My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

  “You lost her?”

  “She was never mine to lose,” he clipped. “But you seem to be doing a fine job of it.”

  “I screwed up,” Remy admitted. “Boyer got in my head and I . . . just tell me you can find her.”

  Silence.

  “French?”

  He sighed. “She doesn’t want to be found. Ava quit her job and her phone is offline. It’s why you haven’t been able to locate her.”

  Ava went into hiding? If Remy hadn’t been sitting in his car, he would’ve had to commandeer the nearest chair. This was his fault. He should’ve never sent her away. He should have held onto her. He should have told her it was him who loved her, not French.

  Lots of “should haves.”

  But he messed up again.

  Maybe it was better off this way. Maybe Ava would be better off without such a screw up. Maybe she would fall in love with someone who’d treat her like Remy should have.

  “Please,” Remy said. “Just do your best. You’ve known her longer. I don’t even know where to look anymore.” It was the truth, and it felt like he was trying to breathe through steel. So much of what he knew of Ava six years ago was no longer the same now. It was like trying to hunt for a roaming ghost. Ava left no prints to follow; she just vanished like murky grays.

  “I might be able to help,” French said. “But after this . . . I’ve done as much as I can for you. I can’t do much more. We’re done after this. I can’t keep . . . it’s time to start over.”

  “I understand.”

  A rough laugh escaped. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Jeremy, I actually do,” Remy said. “I’ve been thick skulled, but you already know that. David told me why you’ve looked out for Ava all these years. I had thought that . . . well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “No, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Thank you for watching her for me.”

  French cleared his throat. “Well, if you’d do a proper job of it, I wouldn’t have to.”

  “I will,” Remy promised. “Just find her for me. Just this one last time.”

  “I make no promises.”

  “I wouldn’t hold you to them anyway.”

  Remy ended the call and took a deep breath, gathering strength to plaster on a smiling face that no one would believe.

  * * *

  Ava kissed the top of her father’s head as she passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen.

  “There was a call for you,” her father said, popping up the footrest on the recliner.

  Ava paused. “A call?”

  “A Jeremy something or other.”

  Ava’s heart ping-ponged against her ribs. How did French find her? She never spoke about her family, not to anyone. Not even to Remy.

  It wasn’t as if she had a horrible family, but with Remy, she had too many other things to occupy her—love and war included. And with everyone else, it was more for protection. She had heard too many horror stories about families falling prey. If she was a target, she didn’t want her family to suffer the consequences. So, she never spoke of them, never carried pictures, never did many of the things a good daughter would do.

  And she was sorry for staying away. Too much time was lost.

  Would she have to lose more now that French had located her?

  “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No, just asked if you were at home.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “No, of course. You were at the store, right?”

  “Yes. Did you happen to tell him that?”

  “I might have. Can’t quite recall,” he said, scratching his head, thick with white hair.

  She silently sighed. Well, if it was just French, then she wouldn’t worry for now. She could always divert his attention if she had to. There was a new recruit at the CID who could pass for Remy’s twin.

  * * *

  Remy sat on the patio, trying not to be annoyed while Mya fussed over David. It wasn’t Mya he was annoyed with. He could never be frustrated with someone who was naturally so caring and sweet. But David was milking his injuries, groaning at imaginary pains just so Mya would coo at him and adjust the pillows on the lounge chair.

  “Why aren’t you at home in bed?” Remy asked.

  “Greyson wanted to see my twins,” David said, pointing to his shoulders.

  “No, I didn’t,” Greyson said, stepping out from the house. “I have my own scars, thank you.”

  “Now we have a matching set,” David said, a smirk hinting at the corners of his lips.

  Greyson wrinkled his nose. “Never thought the day would come.”

  “All three of you will give me gray hair,” Mya pouted. “And I’m not even thirty yet.”

  Remy wondered what he did to be added to the Miller gray-hair pool, but he didn’t bother to ask. Mya would give him a reason whether it was deserved or not. And he couldn’t argue with Mya, not with her round, innocent blue eyes twinkling up at him. He’d rather argue with a woman with soft brown eyes.

  “David, you have to promise me that you won’t leave home ever again,” Mya said.

  “I’m not home now,” David said. “So, I’m not sure how this promise would work out. And what would I do when I have to take you to the hospital to have my baby.”

  “Our baby,” she corrected. “And I didn’t mean it like that. You’re deliberately being obtuse.”

  “Obtuse?” David questioned. “You’ve been hanging out with Jenna too long.”

  “I have,” Mya giggled.

  David wrapped his arm around Mya and tugged her down onto his lap. “You’ll have to tell me about all of these wonderful new words when we get home.”

  She giggled again as he playfully tickled her.

  “But you’re not home yet,” Greyson said, echoing Remy’s thoughts.

  Mya wrapped her arm around David and looked hard at him. Her sunny smile had given way to a frown. “David, you have to promise me.”

  “I can’t make a promise that I won’t leave home.”

  “I meant not to go overseas anymore, unless it’s with me. You get into too much trouble and always come home with more scars.”

  “I thought women liked a man with scars.”

  “I like knowing you’re safe.”

  Remy tried not to watch, but his curiosity at how David was going to weasel out of the promise was too great. He enjoyed David’s discomfort way too much.

  “I’m always safe,” David said.

  “You’ve been shot twice and were drugged. And that was just within the last few weeks.”

  David shifted uncomfortably. “But—”

  Mya leaned over, running her fingers through his hair. “Please.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Daddy.”

  Remy pressed his lips together, holding back his laughter. The expression on David’s face when Mya called him daddy was comical, and it was clear that Mya had won. David had no chance when it came to a beautiful woman calling him daddy; whether she meant it in one particular way or the other, it had the same effect.

  And it proved once again that you can’t argue with Mya.

  “I promise,” he said, smiling at her bouncing glee.

  Remy only had to avert his eyes for a few moments until David became distracted by his ringing phone.

  “It’s Ian,” he said, looking at his phone in mild disbelief. “He never calls.”

  Remy had met the third Miller brother not too long ago when he returned from Africa. Within days, Ian was chasing after a woman who had stolen a king’s ransom in diamonds from him.

  Remy listened, wondering if Ian had ever caught the woman who had balls enough to steal right from under Ian’s nose. Twice.

  “I can’t,” David said. “You called two minutes too late. I just promised Mya that I wouldn’t leave the country unless she’s with me.”

  Mya beamed.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” David stated. “She’s due any day now.
”

  “No, I’m not,” Mya said. “You just keep forgetting my due date.”

  David feigned hurt. “I do not. I’m just excited,” he said, eliciting another smile from Mya.

  Remy shook his head. If only all women were so easy to please. But as soon as the thought popped into his head, he disregarded it. It wasn’t what he wanted at all.

  If Remy didn’t hear back from French soon, he’d try a different tactic. So what if she wasn’t using her credit cards or phone. Remy could still find her. He just needed one lead, something he hadn’t thought of before.

  “You’ll have to ask Remy,” David said, pulling Remy out of his thoughts.

  “Ask me what?”

  “Ian needs help finding the diamond thief,” David said, holding the phone to his chest. “I can’t go.”

  “I can’t either,” Remy said. “Not yet, anyway.” Not until he heard from French.

  “Greyson?” David looked over at his brother.

  “We just opened the bed and breakfast and we’re booked solid,” Greyson said. “Jenna would strangle me if I left right now. Ask him if he wants me to hire a private investigator.”

  David lifted the phone to his ear, resuming his conversation with Ian.

  “He’s been looking for that woman for a long time,” Greyson said.

  “He’s in love,” Mya stated. “He doesn’t really care about the diamonds.”

  “Those diamonds are worth millions,” David said, having ended the call.

  “And he has millions more,” Mya responded. “He loves her. That’s the only reason he keeps after her.”

  “The man owns a diamond mine and is in love with a diamond thief,” Remy said, wrapping his head around it. “Dude’s more messed up than me.”

  Mya’s eyes flashed with curiosity, making Remy want to backpedal.

  “You’re still in love with Ava, aren’t you?” she asked with a growing smile.

  Remy glared at David, who had the decency to look down sheepishly.

  “Oh, Remy!” Mya clapped. “I’m so happy for you. Where is she? When are you getting married? You know who we could get to do the wedding! Oh, this is going to be wonderful! Maybe we could have a double wedding with you and Ava, and Greyson and Jenna.”

  The spade that was poised in Greyson’s hand drooped.

  At the thought of some flouncy double wedding, Remy scrambled out of his chair in an attempt to escape. He knew that if he couldn’t find Ava, Mya would have no problem finding him a long line of tepid women to pick from for the bride’s role.

  “Come back, coward,” David called, grinning like a fool from ear to ear.

  “Keep your woman under control,” Remy ordered, earning a hearty laugh from David.

  “Why don’t you try that with Ava, and let me know how it turns out,” David said, amused.

  Even Greyson was laughing.

  With a growl, Remy stalked off, knowing he could never keep Ava under control, nor would he want to. He loved her exactly the way she was: feisty, temperamental, and completely devastating when she looked at him with her velvety brown eyes.

  She controlled him.

  And he loved it.

  Now he just had to find her.

  * * *

  Remy read French’s text for the tenth time in as many minutes. It was a cryptic message, and Remy replied that he needed more information. No response. What was the man up to? The message stated it was time to start over. A date and coordinates were included.

  That was it. Nothing else.

  Remy used his phone to map the GPS coordinates. It showed a general area map of Minnesota. The flag pointed to Stillwater. He zoomed in, wanting to see more detail. The aerial view swooped down until finally he was able to see a cemetery.

  He didn’t understand. Why would French give him coordinates to a cemetery and say it was time to start over.

  Shit!

  Remy read the date again. It was tomorrow. He raced out of his house, not even bothering to secure it. On the way to the airport he attempted to call French several times, only to be sent to voicemail.

  The jerk. He was going to commit suicide? After everything they had been through? Now? It didn’t make sense.

  Remy vowed that if he got his hands on French, then French wouldn’t need to bother with suicide. Remy would do the job for him.

  And why at a cemetery? Was he planning on picking an open hole to fall into?

  Remy just hoped there’d be a plane that would get him there in time.

  He was not going to lose another friend.

  * * *

  When Remy arrived in Minneapolis late that same evening, he didn’t bother checking into a hotel. Since French didn’t give him a time, Remy wouldn’t take any chances. He’d stay at the cemetery until French arrived.

  Stillwater wasn’t too far from the airport. As soon as Remy rented a car, he stopped to buy a few provisions to last him through the night and possibly the next day. He wasn’t going to leave the cemetery—not even for a second—until French showed. If that meant ten o’clock the next evening, then Remy would still be there, waiting.

  When he reached the coordinates, Remy felt something stir inside him. It was an odd magnetic sensation as if he was being pulled in. He’d never believed in superstition or forces beyond his sight, but he couldn’t explain the feeling. Was French already here?

  Pulling out his newly purchased flashlight, Remy decided to explore. As a child, cemeteries used to scare him, especially at night. But now, they were a peaceful place — not of strangers, but of friends and family.

  As he walked around, the only sounds he heard were his own footsteps and breath. The cool night air seeped into his light jacket. He hadn’t thought to bring warmer clothes for the northern climate. He hadn’t thought about much of anything other than arriving in time to stop French.

  While the night was too dark to see anything past his flashlight, Remy could smell the fresh pine that hugged the grounds. It was beautiful here. Restful. He now understood why French picked it, even if he didn’t understand anything else.

  He skimmed the light over each headstone as he walked through the cemetery, reading the names and dates. Some were old, some were young, but they always had one thing in common. Death. It is what all life has in common.

  Remy mentally shook himself. He had to let go. He had to let everything go, including the past.

  Ava.

  But he didn’t want to let her go. He never wanted to let her go. But he had. Out of stupidity and misplaced justice, he thought she was better off without him. But he knew he’d never be whole without her.

  He continued walking, his head now filled with Ava instead of French. He barely read the names. They blurred as his mind shuffled through images of Ava. But one name made him stop. He couldn’t have read that correctly. He must have been thinking of something else and inserted a name on someone else’s grave.

  Remy stepped back, flooding the small headstone with light. What he saw knocked the air out of him. It scrambled his mind as he tried to process what he was looking at. It couldn’t be right. It wasn’t possible. But as he read the etched dates and quickly calculated, he knew it was right.

  It shattered him.

  Brock Remington . . . Jr.

  Chapter 22

  Ava bought a teddy bear and a bunch of flowers to bring to the cemetery. It was her yearly visit. Her dad stayed at the house, having already visited her mom and Junior just two days prior. That was when her mom had died, two days before her baby. To say it was a sad time would’ve been a drastic understatement. She lost her love, her mom, and her child all within the space of a few months.

  She took a breath as she walked to her loved ones, inhaling the fresh scent. It cleansed her mind, pushing out the past. After today, she would find a job and begin again. It was time to start over. She had hoped it would be with Remy, but he was in a different place, a place she couldn’t break into.

  Ava placed the flowers at her mother’s h
eadstone and then stepped over to Brock’s.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ava jumped at the voice coming from behind her. She whipped around to find Remy standing in the shadow of a pine tree nearly twenty feet away. He slowly walked to her, taking the teddy bear from her hands.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again.

  “You were dead,” she said, looking down at the stuffed animal that was tiny in his hands.

  “But I’m not. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to let me know.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  Remy didn’t answer and instead set the little bear at Brock’s headstone. He straightened and took a breath that was as shaky as hers. “What happened to him?”

  Ava chewed on her bottom lip, holding back the stinging tears that pooled. “He came too early. He was so little,” she said, remembering how he was barely a handful. His skin so thin it was almost translucent. “But he was a fighter, too. He hung on for nearly a month, but his little body just wasn’t developed enough.”

  Remy reached out, wiping an escaped tear from her cheek that unleashed hundreds more. He hugged her into him, allowing her to drench his shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have been there for you.”

  “You were dealing with your own problems,” she said, remembering the scars that littered his body. He had more demons to fight than she did.

  He shook his head. “No, nothing is more important than family.”

  “I’m not your family.”

  “Brock was my son.”

  She nodded, her face rubbing against his moist shirt.

  “And I want you to be my family too,” he said.

  Pulling back, Ava looked up at Remy. He must have seen her confusion because he said, “Just like David, Greyson, and Mya have been my family for these past years . . . it’s more than just blood.”

  Ava nodded in understanding, but it stung to be classified as family with the rest of his friends. But maybe that was all she was. And if she was to be Remy’s friend, then she’d take that friendship. She’d rather be a part of his life than not.