“Yes,” answered Thea, “but we won’t be leaving here without her.”
Marc eyed them wearily. “How do I know you won’t hurt me when we’re done?”
Thea looked deep into his light brown eyes. “You don’t.”
Marc nodded for a moment and then with a sigh headed into the living room. The kettle began bubbling on the stove. Thea took a seat near the door, where she could hear every word. She heard Marc settle on the chair across from Mirabelle, his voice already choking.
“On November sixth, the night before your parents died, my girlfriend at the time had left me. . . .” Thea heard the whole story, unfolded over two hours. She heard how Marc was so drunk that he had sideswiped another car even before he plowed through Mirabelle’s parents’ truck. How he woke up on the side of the road with some mild bruises, two broken legs, and a million paramedics around him. How when he learned what he had done, he wished for death. He had tried to commit suicide twice, before his short prison sentence. He told Mirabelle about the strange blessing of prison—that it had allowed him to become sober for the first time since he was sixteen years old. He told Mirabelle about his childhood, about his own neglectful parents, who were gone most nights and spent the days passed out on the living room couch.
He talked about marrying, and then separating from his wife. Spoke then of his children, of how they gave him purpose. Team Banner sat stiffly in the kitchen as he retrieved a box and brought it into the living room, showing Mirabelle everything: the newspaper clippings of her parents’ deaths. His court documents. A small mention of her in the newspaper as Miss Teen Austin Runner-Up. They were all nestled together in Marc Mitzi’s box of shame. Through Mirabelle’s sobs, he begged for her forgiveness, his own cries echoing through the kitchen. Tears clouded Thea’s eyes. Casey was staring at the ceiling. Bea and Louise were openly weeping.
Thea found her mind shifting from what she thought she had known. Men like Raphael Amadoor wouldn’t change unless someone forced them to. But Marc Mitzi? His justice was somehow worse: a living hell made of his own guilt, one that he would carry with him until the day he died. Thea realized that no justice they would have brought to this man would equal the disgrace he felt now, bowed at Mirabelle’s knee. This man would pay for his crime in his mind for the rest of his life; did they even need to be here? Maybe, she thought, thinking of Mirabelle. Maybe this was needed in a different way.
Casey was drumming her fingers on the table when Thea grabbed them. “Enough. You’re driving me crazy.”
Casey coughed and leaned back. “Sorry. I just keep thinking—why did they allow Mirabelle to do this? Seriously, why would they? The luminaries always do their research. Why didn’t they know that he had children who could have easily been in the house?”
Louise bit her lip. “Robin died. Maybe they didn’t have time to do any research. Things fell through the cracks?”
Thea bit her lip. “Maybe. But does Julie Westing seem like someone who makes sloppy mistakes? An inheritance is a very purposeful thing.” The group was silent. Thea ran her fingers over her lips. Could the Black Coats make mistakes? Was anyone checking on that? Had this been a mistake, or something else? She shook the thoughts loose from her head, trying to focus on her team.
They were interrupted by a shuffle in the living room, and before Thea could leap to her feet, Marc and Mirabelle came through the door. They both looked totally wrecked.
“I think we are through for today,” he managed. “Having you girls waiting in my house was definitely not what I expected, but I can’t say that I’m not glad.” His eyes met Mirabelle’s. “This was a long time coming. We’ll be in touch, yes? I mean it. Coffee maybe, next month? I’ll bring my daughter?”
She took a long look at his face, and then, without a word to her team, wearily made her way out the back door.
Thea waved toward the rest of the team. “Go to the car. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Team Banner filed out the door as Thea turned to Marc, who was standing nervously near the stove. She raised an eyebrow and took a step forward. “You cannot tell anyone that we were here. Ever.”
Marc’s eyes reflected his exhaustion, but he still managed to square his shoulders as he looked into her face. “I won’t, but you can never come here again. If my children had been with me this would have turned out very different. There is nothing I would not do to protect them.” This was a threat, and she took it as such.
“I understand.” She paused. “You seem like a good dad.”
Marc turned away from her. “I’m trying to be.” He opened the door for Thea to walk through. “What do you call yourselves?” He gestured to her coat. “What is this?”
Thea paused in front of him, taking a moment to look directly into his tired face, and she knew he wouldn’t tell anyone. The shame ran too deep. She cleared her throat. “It’s just a coat, and we’re just good friends.”
The door slammed behind her, and she heard him mutter, “Like hell you are.”
In the car, Mirabelle sighed and leaned her head back against the seat, her body slumping from emotional exhaustion. “How do you feel?” asked Thea.
Mirabelle looked out the window for a long time before raising her voice, even then only a whisper. “Better.”
Twenty
It was dark outside when Thea remembered Drew.
She and Bea were lazily curled up on Mirabelle’s Adirondack chairs overlooking her aunt and uncle’s private lake, gazing at the stars. After dinner and a swiped bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet, the night had passed quickly.
Bea rolled over with a groan. “Do you think Mirabelle’s servants can get us breakfast in the morning?”
Thea giggled. “I don’t think she has actual servants, just, like, maids.”
Bea yawned. “Well, either way, I’m requesting pancakes and eggs.”
Breakfast. Pancakes. Waffles. “Oh my God!” Thea shot to her feet. “Shit! Oh God!”
Bea sat up, a muslin blanket falling to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
Thea stumbled to her bag, rooting around for her phone. Her hands closed around the case, and she drew it out, her face furrowed in distress. Seven missed texts. The feeling of drowning was instantaneous. She had forgotten about Drew, forgotten about the concert. She quickly scrolled through them.
I got us amazing seats. I’m pretty sure we will be able to see the drummer’s leg hair.
Looking like a creeper who comes to concerts by himself. I promise I have a girlfriend.
Thea, where are you? Are you okay?
I’m getting worried. Where are you?
I’m freaked out and calling your parents.
Your mom said you were with the restoration society. At least you’re not dead.
Finally, the last one:
FYI, Thea, waffles suck by yourself.
Drew had been waiting for her at the concert, all night. There was only one call, a voice mail she put on speaker. She ground her teeth when she heard his weary voice, full of disappointment. “Thea, we need to talk.” Then the line went dead.
“That didn’t sound great,” Bea said honestly.
Thea put her phone down and sucked in her breath. “Dammit. What is wrong with me? Drew’s pissed. I stood him up at a concert tonight. How did I completely forget about him?”
Bea wrung her hands. “We had a crazy emotional night; it wasn’t totally your fault.”
Thea sat down, hanging her head between her knees. “This is bad. He’s been tolerant so far, but this was . . .” She ran her hands up her arms, feeling the goose bumps raised across her copper skin. Her heart felt like it was being sucked into a black hole at his words. We need to talk. He was going to break up with her. She began folding her blanket. “I can’t be a nice girlfriend, the one he deserves, not while I’m a part of this.”
Her friend looked at her through long black eyelashes. “But you’re really into him, right?”
Thea thought of the way Drew’s lips would ge
ntly trace the spot behind her ear, the way he left her little presents in their secret spot in the library. She waved toward the three other girls, currently skipping rocks on the lake and shoving one another into the water. “This gives me purpose. The Black Coats gave me life. But he makes me feel happy.”
“Well then, what are you going to do?” asked Bea.
Thea rolled up on her toes and back down, something she had always done before a race. “I think I’m going there.”
Bea shook her head. “It’s, like, eleven o’clock.”
But Thea didn’t even want to wait a second more. “Tell the girls I’m going to Drew’s house.” And with that she sprinted down the driveway.
Thea pulled up in front of Drew’s house a half hour later. She climbed silently out of the car, watching as a passing cloud made darkness swallow the house. She made her way across the yard, pausing on the side of the house. Am I imagining it, or is that something rustling? She searched, but there was nothing; it was only the old oak trees stirring in the breeze. Thea straightened her shoulders and reprimanded herself for being so jumpy.
Drew’s room was on the south side of the house, bordered by some azalea bushes. She pushed her way through its branches to one of Drew’s two windows. She reached up and rapped quietly, once and then again. Silence. After a minute, she pulled out her phone and texted him:
I’m outside your window.
She waited. The wind whistled around her body, blowing her coat outward. She had reached out to knock again when the window slid open.
“Thea?” Drew’s hair was adorably messy, his eyes swollen with sleep. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Thea whispered. “Is your dad asleep?”
“Yeah, I don’t hear the TV.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Fine, come on up, I guess.”
They reached for each other at the same time, their strong arms clasping. Thea felt his arms tense, and then he yanked her upward as she scrambled up and through his window. Her momentum was too fast and they both tumbled, landing squarely on the bed. Thea’s legs straddled Drew’s waist.
“Hi,” she breathed.
He pushed her hair back from her face. “Hi.”
She bent forward, running her hands over his bare, muscular chest, his skin burning beneath hers. “Drew, I’m so sor—”
He sat up underneath her. “Don’t. Don’t say sorry. I know you’re not, so you don’t get to apologize.”
Thea waited a moment. “I am, though. Truly sorry. I hate the thought of you sitting alone at the concert.”
“Oh, I wasn’t alone. I met hordes of women. And they all wanted waffles. And my body. My body covered in waffles.”
“I deserved that,” whispered Thea, overcome by the sudden need to touch him, to lose herself in Drew Porter as they burrowed together in this quiet, protective dark. Slowly, she pulled off her black coat and dropped it to the floor before wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I keep telling myself that you’re bad for me,” whispered Drew. “Then I see you, and I can’t even stay mad at you.” He kissed her, his tongue dancing with her own. He pulled back again, Thea shuddering as they separated. “But I know you’re lying to me about something, Thea. I know you’re not restoring houses.”
Thea leaned her head against his, surrendering her will to what she needed: him. “You’re right. I’m not.”
Drew was tracing a path of fire down from her cheek now, his hands finding the soft skin under the bottom of her shirt. “Okay, next question.” He kissed her hard and pulled her up against him. “Are you with another guy?”
“No,” Thea whispered, noting how deep into her core the answer went. There was only Drew. Her heart had been frozen so long in the loneliness of grief, but each time Drew touched her, she felt it melting into something warm and strong. She felt carved out by his hands, the same hands that were now trickling up her spine, driving her mad. “No other guys. There is only you. I swear.”
“Okay.” Drew said softly, “Are you a drug runner?”
Thea laughed. “No more guessing. Not tonight. One day, I’ll tell you, I promise.”
“Soon?”
Thea pressed against him, losing her mind to the whole of him. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Good,” he growled. “Because I can’t keep myself away from you, no matter what you’re doing.” With one hand, he wrapped her close to him and flipped her around so that he was on top of her. He looked down at her, emotions clashing across his face. “When I first met you, I didn’t understand what it would be like. I thought I could keep myself separate somehow, protected from the feelings that I would have for you.” He looked at her now, and Thea felt like he could see through her skin, right into the secret parts of her. “I never dreamed that I would fall in love with you.” He almost didn’t finish his sentence as Thea pulled him down onto her, their lips meeting. God, I have never wanted anything the way I want him right now. They clung desperately to each other as their passion pulled them under, secrets forgotten in a wave of lust.
Two hours later, Thea was tracing patterns onto Drew’s hip as he snored quietly beside her. She watched his chest rise and fall, his sleep unburdened by the cares that kept her awake. Silently, she tiptoed out of his bed and pulled her shirt back on before picking up her coat and slipping it over her shoulders. She eyed the window again but decided that going out the front door would probably be easier. Thea took one glance back at him, smiling at the way he nuzzled his pillow. Moving quickly, she turned and headed down the pitch-black hallway. Drew’s dad’s room was just up ahead, and so she didn’t even breathe as she turned the corner to make her way into the living room. But instead of moving to the door she bumped dead-on into a body, moving rapidly in the opposite direction.
Instantly, Thea was thrown roughly to the floor. The attack that followed was brutal: a swift punch to the stomach and before she even could figure out what was happening, her arm was wrenched behind her, her face smacked against the floor. Thea’s training kicked in, and she thrust a leg out behind her, meeting with the attacker’s shins. The person gave a grunt as they grabbed ahold of her hair and yanked her roughly to her feet, her hands flailing uselessly in front of her.
“Mr. Porter?” she mumbled, her heart pounding.
Then Thea felt minty breath wash over her in the darkness. A dim light flicked onto her face, blinding her momentarily as she squirmed in the tight grasp. Then she heard a gasp of shock and the hand holding her hair abruptly let go. Thea fell to the floor, still not understanding what was happening. She blinked and her eyes adjusted, the moonlight giving off enough of a glow for her to see what she was looking at. Even then, she didn’t believe it.
In front of her stood an imposing figure, clad all in black, with a dark linen mask covering the top half of the face. The full lips, slashed with red, were familiar.
“Nixon?” Thea blinked again as the figure pulled the mask up. Was she dreaming? Was she still in Drew’s room? But no, there was Nixon, looking just as confused as she felt, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, her black coat buttoned to her chin.
“Thea?” Nixon reached down to steady Thea, a sign that the president was indeed as shocked as she was. That moment was where the kindness ended. Nixon looked at her for a long moment before suddenly shoving her roughly back against the wall, her whispered voice full of confusion. “What the hell are you doing here? Tell me immediately.”
Thea angrily pushed Nixon’s arm away from her neck. “What the hell am I doing here? This is my boyfriend’s house. What the hell are you doing here?”
Nixon stepped back. “What did you just say?”
“I said this is my boyfriend’s house.”
Nixon shook her head. “No. Wait—what? Your boyfriend?”
“Drew Porter. From school?” Thea stepped forward, everything about this situation raising alarm. “Nixon, seriously, what are you doing at Drew’s house?”
Her president’s eyes focused on T
hea’s face, and Thea saw a tiny twitch in her lip. A second later, Nixon turned away from her, her face shrouded by the dark. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” Her voice was low, and then she was touching her ear, speaking into a tiny microphone. “M-One, back down. Subject has been compromised. I’ll say it again, M-One, abort immediately.”
There was a quiet buzz back, and a female voice responded. “Say again, N?”
“I said, immediate abort. Do you copy?” There was a long pause. Nixon held up her hand to silence Thea.
“We’ll meet you at the drop point. Message affirmed,” came the reply.
Nixon dragged Thea across the living room. “Listen to me and do exactly as I say. This is important.” Something in her voice stopped Thea cold. For the first time ever, Nixon seemed scared. “Go out the back door. Silently. Take an immediate left and go around the side of the house under the carport. Hug the walls. Stay there, on that side of the house. Wait for ten minutes, then run—don’t walk—to your car. Go right home and wait for my instructions. Do you understand? Do not say a word about this to anyone else, especially not Team Banner.” Nixon grabbed Thea’s chin and leveled her eyes at her. “Thea, do you understand? I’m trying to save your life right now.”
Thea stepped back, suddenly very afraid of whatever this was, whoever Nixon was at this moment. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Good. Go. Now.”
Thea headed for the back door. Cracking open the screen, she slipped out into the night and around the side of the house, her heart pounding with each step. Pressing herself against the siding, she slid down the wall until she was lodged between the carport and the fence. After a moment there was a tiny screech, the whisper of a window shutting. Thea froze. They were exiting the house just a few feet away from her—a slight footstep here, a crunch of a leaf there, the rustle of pebbles underfoot. Whoever it was moved almost silently; it was nothing that would ever wake a sleeping person. Thea kept her head down, resisting the urge to run back inside and check on Drew. Why would they be here?
The Black Coats Page 17