by Rachel Xu
“But . . . why?” It was impossible to tell if he was angry or sad.
He let go and turned, strolling for the open door. “Be gone by five o'clock,” he said coldly. “My lawyers will be in touch.”
Without a glance over his shoulder, he went out into the hall and slammed the door shut behind him.
Lily waited a while, hoping he would come back with a change of heart and tell her he wanted her to stay.
But he didn't come back and five minutes stretched into ten, then twenty.
Tears trickled down her cheeks and she hated herself for it. She knew next to nothing about him and she still didn't know what was in that trunk—so what did it matter if he wanted her gone? Was he dangerous? She thought of the room full of vats and shivered, swiping at her tears. Maybe it really was best for her to take off and never return.
She refused to cry over a man who might be some sort of mad scientist or serial killer . . . or both.
Moving aside the breakfast tray, she got out of bed and changed into clean clothes, brushing her hair back into a ponytail. She yanked her suitcases out of the wardrobe and stuffed her clothing and possessions into them, not bothering to fold or organize.
Someone rapped on the door. Was it Ian come back to apologize?
“Who is it?”
“It's Mike—can I come in?”
She hesitated. “Is it . . . important?”
“I think so.”
She looked in the mirror to make sure her face wasn't puffy and red from crying. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she went to the door and pulled it open. He brushed past her and turned around a few feet away, grinning. “I got something for you while I was in town today.” His brown eyes fairly sparkled as he pulled a bouquet of carnations out from behind his back.
At the sight of the flowers, she burst into fresh tears and turned away from him, cupping her face in her hands.
“What's wrong?” He approached and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Is it the flowers? I'm so sorry—I can throw them away. I didn't mean to upset you.”
She wiped her eyes. “No, Mike. It's not you. It's just that, I've decided to leave.”
He embraced her, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder. “You can't be serious,” he said. “You just got here. I thought you were moving in for good.”
“It's complicated,” she mumbled into his chest, letting out a shaky exhale. She considered pushing him away but his strong warm arms were comforting.
“It's not Ian, is it?” he asked, stiffening. “Is he forcing you to leave? I'll knock his face in.”
She withdrew from the embrace with a jerk. “Why is giving someone a beating always the first solution to men?” She shook her head. “No, the reason I'm leaving is because I'm tired of all the secrets. How can I be a part of this family when no one will tell me a darned thing about anything?”
“I showed you the secret passages in the walls, didn't I?” He put his palms out in a don't-look-at-me gesture. “Ian is the only problem. He's the one who forces us to secrecy. Not that we know much anyway. Just ignore him and you might start enjoying yourself.”
“I'm sorry, Mike, but my mind is made up. I'll be leaving this afternoon.” There was no way she could make a life for herself here while ignoring Ian. He was too formidable . . . yet surprisingly tender at the same time.
A baffling disparity.
Mike reached out and took her hand in his. “Let me cheer you up,” he said. “I'll drive you into town and we'll get a cappuccino.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Okay. Sure. That does sound nice.” Perhaps getting away from the mansion for a little while would clear the cobwebs in her head.
Mike laid the bouquet of flowers on the dresser and led her to the door. He paused, letting go of her hand, and bent down to the floor to pick something up next to a weaved hamper.
“What is it?” She leaned in to see.
In his palm was an elongated golden key. She gasped, recognizing it as the one from the bird in Ian's workshop. Hadn't it all been a dream? Maybe she'd stolen the key first: before hitting her head. Had it then fallen from her pocket when she'd changed clothes a few minutes before Mike's arrival?
But, if that were the case . . . it must mean Ian's bird really had escaped.
“Oh, the key to my diary—” she said with a forced laugh, snatching it from his hand. “I've been looking for that.”
An hour later, having driven into town with Mike in a silver Lamborghini and enjoying a couple of cappuccinos at a quaint little café, Mike suggested they go somewhere else; a place of interest he wanted to show her.
They left the café and climbed back into the gleaming car. It made the rest of the cars in the lot look like heaps of junk and she wondered vaguely who it belonged to, doubting a handyman could afford such a vehicle.
They drove in silence, Lily deep in thought as she watched the stores whip by. She barely noted that the sunshine and blue skies were disappearing behind fast-growing rain clouds.
Leaving the town center, they drove through winding country roads, eventually parking at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking vast forestland far below.
Oh gosh, he'd taken her to some kind of lookout spot.
She'd have to be upfront and tell him she didn't have those kinds of feelings for him.
“The view here is amazing,” he said, cutting the engine and climbing out of the car. “Come take a look.”
She climbed out of the vehicle and hugged her jacket around her waist, following him to the cliff's edge. An old post and rail fence ran along the edge, its paint chipped and splintering. There was no one else around.
A breeze carrying the scent of decaying leaves whipped up from below, flicking her ponytail.
“Where are we?” she asked, scanning the horizon.
“Not far from the mansion.” He grinned at her. “If you look closely, you can actually see it in the distance, sticking outta the treetops over there.” He pointed. Sure enough, the tips of the turrets and chimneys could be seen but little more.
The overcast sky was deepening from white to gray. “I think it's going to rain,” she said. He reached out and took her hand in his but she tugged slightly and he let go, taking the hint.
She gave him an apologetic smile and clasped her hands together behind her back, gazing down at the endless expanse of gloomy woodland. She hoped she hadn't hurt his feelings too much. “It's hard to believe those woods are full of man-eating wolves,” she said with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.
He laughed. “I personally don't believe they're as bad as Ian says. He gave me that same story about staying out of the woods years ago too, when I first started working there. I think he just wants to keep everyone away from his work shed. Who knows what all he's got stored up in there. To be frank, I've always thought it kind of juvenile for a grown man to have a tree fort.”
“You've never seen inside it?”
He shook his head. “No, don't care to. And like I said, he forbids everyone to go anywhere near it.” A sardonic laugh.
She thought about all the jewels and diamonds and sculptures. “You should see it,” she said. “It's really beautiful. He's quite the artist.”
Mike rubbed his chin, glancing at her sidelong. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm. Hey, Mike . . . ” She searched his face a moment. “Did you ask Ian about those vats yet?”
He averted eye contact. “Yes,”—he cleared his throat—“and it was just like I thought. The vats are full of filtering water; keeps the aquarium clean. The table was for the sharks, in case they might ever need medical care.” He met her eyes again and grinned. “See, nothing at all to worry about.”
Relief warmed her and she unfolded her arms. “Thanks for this,” she said, smiling.
“For what?”
She noted again how handsome he was. But then, Ian was handsome too. Why was she falling for the man with all the secrets when Mike was th
e one who'd been friendly and open from the get-go?
“For being a friend,” she said, “for talking to me, taking me out this afternoon and trying to cheer me up. Things like that.”
“Hey, no problem, sunshine. Besides, it's not like it's a chore to spend time with you. I should be thanking you for the honor of your presence.” He smiled wide and took a step toward her, gazing into her eyes intimately, grin fading.
Her heartbeat picked up a notch; vat room forgotten. He took another step forward and brushed his lips across her cheek, heading for her lips.
She turned her face away from his and lifting her palms, gently pressed them into his chest, stepping back. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and moved away from her, staring down the cliff at the forest below. A frown tugged at the corner of his lips but he said nothing.
She crossed her arms over her chest again. The wind was picking up and in the distance a sheet of rain was falling, moving toward the mansion.
“We should head back,” Mike said, moving away from the fence without looking at her. She followed him to the parked car and climbed into the passenger seat.
It was going to be an awkward drive home.
By the time they approached the estate driveway, it was pouring rain and the headlights reached only two meters ahead. The mansion was dark—not a single window lit.
As they drove through the wrought iron gates and up the long road leading to the front of the estate, a dark masculine figure appeared in the headlights, standing in the middle of the road with his head tilted to one side.
Chapter 15
Mike slammed on the breaks and rolled down the window.
The black figure just stood there, the contours of his face obscured by the rushing rain.
“Ian—that you?” he said. “Come on man, no games. Is the power out?”
Without a word, the man strolled off the driveway; disappearing from the scope of the headlights.
Mike rolled up his window, his foot still on the brake pedal. “What the—”
No sooner had the words left his mouth when someone wrenched the driver's seat door wide open.
Lily yelped but was quick to regain her composure when the car's interior lights lit the face of their supposed assailant.
“Ian—” she shouted furiously, leaning over Mike's lap. “What are you trying to do?”
He was wearing a trench coat with the collar up, wet hair plastered and rivulets of water streaming down his face. “I could ask you the same question,” he said. “I thought I told you to be gone by five o'clock.”
“Just chill man,” Mike interjected. “What's the hurry?” He shot a glance at Lily. “So—it was Ian who told you to leave.”
“I didn't ask for your opinion,” Ian said, voice low and intimidating. “Cut the idle chit chat, grab a flashlight from the glove box, and go see if any fuses are blown.”
Lily climbed out of the passenger seat and stepped into the deluge. Ian came around the front of the car and took her hand. “Come on, I'll get you inside,” he said. “Sorry I don't have an umbrella.”
They jogged the rest of the way up the flooded driveway—Mike in tow with a flashlight beam to guide their way—and hurried up the slippery stone steps. Ian let go of her hand and yanked open the heavy oak doors.
Leaving Ian and Lily to their own devices, Mike hurried down the vaulted corridor and yanked on the warrior's axe, opening the wall panel leading to the basement.
There was a fuse box in cellar-like room accessed through the scuba supply room. Mike had used it as a makeshift work area for three years now. He had a long work bench, a stool, some power tools, and shelving units used to store cans of paint and various household maintenance supplies.
With the aid of his flashlight, he went into the room and swept the beam across the floor to the far end—and dropped the flashlight.
Fumbling for it at his feet, he shone the light once more to the far end of the room, his breath shallow in his chest.
His worktable had been overturned, cans of paint were splattered across the floor, and his tool box was open and upside down. Instinctively, he flicked the flashlight back and forth—searching the nooks and crannies of the room for a lingering culprit. Satisfied that the room was unoccupied, he stormed to the fuse box, avoiding the paint splatters, and reached out to yank open the fuse box.
He froze.
Four jagged slash marks marred the front lid of the fuse box.
Mike darted from the room and pounded up the stone stairs. He had no idea how an animal had found a way into the mansion and into the scuba room, but somehow a large animal had found its way in, and he intended to shoot every last one in the forest if he had to. Probably one of them hired marine workers had come in through the basement and forgotten to shut the doors upon leaving. He'd find out who had done it and have him or her fired. This was beyond carelessness. And that animal had better be back outdoors and not wandering about inside the mansion. The last thing he wanted to do was wrestle a grizzly bear in his own bedroom.
“Where are we headed now,” Lily asked as she followed Ian down the main corridor. Her clothes were clingy and damp and she figured her mascara had trailed down her cheeks. Most of her hair was pulled back but several wet strands dangled about her face, getting in the way.
After checking to make sure Hannah, Angie and Chris were all fine, they'd taken a spare flashlight from Hannah and had gone back downstairs.
“Need to see what's taking Mike so long,” Ian said, glancing at her sidelong. “He was supposed to be checking the fuse box—though if there's a tree down on the power lines, the fuse box won't help us. Still, he should be back by now.”
A flashlight beam emerged from the stairwell at the end of the corridor ahead of them, followed by Mike, and they quickly closed the gap between them.
“Some wild animal got in and trashed my workroom,” he said matter-of-factly, huffing. “Probably looking for food. Not sure how it got in—but whatever it is, it's big.”
Ian gave Mike a nudge in Lily's direction. “Take Lily straight to Hannah's room and wait for me—I'll be right back.”
Mike stood in place.
“Go!”
Lily pivoted on her heel and headed for the front entrance. “I don't need to be taken anywhere, thank you. Come on, Mike, let's go.” He hurried after her, mumbling a few curses at Ian, and shined the flashlight beam ahead of them.
Satisfied they were well on their way to Hannah's, Ian slipped into the stair well and quietly made his way to Mike's workroom. When he reached the room, he stood staring at the mess before him only a moment before flicking off the flashlight; he didn't need it anyway. It was just for show when the others were around.
The sight of the shredded fuse box lid made him prickly all over, like pins and needles coursing through his veins. He had to get Lily out of this place; while she was still free to leave. That is, if it wasn't already too late for that. He wanted to wring Mike's neck for deterring her all afternoon. She should have been long gone by now.
One thing had become sickeningly clear to him in the last 24 hours.
A soulless killer was looking for her.
Ian let out a cry of rage and grabbed a wrench off the floor, pelting it at the wall with all his strength—chipping the stone. What was that lunatic up to? Why had he shut off the power?
A chill like winter's breath flitted down his back and he left the room, tearing up the stairs and hurrying down the hallway.
“Ia-a-ann . . . ” an icy voice whispered somewhere behind him. “Or should I call you Zever?”
Ian froze, recognizing the wretched voice.
He turned around to face a tall shadowy figure standing in the middle of the hall.
“What do you want from her?” Ian snarled.
The figure let out a sharp laugh. “You can't protect her forever. For all you know—I've already got her.”
“If you did, we wouldn't be having this co
nversation,” he said in a gritty voice; clenching and releasing his fists. “You don't belong here. She's done you no harm.”
“I want but one thing from her—and then I'll be gone.”
“And what is that?”
“Her life blood pouring through my hands.” He laughed.
Ian lunged toward him but the figure stepped aside and cracked him on the back of his skull with something hard—sending him straight to the floor. Lights dotted his vision as he struggled to stay conscious.
“Useless.” A booted foot settled against the back of Ian's head, pushing his nose toward the marble floor. “You won't be able to stop me, just as you couldn't stop me from killing Auguste. Ha! I'd have killed you long ago if it weren't for your father.”
“You killed Auguste?—You bastard, I'll tear your throat out—”
“Ah-ah-ah, there'll be none of that.” The boot slammed down hard against Ian's head, breaking his nose.
Chapter 16
Ian awoke to throbbing pain in the center of his face.
He was slumped against a stone wall in one of the hidden passageways surrounding the pool room, dried blood on his lips and chin. His attacker must have dragged him here after knocking him out.
Lily!
He was too late.
Scooting to a sitting position and then a standing one, Ian staggered a few steps, facial nerves exploding in pain. He touched his fingertips to his crooked nose and steeling himself against the pain, snapped it back in place. Eyes watering, he stumbled toward the nearest exit panel and took the stairs up to the main corridor; determined to find Lily.
The walls in the brightly lit hallway seemed to be moving—shifting and warbling—going in and out of focus. The power was back on. He gripped the railing at the front entrance and leaned into it, putting one foot before the other as though they were wooden. He reached the upper floor and squinted in the brightness of the hallway. Someone was approaching him from the opposite end, moving with swift steps. Was it Hannah, coming to tell him what had happened to Lily?