Cross Roads, page 28
* * *
Rohan didn’t at first register Lena’s words. His mind kept churning through plausible scenarios that would get them out of this nightmare he’d created.
All his fail-safes hadn’t been enough to protect BARS. The bastards had even found the offshore accounts.
It was so clear to him now that he should have gone on the offensive the moment they started making jabs at his security defenses. He should have uncovered each of their identities and had a counterattack ready to go.
But he’d been too self-assured, too certain he knew their tricks well enough to deflect any attack. Too confident in Lucy’s abilities. Too eager to open a damn email.
When Lena’s words finally penetrated his inner turmoil, he asked, “What did you say?”
“I have a solution.” He wanted to be civil and listen to whatever ridiculous suggestion she made, but he didn’t have it in him. He couldn’t produce even a kernel of interest.
If he and Cruz hadn’t found a way out of this mess, there wasn’t a chance in hell she had a viable solution. But he hadn’t displaced every brain cell yet, so he muttered, “Oh?”
Even to his own ears, the word sounded more grunty than encouraging. A part of him winced, another part couldn’t even manage a shrug.
Lena removed her hand from his leg, and a bone-deep cold moved in.
“Please forgive, Rohan,” Grams said. “He is not himself. Share your thoughts with us, Lena.”
His grandmother’s admonishment socked him in the balls, but his eyes remained fixed on his clamped hands.
Beside him, Lena released a low, shuddering breath. But when she spoke, her voice was strong and all business.
“For some time now, I’ve been researching investment opportunities. Nothing I’ve come across has been enticing enough to make me want to take the leap. Until now.”
Heart rocking in his chest, Rohan turned to stare at Lena. She ignored him, keeping her attention on Zeke and the others.
“I’d like to invest twelve million dollars into BARS.”
The background check he’d conducted on her had revealed a healthy bank account, but not twelve mil healthy. He could think of only one other asset she possessed that would fetch enough cash to save BARS. But it wasn’t hers to offer.
“You’re not selling the Frida,” he said.
The look she sent him could have burned water. “I have no intention of selling Self-Portrait with Braided Hair. I have other plans for her.”
Rohan would circle back around to that comment later. “I did a thorough background check on your financials. Although a wealthy woman, you don’t have that kind of change.”
“You might be good at tech, but I’m good at hiding things. I assure you, I have the money.”
“Why BARS?” Zeke asked.
“Because you return things to their proper place. Because you don’t stop until you’ve righted the wrong. Because,” she opened her hand and set the gold pendant on the conference table, “little girls need heroes like all y’all.”
Rohan stared at the pendant she’d been carrying around for twenty years, not because of its beauty or value, but for the simple reason that it linked her to her family.
The pendant blurred as the full force of what she was offering him—them—set in.
One tear, two, three tears splattered against the table below him.
Jeezus, he was becoming a watering pot.
He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a bracing breath, then raked a hand down his damp face. He looked up in time to see Zeke glance around the room. Each person present gave him a sharp nod. Then they all rose and filed out, one by one.
Cruz, being Cruz, strode away with his normal confident stride, not affected by the fact that he was still in his underwear.
Grams paused between him and Lena. A hand on each of their shoulders. She kissed Rohan’s temple, which nearly set off a fresh wave of waterworks.
Then she did the same to Lena. “We accept your generous offer, Angelena Kamber, and you have our collective gratitude for all the days we walk this Earth.”
Lena nodded, struggling with her own emotions.
“We accept your loan with interest,” he corrected in a guttural, yet firm voice. “I’ll get our money back, Grams. I swear it.”
The family matriarch brushed her fingers over the back of his neck before returning to his shoulder. “Rohan.”
It took a moment before he could look at her. When he did, he saw nothing but love in her eyes.
“If your grandfather were here, he would no doubt say something wise that you would eventually pass down to your son and he to his.” Her fingers dug into his shoulder with surprising strength. “But your grandfather is not here. I am. And I seek a promise from you.”
In the depths of her dark eyes, Rohan recognized the same unwavering strength and resolve their ancestors must have had in abundance to survive the Long Walk over a century ago.
“Anything, Grams.”
“Find the ones who did this to us and make them pay.”
62
The following morning Sheriff Maggie Kingston showed up at their gate.
“She’s asking to speak with Lena.”
Rohan stared up at Zeke, straining to see his brother beyond the ghostly imprint of code.
After the family meeting, he’d planted himself at his desk with a fully independent laptop he kept in reserve for emergency breakdowns. It was time—past time—for him to go on the offensive. He would track down the Collective’s identities and make them pay. The same way he had Cal Simmons for screwing over the Neffs,
Only minutes ago, he’d found something disturbing. Really freaking disturbing.
Rohan reached for the cup, sitting on the warming dish. It brimmed with a coder’s magic elixir.
Coffee.
“Why does Maggie want to talk to Lena?” he asked, taking a tentative sip to test the temperature.
“Might have something to do with the string of dead people you and Lena left behind on your road trip.”
Rohan stared at his brother, not in the mood for his ribbing.
“Touchy this morning, I see.” Zeke shrugged. “She didn’t say. I assumed she had an update on Ruthie’s murder to share.”
“Did Maggie ask for me, too?”
“No.”
“Why not? I was at the motel.”
“Maybe the local authorities lifted one of Lena’s fingerprints. In Atlanta, she admitted to being in the system.”
“So am I.”
No Blackwell had made it to age twenty without at least one brush with the law. For some, like Zeke and Cruz, multiple swipes.
“Can you hold her off?”
“What do you think?”
The sheriff was tenacious. A great quality for those on her good side, not so great for the other ninety-five percent of humanity.
“How the hell did she even know Lena was here?”
“Me,” a new voice said.
Zeke whipped around, as surprised as Rohan, to find a disheveled Lena throwing aside a blanket as she sat up on his office couch.
The last time he’d seen her was right after the meeting, when she and Grams had followed Lynette into her office. The private meeting had certainly piqued his curiosity. But he’d been too focused on his own personal mission to give their cloak-and-dagger activities any further thought.
Had she been on his couch all night, catching fragments of sleep while keeping him in coffee?
If he hadn’t been a hundred percent sure about his feelings for her before, he was now. Once again, the timing sucked, so he stayed rooted in his damn chair and took in every wisp of her wild hair, every wrinkle in her red top, and every dark smudge beneath her sleepy eyes.
“You called Maggie?”
“Sort of.” She smoothed her hair off her face and swept it into a familiar bun. How it stayed in place without a hair band was a mystery. One he hoped to solve soon.
“I held a video conference with Maggie, Grams, Lynette, and a few other ladies I trust.” She glanced between him and Zeke. “They helped me come up with a plan. Maggie’s part of the solution.”
Now he understood why she’d been cooped up in an office with Lynette and Grams.
“A plan for what?’’ Zeke asked, an edge of warning, or was it wonder, in his voice.
“Nothing either of you need to worry about. This isn’t a BARS issue, this is my issue.”
Now that he’d cleared the code from his head, another part of his brain kicked in. He rose from his chair, feeling every minute of his inactivity for the last six hours.
“We’re partners now, Lena. Your business is our business, and vice versa.”
“Even if mine included another dead body?”
Zeke raised a brow in Rohan’s direction, then dropped into one of the guest chairs.
Rohan nodded toward the empty space next to Lena. “May I?”
“What about Maggie?”
“I got it.” Zeke tapped several buttons on his phone’s screen to remotely open the entrance gate.
Lena nodded at Rohan and shifted away a few unnecessary inches.
Despite her care of him last night, she was still hurting from the way he’d reacted to her investment offer.
He didn’t blame her. She would’ve expected some response from him. Something besides silence. But none of the words he thought of seemed right. Thank you sounded too paltry for her level of generosity. I love you would have created another awkward void.
Rohan would make it up to her, but not with Zeke gawking at them.
Sitting a respectful distance away, he rested his arms on his knees and turned his head to look at her. “What’s this about dead bodies?”
“Something Izzy said to me got me thinking.” She wrapped her arms around a burgundy throw pillow.
Rohan looked at Zeke. “Isabella DeCarlo, a childhood friend and Senator Palmer’s fiancée.”
His brother nodded, a slight frown between his eyes, as he waited for Lena to continue.
“Unbeknownst to me, Izzy had created a grand idea in her mind that she, Xander,” she paused for Zeke’s sake, “you know him as Killian Byrne, and I would take over the business where we all worked, until a few years ago.”
“Which was?” Zeke prompted.
With a resigned glance at Rohan, she told his brother about her parents’ murders, her kidnapping, her mostly normal upbringing, her adoptive father’s killing, her time on the streets with her friends, and her work for the man who had given them all a new life, then lost his.
Zeke sat in stunned silence for a full ten seconds before he said something that would have brought Rohan to his knees if he hadn’t already been sitting.
“I heard about the lessons you’ve been giving Sadie. She’s laid claim to you, as part of her intimate circle.” A small smile appeared. “As I suspect my brother has.” His smile faded. “For them, you will always have a place in this family. However, what you offered to do for BARS last night, what you’re doing for all of us, has garnered you the full force of my family’s protection. You’re safe here, Angelena Kamber. Never doubt it.”
63
Lena swiped at the lone tear before it made its way down her cheek.
Never in a million years would she have believed this big gruff guy could bring her to tears with words alone.
The Blackwells. A surprise. Every last one of them.
She rose from the leather couch and placed a kiss on Zeke’s cheek. “Thank you.”
He gave her an almost shy smile. “Welcome.” Then he lightened the moment by winking at his brother.
She stepped on his foot, earning her a satisfying grunt.
Plopping back on the couch, she continued. “Izzy made it clear that I would pay for ruining her life. I think—” She tapped the side of her forefinger against her upper lip. “I think she might have killed Simon.”
“Didn’t he overdose on prescription painkillers?” Rohan asked.
“According to the medical examiner’s report, yes.”
“Why do you believe Izzy might have murdered him?”
“A few weeks before he died, she made a point of telling us she’d seen him popping pills during the day, and up until that point he’d only been dosing in the morning and evening.”
“Maybe his back pain got worse.”
“It’s possible, but I remember now that it had been Izzy who’d suggested we check to see if Simon wanted us to bring him back something for lunch. I recalled being surprised, yet proud, about her thoughtfulness. Izzy had never concerned herself with Simon’s welfare before.”
“Not sure those two recollections would be enough to convince a jury that she’s guilty of murder,” Zeke said.
“Yesterday, she compared Simon to lint. Something easily ‘discarded.’” She glanced at the two men. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was the way she said it. Her body language. She was without remorse. Proud, even.” Lena hugged the pillow to her chest again. “She all but gloated about Desmond killing Ruthie, and I have a strong suspicion he killed Bobby Balor.”
“Who’s Desmond?” Zeke asked.
“Izzy’s lover and God knows what else,” Rohan said. “He’s also head of Palmer’s security.”
Zeke frowned again and rose. “Be back in a second.” His thumbs flew across his phone as he left Rohan’s office.
Lena stared at the open door. “Where’s he going?”
“No idea.”
Rohan angled his body toward her. One hand clutched the back of the couch, the other reached for hers.
After her cold recollections of Izzy, his touch warmed her, comforted her. Bolstered her in a hundred different ways that would see her through the challenging hours ahead.
“Why do you think Desmond killed Bobby?”
“To ensure his silence.” She glanced down at their hands. “Bobby said a friend of his heard about Palmer getting a copy made of Woman Walking.” She lifted her gaze to his. “What if his friend was Izzy?”
“Even with Izzy’s past, I can’t see the two of them running in the same circles.”
“No, but Izzy knows a lot of people. She’s a networking queen, just like Kayla. How do you think she wound up engaged to a senator?”
Rohan’s eyes widened as if struck by a thought. “Before Balor died, Maggie got him to reveal that Woman Walking wasn’t his original target.”
“What was?” Even as the words left her mouth, she had a sinking feeling she knew.
“The Frida.” He gentled his voice. “Could Izzy and Killian have known it was the original?”
Lena ignored the stab of betrayal. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so.” She gave it some thought. “They both knew three experts had authenticated my copy.”
“Maybe they stole the Frida and sold it as an original, knowing the auction house wouldn’t be able to tell it was a fake.”
“They knew I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Because you were the artist.” Rohan caressed her hand as he spoke, keeping her grounded. “Why did they add the Catawnee to the theft order?”
“Izzy saw an opportunity to discredit me. A way to slowly erode my business. Who would hand over their precious artworks to someone who lost a million-dollar painting?”
“With Killian gone, Balor was the only other person who knew Izzy had organized the theft of her fiancé’s expensive painting.”
Lena nodded. “When I first saw Desmond at Palmer’s, he’d just returned from a meeting that Izzy seemed inordinately pleased about. I remembered thinking the entire exchange felt off, somehow. You said Bobby had only been dead for two or three hours by the time his roommate had found him. So I think the timing fits.”
“Desmond kills Balor, tying up a loose end, and returns to the party, giving himself dozens of alibis.”
“If I didn’t hate her so much right now, I’d be impressed by her diabolical plan.”
Silence fell between them, and Lena’s thoughts shifted away from betraying friends to the man next to her. It had been difficult to watch him pound away on his keyboard through the long hours of the night, searching for malicious phantoms.
When her two-hour videoconference with the ladies had ended, she’d strode by his office and noticed that his desk was devoid of food or drink. Not knowing the last time he’d had either, she’d located some energy bars and did her best to keep his coffee cup filled.
She didn’t even try to talk him into getting some rest. If their situations had been reversed, she would have been as determined as he to chase down the digital terrorists.
How long would it take for him to forgive himself? Would he ever?
“Lena,” Rohan said in a low, guttural voice. “Thank you for taking care of me while I worked.”
Lena’s stomach did a little flip-flop at the love shining in his eyes. “I wish I could’ve done more.”
“I’m sorry about how I acted last night. About not showing you how much I appreciated your offer to invest—”
“I love you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, awkward and wobbly, like a litter of preweaned pups checking out their new territory.
His eyes flared and his breath caught mid-inhalation, as if someone had punched all the air out of his lungs. Then a smile broke across his face, and he cupped her cheek. “I love you, too.” He kissed her, soft and reverent, before lifting his head.
For the first time in over a decade, terror blinded Lena against what the future might hold. More fragments of memory had come to her since last night. Dangerous fragments she wished had remained buried deep in her psyche.
But she was tired of running. Tired of starting over. She wanted what she saw in Rohan’s eyes. She wanted the happy ending.
“Thanks, gratitude,” he said. “They will never be enough for the sacrifice you’re making.”
“It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a sound business investment.”
“Loan,” he corrected. “With interest.”
Smiling, she lifted her free hand to trace the edge of his jaw. “What I seek is not your thanks or gratitude.”
