In Search of Truth

by Sharon Wray

  Nicholas Trott leapt up to the seat and assumed his favorite position: facing the street, sitting on hind legs, fronts legs straight. He panted and watched the world go by.

  Allison drank her water and closed her eyes. Even if Isabel spoke the truth, it didn’t matter. If Zack hadn’t led his team that night, he must’ve had a reason. And the guilt he probably carried over that decision had to weigh on his heart.

  She prayed it wasn’t true, but if it was, she hoped she could offer some solace.

  Except he hadn’t told her and she didn’t know how to bring it up.

  Her phone rang and she answered.

  “Mrs. Pinckney? I’m the insurance agent in charge of your case regarding the fire at your property. I’ve received a preliminary report from the fire inspector and would like to meet with you. Are you home this afternoon?”

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to my brother-in-law, Lawrence Pinckney, about this?”

  “I did. He’s busy and suggested I call you.”

  She brushed a loose curl off her shoulder and said, “I’ll be home within the hour.”

  She hung up and stood when she saw Zack coming. Nicholas Trott took the lead until his tail went straight and still. She looked in the direction of the dog’s line of sight to see a man in a baseball cap across the street, near the entrance to the Mills House Hotel. Horatio.

  “Allison!” Zack’s voice boomed, and Nicholas Trott sprinted toward him, pulling her along.

  Zack’s long stride caught up with the dog first. He took the leash and gave Nicholas Trott the love he demanded. Then Zack stood and she walked into his arms. One arm held her around the waist while the other held her head. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She glanced across the street again, but Horatio had disappeared.

  Her phone buzzed with a text.

  Time is passing, Lady Allison. Remember the urgent acting of your dread command.

  “I think it’s from Horatio.” She showed it to Zack and his body stiffened.

  He scanned the area around them, gripped the leash, and put one hand on her back. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Isabel found Alex sitting in Husk’s downstairs bar. He was sipping ginger ale. After her disastrous encounter with Allison, Isabel was just glad he’d shown up. For the second time, she’d overplayed her hand with Allison. Just like the first time in Hezekiah’s office, Isabel’s hatred of the simpering widow had made her strike from emotions, not logic. “I’ve made a decision.”

  Alex lifted his drink and used a bar napkin to wipe the granite counter. “Good for you.”

  Isabel laid her purse on the bar, ordered a martini, and turned sideways to face his profile. They were only inches apart, but Alex’s gaze was fixed on the liquor bottles shelved on the wall.

  The bartender placed her drink in front of her, and she said, “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. But you don’t get the Pirate’s Grille until after I meet with the Prince.”

  He took another sip and wiped down the granite again. “No deal.”

  Really? He was the most stubborn, frustrating male she’d ever had. Unfortunately, he was also the best in bed that she’d ever had. Even though it’d been years since they’d been together, she still remembered everything. “You can’t expect me to hand it over before the meeting. I don’t trust you.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse.” Alex graced her with a sideways scowl. “Because I don’t trust you.”

  More people arrived at the bar, and Isabel moved until her breasts brushed against his chest. He sucked in a breath. They were blocked by patrons ordering drinks before Lawrence shut off the open bar.

  She whispered, “I remember, Alex. And I wouldn’t mind if—”

  “Mr. Mitchell!” A little girl suddenly appeared. She carried a book under one arm and a soda in the other hand. “Here’s your soda.”

  Despite the fact the child was completely out of place, she carried herself with a poise Isabel respected.

  Alex took the glass and frowned. “What are you still doing here?”

  “My mom saw one of her clients and couldn’t get away. I was looking for you outside, but it got too buggy.”

  Just as she said that, another woman’s voice said, “Susan?”

  Isabel found the source of the voice near the stairs leading to the second floor. The stunning brunette stood on the second step, scanning the room. Maddie Ashton? Isabel hadn’t seen Maddie in over a year and was surprised at how…lovely she’d become.

  “Bye, Mr. Mitchell.” Susan found her mother near the front of the restaurant.

  “That was…” Isabel stopped talking when she realized that everything about Alex—from his gaze to the turn of his body—was fixated on Maddie.

  Once Susan and Maddie left, Alex released a deep breath.

  A hot flush rose up Isabel’s neck. She’d never been disregarded for another woman—and certainly not by the likes of Alex Mitchell. Alex might be the brother of one of the most dangerous men in the world, and he himself considered as violent and tough as men come, but he was still a poor kid from South Boston. He was as far beneath her as a man could be, yet now he was dismissing her?

  “Alex.” She ran her hand up and down his arm until she rested her palm against his warm bicep underneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. The muscles bunched beneath her fingers. “How about a compromise? You come back to my hotel—”

  Alex removed her hand. “How many lovers have you had, Isabel?”

  She licked her lips. “Does it matter? If it makes you feel better, you were the best.”

  “Don’t you get tired of giving pieces of yourself away? Tired of being hollow inside?”

  She traced his lips. So many people moved against the bar now, their bodies touched again. Her breasts against his chest, her hips against his hard thighs. She stood on her toes—because Alex was impossibly tall—until she could feel his breath. Until her lips almost rested against his. “I would never tire of you.”

  “Bartender, have you seen a backpack with a puppy face?”

  Alex’s head turned, and Isabel smiled at Maddie, who stood on the other side of Alex. Maddie was taking a backpack from the bartender—until she stopped and noticed Alex. His breaths sounded like roars, and Isabel moved in closer to Alex’s side, making sure Maddie saw Isabel’s breast against his arm.

  Alex didn’t move, and his gaze on Maddie didn’t waver.

  Maddie swallowed and disappeared into the crowd.

  Isabel used a finger to trace the outline of muscles through the black T-shirt until Alex grabbed her wrist.

  “Tonight, Isabel. Meet me at the Mills House Hotel bar. Bring the Pirate’s Grille or—”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll tell Remiel all about how five years ago you helped me try to kill him.”

  Chapter 22

  Eight hours later, Zack leaned back in the iron chair in Allison’s garden and sighed. She seemed distracted, probably because she was tired and overwhelmed.

  They had returned to the house, and Allison had spent the entire afternoon dealing with the insurance agent.

  Allison had told him of her run-in with Isabel and the fact that she thought Stuart had hidden the witch’s examination appendix. Frustrated because time was passing and they were no closer to finding Emilie, Zack had decided to search the entire house, which had to be larger than the Pentagon.

  He’d torn apart every drawer, closet, and wardrobe. He’d even searched through the Christmas ornaments in the attic and the flower pots in the conservatory. Not to mention the gun cabinet that he unloaded, cleaned, and reorganized.

  After seven hours of digging through the house and finding nothing, he decided to scrounge through her freezer and make dinner.

  While he searched, he’d also been processing the call he’d gotten earlier from Nate. Nate
had indeed learned about Emilie’s kidnapping from Rafe and that the Prince wanted Allison to find the treasure in exchange for Emilie’s safe return. Then Nate lectured him about how secrets were bad and that since Nate had been covering for Zack for two days, he deserved to be kept informed.

  While Nate was correct, Zack wasn’t sorry. He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t a complete fuckup. He needed this second chance.

  Then Zack called Rafe again to make sure that the Fianna wouldn’t hurt Emilie while Zack searched for the treasure. Rafe reminded Zack about the rules of leverage. The conversation helped Zack’s worried mind, but it didn’t alleviate it.

  Zack tossed his napkin on the table. “That shrimp étouffée was delicious.”

  Allison laughed and stacked the dishes. “You made it.”

  “Is that why you didn’t eat it?”

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  Zack touched her arm. “Leave the dishes. I’ll do them later.”

  She sat with her hands in her lap and stared at the salt shaker. She still wore her dress but had traded her heels for flats.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “When I think about Stuart, I miss what our life could’ve been together. I’m also angry. He decided we should have separate rooms. He decided to have an affair and get involved with Remiel.”

  Zack took her hand and rubbed the finger where she’d once worn her wedding band. “You’ve every right to be angry. But Stuart’s behavior is on him. You’re not responsible for his choices.”

  “I took off my wedding band.” She pulled her hand out of Zack’s grasp. “After Stuart’s funeral, I took it off and shoved it in my jewelry box.”

  Zack kept silent. He wasn’t sure what to say. She’d retreated so far into herself he didn’t know how to reach her. He didn’t want to lose the tenuous connection they had at the moment.

  “The ring felt heavy.” She rose to pace the garden. “I was at the funeral and couldn’t stop twirling it. I must’ve spun it a thousand times. By the time I left the cemetery, the gold was hot.”

  Zack leaned forward and clasped his hands.

  “When I got home, I took a cold shower just to make myself feel something. But it left me more numb than I’d ever been in my life. That’s when I took off my ring and put on my pajamas.”

  “That’s not a crime.”

  “It was noon, Zack. I’d buried Stuart without his family—who wanted to wait—and I was supposed to have a potluck here at the house. Except I couldn’t.” Her voice cracked. “I told everyone to take their food to the church hall and that I’d meet them there. Except I came home, put on my pajamas, and didn’t leave the house for four days. If Maddie hadn’t come by each day, I wouldn’t have bothered eating.”

  “I’m glad you have such a wonderful friend.”

  “I was horrible to the people who wanted to celebrate Stuart’s life. I was horrible to Maddie. I even yelled at her to stop bringing me food.”

  Zack finally stood. “Why are you so hard on yourself? You were grieving, are still grieving, and everything you’ve done is what people who are grieving do.”

  She shook her head until her blond hair fell out of its clip. “I took my ring off because I couldn’t handle the weight of it. When I put it into my jewelry box, I wasn’t sad. I was relieved.”

  He took her shoulders. “It’s okay—”

  “It’s not okay. The day I buried my husband, I took off my ring, and for the first time in years, I felt free.”

  “Allison.”

  She hit his chest with her fists. “For the first time since you kissed me, I was free. No more pretending to be the loving wife desperate for her husband’s attention yet unable to give him the intimacy he wanted. Sure, we slept together before our big fight, but it wasn’t enough for Stuart. I couldn’t give him everything he needed.”

  “That wasn’t your job. His issues belonged to him.”

  She picked up the dishes and he followed her to the kitchen with the rest of the food. She didn’t say anything while he loaded the dishwasher, while she put leftovers in the fridge, while he fed Nicholas Trott, who’d been waiting patiently for dinner, while she cleaned the counters.

  When they were finished, he grabbed the open bottle of wine and the Bluetooth speaker with a flash drive attached, and went back outside to the garden. He forced himself not to look back to see if she was following. The sun had gone down, and small white lights sparkled in the garden’s trees.

  It took him two wrong turns before he found the small table where they’d eaten dinner. It was tucked in the side garden near the Pan fountain attached to a brick wall. He’d deliberately left the wineglasses on the table and now poured them each another glass. Then he turned on the speaker which started a song that had been preloaded onto the flash drive.

  Thank goodness it was a slow song so they could dance.

  By the time he finished, he noticed Allison in the darker shadows. “Zack? What are you doing?”

  “This.” He took her hand and drew her close until his other arm wrapped around her waist. When she relaxed against him he said, “Allison, everyone’s life is driven by decisions based on incomplete facts and powerful emotions that aren’t always based on truth.”

  She rested her head against this shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

  “Faith and reason, not emotions, are sources of truth. Truths discovered by faith and reason never contradict each other. Truths discovered by faith and reason are immutable.”

  She looked up at him. “What are my truths, Zack?”

  “You were never able to fully give yourself to Stuart because he wasn’t the right man for you. You wanted him to be the right man. You wanted him to be the perfect husband who could shield you from Rue’s abuse, your father’s death, and your brother’s drowning. Jeez, Allison, you were eleven when that all went down. It’s no surprise when Stuart offered you a life protected by these garden walls, you jumped at it.”

  “What kind of person does that make me?”

  “A wounded one. Like all of us. You know how to love as deeply as everyone else. You’re just afraid that if you admit it, you’ll get hurt again.” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Another truth? Stuart was emotionally abusing you.”

  She tried to pull away.

  Zack tightened his hold. “Withholding sex is a form of emotional abuse.”

  “The night of our big fight, we argued about the bottle of jasmine perfume you sent me from Paris. Then I found out that you’d called the house and Stuart hadn’t told me.”

  “I did call, and Stuart told me you didn’t want to talk to me.” Zack paused, trying to decide what to say next. “He was angry about the perfume. Finally, I hung up. I was on my way to a mission in Afghanistan and had other things to worry about.”

  Like rescuing his men from Remiel’s POW camp.

  She slowed her steps until their dance turned into a sway. “That was the night Stuart told me I was broken, that I’d never be able to love another man completely.”

  If Stuart had still been alive, Zack would’ve killed him.

  Since he couldn’t seek retribution on her behalf, he kissed her head and then rested his cheek against her hair. “Stuart always had passive-aggressive tendencies.”

  She met his gaze. “How do you know so much about the subject?”

  “My parents. My mother, despite having two children with my father, refused to marry him and never gave a reason. Vivienne thinks my mother’s constant rejection was her way of controlling my father. My father, in return, had a horrible temper. He’d withhold affection and disappear for months. Then he’d show up with presents and promises that we’d be a happy family. It was a perfect storm of codependence, enabling, and mental illness that lead to their deaths at my grandfather’s estate, Bayou Saint George.”

  “I t
hought you grew up in the Garden District?”

  “I did. We only went to the country for summer holidays. Mostly, it stood empty. Now, Bayou Saint George belongs to Vivienne.”

  “You inked your family’s devastation on your arm—your dragon slayed by Saint George.”

  “I needed that tattoo to remind me of my truths. That I want—no, I believe in happy families and love ever after. I deserve those things as much as you do.”

  Allison leaned her head against his shoulder again. “I’m so selfish. I’m wrapped up in my emotions while you’re desperate to find your sister.”

  “I am desperate, but a buddy of mine, Rafe, reminded me that if the Fianna hurt Emilie, we won’t do what they want.” He stopped dancing and rested his hands on her waist. Slowly, she raised her head and he lowered his lips. The kiss threatened to drop him to his knees. He drew her in until her breasts pressed against his chest. His lips tilted over hers, and she sighed. A hot force rushed through him, hardening every inch of his body.

  When she stood on her toes, he swung her around to press her against the nearest tree. Her hair hung in curls around her shoulders, and her skirt bunched up between them, allowing his thigh to fit between her bare legs. When she tightened her arms around his neck, he made sure his hips met hers. She moaned; he growled. He needed her to understand what she did to him, what she meant to him. He so desperately wanted to wipe away their pain, to bury himself inside her until this nightmare melted away. Although he wasn’t a man to run and hide, he was finally realizing the toll the last few years had taken.

  He was tired of being tossed around by forces not under his control. He was sick of lies and secrets that left him in reaction mode. He was done letting fate limit his choices.