by Sharon Wray
“That’s absurd.” Kells went back to his desk. “What we do is classified. What goes on between Remiel and the Prince has to remain secret.”
“Secrets are keeping us, and the people we love, in danger. Secrets are coming between the men in the unit, which makes things even more volatile. And I’m just as guilty. I kept secrets from you. I knew you didn’t want me in Charleston watching Allison. When I needed your help, I didn’t ask for it because I knew you’d say no.”
Kells crossed his arms over his chest. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Zack moved to the front of the desk. “I have to leave.”
“Time-out.” Nate waved a hand between Kells and Zack and spread the financial documents on the desk. He pointed to a line at the bottom of a page. “Isabel had over three million dollars in this account. She had no family, yet look at the name of her beneficiary.”
When they all squinted, Kells pulled out a magnifying glass and held it over the name.
Vivienne Beaumont. “Why would Isabel Rutledge leave her money to my godmother?”
“Interesting question.” Kells’s phone rang and he answered with a curt, “Hello.”
A minute later, he hung up. “That was Detective Garza. Isabel Rutledge is dead.”
* * *
Isabel was dead?
Alex exhaled the breath he’d been holding since discovering that Kells knew Remiel was alive years before getting Alex out of prison. Sure, Alex figured Kells hadn’t run to the prison. Hell, even Aidan hadn’t given a shit.
Still, knowing he’d been in prison years longer than necessary hurt. A lot.
But his ability to feel self-pity meant he was still alive. Unlike Isabel.
“What happened?” Nate asked.
“Garza went back to the isle to make sure things were…clean. That’s when he found Isabel’s body in a desecrated tomb. She’d been left near a weeping angel statue. She’s at the morgue. His guess is poison.”
Alex closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. No one deserved a death by Remiel.
“Good God,” Nate whispered. “That’s monstrous.”
Hence why I tried to kill him, brother.
Kells pointed to the financial sheet again. “This has left Vivienne Beaumont an even richer woman. Garza is leading Isabel’s death investigation, so you may want to talk to Vivienne.”
“I will,” Zack said.
Alex rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t liked Isabel, but he had slept with her. Despite her evil tendencies, she hadn’t deserved this. The truth was this chaos wasn’t about Kells and the Prince. This chaos was all about Remiel. What Remiel wanted. Who Remiel hated. When Remiel would strike next. That was a lesson Isabel had learned the hard way. That was a lesson Alex was worried Kells and his men had yet to understand.
“Zack?” Alex stood. “I know you want out. I know you’re pissed at Kells. Hell, I’ve been pissed at Kells since I was sixteen. But you can’t leave the unit.”
“Alex—”
“No.” Alex pressed his fist against Zack’s chest. “I understand you want to go to Charleston, maybe even Virginia, with Allison. I also know that leaving the unit down one man could make Kells’s operation crash and burn. But I have a plan. I promise, when I’m finished, it’s an idea that’ll work for all of us.”
Chapter 52
Allison sat at her desk in the Pinckney House study and wiped her palms on her jeans. It’d been ten days since her ordeal, and she and Zack were in Charleston—temporarily.
Although she was happy, she still felt detached from everything and everyone. Including Zack. He’d been kind and gentle with her distance, but she could tell from his frowns that she’d used up his patience allotment. The problem was she didn’t know what was wrong with her. Since the fire, she felt like a daisy petal floating on a breeze—unable to land yet unable to return to what she’d once been.
It didn’t help that not only had she not decided whether or not to take her UVA offer, but she wasn’t sure about Alex’s alternative plan either. That left Zack in a difficult position with his men. It wasn’t fair of her, but until this detachment disappeared, she couldn’t fix it and they couldn’t move forward.
Her brother-in-law, Lawrence, sat in a chair, and Zack stood in the corner, near the window overlooking the garden. Nicholas Trott lay in his bed. Since their return, the dog hadn’t left their side. Loud noises outside proved that the new gardening staff Lawrence had hired were helping the grounds recover from months of neglect.
“So we’re agreed.” She opened the social calendar she kept for the house. “Zack and I will live here until we decide what to do next. In return, I’ll help manage Pinckney House’s social calendar. Participation in the Autumn Garden Festival, the Haunted Mansion Tour—”
“Is this place haunted?” Zack winked at Allison and she tried not to laugh.
“Of course it is,” Lawrence said. “It’s why I started my Got Ghosts? tour company.”
She continued, “The Historic Home Tour and the annual reception for the Charleston Architectural Board. They’re both held in the garden in September. Once I move out and you move in”—she turned to December and January—“there’s the Christmas Historic Home Tour, the neighborhood’s New Year’s Progressive Dinner, and the Robert Burns Society Supper.”
Lawrence grimaced. “Okay.”
“After that, I haven’t committed the house to anything. Although if you don’t open the gardens on the Fourth of July, the mayor will be upset. He loves Nicholas Trott’s punch.”
Lawrence scoffed. “The dog makes punch?”
“No.” She ignored Zack’s laughter. “It’s a punch named after Nicholas Trott. Once Nicholas Trott walks in the parade, people come to the garden, where we serve punch and the dog poses for selfies. Last year I sold tote bags, the year before that coffee mugs, and the year before that note cards. All profits were given to the Charleston Public Library.” She closed her planner and stood. “We’re done. Are you staying for the party tonight?”
“No.” Lawrence stood and straightened his suit jacket. “Have you set a date?”
“Not yet,” Zack said harshly.
The lack of a wedding date was another source of friction between them. She exhaled and handed Lawrence his briefcase.
Lawrence took it and paused. “I’m not supposed to tell you this because Rue wanted to speak to you first. It’s something the auditor found.”
Rue had taken Fenwick’s disappearance hard, especially after learning that he’d been accused of murder and arson and no one knew if he’d return. When Allison had seen Rue a few days ago, she’d seemed less…angry. “What did he find?”
Lawrence opened his briefcase, took out a form, and handed it to her.
It was a copy of the spreadsheet Mack had given them. “I’ve seen this before. Rue asked Stuart to help her move money.”
“Stuart also moved his own money into the account.”
“Money he took out of the trust?”
“Only the money that belonged to him. He was protecting it.” Lawrence pointed to the bottom number with many zeroes. “Half of that is yours. Your mother is stopping by my office today, and together we’ll move your money into whatever account you’d like. Apparently, Rue had been looking for this document.”
Allison had been right. That was why Rue had been searching Pirate House.
“I don’t understand.” It wasn’t a huge amount, but it would help her renovate Pirate House or move to Virginia. “Why would Stuart do this?”
“Stuart wanted to shield his money to protect you.” Lawrence took the document and shoved it into his bag. “And for some reason, he trusted Rue.”
After Lawrence left, Zack took her hands. “Despite his mistakes, Stuart was a good man.”
And he’d loved her.
&
nbsp; “Come on.” Zack, still holding her hand, dragged her out of the study. “There’s something we need to do before the party.”
She tried to stop him but he was too strong. “What?”
“Say goodbye.”
* * *
Zack was worried.
For all of Allison’s kisses and the time he’d spent in her bed, she refused to set a wedding date or talk about that job at UVA. While it was true Stuart had died only a few months ago, they hadn’t been truly married for years. Zack wasn’t asking her to marry him tomorrow, although that’d be fine with him; he just wanted any date. In the future. On the calendar. In permanent marker.
And screw what the rest of the world thought.
He took Allison’s hand and led her through Saint Philip’s east churchyard. In his other hand, he carried her tote bag filled with Danny’s treasure box, a trowel, and small pots of daisies he’d gotten from Pastor Tom. Pastor Tom had been released from the hospital and gone back to giving sermons and watering the cemetery.
When Zack had spoken to Vivienne about the money Isabel had left her, she’d deflected by telling him that on the day after Stuart’s service, after the storm ended, she’d overseen the placement of Stuart’s gravestone.
Zack stopped in front of Danny’s grave and started digging, being careful not to disturb the violets.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
When the hole was large enough, he placed the treasure box in it and covered it with dirt. “Letting Danny go.” Zack glanced up at her and saw her wiping away tears. “It’s time.”
She nodded and helped him replant the purple flowers.
When they were done, Zack moved to the tomb next to Danny’s. Plastic still covered the headstone, held down along the edges with stones. Rainwater filled the dips and valleys in the sheeting. The humidity beneath obscured the words. “You never spoke at Stuart’s service.”
Allison took the daisies out of the bag. “I had nothing to say. Especially after Isabel’s speech.”
Zack squeezed her hand. “If we’re going to have a life together, we owe it to ourselves to lay the past to rest.”
Another tear traced down Allison’s cheek and she wiped it away. “I loved Stuart, but I never should’ve married him. A Fianna warrior even tried to warn me.”
“Rafe told me that the previous Prince was not only a master manipulator, but he also knew this war was coming. He knew Mercy Chastain would play an important role, which was why he sent Laertes to warn you and discourage me. It wasn’t a message of truth—it was a message of war.”
“Laertes was correct. I made the wrong choice.”
“You can never defeat the impossibility of uncertainty.”
She rolled her eyes. “I still feel guilty about getting engaged to you so quickly.”
Yeah, he’d figured that was why she’d been so distant. “Stuart knew your heart wasn’t all yours to give. He knew you loved me too and still asked you to marry him. This is not all your fault.”
“I did love him too. Just not in the same way.”
Zack handed her a Nicholas Trott bandana so she could wipe her nose.
“Does that make me a terrible person?”
He smiled. “It makes you a woman with an enormous capacity to love. A woman who wanted all of the men in her life, including her brother, to be safe and happy. That’s a gift, Allison. It’s your truth. You need to accept that part of yourself.”
The tightness in her stomach eased and the invisible weight she’d been carrying lightened.
“Although, I think you should take Pete’s self-defense class for women.”
She smiled and wiped her face on his bandana again.
He knelt in front of the gravestone and smoothed the dirt. Although it’d been less than two weeks ago, the rain and humidity had encouraged the growth of morning glory vines and ivy. Palmettos grew beneath ancient oaks. Tiny birds hopped from headstone to flat tomb. “Why are the cemeteries in this city overgrown?”
“It’s part of the culture and history.” She knelt next to him. “Death is so disconcerting. A tear in the world that can’t be healed but can be covered up by flowers and trees. Nature provides the bandage for the wounds death leaves behind.”
He dug holes in the sandy soil. “I prefer to think they can’t pay their gardening staff.”
She laughed and wiped her forehead with her arm, leaving a streak of dirt across her face. Her smile lifted his heart and the fact that she was willing to do this meant she might be able to let go and accept the inevitable: He loved her. She loved him. They were getting married and would have an incredible life together. Whether they stayed in Charleston, moved to Virginia, or returned to Savannah.
They worked in silence until the daisies were planted. While he collected the pots, she gathered pine straw and used it to mulch the flowers.
He dumped the pots and trowel into the bag and removed the stones from the plastic sheeting. “Did you choose the headstone?”
“No.” She stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Lawrence ordered it.”
Zack stood next to her. “Ready?”
At her nod, he swept off the covering. A skull with wings had been carved into the top of the gray marble.
“A winged death’s head.” She traced the detailed edges. “It represents the soul’s flight to Heaven.”
Zack held her hand and read the inscription. Below Stuart’s name, birth and death dates, the stonemason had carved BELOVED BROTHER AND HUSBAND. Zack, still holding her hand, drew her around to the back of the tomb, where another inscription had been cut.
He read aloud: “‘Live in this fair world behind, honor’d, beloved, and, haply, one as kind.’”
Allison picked up a stone and placed it on top of the marble. “Now I can breathe. I feel alive. I feel whole.”
“So do I, love.” Zack grabbed the bag and led her out of the shadowed graveyard, toward Pirate House, shimmering in the daylight. “So do I.”
Chapter 53
A few hours later, Allison stood near the window in the drawing room of Vivienne’s mansion while Vivienne directed waitstaff, the string ensemble, florist, and caterer.
“You look beautiful.” Zack came up behind her and kissed her head. Nicholas Trott lay at her feet. After leaving the cemetery, they’d gone back to the house to shower and change. They’d had three hours before the party, and they’d barely made it.
“Thank you.” She blushed when she remembered their time in the shower together after she told him she’d declined the UVA offer. “Did you tell Alex that we agree with his plan?”
“Yes. We’ll tell the men later tonight.”
Through the window, she saw the strands of lights strung through the garden blink on.
Allison rested against Zack’s chest. “It’s sweet of Vivienne to hold this engagement party for us.”
“She’s been waiting for this for years. No doubt there’ll be showers and cocktail parties and oyster roasts.”
She kissed his chin. “Will you be okay with that?”
He kissed her cheek. “I don’t care as long as I don’t have to pay for it or dress for it.”
“Yet you do look nice when you dress up.” Tonight he wore light-weight black wool pants, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a red-and-blue silk tie. His long hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and only part of his tattoo could be seen over the collar. The clothes had, of course, come from Vivienne. She’d insisted that all of Zack’s men dress for the occasion.
“There you two are.” Vivienne swept into the room on gold Jimmy Choo heels and wearing a gold lace sheath hemmed below the knee. A sheer gold lamé jacket covered her shoulders, and a dazzling diamond-and-gold necklace matched the diamond drops in her ears.
Emilie came into the room in a stunning red silk halter dress and high heels decorate
d with sparkly straps. Her long black hair had been twisted into a complicated braided knot at the base of her neck. “Is there anything we can do?”
“No, dear. That’s why I hire help.” Vivienne drew Allison out of Zack’s arms. “Don’t wrinkle your dress. The guests will be arriving shortly.”
Allison smoothed down the skirt of her peach silk chiffon dress. With a full skirt, tight bodice, scooped neckline, and fluttery sleeves, she felt like a perfect picture of femininity on a hot summer’s night.
Vivienne went back to shut the doors so the four of them would be alone. “I want to talk about the money Isabel Rutledge left me.”
Zack frowned until Emilie gently touched his arm.
“Go ahead, Nénaine,” Emilie said. “We’re listening.”
Vivienne straightened her diamond necklace. Twice. “I was as surprised by the money as you were, Zachariah. Then Isabel’s solicitor—who does not work for Remiel—sent me a letter explaining things that happened when she was a young woman.”
“What—”
Vivienne held up a hand, interrupting Emilie. “Her letter was sent in confidence so I won’t share the details. Suffice it to say that when Remiel tortured his poor niece Tarragon, it brought up bad memories for Isabel. She started a getaway account. Isabel, knowing that her chances of leaving Remiel alive were small, willed the money to me with instructions to transfer the money to Tarragon. That money is now in a trust for Tarragon set up by the Fianna.”
“They’re no better than Remiel.” Zack said harshly.
“Not better, but different. I spoke to a warrior named Laertes assigned to watch over Tarragon. Tarragon is in Italy at a Fianna safe house, receiving medical care. Now she’ll have money of her own if she chooses to reenter the world.”
Emilie touched Vivienne’s hand. “Maybe Isabel wasn’t all evil.”