by Sharon Wray
Laertes nodded. “My lady.”
Allison frowned.
“Laertes watches over the mute woman,” Emilie said in a muffled voice. “He’s her keeper.”
“Who is she?” Allison asked.
“Lady Tarragon,” Marcellus said.
Allison glanced at the woman who now sat on the bed. “Mack McIntyre told us Remiel killed Tarragon because she gave Stuart the witch’s examination.”
“The Fiend failed.” Laertes, still holding his gun, went to Tarragon and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The Fiend tortured her with his box.”
Alex inhaled deeply. When this was over, he was going to finish what he’d started five years ago. He was going to kill Remiel, even if it meant going back to prison for the rest of his life. “Instead of getting her medical help, you keep her prisoner?”
“Lady Tarragon is no prisoner.” Laertes folded a blanket that had fallen to the floor. “She’s a selective mute and has chosen to be here.”
Emilie pointed to the corner from where Tarragon had emerged. “She comes and goes through a back staircase.”
“The hidden doorway,” Allison said. “It leads to Pirates Courtyard—except it was boarded up years ago.”
Laertes dropped the blanket onto the cot, took a white cloak off a hook on the wall, and draped it around Tarragon’s shoulders. “When Master Stuart requested help from the Prince, one of his tasks was to restore this room and the hidden entranceway for Lady Tarragon.”
Allison sighed. “The termite remediation he was taking care of for me.”
Between Tarragon’s white-blond hair and the white cloak over the pale blue nightgown, she appeared otherworldly.
“Oh my gosh.” Allison finally realized the truth. “Tarragon is the ghost of Mercy Chastain people have seen roaming the courtyard and the cemetery next door.”
“Yes.” Laertes walked Tarragon toward Marcellus. “Nighttime is the only time she feels safe outside, the only time no one can see the damage the Fiend inflicted.”
Allison moved in front of Tarragon and reached for the key that hung on a chain around her neck. “This is a key to Pirate House and the gate between Pirates Courtyard and the cemetery.”
Laertes bowed his head. “A gift from Master Stuart.”
Marcellus checked his watch. “’Tis late. Ladies Emilie and Tarragon will accompany us. Lady Allison must search for the treasure.”
“And what do I do, Marcellus?” Alex’s sharp tone could slice granite. “Sit on my ass while you take the women away?”
“You do nothing.” Marcellus tilted his head. “’Tis what you do best.”
Alex ground his molars. He knew bait when he heard it. “I have another offer. In exchange for the women’s freedom, I’ll return to the Prince.”
Laertes laughed, his arm around Tarragon’s shoulders. “’Tis a foolish—”
“Ask him.” Alex kept his gaze on Tarragon’s terrified face. “Ask my brother which he’d rather have—two women who are nothing more than leverage, or me.”
“Wait.” Allison grabbed Alex’s arm. “The Prince is your brother?”
Alex met her surprised gaze with a shrug. “Yep.”
Laertes nodded at Marcellus. “We accept.”
“I don’t understand.” Allison squeezed Alex’s arm. “What just happened?”
Alex handed her the car keys and whispered, “Take the women and drive to Savannah. Don’t stop until you get to Iron Rack’s gym. Nate will help you.”
“I can’t—”
“You have to.” Alex removed her hand from his arm. “Marcellus, how do I know you’ll let the women go?”
Marcellus bowed his head. “You have our word.”
Tarragon shook her head, and Allison said, “I don’t think she wants to go with us.”
“She doesn’t have a choice.” Alex turned to Tarragon and held her scarred face within his palms. Using his softest voice, he said, “It’ll be okay. If you go with Allison, you’ll be safe. But you have to leave now.”
Tarragon shook her head again until Emilie gripped her hand. “We can go together.”
“I don’t like this,” Allison said to all the men. “You have no right to take Alex.”
“Allison!” Alex hated yelling, but she had to get with the plan. “Leave. Now.”
A short pause later, she and Emilie helped Tarragon toward the exit.
“Lady Allison.” Marcellus stepped in front of the doorway, blocking them. “Do you have any words for your lover?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He and his brothers-in-arms have been taken. If you want to save him, find the pirate king’s treasure.”
Allison’s wide-eyed gaze found Alex’s. “What—”
“Allison!” Alex ordered in his sharpest voice. “Go. Now.”
* * *
Nate tossed his coffee into the trash. Luke hovered over a laptop looking up any information he could find on Henry Avery and his treasure. Ty slept on a couch in the corner. Cain was working off his angst on the punching bag in the gym.
This waiting for info sucked. The only bright spot was that Kells hadn’t returned yet. The longer he stayed away, the more time Nate had to fix things.
He was winding his way through the gym to get a bottle of water from the office when his cell phone rang. “Rafe? What the fuck is going on?”
“We have a problem.”
Nate stopped near the front desk, put the phone on speaker, and closed his eyes. “Tell me.”
“While looking for Emilie at Raven’s Retreat, two warriors took Garza, Pete, and Zack. I tried to follow, but I lost them.”
“And?” Because there was always an and.
“When I returned to Allison’s house, I saw a letter.”
“A letter.” Nate opened his eyes to find Cain a few feet away, listening. He had stripped off his T-shirt and was panting from exertion. The sweat had soaked the waistband of his gray gym shorts and made the tattoos on his arms shine.
“Alex and Allison went to Pirate House to find some book. By the time I got there, two warriors were taking Alex away.”
Nate rubbed his forehead with his fist. “You’re telling me that Alex, Garza, Pete, and Zack—half of our unit—were taken by the Fianna and the women are missing?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“The treasure?” Cain spoke loudly, as if not aware of how speakerphones worked.
“No idea.” The sound of a truck engine came through the phone. “There’s something else. Since the night of Hezekiah Usher’s murder, I’ve been asking other warriors for intel, but I’ve come up with nothing. I think I’m being shunned because I’ve been helping you.”
Nate closed his eyes again. “Where are you now?”
“On my way back to Savannah. I have the distinct feeling—”
“Uh-oh.” Cain tapped Nate’s shoulder and he opened his eyes to find Kells and Vane a few feet away, arms crossed, listening.
Fuuuuuck.
Kells focused his gray gaze on Nate. Kells didn’t need to say anything. His flared nostrils and narrowed eyes told Nate everything he needed to know about his boss’s rage level. And Vane’s smirk? That just made Nate want to use his fists.
“Rafe?” Kells spoke into Nate’s phone. “Distinct feeling about what?”
“Isabel, by manipulating Alex, has cut your force in half.”
* * *
When the dashboard clock told Allison it was almost one-thirty a.m., she stepped on the gas and passed the sign for 17 South. Emilie sat next to her, and Tarragon was curled up in the back seat. She’d refused to wear a seat belt, and Allison hadn’t fought her. At some point, they’d have to stop for gas and get directions to Iron Rack’s Gym.
Unfortunately, none of them had cell phones. If she
could find a gas station that sold burner phones, maybe she could call the gym and let Nate know what had happened. Thank God she’d kept her purse in the car. If she’d not had a wallet, they’d be in even more trouble.
And the fact that Laertes was the warrior she’d met seven years ago in New Orleans? Almost too insane to accept.
“Allison?” Emilie sorted through the appendix pages on her lap. “If we want to save my brother, do we really have to find a pirate king’s treasure?”
“Yes.” She passed a truck and returned to her lane. Now she remembered why she hated this road: no streetlights. She turned her beams on high.
“How?”
Allison stopped at a stoplight and took out her homemade Pirate’s Grille. “When you place this over the appendix pages, the cutouts expose a hidden message in the text.”
Emilie shoved the documents back into the envelope and opened the book. “This is insane.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t work.” The light turned green, and Allison stepped on the gas again. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I haven’t even asked you—”
“I’m fine.” Emilie flipped a few of the book’s pages. “I was terrified, of course. And I’m sure, once we save my brother, I’ll cry for days. But until we save Zack, I’m solid.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Tarragon made a croaking sound from the back seat. She’d moved forward to stare at the book in Emilie’s lap. Emilie handed her a water bottle Allison had in the car.
Allison noticed a sign for a gas station. “Are either of you hungry?”
Tarragon nodded and drank her water.
Emilie wrinkled her nose. “I’d love to get a toothbrush and maybe some deodorant.”
“We’ll get whatever you need.” Allison pulled into the station, parked the car in front of a pump, and glanced in the rearview mirror. Tarragon had laid down again. “I have some extra T-shirts in the trunk, if you don’t mind wearing a photo of my dog.”
“I’ll wear anything as long as it’s clean.” Emilie opened her door, got out, and stretched.
Allison came around and gave Emilie a hug. “We were so worried.”
Emilie hugged back. “I’m so grateful you found me.”
There’d been no time for any kind of emotion, and Allison was beginning to feel tired and headachy, probably the letdown from the adrenaline and stress.
She popped the trunk and grabbed a bag filled with T-shirts. “I’ll get some things from the convenience store. Pick whatever T-shirt you want. While I’m inside, can you watch over Tarragon?”
“Of course.”
Allison found her purse and went into the store. A few minutes later, she emerged with four bags filled with supplies. She handed one to Emilie. “Toothbrush, toothpaste, liquid soap, deodorant, and a brush. I also bought some food and scored a burner phone.”
Emilie clutched the bag and a pink Nicholas Trott T-shirt to her chest. “Tarragon went to the bathroom while you were inside and is asleep again. I’ll be right back.”
Allison started filling up the car’s tank and checked on Tarragon again. She’d slipped a blue Nicholas Trott T-shirt over her nightgown. Sighing, Allison leaned against the car door and dialed 411 on the burner phone. Luckily, they were able to connect her to Iron Rack’s gym.
“Hello?” The male voice sounded hesitant and stressed.
“Hi, uh, this is Allison. Is Nate there?”
“Thank God.” The man’s exhale carried through the line. “I’m Nate. Where are you?”
“We’re forty minutes away, I think.”
“We?”
“I have Zack’s sister, Emilie, with me, and another woman named Tarragon. She was tortured by Remiel and captured by the Fianna. I also think the Fianna have Zack and the other men.”
“Allison? Listen to me,” Nate said in a firm-yet-gentle voice. “I need you to drive safely for forty minutes. Can you do that?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Are the Fianna following you?”
“No. They let us go because Alex offered himself to the Prince in exchange for our release. But they took our cell phones.”
“Wow. Okay. Was not expecting that. Here’s the address.” Nate rattled directions, and she wrote them down on the back of a Nicholas Trott greeting card she found in her purse.
“Got it,” she said. “I’m leaving now.”
“You can do this. We’ll find Zack and all will be well. I promise.”
His voice, so calm and confident, eased her racing heart. Her “thank you” came out in a rush of gratitude.
Once she hung up, she finished pumping the gas and Emilie appeared wearing the T-shirt and a big smile.
Allison twisted on the gas cap. “It always feels good to brush your teeth, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” Emilie got into the car and dropped her bag into the back seat.
Allison slid behind the wheel. “I called Nate. It’s going to be okay.”
Emilie nodded and Tarragon moaned in her sleep. Allison drove out of the station and turned the radio to something classical to keep everyone—including herself—calm.
All will be well.
Just as she settled into a good speed and her eyes readjusted to the shadowy road, she noticed a large SUV with its flashers on stopped in the middle of the road.
Had there been an accident?
Emilie reached for the dashboard. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Allison shifted into reverse just as a truck tapped her bumper from behind. The SUV drove closer until her car was trapped.
Tarragon sat up, and Emilie pulled the tire iron from beneath her seat.
Allison, blinded by the headlights, drove forward and back in short increments, trying to maneuver a way out. “Where—”
“I took it out while you were in the station.” Emilie’s voice sounded strained.
Emilie’s window smashed and she fell over onto Allison’s lap. Someone had broken the passenger side window with a sledge hammer. Allison stepped on the gas until the driver’s side window exploded. The force threw her to the side, and she landed on top of Emilie.
Although Allison was dazed and covered with shattered safety glass, she was aware enough to realize someone was carrying her out of the car.
“Put Allison in the SUV,” a familiar voice said. “You take the other two.”
“Did you find anything?” The female voice cut through the sounds of boots crunching broken glass on the road.
Isabel?
“There’s a tote bag on the front seat.” The familiar male voice again.
Allison kicked at the man shoving her into the car. He threw her face-first onto the seat and bound her hands behind her back. When she fought, someone gagged her.
She choked and struggled to sit up. Through the window, she saw another guard locking Emilie and Tarragon into the pickup truck. Just before the guard blindfolded Allison, she noticed something else. Isabel stood in a circle of headlights. She wore black combat pants, a tan T-shirt, and her hair had been pulled into a tight bun. Besides her gun holstered on her waist, she held the tote bag with Allison’s research and was talking to a man in jeans and a black motorcycle jacket.
Clayborne Fenwick. Her uncle. Her father’s murderer.
Chapter 41
Isabel held the tube with the Pirate’s Grille in one hand and, with her other, laid out everything from the tote bag on the hood of the car.
“So.” Clayborne held the flashlight for her. “You didn’t destroy the Pirate’s Grille.”
She ignored him. She had everything she needed now. Allison was trussed up in the back, and the other two women were in the truck. Isabel hoped that receiving Tarragon and Emilie would appease Remiel until she found the treasure.
She and Clayborne had followed Marcellus into Pirate House and heard the exchange between Alex and the warriors. She could’ve made herself known, but she decided her best chance of finding the treasure did not include open confrontation with two Fianna warriors. Her best chance lay with following the women.
Clayborne moved his flashlight beam over the papers. “Attaching a tracking device to Allison’s car was a brilliant idea.”
Isabel glanced at him. Did he not realize that this was why she was the boss? “I did that when Allison parked on her street during the fire. I figured if she took off suddenly—like she did tonight—it meant she found something.”
Isabel was grateful the device had worked. The other thing she was grateful for? Everything in the tote bag including duct tape, scissors, a history book, and the witch’s examination’s appendix pages. She even found a crude homemade Pirate’s Grille. From the way it was taped, it was off about an inch. But it was close.
“Well, aren’t you clever?” Isabel whispered to herself.
Allison made struggling sounds in the back seat, and Isabel nodded to one of the guards. He slapped her and she stopped moving.
“Be a good girl, Allison,” Isabel said loudly enough for the other woman to hear. “Or I’ll hand you over to Remiel when we’re done.”
Clayborne pointed to the Pirate’s Grille. “Do you know how this all works?”
“Yes.” She took out the original Pirate’s Grille and laid it over an appendix page, making sure to line up the broken daisies. “The holes in this grille aren’t symmetrical, so it can be turned over and upside down. Stuart told me to line up the broken daisy on the grille with the broken daisy on the appendix page to get the right alignment.”
A minute later, she put on her glasses and read the words showing through the grille’s mask. “‘I grieve for you, O Mary most sorrowful, in the affliction of your tender heart at the prophecy of the holy and aged Simeon.’”
Clayborne leaned over to see. “What the hell?”
Isabel covered the second appendix page with the grille and read, “‘I grieve for you, O Mary most sorrowful, in the anguish of your most affectionate heart during the flight into Egypt and your sojourn there.’”