by Sharon Wray
Philip leaned his elbows on the table. “But if she has the King’s Grants—”
“And can prove she’s never broken the stipulations, not only would she own all of the granted land, but she’d probably own it out to the low-tide mark. Since King’s Grants supersede state and federal rules, the government can’t appropriate her land or regulate her usage of it. Ever.”
Juliet hated asking Carina for anything but did anyway. “If I sell?”
Carina shrugged. “If the grants allow a sale, then you sign them to the new owner.”
“Do you know what the stipulations on my land are?”
“No. That’s why Eugene and Calum wanted to find them. Gerald believed one stipulation was that the lily never grow on the Isle, so he asked Grady, Eugene, and Calum to help. All to protect your inheritance.” That last bit was laced with a sneer.
Juliet sat back and sighed. “Why didn’t Calum tell me any of this?”
Carina took another sip of champagne and pursed her lips. “Ask Calum.”
Rafe, who was still holding Juliet’s hand, shifted it to his thigh. Heat burned through his pants, his muscles beneath her fingers bunched, and his foot tapped.
He vibrated and held on firmly, as if forcing her body to resonate at his hotter, higher frequency. She drank her champagne and forced herself to remember why they were there.
“I understand Calum’s interest, but why was Eugene involved?” Philip asked Carina.
It was a good thing Philip could speak because Juliet had lost the ability to make simple sounds.
The waiter dropped off plates of appetizers, and Carina ate a mushroom cap. “Eugene loved the stories of the Prideaux/Prioleau pirates and the legends of Anne Capel and the Prioleau sigil.”
Juliet took another sip, and the bubbles tickled the back of her throat. “I saw your sigil today.” She coughed, trying to gain some traction in her voice. But it was difficult with Rafe moving her hand…higher. “In a window in Prideaux House.”
Carina waved a hand, her diamond rings glittering. “Not unlike the Prioleau mark Calum pays people to paint all over this city.” She handed her glass to Philip to refill. “During the golden age of piracy, the Prideaux pirates dominated the coastline. Many citizens were hostile, but those who raised the Prideaux flag or a black flag with a white Capel lily were allies. Eugene’s fascination with our history got him killed.”
Juliet switched to water, except she spilled it because her free hand shook. The other was still held captive against Rafe’s thigh.
“You’re worried about Calum.” Rafe spoke casually, as if he wasn’t at all affected by her touch. “That’s why you hired Detective Garza to look into Eugene’s death.”
Carina took her refilled glass from Philip. “Yes.”
Lightning flashed, and Juliet looked out the window. The park’s lights were on, and the street was empty except for a man in a hooded coat standing near the fountain. He stared in her direction, but when she blinked, he was gone. Yet, in that moment before he disappeared, the man bowed.
Chapter 27
Rafe sat back, enjoying the feel of Juliet’s hand against his thigh. While he dreamed of more contact, he cherished this moment because it might be all he’d get.
Juliet’s face paled. “Rafe—”
“Excuse me.” Nate appeared and gripped Rafe’s shoulder. “Can we talk?”
Rafe raised Juliet’s hand that’d been on his leg and kissed the palm. “I’ll be back.”
Once in the bar, Nate ordered a ginger ale while Rafe ordered scotch. “What’s up?” He wanted to return to Juliet.
“Did Pete tell you I ran into Balthasar?”
“Yes. Pete filled me in on what happened to you at the Savannah Preservation Office and police station. He also gave me your new phone numbers and told me he’s taking Samantha to her third job.” Rafe swallowed his drink and let the burn trail down his throat. “When Samantha is done, they’re going to the motel. Pete doesn’t want either of you to be alone. He’s a good guy.”
Nate nodded and leaned against the bar. “The SPO had some info about the Isle but nothing new.”
“Not surprised.” Rafe ordered another drink. It’d been a long time since he’d tasted Calum’s forty-year-old favorite. “Pete told me about the trials on Friday.”
“How can the government bring charges against Torridan’s team? They weren’t in the country and had nothing to do with what happened.”
“Torridan’s team handled the planning, and Kells is your CO, regardless of whether he was the theater commander. Even though Kells’s team wasn’t there, they were involved.” The bartender placed Rafe’s new drink on a napkin, along with a bowl of pretzels. “I still think this clusterfuck is personal. This was planned with the goal of bringing down Kells Torridan.”
“That’s what Jack Keeley told me before they threw him in jail with the other men.”
“Jack’s a smart and experienced soldier. I’ve never trusted Kells, but I trust Jack.”
Nate ran a hand over his head. His long hair was still tied behind his neck with a rubber band. His green eyes were hazy, as if he’d gone without shut-eye for a few days. “I tried to get that journal from Garza, but no luck. Although I warned him.”
“If Balthasar knows Garza’s read the journal, it’s too late.” Rafe savored his sip. “We have our own problems.”
“Except I don’t know what to do next.”
Rafe gripped Nate’s shoulder. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow meet me at the apartment across from Juliet’s Lily. You know it?”
Nate nodded.
“Oh-nine-hundred hours. Bring Pete. We’ll figure out a plan.”
When Nate didn’t respond, Rafe exhaled loudly. “What?”
“Garza called an hour ago. He knows I’m not your PO. He also knows my real name, rank, and serial number. As well as Kells Torridan and the 7th Special Forces Group.”
Rafe finished half his drink. Screw savoring. “How’d that happen?”
“Garza’s partner saw an employment photo with my name at the club. Since every cop is busy tonight, Garza wants me downtown tomorrow morning. Seven a.m. Otherwise he’ll issue a warrant.”
“Well,” Rafe said on a sigh. “Shit.”
* * *
Nate popped a pretzel into his mouth and mentally walked through the mess he’d made of the day. He couldn’t even decrypt Deke’s phone. “There’s something else. I saw a photo of you, Escalus, and the Prince. Escalus was pleading with the Prince on your behalf. Not unlike how I’d get between you and Torridan.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow.
Nate raised one back. “I realized something. I think I know who the Prince is.”
“Those who talk—and hear—die.”
“I’m already marked. I’ve seen a man bow.”
“We don’t know that.” Rafe grabbed a few pretzels. “If you tell Kells, he’ll be marked too.”
“I have another option.” Nate watched the ice in his glass melt. “Balthasar made me an offer. Join him and he’ll give me the intel I need to free my team.”
“Balthasar doesn’t know shit. Don’t let him screw with your mind.” Rafe finished his scotch. “I’m headed for the restroom. We’ll meet tomorrow. Now go sleep. You look like hell.”
Rafe left, and Nate finished his soda, the ice hitting his lips. Maybe Rafe was right. Nate could take another pill and sleep. That would leave one more pill for tomorrow. Time enough to fess up to having given away the map.
“Nate?” The female voice sounded hesitant.
Juliet appeared with her hair pulled back in long curls. Her silver dress showed off her slim figure. She’d changed since he’d interrogated her. Her eyes seemed darker and older, almost like Rafe’s, as if the world was too heavy a burden. “Rafe is in the restroom.”
“I’m here for another d
rink while Philip tries to get Carina to understand the importance of paying her bills.”
Pete—having heard from Samantha—had filled Nate in about Juliet’s money problems and Carina’s bitchiness. “Is it working?”
Juliet shrugged. “Philip has always been good with Carina.”
The bartender handed her a glass of wine. Her fingers played with the stem, and she looked everywhere except at Nate. “Rafe told me what happened in Afghanistan. I’m sorry.”
“Rafe shouldn’t have told you. It’s classified.”
“I know how to keep a secret,” she said sharply. “I never told anyone about what you and Colonel Torridan did to me.”
Nate watched her fingers trace the delicate glass stem. “Calum knows.”
She met Nate’s gaze, her eyes wary. “How?”
“I assumed you told him.”
“No.” She looked away again. “I haven’t told anyone. Rafe doesn’t know.”
Nate swallowed the ice, and the cold hit his molar with the metal filling. Pain fired up the nerves. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “Juliet?”
“Yes?”
He opened his eyes and met her stare. “I’m sorry.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but he’d never been great with words. “Really sorry.”
She wiped her lips with a napkin. “Was the interrogation your idea?”
“No. It was Torridan’s. For the record, Jack Keeley was against it.”
She half smiled. “I always liked Jack.”
“Everyone likes Jack.” Too bad he was in jail. “He thought interrogating you was barbaric.”
“Then why didn’t he stop it?”
“He wasn’t in charge.”
“And you were following orders?”
Nate crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the bar. “This isn’t an excuse, but it was a god-awful time. First Colin disappeared. Then we discovered Rafe left to join the Fianna, and the unit was devastated. We were paranoid and scared and watching each other, trying to guess who’d be the next to leave.”
“I didn’t know Colin disappeared. What happened to him?”
“No idea. Went out on a mission and never came back. Then Rafe went to look for him, and the next thing we knew he’d sent us some bullshit letter about needing more from life, more adventure, because apparently being an elite soldier in the U.S. Army had too many rules. He was suffocating.” Nate made air quotes around the last word.
She swirled her wine. “I received a letter saying the same things. How he was tired of his life, of all the rules, and wanted out.” She shook her head. “I remember how he fought with everyone. His arguments with Torridan.”
“You want to know why the whole story is bullshit?” At her nod, Nate leaned in to whisper, “Because I’ve never seen a man more in love with a woman than Rafe is with you. Even if he hated us—the A-team he’d spent years training with—he never hated you. You were—and always will be—his reason for breathing.”
“I’ve seen his tattoos.”
“Everybody knows about those. Hell, what with the Gauntlet, tattoos, and prison time, Rafe is an urban legend in Special Forces. But the more I learn, the more I question what’s true.”
She wiped her cheek with two fingers. “All those names—”
Nate took her hand and squeezed. “Pay attention to the facts we know: He made it through the brutal, medieval Fianna training. He survived the Gauntlet and became a full-fledged warrior, a damned hard thing to do considering the ninety percent death rate. He went to a Russian prison and survived. Then he emerged from Leavenworth as if it were a summer vacation. Because he certainly doesn’t act like a man who’s been imprisoned for years.”
She reclaimed her hand but shifted closer. “Pete said the legend of the Fianna was a story told around army campfires.”
“There’s always an element of truth in fairy tales.” A thunderclap shook the building. The lights flickered off and came back on.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Rafe and I have a lot of shit between us.” Nate flexed his hands against his thighs. The returning restlessness meant incoming seizures. “We haven’t spoken in eight years. Last night we had things to settle, but the first thing Rafe asked about was you. That means one thing. You’re the reason he’s back. You’re the reason he’s playing these games with the Prince. For Rafe, everything is—and always has been—about you.”
* * *
Juliet took another drink. Could what Nate said be true? “You don’t know that.”
“Rafe is in love with you,” Nate said. “Whether you believe it or not.”
“I’m glad someone’s talking sense to our girl.” Miss Beatrice came up next to Nate and patted his arm. “Although I’m sure there’s a lucky woman waiting for you to notice her.”
“Not at the moment, ma’am,” Nate said, smiling.
“Miss Beatrice,” Juliet said, “this is Nate Walker. Nate, Miss Beatrice Habersham.”
Nate took Miss Beatrice’s hand and kissed the back of it. She blushed but didn’t pout or flutter like Miss Nell. Miss Beatrice was too confident for such flirtations.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
“And yours, Mr. Walker. Are you a friend of Juliet’s?”
He glanced at her, his green eyes filled with apology and shame. “I am.”
The deep scar on his cheek made her realize that none of them were getting out of this unscathed.
Miss Beatrice took her wine from the bartender. “Then convince Juliet that true love only comes around once in a woman’s life.”
Juliet frowned. “That didn’t end so well for me.”
Miss Beatrice patted Juliet’s hand. “Your story barely had a chance to start.”
“Quite true,” Nate said to Miss Beatrice. “May I buy your drink?”
“No, thank you. I forgot something in the dining room. I was also hoping to have a word in private with Juliet, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I was just leaving. And Juliet, I’ll see you and Rafe tomorrow morning to, uh, finish our project.”
“Okay.” Juliet bit her lip, debating whether to say more. Maybe instead of worrying about how not to get hurt, they should focus on minimizing the scar tissue. “Thank you for your apology. Maybe things aren’t the way they seem.”
Nate nodded and headed for the stairs until being cornered by Detective Garza.
Meanwhile, Miss Beatrice took something out of her purse and dropped it in Juliet’s hand. A man’s gold ring. “Do you recognize it?”
Juliet held it up. Worn engravings decorated the ring. “Was this my daddy’s?”
“Yes. Although your mother didn’t live long after your birth, your father never got over losing her. She was everything to him.”
“More so than me.” She hated the whiny-sounding words, but they were the truth.
“Your father was never good at expressing emotion, yet toward the end of his life, his every thought was about your safety. He asked me to give this to you when the time was right.”
“Why tonight?”
“Because tonight I realized you love Rafe.”
The room suddenly felt too hot and too small. A tingly feeling started in her arms, ending at her fingertips. “I don’t.”
“Rafe broke your heart, but he’s back now. Don’t throw away this chance because you’re afraid to love again. Or afraid to rely on another. Be brave, my dear. Be strong. Be dauntless.”
Juliet slipped the ring on her thumb. She’d had a forever-and-always kind of love, and it died a brutal, bloody death.
Miss Beatrice kissed her on the cheek and left for the dining room.
Juliet pushed away her glass. It’d been a long day, and she had a buzz from the alcohol. She didn’t normally d
rink, yet she’d had two glasses of wine and a flute of champagne without eating dinner.
“Are you alright?” Rafe put a hand on her lower back and slipped in next to her.
Warmth traveled up her spine, and she nodded. Would she ever not respond when he touched her? “I needed a break while Philip sweet-talks Carina.”
“Philip was always good with her.” Rafe kissed her cheek, and his breath brushed her ear. “You look beautiful—”
A loud boom ripped through the room, and the force threw her to the floor. Rafe landed on top, his body protecting her from the exploding mirror behind the bar. The lights went out, and another blast knocked over tables, chairs, and drinks. The shock wave threw glass and splintered wood from the dining room into the lounge. Screams echoed, and she covered her ears. Debris fell from the ceiling, and a moment later everything sounded heavy and hushed. Emergency lights in the corners kicked on, adding an orange sheen to the room now covered in dust and debris.
Rafe helped her to her feet. Everyone around them was shouting, running toward the exit. Some were covered in blood. Others were disguised by drywall dust and dirt.
He dragged her to the other side of the bar. “Stay here. I’m going into the dining room.”
“I’m going with you.” She followed him and could barely make out the situation. The safety lights helped but also cast shadows. Four windows were gone, and across the street the park lights were out. The buildings around the square had gone black.
Driving rain made the dirty floor slippery. She tasted ash and ran over to their now upside-down table and found Philip on top of Carina beneath the table, pinned down by a ceiling beam. They were both covered with dirt and blood.