love her without bias. I don’t know how many women could do that.”

  “I stayed at a shelter not too far from Tampa, and I met this girl. We became fast friends. Her dad molested her from the age of five, and her mom did nothing to stop it. Didn’t even believe her. The girl killed herself in the attic of the house. How does that happen, Reed? How do so many slip through the cracks without help? I mean, the shelter put a roof over our heads, but there wasn’t any counseling or direction.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It needs to change.”

  “I agree.”

  The hours ticked away in silence, but together they would conquer the evils of the world. She slid his wedding band from her finger, he lifted his hand, and Isla guided it back on to its rightful place.

  Disclosure of sexual abuse is often delayed; children often avoid telling because they are either afraid of a negative reaction from their parents or of being harmed by the abuser. As such, they often delay disclosure until adulthood.

  *The U.S. Department of Justice NSOPW*

  THE PRESSURE TO formally introduce Reed created a knot in her stomach. She gawked at her daughter as she painted Isla’s fingernails.

  I know you lost the one man you trusted and relied on in life, but ta-da! Here’s my husband who knows all my dark secrets, and he killed my abuser, the other part of your DNA. By the way, I poisoned a man to death at a hole-in-the-wall diner and paid off the entire town.

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jules dunked the polish brush back into the pink glitter bottle. “Just say it.”

  “What?”

  “You’re acting weird, more than usual. I’m eleven but not oblivious.”

  “You’re still eleven.”

  “Mom.”

  Isla switched hands. “I want your meeting with Reed to go well, and this whole situation is—”

  “Unconventional.”

  “I would’ve used a more colorful word.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Jules finished Isla’s other hand. “There’s nothing normal about us, and I’m good with that.”

  “You’re a child. You shouldn’t be good with that.”

  “I’ve been kept in hiding since before I was born, and I’m not a child.”

  “You are a child, technically. I wanted a different life for you, Jules.”

  “Why? I don’t.”

  Isla didn’t see a young girl. On occasion she caught glimpses like the other night when she curled up in her arms just as she did when she was smaller. No matter their distance, their connection remained resilient. Isla credited Henry. He was always praising her in front of Jules. Reminding her of what Isla was doing for her. But it was Henry who committed his life to protecting Jules. He died by the hands of a traitor. Worse, Isla left him there to be dragged into the house to burn with the rest of them.

  No bodies.

  No evidence.

  Henry would scold her wavering thoughts. He was an either/or kind of man. No gray area. Isla believed differently. She lived in the murky world of organized crime.

  Jules scrunched her nose as she applied the second coat of polish onto Isla’s nails. Her features mimicked Isla’s except for her ears. They had the same slight point at the top like Ronan’s. Her stomach churned. He would have forced her to call him father. What would he have done to her? Don’t go there.

  “Do you like your nails, Mom?”

  “Perfect.”

  Carys joined them in the living room and asked Jules to paint her nails, too. Isla sucked down her emotions as she watched the pair laugh together. What had she done in another life to deserve them? She’d done something right.

  Isla wouldn’t squander her second chance. It was all she had left.

  REED, DEBONAIR IN tailored blue wool dress pants and a crisp white shirt, entered the library. Isla’s heart fluttered. It was a schoolgirl reaction but he always did such a thing to her. Most of the time she ignored it, but as he focused his attention on Jules, who stood in front of Isla, she could not disregard the delight in her heart.

  Her sister-in-law was more than happy to let her rummage her sprawling closet. Carys purchased new clothes for Jules at her favorite boutique in West Palm and had a sales associate drop the clothes off at the house. She shoved off Isla’s disapproval and assured her it was what aunties did. Carys also added a silk maxi dress for Isla. Reporters had camped out in front of her and Reed’s house, and Isla didn’t want to contend with the media.

  Jules didn’t seem to mind; in fact, she enjoyed playing fashion show with Carys. It felt normal. In a short amount of time chaos warped to normalcy. Not in everyday life, but the Pierces weren’t everyday people.

  “Hello, Jules.” Reed extended his hand to her. “I haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced to you. I’m Reed Pierce.”

  She accepted his kind gesture. “I remember you helped us escape. It’s nice to meet you.”

  So far so good.

  “Do you know who killed Henry?”

  Never mind.

  Reed knelt down. “No, but we aren’t going to stop until that person or persons pay for his death.”

  “Am I . . .” Jules glanced up at Isla. “Am I part of your family?”

  “You are indeed, and I would be honored someday, when you’re ready, to be your father.”

  Tears filled Isla’s eyes, and it didn’t help hearing Carys sniff and blubber behind her. Gavin consoled his wife handing her tissues, the most affection Isla saw from him in a long time.

  Conversation flowed between them. Jules was the center of attention and amused Gavin and Reed with her quick wit. Carys and Isla whispered in the corner about the remaining corporations under Amaranthine while sipping wine. The media vampires still camped out beyond the estate gates. The family would remain under tight quarters until Ellis’ memorial. Isla looked forward to seeing Martin.

  “Do you think Mia will start trouble?” Carys asked, pouring another glass of wine.

  “Of course she will. She’s Martin’s offspring.”

  “I can’t believe she’s free. You need to get Crosby’s dad out.”

  “I will after the memorial.” Isla ticked her head toward Jules. “I don’t want her at the church. She’ll stay here with Rosa, and I want security at all areas of entry.”

  “Absolutely. Gavin and Reed will be armed at the church.”

  “As will I.”

  Reed joined the women, b
ut Carys quickly retreated over to Gavin and Jules as they set up a chessboard.

  He kissed Isla’s neck. “What were you two plotting over here?”

  “The usual, what firearms to bring to a memorial service.”

  “Of course.” He looked to Gavin. “I’ve never seen him this way. He’s quite good with her.”

  “So are you.”

  “She’s a special girl. Intelligent and observant, much like her mother.”

  “As much as I would hate to dampen the day, we must talk business.”

  “I agree. We should remain here but stop by our house for what you need. I went there before coming to the estate. All your computer equipment is readily available for anyone to break in and snatch up.”

  Isla playfully patted his cheek. “Like I don’t have a Plan B?”

  “I have no doubt you do.”

  The area on his chin where she punched him was healed. She ran her hand over the spot, his stubble tickling her palm. He’d escaped the safe house with a few scrapes on his arms and back.

  “I’m sorry for hitting you. It was uncalled for.”

  “I’m not.” Reed laid his hand on top of hers. “It gave me hope that you cared for me.”

  The first time she met Reed, Isla found him attractive but distant. Perfect for her since she wasn’t looking for love. She was looking for power and safety for Jules. They led separate lives for a long time, but with each passing year, they grew closer. She respected Reed. Isla sought his advice for certain jobs Ellis assigned to her. He feared for her wellbeing, but she assured him she’d been through worse and could take care of herself.

  At some point, her respect evolved into fondness, with the occasional shared joke or stolen glance. Carys pointed out each occurrence. Annoyed, Isla sloughed it off.

  Fondness evolved into—denial—love. Their bed was cold without him. Isla read Plato’s theory on love when she was in school. Love was the remedy to old wounds. Love was salvation.

  She skated around the word except when it came to her daughter. Her love for Jules was pure and real. Love for a man? She avoided it altogether.

  Ellis knew what he was doing when he recommended her and Reed, same with Carys and Gavin. No love, all business, but unified in supremacy. He had to double his efforts since his other two children walked away from family matters.

  Isla believed pain wasn’t evil, the person inflicting it was. Pleasure was bad. It was considered a vice. Such a theory was flawed, because at times people weren’t aware they were the inflictor, and pleasure stretched among a spectrum. Isla had made a choice and she chose love and family, even if it meant her life.

  Ronan’s biblical threats corroded the outer layer of her heart, but somehow Reed, Carys, and even Henry had worn the coating thin. She wasn’t heartless, as some believed her to be. Isla was finding her way, finding herself.

  GAVIN DEVLIN, WITH a crown of chestnut and temples of white, sighed in defeat as Jules was the victor in yet another chess game.

  “Brilliant. Simply brilliant,” he said and rose from the armchair.

  “I believe you’ve met your match.”

  “My dear, Jules, I believe I have.”

  Rosa announced dinner.

  The family gathered in the dining room. A strip of grass sprouted from the center of the long table. Jules ran her fingers over it laughing. She ate most of her meals at the breakfast nook or in the bedroom, so she was enjoying the uniqueness of the banqueting space.

  A large cylindrical burlap lighting fixture hung from the ceiling. Isla had accompanied Carys on her flea market trip. She adored anything different, which meant she adored anything that irritated Gavin.

  He was immersed in expense.

  Carys was immersed in rebellion.

  Isla didn’t disagree as she was one and the same. If a person told her no, Isla did it anyway. Opposition fueled her. Why no one caught on was beyond her, but she continued on, as did Carys. Exactly why the women would dominate Amaranthine; the men lacked imagination.

  Shortly after the steak tips and garlic potatoes were served, Gavin abruptly announced he had a matter to tend to and excused himself from the table. Carys shuffled her food about the plate ignoring his departure.

  Isla and Reed glanced at one another. Jules was the only one to say good-bye. Odd, but Gavin paused at the threshold, said nothing, and then left. Carys excused herself; her napkin fell from her lap and onto the floor. She hurried her exit from the dining room.

  Then there were three.

  Well aware of Gavin’s destination, Isla wanted to drive to North Flagler Drive and toss the slutcicle Madeline St. Cero over the balcony of her 1.3 million dollar condo that Gavin paid for—in cash.

  She flaunted her mistress status like a badge of honor.

  Furs.

  Diamonds.

  Luxury cars.

  All was at her fingertips.

  Madeline frequented The Blue Martini, where she marked a tab under the Devlin name and drank until she vomited into her shiny leather Louis Vuitton bag. No bother. Gavin would purchase a new one for her the following day.

  Isla tapped on Carys’s bathroom door.

  “Come in.” She turned when Isla walked in. “Good, you can zip me.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Meeting Jack for drinks.”

  “The old man from the airport?” Isla said and pulled the zipper up on the back of Carys’s tight black dress.

  “Yes, and don’t start. Just because you and Reed are in the nauseating rekindled phase doesn’t mean you get the right to judge.”

  “Jesus, I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re thinking it.” Carys hopped and slipped her heel on. “You made it clear he was ancient when leaving the airport, but I’m tired of being humiliated. My father’s memorial is Friday, and he’s off screwing his Frenchie mistress. Couldn’t he pretend just for one night, Isla?”

  “He’s a dickbag, but I think you’re going to regret this.”

  “I don’t think I will, and if you don’t like it you can leave my house.”

  Carys stormed past Isla.

  Ouch.

  TENSE FROM HER conversation with Carys, Isla stayed busy. She checked in on Rosa. She planned to travel back to Sweden after Ellis’ memorial to honor Erik with her family. Understandable. Isla felt such guilt, but Rosa assured her that they knew what they were doing working for Ellis, and she regretted not a second.

  “I hate to ask, but where did you find Ellis that day?”

  Rosa dug through a pile of laundered pants, folding them neatly on her bed. “His bedroom near balcony. Ellis enjoyed a cigar in the afternoon.”

  “Was he shot?”

  “Yes.”

  “How would someone know where he’d be?” Isla crossed her arms over her chest. “Whoever killed him knew Ellis’ pattern.”

  She went right to the technological flea Isla planted on Martin—twice. Isla suspected he had his own resident hacker. Joe was the first on her list, but he was dead. Was the threat gone?

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I think I’m thinking too much and missing something.” Rosa’s brows slanted. “Ignore my rambling. Are you sure you’re okay staying with Jules during the memorial?”

  “I am. She’s an enchanting child. She’s your light.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Isla left Rosa to turn in for the night. She found Reed in the living room, tapping away on a laptop. They discussed Amaranthine business. What would be their next move, what they would do with Martin, as well as what to do with the other bosses.

  “Do you think Joe would have been smart enough—”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t even finish.”

  Reed closed the laptop. “Joe and smart never belonged in the same sentence. He didn’t have the brain power to orchestrate the ambush.”

  “What if he hid behind his computer?”

  “Even then I don’t think so. He was a slimy, pompous assh
ole who never thought for himself.”

  “We’re back to Martin,” Isla said and rubbed her temples.

  “Since you already have a headache, what did Carys say?”

  Isla told Reed about the man Carys was going to meet with. A part of her understood where Carys was coming from. With Ellis dead, would Gavin uphold the marital contract? Divorce wasn’t favored in the families. Most either stuck it out or separated but remained married. Isla hoped Gavin would let her go. Carys deserved happiness without strings tying her to a man that was a walking STD ad.

  “She’s a grown woman,” Reed said.

  “She’s your sister, and she’s making a huge mistake grave digging with a prehistoric penisneck.”

  “Where do you come up with these words?”

  Isla shoved him. “I’m serious. Aren’t you pissed off at Gavin? Carys is only doing this because of what he’s dragging around West Palm Beach by the gnarly hair.”

  “She’s ordered I stay out of it, but yes, I hate him for what he’s doing. I think we should rethink staying here.” Reed reached over the arm of the couch, laid papers down on the coffee table, and turned to her. “Restructuring both families, private and corporate, is going to take time. We have much ahead of us, and focusing on behaviors that have been going on for years . . .”

  She hated when he switched subjects because his brain was set on another matter. Isla noticed out from the window a soft red glow coming from the steps of the stone patio. She rose to her feet and squinted to see a flutter of shadowy hair. Reed was skeptical at first, but Isla knew it wasn’t a trick. It was Carys. She only smoked when stressed. Isla asked Reed to run down to the wine cellar as she slipped on her ragged slippers. Moments later he brought up a bottle and opened it for her.

  “I’m keeping a close eye on you two,” Reed said.

  “Go to bed, the guards are lurking about. We’ll be fine.”

  He’d watch from the window until they were safe inside no matter how late. She knew that of her husband.

  Isla brought out the bottle of vintage Chardonnay and descended into the dark. A stretch of dim light from the wall of windows guided her to the steps where Carys sat. She caught a whiff of sweet clove.