by Sharon Wray
After hearing the details, Philip smiled at Rafe through tight lips. “Do you have anything appropriate to wear?”
Calum answered first. “Rafe, the tailor will leave the clothes we ordered in the apartment. He has a key if you’re not home.”
Rafe nodded because there was nothing else to say. When Calum played chess, he moved all the pieces.
Philip’s phone dinged. “I have to get to work.”
Calum smiled. “I’ll tell Juliet you said goodbye.”
With a parting glare, Philip stormed out.
“Did you send Philip away?” Rafe asked.
Calum reached for the last donut. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Juliet appeared and snagged the donut out of Calum’s hand. “Where’s Philip?”
“Went to work.” Calum took the donut back, broke it, and handed her half. “But cheer up, he thinks he’s doing it all for you.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not the one who’s leading him on.”
“I’m not leading him on. I’m being gentle.”
Calum smirked around a mouthful of donut. “How’s that working?”
A blush rose from her neckline to her cheeks. In a blue strapless dress that skimmed her hips and hit her knees, and a white lace sweater barely covering her shoulders, she was a vision of everything beautiful in the world. Everything Rafe’s world wasn’t. Her hair, twisted up, showcased her graceful neck and shoulders. Even the long curls that had escaped only softened her businesslike demeanor. When he’d walked in and seen the flower in her hair, memories had hit like a bullet:
Juliet walking down the aisle to meet him.
Their first kiss as man and wife.
The way her body fit against his during their first wedding dance.
Juliet arching beneath him on their wedding night.
His jaw cranked, and his heart raced a beat he’d never felt before.
“Why are you still here, Calum?” She wiped donut sugar off her lips with a tissue. “Since you disapprove of my choices, maybe you should interfere in someone else’s life.”
Rafe chuckled.
As did Calum. “I wanted to make sure we’re all getting along.”
“I get along with everybody,” Rafe said.
She coughed and took a sip of her coffee. “What are we looking for?”
Calum finished his pastry. “A seventeenth-century vial owned by Anne Capel.”
She scrunched her nose. “Why would you think this vial is still around? Or that I’d be able to help you?”
“We believe”—Calum nodded at Rafe—“your lily is tied to the vial.”
“How?” she asked Rafe.
Rafe shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I don’t know.”
“How does Nate fit into this?”
Rafe glanced at Calum. Then he decided he didn’t give a shit what Calum thought. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. It’s the kind of classified that keeps A-teams from getting killed.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
He believed her. She’d been a wife in the unit and understood the risks. He told her about Nate’s operation in Afghanistan and the massacre, POW camps, rescue, and imprisonment.
She paled and sat at a table beneath the picture window, cradling her coffee. “I knew something bad had happened…”
He sat across from her. “How?”
“Abigail, Liam Casey’s wife. After I left Fort Bragg, Abigail and I kept in touch. A few years later, she called me from Rhode Island. She’d left Fort Bragg alone. Now she’s a well-known botanical artist. Her original paintings hang in an exclusive art gallery in Newport, and I sell her prints on commission here in the shop.”
“Liam is in prison with Colonel Keeley and two A-teams from my former unit.”
“Are you sure you can trust Nate’s story?” She tapped her fingers on the table until Rafe covered her hand with his. “If Nate was imprisoned, why is his hair long?”
An excellent question.
Calum sat in the third chair. “Nate and his men were sentenced immediately upon their return to the states. While his men went to prison, Nate was suffering seizures and taken to a medical facility in Maine. Maybe the hospital didn’t bother cutting his hair.”
“And Pete?” Rafe asked Calum.
“Pete and his A-team were in the Command Center with Kells Torridan outside the combat theater.”
“Pete is still in the army?” she asked.
“Technically, yes. But Pete and Torridan’s remaining men are facing trials of their own. They’re accused of helping coordinate the massacre.”
Calum added, “Because they’re a flight risk, they’ve been suspended from duty without pay and have had their accounts frozen until the trials.”
“Why is Nate here?” Juliet asked Rafe.
“Colonel Torridan found a clue about who set up the units in Afghanistan. He sent Nate and Pete to check it out.”
“What kind of clue?”
“Five years ago, on the night of the ambush, four wives in the unit—including Abigail—received a flower. A rare white lily with eight petals.”
Juliet sucked in her breath. “That lily hasn’t grown on Capel land in decades.”
“How would you know?” Calum said. “You own thousands of acres you never visit.”
“Because my daddy hunted my lily with the same ferocity he hunted boars.”
“Still,” Rafe said, “it’s possible the women were sent one of your lilies. It’s also possible your lily grows elsewhere.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen it in any textbook or grower’s list. In grad school, I never mentioned it. Daddy was paranoid and delusional, and I was afraid of what he’d do to a grad student searching for a new species. I have no idea what my lily has to do with this vial or a Special Forces operation in Afghanistan.”
“I don’t either,” Calum said. “But I know where to start. The Habersham sisters. They’ve been studying your lily for years.” Calum kissed Juliet on the cheek and stood. “Don’t forget dinner tonight. If you want your money, come armed with confidence.”
A moment later, he was gone.
The silence between Rafe and Juliet stretched out. The space between them vibrated. His hand still held hers, but she seemed lost in thought. Although she’d covered the bruises on her face with makeup, it didn’t hide the bluish stain. He wanted to ask her about the club and about what happened with Nate, but Rafe had no right to push.
He needed her to trust him enough to share her traumas without his prompting. If he forced her to talk before she was ready, she’d retreat and he might never be able to reach her.
The only problem with that plan was it meant lying to her. If she found out he knew about what happened with Nate and hadn’t said anything, she might feel betrayed and powerless. Two things that would send her running out of his arms instead of into them. A calculated risk. The kind he was good at but also the kind he hated.
He squeezed her hand until she looked up. “Do you want to see the sisters?”
“It’s early. We can’t just drop in.”
“You should go now.” Samantha came in from the back wearing a long white skirt and black cami, her hair in a tangled braid. She scowled at Rafe. “I’ll handle the store. The sooner you do whatever it is you’re doing, the sooner he leaves. Right?”
Juliet glanced at him before standing. “I’ll get my bag.”
Once she left the room, Samantha turned on him. “You’re a colossal asshole.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Deke disappeared last night.”
Rafe stood. “Excuse me?”
“Nate got beat up by some buddy of yours. And Detective Garza has some super-secret contact
digging up info about you and Nate. Then Pete and I spent the night nursing Nate through the worst seizure ever.” She rearranged flowers in a container on the counter, shoving yellow roses around. “Nate needs a hospital. I think his head might explode.”
Rafe unlocked the phone Calum had given him earlier. “I’ll wait for Juliet outside.”
Samantha waved a hand in dismissal. “Pete and Nate are good guys, and they’re trusting you are too. So even if you’re not, pretend you are.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rafe headed into the courtyard across from Dessie’s dress shop. Garden statuary, including angels, almost-naked Roman women, and cherubs with flutes, lined the perimeter of the bricked-in area. Once in the shade, with the fountain as white noise, he took off his jacket. Despite the sweltering heat, keeping his arms covered while with Juliet was a priority.
Scrolling through his phone contacts, he silently thanked Calum for preprogramming numbers. Not sure which ones he’d use the least—Philip’s or the tailor’s—Rafe dialed Nate, who picked up on the second ring. “What happened last night?”
“Nate’s asleep,” Pete said. “Balthasar jumped Nate. Deke got away. Then Nate spazzed on a grand mal seizure.”
“You’re sure it was Balthasar?”
“He fucking bowed, bro. Then offered Nate a spot on Team Prince.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep. Then Balthasar asked about a vial. You wouldn’t know about that, would you?”
Rafe sat on the edge of the raised fountain. While the cool mist coated the back of his neck and arms, he decided their only chance of survival was to go with the truth. “I’m looking for a seventeenth-century vial owned by Anne Capel.”
“The Anne Capel Torridan wants us to find?”
“Yes. Did Balthasar say anything else about the vial?”
“Balthasar mentioned someone named Romeo, who I’m guessing is you, wants it. Balthasar also admitted that Colonel Torridan knows about the vial.”
Whoa. “Wait. Torridan knows?”
“Apparently,” Pete said. “But I’m not going to ask Torridan about it because we’ll have to admit we’re working with you. And that’s not going to go over well.”
True. “And Deke? How’d he escape a locked room when he was nailed to the floor?”
“Not sure. The security cameras don’t record.”
Why was Rafe not surprised? He rubbed his chin, feeling a light stubble. Juliet had always liked his stubble. “Deke has disappeared?”
“Yep.” Pete sighed. “Calum called this morning and suggested Nate go to the Savannah Preservation Office to see if they have anything about Juliet’s lily or Anne Capel.”
“Good idea. Juliet and I are checking out a lead, and I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be at the club earning cash to keep us fed and housed.” Pete paused.
“What’s wrong?”
“According to Luke, our unit’s computer wizard, Garza’s been poking around our shared history. The detective has access to serious black ops intel.”
“One problem at a time, Pete. And don’t forget—stay away from men who bow.”
Chapter 19
Thirty minutes later, Juliet and Rafe followed the butler into the Habersham Mansion drawing room, which was furnished with Italian Renaissance antiques. The Habersham sisters, Miss Beatrice and Miss Nell, stood near French doors leading to the garden. Their heads were tilted, their whispers harsh. Once the butler left, the women greeted them.
“Welcome.” Miss Nell waved to the love seat.
Miss Beatrice rang for the maid, who appeared quickly. “Four coffees, please.”
The maid left, and Juliet and Rafe sat on the love seat. With his arm behind her, his heat scorched her right side and his scent tickled her nose. How was she supposed to concentrate?
“Thank you for seeing us,” she said. “It’s early.”
Miss Beatrice shrugged. “Nonsense.”
The two sisters—a widow and a spinster—sat on Louis XIV chairs opposite the love seat. They wore Dior silk suits, one in lavender, the other in rose. Each in matching Louboutin heels. Between them, the sisters’ wealth almost rivaled Calum’s.
“So,” Miss Beatrice began, “you want to know the history of the Isle.”
Miss Beatrice—the sister who’d snagged Calum’s wealthy uncle and his estate known as Prideaux House—had always been the tough-talking businesswoman. Nell, more romantic, was the owner of Habersham Mansion. Since Miss Beatrice’s widowhood twenty years earlier, the two sisters had lived at the mansion while Prideaux House had fallen into ruin.
The maid returned with four coffees and a plate of muffins. Once they were settled, Juliet said, “Rafe and I need information. Someone is targeting images of my lily.”
Rafe added, “Juliet’s store and her projects have been vandalized.”
“Goodness,” Miss Nell said. “Will ours be next?”
Rafe glanced at Juliet.
“The Habersham sisters were my first clients.”
“You must see Juliet’s garden,” Miss Nell said. “We bought the houses around us and tore them down. It’s now one of the largest gardens in the city.”
“Except for Calum’s garden,” Miss Beatrice said.
Rafe nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Juliet finished her muffin and took a sip of coffee. It was so hard keeping the sisters focused. “You’re not the target. My lily is. And Calum mentioned you were studying it.”
“Not your lily,” Miss Beatrice said. “We’re studying the history of Anne Capel.”
The murderess? “Why?”
Miss Beatrice drank her coffee and then dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. “Anne Capel was accused of killing forty-four children, and we’re proving her innocence.”
Rafe scoffed. “Anne was guilty, and the people of the Isle hanged her for witchcraft.”
“Not exactly,” Miss Beatrice said. “A mob led by Josiah Montfort attempted to hang Anne. Josiah was Anne’s spurned suitor. His brother, Isaiah, was Anne’s lover.”
“The rope broke,” Miss Nell added. “Anne survived the hanging, and everyone learned she was pregnant with Isaiah’s baby.”
Juliet placed her cup on the table between the love seat and the sisters. “What does this seventeenth-century soap opera have to do with my lily?”
“Because,” Miss Nell said, “Sarah Munro believes Anne accidentally killed those children with the lily.”
“Sarah Munro?” Juliet asked, although the name sounded familiar.
“Sarah is a historian and an archivist with the Smithsonian,” Miss Beatrice said.
“Is Sarah the woman who emailed me about visiting the Cemetery of Lost Children?” The request Juliet had declined.
“Yes,” Miss Beatrice said. “Sarah is in town temporarily, working at the Savannah Preservation Office on another project for us, and offered to help sort through the documents.”
Rafe glanced at Juliet. “What documents?”
She shrugged. She was as lost as he was.
Miss Beatrice turned to her sister. “Remember Rafe and Juliet’s wedding day, Nell?”
Miss Nell waved her napkin as a fan. “Lovely.”
“You weren’t at our wedding,” Juliet said.
“We saw the photos,” Miss Beatrice said.
Rafe took Juliet’s hand, and she let him. “What photos?”
“The ones Tess took,” Miss Beatrice continued. “I think they’re in Gerald’s trunk.”
“No,” Miss Nell said. “We put them in the safe. To protect them.”
Juliet took two deep breaths. “What trunk?”
“The trunk Gerald left you.”
Juliet stood, with Rafe coming up behind her. “Excuse me?”
“Beatrice!” Miss Nell demanded. “Didn’t you tell Julie
t about the trunk?”
“That was your job, dear.”
Juliet chewed her bottom lip until Rafe pulled her down to the couch and put his arm around her shoulder. He was right. She had to hold her temper if she wanted more information.
“Why does Sarah think Anne killed those kids with Juliet’s lily?” Rafe asked.
“Accidentally killed.” Miss Beatrice sighed as if exasperated they couldn’t keep up. “Sarah read about the poisoning in a book Gerald kept in the trunk.”
“Poison?” Juliet shook her head. “My lily is poisonous?”
“Of course.” Miss Beatrice’s politely worded duh made Juliet want to scream.
“I don’t understand,” Rafe said. “How could we not know this poison story?”
Miss Nell smiled over her cup. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention.”
Juliet wanted to laugh but was afraid she’d cry.
“Do you have the documents Sarah was working with?” Rafe asked.
“They might be in the trunk,” Miss Beatrice said. “Unless Sarah still has them.”
“My trunk,” Juliet said. “Which my daddy left me. But no one told me about.”
“Your lawyer, John Sinclair, was very specific,” Miss Beatrice said. “We were told not to release the trunk until Rafe came home.”
Juliet stood again. “You knew Rafe was coming home?”
Miss Beatrice stood as well. “John Sinclair told us Rafe would return, just not when.”
“How did John know?”
“Gerald told him. Right after Gerald added Rafe’s name to your deeds.”
“Would you like to see your trunk?” Miss Nell rang the bell for the maid. “Now that Rafe is here, we can release it.”
Juliet leaned against Rafe, and he tucked her beneath his shoulder. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could deal with the sisters. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” he said, his breath stirring her hair.
Miss Nell came over and touched Juliet’s cheek. “Your daddy didn’t want you opening the trunk alone. He wanted you to open it with your husband.”