Every Deep Desire

by Sharon Wray

  * * *

  Rafe’s jaw clamped, and he crossed his arms. “Ridiculous.”

  “What are you talking about?” Pete asked.

  “I’m talking about things that’ve happened since Montfort arrived,” Garza said. “The man shot yesterday had a tattoo of a sword piercing a heart, with Escalus inked below.”

  “Maybe it was his mother’s name,” Samantha offered. “Or his lover’s.”

  “I considered that, until hunters found a rental car with a journal in the glove box. The name Escalus was imprinted on the leather cover.”

  Rafe wished he could kill Escalus again. That was a mistake that sent warriors to the Gauntlet.

  “One of the interesting things in this journal,” Garza continued, with his arms crossed and focus completely on Rafe, “besides the fact that it’s written in Latin, is the page numbering. The left page number starts at 2018 and continues until the last entry, 4897. The right page number starts at 57 and ends with 512.”

  Although Rafe played the clueless card, he knew that journal. They’d each received one. He’d cheated by writing in French while Escalus, a stellar student, had learned Latin. Writing in the book had become a nightly ritual for both of them until Rafe had gone to prison. “Do you know what the numbers mean?”

  “Not yet,” Garza said. “According to what I’ve translated so far, Escalus worked for an arms dealer known as the Prince and the Prince’s secret army called the Fianna, a secret unit of highly trained, dangerous men.”

  Rafe kept his piehole shut. Too bad Garza had read that journal, because when this was over, there was nothing Rafe could do to save the detective.

  Juliet glanced up at Rafe before asking, “What does the Fianna do?”

  “Assassinations,” Garza said. “Arms deals on the Prince’s behalf. They even police armies and militias. They follow strict rules regarding the way they talk, walk, and kill. Most importantly, they’re protected by lots of money.”

  “The Fianna is a myth they told us in basic training,” Pete said. “If we didn’t follow the rules of warfare, the Fianna would find us. Torture us. Speak in verse. Bow before killing. Standard stuff to scare recruits.”

  “Did it work?” Samantha asked.

  “I never believed, but my buddies did.”

  “You’re ex-military too?” Garza asked.

  Pete shrugged. “Sure.”

  “They speak in verse?” Juliet now stared at Pete. “What does that mean?”

  Garza answered instead. “According to Escalus, when Fianna warriors speak to each other or a potential victim, they use Shakespearean language. They memorize every one of the Bard’s plays and poems and use the same types of words and speech patterns.”

  “Why?” Juliet asked.

  “They’re big on self-mortification and self-discipline. They train naked in the woods in winter and hunt each other, and if one makes a sound, he’s tortured. They learn how to move their bodies with stealth and silence. Before a recruit becomes a warrior, he makes a tithe and faces the Gauntlet.”

  “Except,” Pete said, “they’re not real.”

  “But it’s interesting,” Samantha said. “Go on, Detective. What’s the Gauntlet?”

  “A lane formed by seasoned warriors. Up to forty on each side, holding different weapons. Whips, chains, knives. If the recruit makes it to the end alive and pronounces his tithe, he’s bound for life to the Fianna army. He can never leave.”

  Rafe snorted. Although he wanted to correct Garza and refute the Wikipedia propaganda the Prince updated himself, anything Rafe said would put Juliet and his family in more danger.

  “The man who died near my manor was a Fianna warrior?” Juliet asked.

  “Yes. Escalus had a hand-drawn sketch of your house in his pocket. There were also notes about windows. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No.” Juliet kept her hands clasped in her lap. Rafe knew he’d be lucky if she ever looked at him again. “What’s a tithe?”

  “A guarantee of fealty,” Garza said. “The recruit offers up the one thing that ties him to this world. After tithing, he’s in, body, heart, and soul.”

  Rafe exhaled and kept his arms crossed and hands fisted. He needed to end this convo now. “Pete is right. The Fianna is a myth. Just ask Interpol. They’ve never found any evidence of the Fianna’s existence.”

  “Because,” Garza said sharply, “everyone who knows about the Fianna is dead.”

  Calum stopped texting long enough to say, “What does this have to do with Sally?”

  “It’s not a coincidence,” Garza said, “that the death of a Fianna warrior on the Isle corresponds with Shakespearean verses left in the cathedral and two dead bodies—a young man we found near this club and Sally—both of whom I suspect were killed with misericords. A weapon Escalus describes in his journal.”

  “How is Rafe—my client—involved?” Calum said.

  Garza held up his cell phone. “Escalus wrote about his days as a recruit and the men training with him. One, in particular, went by the name Romeo.” Garza handed his cell to Juliet. “A man I believe is your ex-husband.”

  * * *

  Juliet took the phone, hoping no one noticed her hands shaking. Had Rafe left her to join the Fianna? To become an assassin named Romeo for an arms dealer and his secret army?

  The screen photo showed three men near a European medieval church. Two men stood opposite, and another in the center held his hands out as if brokering a truce. “What’s this?”

  “The man in the overcoat, with his back to the camera, is believed to be the Prince. The man in the center with the jeans and scarf is Escalus.”

  She squinted. Escalus’s profile was shadowed. “How do you know?”

  “There’s a wound on his thumb identical to one on the body yesterday.”

  The third man, taller than the other two in leather pants and a hooded leather jacket, stood with his arms crossed. Although she couldn’t see his face, she’d recognize Rafe’s exasperated stance anywhere. “Is this you?”

  Rafe’s jaw locked down, his dark eyes narrowed into knife edges directed at Garza.

  Samantha leaned over to look at the photo. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Interpol,” Garza said. “My military contact believes the third man is Romeo. At the time this photo was taken, Romeo was not only the most brutal Fianna warrior, he was the Prince’s second-in-command.”

  Rafe’s pupils had darkened, and his nostrils flared. There wasn’t an apologetic feature on his face. Her blood rushed so fast a roar filled her ears. “Is this true?” she asked him.

  “No.” Pete took the phone and tossed it back to Garza. “Rafe left his unit because he’s a traitor. Nothing more.”

  “Juliet.” Rafe spoke her name on the exhale, breathy and deep with his drawl that softened the hard consonant. The same way he’d spoken when they’d been in bed together last night.

  She faced Garza again. “That photo you showed me last night. The one with the tattoo of a heart and a sword and Escalus’s name beneath. Which arm was it on?”

  “His left arm.”

  If she took off Rafe’s jacket, yanked off the bandages, would she find a similar tattoo?

  “This misericord that killed Sally,” Samantha said to Garza. “What’s that?”

  “A small, sharp sword that, when shoved underneath the arm, pierces the heart. Or, if thrust behind the ear, takes out the brain stem. It’s a sudden, almost painless death that leaves little blood and a small entrance wound.”

  “That doesn’t mean a Fianna warrior killed Sally,” Samantha said.

  “No,” Garza said, “but after studying the ME reports on Eugene Wilkins and Detective Legare, I discovered they were all killed the same way.”

  Juliet stood. “That’s not what we were told. Eugene died in a fire, and Legare h
it his head.”

  “I know the stories,” Garza said. “It’s also possible your father didn’t commit suicide.”

  She clasped her hands behind her neck. While knowing her daddy hadn’t committed suicide would help her grieve, his murder made everything worse. It meant his paranoia about men who bowed had been true, and she’d ignored it. She’d left him in this nightmare alone. How could she not have believed her own father?

  Calum snapped his fingers. “I figured it out. I worked against Garza getting this job. I wanted someone I could trust, except I was overruled. My sister hired you to find out who murdered her husband, didn’t she?”

  Garza scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Calum’s eyes shuttered. “Now who’s telling lies?”

  “This isn’t about me,” Garza said. “This is about the Fianna killing people in my city.”

  “No, Detective. This is about my family. My people. My city.”

  “Believe what you want.” Garza stood tall, taking Calum’s accusation on directly. “But two people, possibly three, were murdered within nine months. And yesterday I realized those deaths, Miss Capel’s vandalism, and the cathedral mess are tied to Montfort’s return.” Garza shifted his attention back to Rafe. “Do you remember your mother’s death?”

  Rafe’s eyes blackened into polished stones. “Yes.”

  That’d been an awful time. Juliet and Rafe had been married for two years, and his mother’s sudden death had devastated them all.

  “We went to her funeral,” Juliet said. “After returning to Fort Bragg, Rafe’s unit left on a mission.” Then, months later, she’d received his letter, and her world had fallen apart. “Why does my mother-in-law’s death matter now?”

  “Because,” Garza said, “when I pulled up her ME report, Detective Legare had added a handwritten note about a small hole beneath her armpit. I believe Tess Montfort may also have been killed with a misericord. Possibly by a Fianna warrior.”

  The air in the room felt hot and heavy. The AC compressor kicked on, and Pete’s breathing echoed. But Rafe’s heart, beating fast and furious, had to be obvious to all in the room. His neck muscles bulged, and his hands balled.

  Juliet licked her dry lips and asked him, “Is this true?”

  “I don’t know.” The harshness of his voice offset his whisper.

  No one spoke. Even Calum—who’d stopped texting—kept his peace.

  “There’ve been so many secrets and lies.” Juliet’s voice shook. “So many people hurt. Sally. That teenage boy. Eugene Wilkins. Detective Legare. My daddy. Maybe your momma. Is Garza right? Are all those deaths connected to you?”

  “For the record,” Garza said, “I believe they are.”

  Rafe’s eyes turned into brown pools of melted glass. She could see her own reflection on their surface, feel the heat through her dress. All. True. “You worked as an assassin? And somehow our families got involved?”

  No words, but he didn’t need any. The intensity of his regard said it all. Yes. He’d left her to work for some mythical army that killed without remorse or shame. And everyone else had paid the price.

  Rafe’s voice shattered the fragile silence. “There is a Fianna warrior in town named Balthasar. He killed Sally. If you go after him, he’ll kill you too.”

  “Detective.” An officer popped his head into the room. “Chief needs to talk. Pronto.”

  Garza pointed at Rafe. “This isn’t over.”

  “It is until I say so,” Calum said.

  Garza pulled an envelope out of his jacket. “This is for you, Miss Capel. It’s what I was going to give you later this afternoon. Do with it what you want.”

  Once Garza left, Samantha asked Rafe, “Are we in danger because we know this?”

  “Yes.”

  “If we’re already screwed,” said Pete, “we deserve the truth.”

  Rafe crossed his arms and spoke through gritted teeth. “The truth is I’m responsible for every life here. Including Garza’s.”

  Samantha took Juliet’s hand and squeezed. Juliet squeezed back. While she was furious about what she’d learned, there was nothing she could say or do to make this better. But maybe if she and Rafe could find that vial, this whole nightmare would end before anyone else got hurt.

  “So…” Pete ran a hand over his head. “How do we work the mission?”

  “We win.” Rafe sighed. “Where’s Nate?”

  “Getting beat up at the gym,” Pete said.

  “Give Nate this map.” Rafe took Juliet’s envelope out of his jacket and handed it to Pete. “Tell him to haul ass to the Savannah Preservation Office and talk to Sarah Munro. We need any info we can get about that map and Anne Capel. I doubt there’ll be anything online. Then take Samantha to Juliet’s Lily. Stay with her and watch out for anything strange.” Rafe turned to Juliet, his jawline sharp enough to cut steel. “Change and pack whatever you want to bring to the Isle. Bring your gun.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to your manor to see those windows. We’re going to find that vial before Balthasar kills again.”

  Chapter 21

  Balthasar placed his sniper rifle near the window overlooking the city. Attics weren’t his thing—too many childhood memories. But this one was secure and had electricity.

  After retrieving Deke, dumping Sally, and meeting Walker, Balthasar had waited for Eddie to move his gear into the safe house. Eddie even brought a cot for Deke to recover on.

  Deke lay on his side, ear bandaged, hopped up on pain meds. Unfortunately, because of Romeo’s beating, Balthasar had to wait for Deke to wake before hitting the laptop. Deke had until noon to recover.

  Heavy steps on the stairs meant Eddie’s return.

  The moment Eddie entered with an armload of groceries and ammo, Balthasar said, “What happened at the club?” Although he didn’t trust the younger, skittish man, Eddie knew about the Fianna. Whether from Escalus or Eddie’s still-unnamed cousin-slash-boss was TBD. Regardless of Balthasar’s unresolved feelings about Escalus’s betrayal, Balthasar had a job to do and few leads. Eddie held the only way forward.

  At least, according to Eddie, Romeo had less intel than Balthasar.

  “They found Sally,” Eddie said. “Unfortunately, the cops discovered Deke’s cell. Almost caught me, too. I hid in the ladies’ shower room and overheard that detective talking. What a strange accent. From Pennsylvania or something.”

  “The point?”

  “Garza found E’s journal, translated it, and told them about the Fianna.”

  Garza had Escalus’s journal? Balthasar ran his fist over his chin. “Did Montfort speak?”

  “No.” Eddie went to the coffee pot and started a fresh brew. “Except to say you’d take out everyone in the room including the cop because they now knew about the Fianna.”

  Romeo knew Balthasar well. “What are their plans?”

  “Montfort gave that Indian a map and told him to find Walker.”

  Balthasar took his weapon from his waistband and laid it on the table. “What map?”

  “Not sure. Montfort wants Walker to go to the Savannah Preservation Office and meet a Ms. Sarah Munro. She may be able to help him find out what the map means. Then Montfort told the Indian—”

  “White Horse.”

  Eddie scratched his head. “Montfort told White Horse to protect Samantha at Juliet’s Lily while Montfort and Juliet search Capel Manor to find the windows.”

  “What windows?”

  “Right. You don’t know about those.” The coffee hissed as it filled the pot. “My cousin told me the manor has stained-glass windows with clues to where the vial is. Except the manor is in ruins and the windows are probably broken. That’s what E was looking for yesterday when he got dead.”

  The aroma of fresh coffee filled Balthasar’s head. “
Follow the lovers. Find out about those windows. I’ll handle Garza and Walker.”

  “And White Horse?”

  “Deke will monitor White Horse. But you’re my eyes and ears at that manor.”

  “What about my cousin? We’re late checking in. If my coz finds out Escalus died and I didn’t tell him, I’m—” Eddie used a spoon to make a slashing motion across his neck.

  Balthasar poured two cups of coffee. One for him, one to wake up Deke. “I can’t contact your cousin until I get that computer working. Unless there’s another way?”

  “Only by secure laptop.” Eddie pointed at Deke. “My boy can barely walk and talk.”

  “I’ll care for him.” Like Balthasar had cared for so many Fianna recruits, including Romeo. After a long sip of the hot coffee, Balthasar added, “If you fail—”

  “I know.” Eddie dumped sugar into his cup and shrugged. “Death will follow.”

  * * *

  Nate met Pete outside Iron Rack’s gym. Nate’s body hurt, his head pounded, but his vision worked. It’d been a good fight.

  He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Hey.”

  Pete handed him a laundry duffel and an envelope with Juliet’s name on it. Threw them was more accurate. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Nate hadn’t thought about laundry in days. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a map. Montfort wants you to go to the Savannah Preservation Office and talk to Sarah Munro. Figure out what the map means and see what you can learn about Anne Capel.” Pete headed into the gym.

  Nate carried the duffel on one shoulder, shoved the envelope in his back pocket, and grabbed Pete’s arm. “What’s up?”

  Pete knocked him off. “Seriously? You have no idea of the danger we’re in. We have no jobs. We’re broke. And you’re fighting random losers to make yourself feel better.”

  Only bad shit put Pete in this kind of mood. “What happened?”

  “Sally was murdered behind the club last night by Balthasar.” Pete pulled the HELP WANTED sign off the front door and went inside.