“O-okay.”
“I love you, Camille. I love you more than anything on this earth.”
“I love you, too. Please be careful. I’ll be waiting.”
“My plane’s about to take off. See you soon, pretty girl.”
It was the last time she ever spoke to him. That phone call haunted Camille Truing for forty years. Until the day she stepped out on the front stoop of the brownstone owned by her son and stared at a man she hadn’t seen since most perfect day of her life.
“Hello, Camille.”
“Glenn?” She twisted the pearl ring she’d never taken off since the man she loved placed it there. “Glenn Hanauer? What…what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you, Camille. It’s important.”
The way he said the words told her that her suspicions and doubts weren’t in her head. Years of depression and therapy and medication to keep her from living in the past were overlooking one truth nothing could shake from her mind.
Noah Winters’ family murdered him.
“Come inside.” Turning sharply, she slammed into the house and up the stairs to her apartment. Slamming the door behind her lover’s best friend, she hissed, “Nice of you to drop the fuck by four decades later, Glenn. Just passing through? Thought you’d look up an old friend?”
“I can explain.”
“Yes, you damn well will explain. Sit down. I’ll make tea.”
For three months after Noah’s death, everyone told her she was crazy. When she found out she was pregnant, everyone called her a slut. Her family disowned her. Her school expelled her. She scratched and clawed to survive as a person, failing herself and her children.
Every strange setback, she thought, “They’re still after me.” She was labeled delusional and paranoid so she stopped talking about her suspicions to therapists.
The appearance of Noah Winter’s best friend after all this time put every cell in her body on high alert. Returning to the living room with a tray of tea and cookies, she put it down on the table and stood with her arms crossed.
“Why are you here?”
“I’ve been assigned to protect you.”
Dropping into a chair, she stared at him. “Protect me from what?”
Resting his elbows on his knees, he raked his hands through dark red hair that was still too shaggy. He lifted his green eyes and stared at her. “I lost track of you. I swore I’d keep you safe but…you disappeared.”
“I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“I had to protect my child.” She watched him, tapping her finger on the arm of the chair. “Why now?”
“He put you back on his game board.”
“Who?”
“Don’t pretend not to know. You’ve always known.”
“Winston Winters.”
“Yes.”
She stood up and went to her cell phone. Dialing the first number, she waited.
“Mother.”
“Hello, Hudson.” She swallowed hard and stared through the sun-dappled windows to gather her thoughts. “I-I need to see you. Can you stop by?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Things I thought were long resolved. Will you come?”
“On my way. Tell me what this is about.”
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Your father’s family. Looks like I’m on the hit list again.”
“I will kill them all.”
“First, come for tea.”
Violin
Seattle - September 1980
If the woman never visited, he might not have known. She was an aunt to one of the men within his father’s security force. An older woman with kind brown eyes. She came to see the couple’s infant daughter and help the new mother.
Her time on the estate lasted two weeks. Every morning, she sat on the back porch of the snug cottage to drink her coffee. She chatted with people who passed on the walkway between each residence.
It was the music which drew him. From across the barracks, the sound carried on the still morning air. He followed it on her first morning and hid in the shrubs between each property.
He didn’t approach her, he didn’t speak. He knew better. Penance wasn’t worth it.
Then one day, he watched her hold it, her hands moving over it, the sounds drifting from it. He wanted the instrument in his own hands.
Unable to control his body, he made his way to her. She stopped playing with a smile.
“Do you play?” He shook his head. “Do you know what this is?” When he didn’t reply, she said, “It’s a violin. Here.” She held it out but he didn’t take it. He wanted to. Badly. “Go on. It’s alright.”
The moment his fingers touched the wood, there was a small shift inside him. As if something moved aside to make room for it. He held it the way she had. He lifted the stick she used. He tested the notes for several minutes, his eyes closed.
Then he started to play. In all nine years of his life, it was the only true peace he’d ever known. No matter what, he needed to find a way to have that feeling within HIS power, within HIS control.
He made a plan to steal her instrument, willing to take the penance, knowing it would be worse than any before it.
She called him over on her last day and handed him another violin. “This one isn’t fancy but it makes beautiful music all the same. Use it well, Elijah. You have a gift. Such an amazing gift. I wish I could see it grow.”
The woman left and he never saw her again...but the instrument was in his possession until he was seventeen.
The year everything changed. The year penance was delivered on the person who earned it most.
Sacrifice
South Florida – June 1984
Maggie left the hotel with her camera and let Dalia sleep.
She’d always been a morning person and the beaches of South Florida called to her. Her best friend loved sleeping late.
She didn’t want to miss a single moment of their two weeks of freedom. Their families lived in Brooklyn and to say they were overprotective of their daughters was an understatement.
Picking up a coffee from the café in the lobby, she walked along the beach. Early mornings were quiet as the college kids who flocked here slept off their excess.
Done with her coffee, she stood watching the waves and snapping photos. She heard someone shouting and turned to see a big dog barreling in her direction. She froze a moment before it slammed into her, hitting the sand hard.
The dog proceeded to lick her entire face. Giggling madly, she was suddenly free and stared up at a man wearing an intense expression.
“I’m sorry. He’s normally not so wild. I didn’t see you or I wouldn’t have let him off the leash.”
She held out her hand and he helped her stand. “No harm done. He was drunk with freedom. I know how that can be. What’s his name?”
“Gallagher. It’s usually quiet this time of day. I thought he’d be good for a run.”
Brushing the sand off her sundress, she grinned. “It’s alright. I like dogs. I volunteer at a local shelter back home.”
“I’m Archer O’Connell.”
“Maggie, um…”
His smile was slow and she was struck stupid for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me your last name. I get it. You have to be safe.”
She laughed. “I’m the type to give total strangers all my information. Drives my mother nuts. Are you in college?”
“Do I look young enough for such a thing?” The dimples in his cheeks made her heart race. “I live here.”
“You look…” Delicious was the word that came to mind. “Fit and youthful.”
“How old are you, Maggie? Is there a parent nearby who’ll have me arrested for talking to you?”
It took a lot longer to get her giggles under control. “Twenty-two and perfectly legal. No parents in the state. I’m from Brooklyn.”
“I don’t hear Brooklyn.”
Hands on her hips, she affected the typical accent.
“Hey now, buddy! Whatcha mean you can’t hear it? Get the fuck outta here!”
“I stand corrected. Is that an Irish lilt I hear?”
“Born and raised for my first ten years of life. Your people Irish?”
“They are. I’m second generation. The Gaelic gets a little rusty.”
She rattled off in her native tongue, “A shame that. You have to maintain connection to your roots.” His eyes lit up and they carried on a conversation rarely possible with people outside her family. They walked his dog up the beach.
“Join me for breakfast.” She gestured to the happy dog. “We can sit outside at one of the beachside restaurants. They won’t mind my boy.”
For the first time in her young life, Maggie wanted a man. Her body was freaking out with the thought of him taking advantage of her in every awesome way possible.
He fed Gallagher pieces of his sausage and let him drink from a bottle of water. They sat together talking for hours.
At one point, the waitress mentioned her camera and offered to take a photo. Gallagher wanted to get in on the action as well and soon Maggie off on another laughing tangent.
“I need to get him home. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll drive you back to your hotel?”
The expression he wore told her exactly what was in his mind and she was on board. “Alright.”
He paid the check and they walked back up the beach to his Land Rover. Gallagher jumped in the back and sat obediently. “I don’t live far.”
A few minutes later, he pulled into a stunning property facing the water. “You live here?”
“I do. I own a shipping company with my best friend.” He glanced at her with a grin. “We do okay.”
She laughed. “No need to sell me on it. I was sold when I saw how you were with your dog.”
“That’s all it took?” His eyes sparkled with humor.
“What can I say? I’m easy.”
His expression turned serious. “Somehow, I seriously doubt that, Maggie.” He opened his door and told her to wait. Walking around, he handed her out and didn’t let go as he led her up the steps.
The tour of the house ended in his bedroom and she gave in to every impulse she’d ever denied. She let him make love to her, blushed brightly when he realized he was her first, and tried to keep her shyness in check while he demonstrated what all the fuss was about.
Hours later, she laid on her stomach with her head resting on her crossed arms. “Do you do this a lot?”
He didn’t open his eyes but smiled softly. “Do you want me to lie?”
“Nope. I’m under no illusions. I imagine we college girls are easy pickings.” She lifted, resting her head in her hand. “Thanks for making it good. I was nervous about it.”
He turned to look at her. “What made you decide I was worthy?” The question was filled with sincerity.
“You’re good-looking, polite, have a dog, didn’t live far, and you didn’t make me feel weird or act creepy.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I found myself with a rare opportunity of privacy from my best friend, without a time I needed to be back for family dinner, no classes to make. Kind of the perfect storm for casual sex.”
Rolling, he pushed her to her back. “Are you sore?” She shook her head. “You’re not telling the truth.”
She tugged her lip between her teeth.
“Do you want me to fuck you again anyway?” She nodded and he chuckled. “I pride myself on being the perfect gentleman. As the lady desires.”
By late afternoon, he’d made love to her three times. Their last time together, the condom broke and she refused to let panic ruin her perfect day.
It was the first time she felt like a grown woman.
She showered and got dressed. He drove her back to her hotel and kissed her passionately before she got out of his SUV.
“You know where to find me Maggie. Thank you for a spectacular day.”
“Thank you for taking the fear out of it. Bye, Archer.”
She waved at him again before walking through the hotel doors. The moment she was out of sight of the street, she took off running. Too impatient for the elevator, she ran up three flights. Busting into the room she shared with Dalia startled a scream from the woman who was more like a sister.
They stared at each other for almost a minute before Dalia put her hand on her hip. “You lost it, didn’t you?”
“I did.” They talked rapidly for a while but Maggie withheld the name of her first lover. It was something she wanted for herself. No matter what her friend tried, she kept the secret.
She was still sore. She liked that she could still sort of feel him inside her.
After a long shower and more grilling, they spent the rest of the day at the pool.
Three days later, she let Dalia drag her out dancing. Leaving one of the clubs along the beach, they stopped for food. Maggie knew within an hour she’d eaten something she shouldn’t have.
“Don’t let me ruin the night for you. There’s a great club on the first floor of our hotel. You dance. Have fun, I’ll be fine.”
* * *
The following morning, waking late and feeling a little better, she managed to sip some ginger ale. Food poisoning and ragged sleep meant it took her a little while to register Dalia hadn’t slept in her bed.
Instantly panicked, she showered and got dressed. Making her way downstairs, she checked the pool area before asking the concierge if he’d seen her.
“She said to tell you to meet her up the street if you were up to it.” He gave her the name of the bistro.
Maggie walked quickly up the block already swarming with partying college kids.
Pushing into the dim space, she looked around for Dalia and found her across the room at a table with two men. Their backs were to her but her friend waved her over happily.
“I was worried about you.”
“You always worry. Let me introduce you. This is Archer and his best friend Edward.”
Turning as the men stood, she met Archer’s eyes and saw his internal panic. Crushing down every emotion in her brain, she held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Dalia chattered on as she smiled carefully and took the fourth chair. “You and Edward have everything in common. When Archer told me about him, I knew you needed to meet. We thought we could all go to dinner tonight and maybe go dancing. Doesn’t that sound great?”
After placing her order through lips gone strangely numb, she excused herself to go to the restroom. Dalia insisted on joining her.
She started talking before Maggie could get the stall door closed. “What do you think? I know it’s fast. I know. I saw an opportunity and took it but…I really, really like him, Maggie. Is that crazy?”
In the small space, she wiped her tears and said quietly, “It’s not crazy. He seems nice.”
“Right?” She could hear Dalia’s smile in her voice. “He dances like a dream. That’s how I met him. Dancing last night. I could spend the rest of my life in his arms. In every way if you get my meaning.”
She listened as her friend washed her hands.
“I bet you’ll hit it off with Edward. How awesome would that be, Mags? For us to marry best friends and get to spend our lives together?”
Holy fucking hell.
A New Friend
London - August 1985
Sometimes, when really bad things happened, it made you realize what you were made of.
Then again, sometimes, you got your ass kicked.
Max Scottsdale was preparing for yet another ass kicking.
He always fought back but it usually didn’t do any good. Not very big, if only one boy attacked, he could hold his own most of the time.
These boys never went after him one at a time.
“Fuckin’ pretty boy. Look like a little Nancy girl!”
The biggest and meanest boy in the orphanage taunted him in such ways often. A bulging, unattractive child with strange rat-like teeth, George also
performed poorly in academics and had a violent streak that caused the other orphans to tremble in fear when he got too close.
He had a particular problem with the boy the orphanage officials used to secure more funding and get potential parents through the front doors.
Even at seven, Max understood the other boy’s motivation was jealousy because he was pretty. Abnormally so in comparison to the other kids and it made him stand out. It caused him constant problems with other boys especially.
Max did not want to be pretty. He wanted to be a badass.
“You shoulda been a girl, huh, Maxwell? A pretty little girl with yer big blue eyes an’ pretty hair.”
He was so sick of this shit. “Sounds like you wish I was a girl, ya fuckin’ wanker.” Then he spit between George’s feet.
The moment they moved for him, Max braced himself.
“Mess up yer pretty face! That’s what I’ll do, pretty boy!”
“No. You won’t.”
George turned in confusion and was punched in the mouth by a boy.
A boy as pretty as Max…but he was a badass.
The first was followed by a second from the other hand and the bully hit the dirt hard. His two friends charged and Max tripped one of them as he ran by. Once he was on the ground, he pulled back his leg and kicked him in the stones like he was going for a goal.
Short work was made of the last boy with two punches to the gut and Max stared in surprise at the three of them moaning on the ground. For the first time in almost a year, he was going to walk away from a confrontation. No running. No limping.
He was able to walk away.
He lifted his eyes and met a pair equally as lovely as his own in a rich shade the color of raw honey. A little taller and definitely more muscled than Max was, the boy had hair all different browns from light to dark.
“Micah Chadwick.” The bigger boy held out his hand.
Grinning, Max took it. “Max Scottsdale.”
“Look at us. In a place like this, it’s a curse to look like an angel.” Nodding his head at the bullies, he asked, “They mess with you a lot then?”
The Barter System Companion: Volume One Page 2