by Sharon Wray
“According to the witness,” Garza said, “Isabel is a high-ranking member of the Usher Society.”
“Does this witness have a name?” Nate asked Garza.
“Horatio.”
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck
Zack stood. “I met Horatio last night. He works for the Prince.”
“What did this warrior say?” Kells asked.
“Not much. He was too busy knocking me out cold.” And calling Zack a coward. “There was also some Latin thrown around.”
Garza took his notebook and a pen out of his jacket pocket. “Do you remember it?”
“Horatio said, ‘dubita veritatem esse mendacem.’ His buddy Marcellus responded, ‘Sed nunquam non dubitatione.’”
“There were two Fianna warriors there last night?” Pete asked.
Zack nodded. “Rafe told us they work in pairs.”
Garza tapped the pen on the notebook. “Horatio said, ‘Doubt truth to be a liar.’ Marcellus responded, ‘But never doubt I love.’ It’s Shakespeare.”
Luke raised his hand. “Wasn’t a Shakespearean verse cut in the dirt near where Stuart Pinckney’s body was found?”
“Yes.” Garza shut his notebook with the pen inside and placed it on the gym mats. Then he pulled out his phone and started scrolling. His jaw cranked as if he were crushing his molars with a hydraulic press. He handed the phone to Kells. “This is a photo of the verse cut in the cemetery near where Stuart was murdered. It’s from Hamlet.”
Nate took the phone out of Kells’s hand and passed it on to Pete. From there, the photo traveled to Luke, Ty, and Alex, who handed it to Zack.
“This evidence,” Garza said, “never made the news. Detective Waring in Charleston kept this investigation under a media lockdown.”
Zack studied the photo of typical Fianna psy-ops bullshit. A warrior, for some unknown reason, had placed small shells and rocks in a perfect square. Inside the square, words had been cut into the dirt and lined with more stones and shells. The letters were in all caps and laid in a precise form that had to have taken time and effort. They spelled the words DUBITA VERITATEM ESSE MENDACEM, SED NUNQUAM NON DUBITATIONE.
“Zack.” Pete sat up. “Is Allison okay?”
“She’s grieving.” Zack handed the phone back to Garza. “Last night, Hezekiah gave her a document Stuart purchased on the black market called the Pirate’s Grille. It was owned by the Prince in the eighteenth century and stolen by our favorite pirate Thomas Toban. I also overheard Hezekiah and Isabel talking about two documents: the Pirate’s Grille and another called the Witch’s Examination of Mercy Chastain. Specifically, the appendix to the witch’s examination. The grille and the appendix work together.”
“To do what?” Kells asked.
“Not sure, sir. But Isabel did say she was looking for something.”
Nate ran his hands over his head. “This is so fucked up.”
Agreed, brother. Zack moved his attention to Kells. “Sir, I’d like to go back to Charleston—”
“No. You’re not to leave Savannah without permission.” Before Zack could respond, Kells left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The silence in the room resonated as if the concrete walls were acoustic tiles.
Had Kells ordered Zack not to leave the city? As if he was twelve?
Zack grabbed Nate’s arm and dragged him to the side of the room. “What the fuck?”
“I…” Nate glanced at the other men, who had that glassy-eyed we’ve all just been tasered look. “Take a walk, and later, when things are calmer, I’ll talk to Kells.”
“That’s bullshit.” Zack left the training room and passed the front desk. He had a few choice words for his boss.
Nate caught up and grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
“For what?” Zack pointed at Kells’s closed office door. “For Kells to listen to reason? He’s way past that.”
“He’s stressed. He had difficult calls with the warden at Leedsville prison. There’s been a fight, some of our men were injured. And you’ve been gone—in Charleston—a lot. That leaves the rest of us carrying the chore slack.”
“I’m sick of the excuses, Nate. For the past two months, Kells has been an ass.” Zack took a deep breath. “I’m tired of being called a fucking coward.”
There. He’d said it out loud.
That’s when he noticed Pete, Alex, and Garza standing nearby, listening.
“Kells didn’t meant that,” Nate said. “He’s just—”
“Blaming me, Nate.” Zack didn’t care that the other men were listening. “Kells is still mad about my choices that night five years ago, when everything changed—choices that left you leading two A teams into an ambush and landing in a fucking POW camp.”
When Zack’s buddies wouldn’t meet his gaze, he knew the truth. They still blamed him as well. “I’m going to Charleston to protect Allison and get us some fucking intel. Are you with me or against me?”
“This is insane.” Pete came over and used his middle finger to poke Zack’s chest. “You can’t run around Charleston on your own. What happens if…something happens? We won’t be there to back you up.”
“I’m a big, scary ex–Green Beret,” Zack said. “I can manage.”
“Kells will be pissed,” Nate said in a low voice. “There’ll be consequences.”
“Screw the consequences. Now that Allison has the Pirate’s Grille, she’s in danger. I can’t leave her alone.”
Nate glanced at Kells’s office door. “How long will it take?”
“No fucking idea.”
Alex stood next to Zack. “I’ll go with him.”
“We don’t have enough cars,” Nate said.
“Alex can take my Harley,” Garza said. “It’s parked behind the station.”
“Zack.” Nate squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have petty cash for a motel—”
“We’ll stay with Vivienne,” Zack said. “She won’t mind.”
“I don’t like this.” Pete’s hands landed on his hips. “When the other men find out—”
“We’ll cover for Zack and Alex until they return.” Nate took out his phone and texted. “Before you go, talk to Rafe. See if he can give you any insight into what’s going on Fianna-wise.”
Zack nodded. Years ago, Rafe had been a member of their unit until going AWOL to work for the Prince as a Fianna warrior. Now that Rafe had returned to them—kind of—he’d become an excellent source of info.
“Zack,” Nate said while he texted, “Rafe is at the church on the Isle of Grace.”
“Got it.”
“Speaking of petty cash…” Alex held out his palm.
Nate went around the desk, pulled out the cash box, and handed them each forty dollars. “It’s all we have.”
Better than nothing. “Thank you.”
Those two words carried more meaning than Zack could ever express with a million. This plan of theirs was sure to have some serious blowback. But right now, he didn’t care. Right now, all he could think about was that Allison was in danger. And that was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter 11
Alex drove Garza’s motorcycle over the bridge leading to the Isle of Grace, and the paved road turned into gravel.
A few hundred yards down, he followed Zack toward a small white church tucked between enormous oak trees covered in Spanish moss. A white steeple cut through the foliage and black shutters flanked arched windows.
Alex parked next to Zack and removed his borrowed helmet. They fell into step and stomped through wildflowers around the church. Alex was grateful for his boots. He hated bugs and weeds and nature. And heat. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and drenched his T-shirt. It was hotter on the isle than in his isolation cell at Leedsville prison. Correction: Leedsville Military Correctional Facility. Beca
use fancifying the language always made the horrible more bearable.
They passed orange cones surrounding the church and construction equipment standing nearby. The shutters were open and dripping wet, as if someone had powerwashed them. A generator sat near a stack of red jerricans.
Alex pointed to the church’s front door covered by huge planks. “I wonder what this is about.”
“No idea.”
Alex and Zack found a man in the cemetery, where the grass and wildflowers were higher than the tombs. Rafe Montfort stood on a ladder hanging lights through the trees.
When Rafe saw them, he jumped down.
“What’s going on?” Zack asked.
Rafe wiped his forehead with one arm. “Since most of the isle’s inhabitants leave in August to escape the storms and the heat, that’s when the church maintenance is done. It’s on a historical registry, and the isle is required to keep it up. But this year the contractor found termite damage and structural issues. Hence the renovations.”
“That can’t be cheap,” Zack said.
“It’s not.” Rafe opened a nearby cooler and took out three bottles of water. After handing one to Alex and Zack, Rafe opened his own and drank deeply. “There’s a general fund for the church, but we recently had an anonymous donation that’s allowing us to do termite remediation and protect the stained-glass windows. We’re putting bulletproof glass on the inside and outside.”
Zack grimaced. “A bit much.”
“Probably.” Rafe pointed to the lights in the trees. “Since our sheriff and deputy take off to go fishing every August, I’m also setting up an early warning system.”
Alex walked around one of the trees that’d been wrapped in tiny lights. From what little Alex had heard about the former Fianna warrior, Alex knew that Rafe had been born and raised on the island and had recently returned to become the isle’s de facto caretaker.
Rafe handed a strand of lights to Zack. “We had an alarm company come out, but there’s no Wi-Fi on the isle and electricity is spotty. I’m stringing up white and blue lights we had left over from the isle’s Fourth of July party. If the lights are white, the people of the isle know all is well. If someone turns on the blue lights, we grab our rifles.”
Rafe moved a ladder to another tree.
“Rafe,” Zack said, “did you get my message about what happened last night with Horatio, Marcellus, and the car bomb?”
“Yes.” Rafe, wearing a black T-shirt that exposed a series of tattooed names down his right arm, stretched the lights through the branches. “Remiel ordered Stuart Pinckney’s death as well as Hezekiah’s. Since the Prince is involved in a conflict with Remiel, it’s no surprise the Prince has warriors watching things in Charleston.”
Alex grabbed a strand and unwound it to make it easier for Rafe to move to another tree. “We were hoping you had more info on the witch’s examination’s appendix and the Pirate’s Grille.”
“I don’t know.” Rafe threw lights over a high branch. “But I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Can you tell us about Horatio?” Zack asked. “If I contact him, will Horatio kill me?”
“You won’t be able to contact Horatio.” Rafe grabbed more lights and headed for the next tree. “If Horatio or Marcellus have anything to say, they’ll make themselves known.”
Alex found a step stool propped against a gravestone. He opened it and moved it to the other side of an oak to help Rafe wrap the lights around the trunk. “Is Horatio a Ghost?”
Zack stretched out a knotted length of lights. “What’s a ghost?”
“A Ghost,” Rafe said, “is a seasoned Fianna warrior who works autonomously. A Ghost doesn’t have to run his plans by the Prince and has more freedom to manage missions. Horatio and Marcellus are both foot soldiers, warriors who gather intel and…”
“Eliminate targets?” Alex offered.
Rafe nodded. “Foot soldiers work in pairs. Where Horatio goes, so goes Marcellus. If one is making himself known, the other is nearby.”
Zack remembered that from Le Petit Theatre. “Great.”
Rafe paused, holding up a bunch of lights. “Zack, you sure you want to get in between Remiel and the Prince?”
“No. But I don’t have a choice. Allison possesses the document Hezekiah Usher may have been murdered for. I need to protect her. Aaaaand there’s something else—something I didn’t tell Kells.”
Rafe frowned as he strung. “What?”
“Last night, Marcellus told Allison that Stuart failed in his search for something and that it was Allison’s responsibility to find it.”
“What the fuck?” Alex practically spat out the words. “You never mentioned that part.”
“Because I didn’t want Kells to have a heart attack or Nate’s head to explode.”
Rafe came down off the ladder to face Zack directly. “Are you telling me the Fianna gave Allison a task?”
“Yes.” Zack swallowed visibly and sweat dripped down his face. “Is that bad?”
“It sure as hell isn’t good.” Rafe ran a hand over his head, smoothing back his short hair. “What is this task?”
Zack exhaled and looked up at the blue-for-now sky. “To find the treasure of the dread pirate king.”
The Prince had given Allison—and therefore Zack—a fucking task? And Zack hadn’t said anything before now? “Are you high? No one accepts one of the Prince’s tasks unless they’re desperate or suicidal or both.” Alex hopped off his step stool, ready to slug Zack into unconsciousness. Except Rafe grabbed Alex’s arm to keep him from attacking.
“Zack,” Rafe said in a low voice that rumbled with threats and darkness, “this is a serious, big-boy problem.”
“It gets better.” Alex yanked out of Rafe’s grasp. “Kells ordered Zack not to go to Charleston, yet we’re going anyway.”
And because Alex was an idiot, he’d agreed to this plan. He should’ve known better than to trust one of Kells’s men.
“Whoa.” Zack held up both hands. “Alex, you volunteered. Where’s this pissed-off attitude coming from?”
“It’s coming from the fact that I was going to Charleston to get away from Kells, not to complete some task for the Fianna. No one who plays with the Fianna gets out alive.”
Zack moved closer to Alex until he could see the black rims around Zack’s brown pupils. “If you’re scared, go home.”
“Enough!” Rafe stepped in between Alex and Zack, one fist pressed against each of their chests. Gently, Rafe pushed them apart. “Zack, are you still determined to help Allison? Without the help of your other men at the gym?”
Zack crossed his arms like a petulant man-child. “Yes.”
Rafe glanced at Alex. “Are you still willing to back Zack up in Charleston?”
Fuck. Alex kicked the ground, also like a petulant man-child, but nodded. He didn’t want anything to do with the Fianna, but he didn’t want to go back to Kells and the gym either.
“Alright.” Rafe exhaled and placed his fists on his hips. “Zack, do you have any particulars about this thing Allison has to do? Besides finding some pirate treasure?”
“No. There was a lot going on last night. Marcellus mentioned it, and then they left before the explosion. I’m sure they knew it was about to happen.”
“I’m sure they did,” Rafe said. “This is what we’re going to do. You two go to Charleston and find Allison before the Fianna contact her again. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find out. Once you know the details, call me. But”—he wagged a finger at each of them—“if I think this thing is spiraling out of control, I’m going to Nate. And Nate will go to Kells. And we all know how that will turn out. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Zack said. “Got it.”
“Good,” Rafe said. “Leave now. If the Fianna have already approached Allison once, they’ll make contact again soon.”
<
br /> “Thanks.” Zack sighed and headed back to his bike.
Just as Alex turned to leave, Rafe gripped his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to talk to you, but I’ve no interest in going to the gym and running into Kells.”
Alex understood. “I’m not doing anything at the gym because Kells doesn’t think I can control my temper.”
“I’m not a Kells fan, but he’s being cautious. He’s worried about you.”
“No, he’s not. He’s using me for his own purposes against my brother, the arms dealer with a God complex who calls himself the Prince.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Not really in the mood to share my feelings with one of my brother’s warriors.”
“I’m not… Let’s just say I have more autonomy now.”
“You’re a Ghost?”
“Yes. While Nate knows I still have ties to the Fianna, the others don’t understand what’s required of the men who serve the Prince.”
“I’m not sure I know either.”
“What I’m saying is that if you need to talk about anything, I can listen and understand and won’t tell Kells or the Prince. No psycho-babble bullshit.” When Alex stayed silent, Rafe added, “I spent years in prison as well. The difference is I deserved to be there. It can’t be easy to have spent so many years in a cell for something you didn’t do. Especially when your brother could’ve freed you just by telling the truth.”
Yep. That really sucked. “Thanks, but I’m not one for sharing.”
“Your choice. Offer stands.” Rafe led the way toward the front of the church. “Just be prepared.”
“For what?”
“If your brother wants to see you, he won’t take no for an answer.”
Chapter 12
At eleven a.m., Allison opened the front door of Pinckney House to let in her brother-in-law, Lawrence.
The AC kicked on, sending chills down her arms, and she tightened her black sweater over her black sundress. Her low-heeled sandals clicked on the pine floor as she led the way to the study.
She’d returned home a few minutes earlier. And since she’d worn jeans and a white blouse to her office, she’d used the time to change into more formal clothes to meet Lawrence’s more formal world.