Forsaken Duty, The Red Team Series, Book 9

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Forsaken Duty, The Red Team Series, Book 9 Page 3

by Elaine Levine


  “Why?”

  “I told you. It’s time for me to bow out. Go talk to her.”

  Addy was alerted about her visitor by a phone call from the butler. He was here. Owen Tremaine. Her brother had brought him despite her wishes. Despite everything Owen had done to her.

  Jax only this morning said he trusted Owen, but Addy still didn’t.

  She wasn’t a fool—she’d known it would be only a matter of time before he’d come to gloat. She’d had years to prepare for this, and still she was unready. She changed her clothes, put some jewelry on, and pulled on the wig that best represented what her hair had looked like before it all fell out. She was presentable, but nowhere near ready. She went down her wing and out to the grand entryway that took up two floors and an entire tower of the mansion.

  She saw Owen. He was tall and blond, looking at the paintings that filled the formal entryway like a gallery, paintings she no longer even noticed. He must have heard her, for he looked up. She almost ran back to her room. His face was battered. Who would dare to do that?

  What had changed in the Omni world that brought him here?

  She regained her composure quickly and continued down the marble stairs. She stepped off the bottom stair and paused, studying him, wondering what his presence meant. She felt outside of herself. He was here. Owen. The boy she’d worshiped as a girl, the guy she’d fantasized about as a teenager, the man she’d known as a woman, the monster she now hated. He was here, following her from the foyer into the blue salon.

  Standing in the middle of the room, she faced him. For a moment, they just glared at each other. His eyes were still the pale blue she remembered—colder maybe. She squared her shoulders.

  He lifted his hand, letting his palm touch her face. She waited for the pain, waited for him to dig his fingers into her skin, waited for him to bare his teeth as he spewed vile words. The threats. The—

  “Laidy.” His voice broke on the nickname he’d given her decades ago, a play on her name that he’d used when he’d pretended to be her knight in shining armor. He caught her face in both hands. His nostrils flared. “My Laidy.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  Tears filled her eyes. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, at first to keep him from ripping at her face, then to feel his hands, remember for an instant the man she’d thought he was. How she wished things were different.

  He dropped his hands and wavered on his feet, then pivoted and walked out of the salon, out of the foyer, letting the big front door slam behind him.

  All the air she hadn’t dared breathe left her in a rush. She stood there, frozen… Too soon, he came back in.

  “Your brother’s leaving,” Owen said.

  “Wendell comes and goes as he pleases.” Apparently, Owen was staying.

  She stepped away, dragging two fingers across the back of the sofa, grounding herself as she strolled around the outer rim of the room toward a credenza with a tray of glasses and a couple of cut crystal decanters. The sofa wasn’t much protection, but it was something between her and him, something more than a few feet of air.

  She’d kept Balcones on hand ever since her brother had begun staying here off and on. Not because he liked it, but because he’d said Owen did. She was, as always, torn between yearning for the boy she’d worshiped and the thing he’d become.

  “Care for a glass of whiskey?” she asked.

  Owen stood in the middle of the room, watching her. “You have Balcones?”

  “I do. Wendell prefers it.”

  Addy kept her back to Owen, using it as a shield to hide the fact that her hands shook as she poured out two fingers into a small whiskey glass. She took a couple of fortifying breaths, to steady herself before delivering his glass. He didn’t know that she knew all about him. Sometimes words were the only shield a person had. Not space or time or the bliss of a forgetful memory; no, words were all that could keep a person sane.

  She gestured toward a slipcovered white armchair, offering him a seat. She took its mate, thankful for the cherry table separating the two chairs.

  Owen did not sit down. He threw back his whiskey, then glared at her as he slammed the glass on the table. He straightened and shook his head. She held her composure together through sheer will and long years of practice.

  “Why are you here, Owen?”

  The question made his eyes widen. The violence in his gaze hit her like a physical blow. Perhaps she should bow and show him the deference he surely felt he deserved. Her husband had made her do that often enough that it held little meaning for her.

  A harsh laugh broke from him. He grabbed his glass and walked over to the credenza to pour himself another. He didn’t drink it, though. He just stared into the middle of it.

  Why was he angry with her? Hadn’t she done everything they’d ever asked of her, ever forced on her? She’d given her husband two sons. Maybe Owen was angry because she drew the line at the Omnis taking her boys. Maybe he was angry because she’d reached out to her father. Interacting with the outside world was strictly forbidden once you were inside the Omnis. Maybe he refused to recognize the settlement Wendell had brokered for her. Maybe he wanted this property back.

  He could have it all. But not her sons. Never her sons.

  Owen stared into the amber liquid. He’d lost his balance. The woman in this room with him now was no one he knew. She was cold and composed and distant. He’d given up his whole life for her, and she felt nothing for him. Jax had said the Omnis had fucked her over. What she was now was Owen’s fault. He should have known the extent of the games the Omnis played, even a decade ago. He’d been raised in their shadow.

  He looked at Addy. How the hell did one communicate with someone under these circumstances? He didn’t know her, though they shared their childhoods. Part of them, anyway.

  Maybe he should just accept that she was a stranger. A dying stranger. Maybe she was like someone who’d suffered a traumatic brain injury and had lost access to her memories. Maybe the brainwashing they’d done on her was the same level as a brain injury.

  He went back over to her, tamping his anger down. No matter how this played out, anger—and a general loss of self-control—would not assist him now. He sat on the sofa and faced her. Her features were carefully arranged in a serene mask. Her composure made him feel like a deranged asshole. How many of those had she seen in the last decade that facing one now was routine for her?

  Start at the beginning, he supposed, at the point where they lost themselves. “Tell me what you remember about the day you were taken,” he said.

  Pain flicked through the edges of her eyes. Her gaze slipped to his mouth, then his chin, then the hand that held his whiskey. She shook her head. “No. I have no desire to slip back into those days.”

  “Tell me about our son.”

  She gasped. “He’s not your son. He’s mine.”

  Owen drew a long breath, centering himself. “He’s my flesh and blood too.”

  “We were together one night, Owen. It’s not enough to conceive.”

  “Once is all it takes. You’ll remember the condom I used broke.” She waved that away with a flash of her hand, but he persisted. “Jax collected Augie’s DNA. I am his father.”

  Addy’s eyes widened. Her nostrils flared on a broken gasp. “Is that why…is that why they took him?”

  “I don’t know why they took him. It could be.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I believe he’s with a group of boys who live inside the Omni world. These boys are called watchers. Their group is a pride. This particular pride is run by a boy named Lion. He’s a strong leader. If Augie is in Lion’s pride, then he’s in as good a place as can be until we retrieve him.”

  She stared at him, then blinked. Her gaze darted about him, the sofa, the room as if energy was zinging around inside her like a tiger in a cage four sizes too small. “Wendell mentioned his theory that Augie had been taken into one of the watcher groups. I didn’t know it had been
confirmed.” She lifted her crystalline blue eyes to his. “He said they named him Beetle. I wonder why?”

  “It seems all the boys in prides get animal or insect names. Perhaps it has to do with a certain trait of theirs or a role the pride needs to have filled.” Did she really not know these things…or was she playing a role to throw him off some scent?

  “Why did you name your son after me if you didn’t know he was mine?” Owen asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Defiance, perhaps.”

  Her eyes came back to his. Each time they did, a frisson slipped across his skin and down his spine. It was uncanny, as if, while the shell of her still looked like the woman he knew, the soul of her had been swapped out for someone else’s. Who was this woman sitting before him?

  “Of course, that was before I understood who you were,” she said.

  Owen frowned. “Who am I?”

  She gave him a cryptic little smile then stood. “Why are you here, Owen?”

  She’d make a helluva politician, so expert was her ability to say nothing. He stood as well, and when she started to move toward the door, he caught her arm at the crook of her elbow. Because he was touching her, he felt her whole body stiffen. He didn’t let her go. Instead, he turned her to face him.

  “We’re not finished.”

  She didn’t speak. Didn’t resist. Her face resumed its blank mask as she silently regarded him. Owen had no idea what was happening inside her head…as was no doubt her intention.

  “I’m here because of you,” he said. The shadows had deepened around her eyes. She looked exhausted.

  Her brows lifted. “Oh. Why?”

  Why? Fucking why? Because she was his life. Though he’d believed she’d been killed a decade ago, she was still his first and last thought every day. She was the meter he’d measured every other woman by. She was why, though he might have accepted a sex partner in his life, he’d never loved anyone again.

  She was as much a part of him as he was.

  “How long are you staying?”

  He studied her eyes, seeing nothing in them he recognized. “I don’t know. Until Jax gets back, I guess.”

  She gave him a polite nod. “Then I’ll have a room made up for you.” She pulled free and walked out of the room, leaving him empty and confused and angrier than ever.

  4

  Addy made it out to the foyer and up the stairs, slipping behind a closed set of double doors leading into her wing of the house before collapsing against the moiré-papered wall, overtaken by the shakes. Her hands trembled. She flapped them about, releasing the energy pent up in her.

  The Owen she thought she knew, the man she remembered—the real one—was here. Here. In her house. She could almost believe in him again. He’d said he’d come for her. She imagined he was angry at losing her to the world beyond the Omnis. She closed her eyes and huffed a laugh. As if she could ever rejoin the real world. This half existence she lived between the Omnis and the outside world was the closest she could come to freedom.

  Maybe she’d never been in the real world at all.

  Her little boy poked his head out from one of the doors in her hallway. “Mommy?”

  “Troy.” She smiled at him.

  He ran toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  The question cut her to the quick. She was the one who should be worrying about him, not the other way around. She brushed his thick brown hair back from his forehead and smiled into his light brown eyes. “Of course. I’m fine. You needn’t worry about me.”

  His little face was starting to look more like a boy’s face and less like a toddler’s. He was almost six years old. Close to the age Augie was when they took him. A terrible thought occurred to her: had Owen come for Troy?

  “How are your studies going today?” she asked.

  He huffed an impatient sigh, his face contorted to show his exasperation. “We were learning to read this morning. I don’t like reading.”

  “That’s not true. You like it when I read to you.”

  “I have to go back to Ms. Denton. We’re on math now. Are you going to nap? You look tired.”

  Again her son was caring for his mother. It wasn’t fair at all that this was his life. “I am. We’ll play a little when I wake up.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later. Have a nice sleep.”

  She watched him head down the hall to his classroom. She missed Bonnie, the nanny and companion they’d had before her divorce. Addy wasn’t particularly fond of the tutor her brother had brought in, but she was giving the woman a chance. She was very stern and didn’t seem to enjoy children very much. But Troy was making progress with his studies.

  Addy wondered if there was any way she could keep Troy and Owen separate while he was staying here. That was probably a waste of energy. It wasn’t as if Owen didn’t know about her son. He knew everything.

  Owen lost track of how long he stood in the middle of Addy’s blue salon. Long enough, he supposed, for his room to be made up, as he learned from the butler, who introduced himself as Spencer Hudson.

  “I’ll escort you there now, if you like, sir.”

  Owen looked at him, wondering if he was a new hire or if he went back to the days of Omni employment. “Thank you.” They crossed the foyer and went to the east wing. “This is an unusual home to find in a location like this. Do you know its history?”

  “Oh, indeed. Mr. Winstead made his fortune in the 1849 gold rush in California. He became quite the industrialist and decided to build a monument to himself, an elegant place where he could entertain the nation’s elite. Being the businessman that he was, he decided to open the castle to wealthy travelers who came to take the waters and gentlemen who wished to hunt. Sadly, he only lived here a decade after it was completed. His heirs formalized this estate into a business, which continued until the Great Depression, when many of its clientele went belly up. Prohibition just about finished it off. It managed to limp along for another couple of decades until the Omnis bought it in the fifties. It was painstakingly restored to its original grandeur in the eighties.”

  “Have you worked here long?”

  “No. I started only a couple of years ago, after Ms. Jacobs’ divorce. Mr. Jacobs said you would like to look around. May I give you a tour? Or would you prefer to do a self-guided tour?”

  “I’d love a tour.” It would be a great chance to dig for some info on what was happening here…and what kind of security Jax had in place. Owen wished he had his own phone so he could test for wireless devices, which he had a strong suspicion were everywhere. Jax was no idiot. He said he had his own team. They had to be watching everything, like Owen’s crew did at Blade’s.

  “Very good, sir.” They went into one of the bedrooms. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting your things in your room. If you find you require anything that you forgot to bring, do let me know. Mr. Jacobs has offered you the use of anything in his closet. He’s also instructed me to tell you that you are free to explore the house and grounds as you like.”

  “I appreciate that. What time does Ms. Jacobs have supper?”

  “She eats early, sir. At six. She’s asked me to serve your meal in your room.”

  Owen smiled. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll join her in the dining room.”

  “As you wish. Shall we meet in the foyer in ten minutes?”

  “Sounds good.”

  The mansion, as Owen had observed from the air, was comprised of two wings terminating in round towers and joined at the center by a massive one where the main stairs were. Between the wings, facing south, was a conservatory that spanned two floors. It was original to the house and was still in working condition, with both ornamental and edible plants and a large center fountain.

  The restoration had returned the castle to its Victorian elegance—too ostentatious for his tastes, but much more luxurious than other mountain resorts built in the same era. This was no oversized log lodge. This mansion would have bee
n at home anywhere along most of the eastern seaboard.

  After a lengthy tour of the first floor, the basement—where the staff housing was—and the attic, which had amazing views of the surrounding terrain, they walked through the upper east wing. Most of the house was closed up, with sheets covering the furniture. It was a big place for just Addy and Jax.

  All along the tour, Spencer pointed out art by famous potters, sculptors, and painters. The collection was probably worth more than the mansion and grounds together were. Owen wondered if it was left over from the time of the Omnis. He was surprised they’d agreed to transfer ownership of it in whatever settlement Jax had negotiated for Addy…which made Owen wonder how fully this property was disconnected from the Omnis. Maybe not at all. Maybe it was only on loan. Maybe they were waiting for something before taking it from Addy…or taking Addy back into their custody. The Omnis never let go of what was theirs.

  And that made him wonder again which side of the fight Jax was on.

  They stopped at the closed doors to the west wing. “Sir, I feel we should conclude our tour here. The upper west wing contains Ms. Jacobs’ private quarters. She usually rests for a while in the afternoon. I would not like to disturb her.”

  “Of course. Thank you for the tour, Spencer.”

  Owen returned to his room and contemplated his next move. He thought about contacting his team, but discarded that. When they learned where he was, they wouldn’t waste time getting there. There were things he still needed to figure out here, like what kind of illness Addy had and if it was contagious. He couldn’t bring himself to say the C-word, but it was there, at the edges of his mind. Was her hair loss due to chemo? What had they tried as far as a medical intervention? This was too damned remote of a place to make full use of all an urban medical center could provide. Jax had said she was dying. Jesus, had they given up the fight already?

  How could she die when Owen had only just gotten here, when her son was still lost to her?

  Owen folded his arms as he looked outside at the wintry afternoon, deciding if he did nothing else before losing her again, he’d get their son back.

 

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