He crosses the room to kneel next to me. I turn the album around, and he glances at the photos, frowning instantly. “What the—” He takes the book from me and stands up, walking to the desk where he sets it down, flipping through the pages.
“Who is she?” I ask, standing to join him behind the desk.
Jax’s gaze lifts and finds mine. “My mother. It’s like a damn shrine to my mother. And I’m officially creeped the fuck out.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jax
I shut the photo album holding the photos of my mother that I can easily assume to be taken by Echo.
“You think he was obsessed with her?” Emma asks. “You said the photos creep you out. Are you thinking an affair or something far more dangerous? What are you thinking right now, Jax?”
A hell of a lot, I think, and none of it is good. Most of it would scare the shit out of Emma, too, which is why, for now, I keep it all to myself. “I don’t know, baby. I need time to process.” I glance at my watch. “And right now, we’re tight on time. We need to get back and shower before the brunch, and I have Grayson Bennett coming in for a meeting.”
She studies me a moment, clearly wanting to push for more, but obviously thinks better. “You already supply the bars in his hotels, right?”
“I do. I’m working with his investment consortium on another project.” Her brother’s future being that project, but that’s a topic we need to discuss after I meet with Grayson. I motion to the shelf to my right. “Check the books there, will you? Look for the DNA test stuck in a book. I’ll get the other shelf.”
Emma doesn’t move. “He didn’t leave that DNA test for me or the note. He’s not the one. I told you why.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a copy and know about it. And these bookshelves seem to be the only place he keeps anything important.”
“Right,” she says. “Good point.” She hurries toward the shelf to get to work.
I do the same on my side and quickly start pulling out books, shaking them, thumbing through pages. We get twenty minutes into this process, and we’re out of time. “Anything?” I ask, hands settling on my hips under the jacket that I’m still wearing.
“No, but there are so many books,” she says. “It’s going to take forever. We need more time.”
“I’m going to have Savage’s team take over. Let’s head back.” I glance at my watch again. “In fact, let’s make this our morning jog, out of the need to cut time off the trip back.”
“I’m all in,” she says. “I need to pay for the pastries I’ve been eating.”
She slides a book back into place and crosses to stand in front of me. “Jax—”
I cup her face and lean in to kiss her. “We have much to talk about, baby. Just not now. Okay?”
“Yes. Right. The time. Of course.”
I catch her hand and lead her through the house, shooting Savage a text to meet me at the brunch, as we walk down the steps to the beach. Once we’re there, Emma and I waste no time doing what we’ve have started doing to start most mornings: we run. But on this particular morning, it feels like we are running right at the devil. And she might just be wearing a red dress, after all.
***
Ten minutes later, we’re back at the beach house. In another ten, we’re in the shower together, and while I don’t talk to her about what’s on my mind, the ghosts of my past are right here with us. Time is limited, but I damn sure make enough of it to press her against the shower and press inside her. It’s not soft and tender love making, either. It’s a hard, fast, emotionally-driven fuck and release, and thank you, Lord, she’s right there with me. The woman gets me. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t push me. She just fucks the hell out of me and then grabs the shampoo like it didn’t even happen.
I almost laugh.
Almost.
There’s too much spinning out of control to get me there, though.
It’s time to take control. I keep saying that, and I need to end the talk. Action is in order and that means I’m not going to be gentle outside this shower either.
***
For brunch and my afternoon meetings, I dress in suit pants and a blue button-down collared shirt without a tie, while Emma wears dress pants and an emerald green blouse that matches her eyes. Funny how I don’t remember noticing the color of any woman’s blouse before Emma. But then, Emma is not any other woman. She’s the one woman who matters. The one who woke me up in ways I didn’t even know I needed to be woken up. And for her, I will try to find a way to fight this war with her brother, without the damage I might otherwise have caused him.
Because I still believe he had something to do with Hunter’s death.
When the doorbell rings, I leave her in the bathroom, finishing up her makeup to find Savage at the door. This time I exit to the porch, welcoming the privacy. I pull the door shut and Savage gives me a quick look, and clearly, reading my mood on the money, says, “Someone didn’t have their Fruity Pebbles this morning.”
I ignore the comment that doesn’t merit response. “What have you found out about my mother?”
“I’ll have an update today,” he says. “What don’t I know?”
“Echo was obsessed with her.”
He arches a brow. “Is this common knowledge?”
“No.” My lips thin. “I never knew. None of us did, but my brothers and I were all kids when she left. My father trusted him. But the bottom line here is that I found a photo album on his bookshelves with an excessive number of photos.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Are we thinking that she didn’t actually leave of her own free will?”
“My father was not a gullible man, but he didn’t know about this obsession. I’m sure of it. And he believed she left willingly, but I don’t want to rule anything out. I’m also concerned about Echo’s anger toward Emma. If he was jealous of her father, then his comments about knowing who she is feel far more ominous.”
“Agreed, but why be jealous of her father and not yours?”
“I don’t pretend to know. Maybe he thought she was leaving my father for him and then found out she was pregnant with Hunter. There are only two people we know who can tell us: Echo and my mother.”
“And at least one of them might be dead. Echo still hasn’t used his phone, and it’s not pinging. To be clear, to us that means that he ran and wiped himself off the map, or someone else did it for him.”
“I assumed as much.”
“We’re doing what we can do,” he says. “Change of topic. What about Chance’s promise to come after you if Emma isn’t out of here in seventy-two hours?”
“Strike first, as Emma’s father used to say. Stick to my plan.”
“Does Emma know you’re setting her brother up for a fall?”
“No.”
“Because you want to be divorced before you ever ask her to marry you?”
Marry her.
Yes, I think. That’s exactly what I am going to do. I’m going to marry Emma Knight. I’m going to make her my wife, but she was right about our challenges. There are circumstances that must be changed to make us happen and they need to be changed now.
“Tonight,” I say. “I’m talking to her tonight, after I solidify the plan with Grayson Bennett, but bottom line, we need to act now. Randall’s statement about Emma ending up dead doesn’t sit well with me. If that DNA test is true, and Chance killed Hunter knowing he was his half-brother, Emma’s sibling status doesn’t keep her safe.”
“Agreed,” Savage says, his jaw tight. “Kill or be killed. I’m going to go get this new plan set into motion.”
“We started going through Echo’s bookshelves but ran out of time. That’s where he keeps his prizes. Look for the DNA test. Maybe he knew about it.”
“On it,” he says. “And, Grayson and Eric are meeting you in the library in an hour.”
I nod, and he heads down the stairs while I walk to the railing and lean on the wooden surfa
ce, staring out at the water, the crashing waves echoing in my mind. The wind taunting me, seeming to laugh at me for being so damn blind that I didn’t know the truth about my family. The irony—I still don’t.
The only thing I know with certainty is what I will do to protect Emma in all of this. And that means that I will do whatever it takes, without limits.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jax
Emma and I arrive at the castle to a line of cars waiting in front, and we do so in a gust of October wind that screams of winter fast approaching. Emma shivers, and I pull her under my arm. “Makes me think of the holidays,” she says, as we climb the stairs to the castle door.
The holidays. Holy hell. It was bad enough to endure them without dad. Now, Hunter is gone, too. But Emma is here, and I try to focus on that bright spot this season. “What do you do for the holidays?” I ask.
“My mother used to cook a big spread at which time we’d pretend to be a normal happy family. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen this year. I left her a message to see if she knows anything about, well, anything. Three times. Apparently, she’s not taking my calls today.” She glances up at me. “What about you? What are your holidays like?”
Memories cut with this question. “Not the same as they used to be,” I reply solemnly. “But back in the good ol’ days, my father always held a feast for the family, and to him, family was everyone who works at the castle. Hunter maintained that tradition.”
“Will you?”
“Will we?” I correct. “You’re going to move in with me, remember?”
She smiles, and that smile of hers lights me up and motivates me to end this war. But it can’t end without true closure. Not when murder is involved, perhaps now with Echo missing, more than one murder. “Do you put up a tree in the castle?”
We step onto the landing in front of the castle door. “Of course, we put up a tree. One the size of a small house.”
She laughs. “I love it.” She offers me a coy look and adds, “I can’t wait to see it.”
Because she plans on being here. That’s exactly what I want to hear. I lean in and kiss her just in time to catch Ed, today’s doorman, smile, no doubt because I don’t bring women around. Ever. Or it could be simply that Emma’s smile is so damn charming. “Good day,” he greets, opening the door for us.
“Good day,” Emma replies, all perky and sweet.
“Hi, Ed,” I say. “How are things?”
“Splendid. People are loving the brunch fare and looking forward to the tour.”
“It’s a bit cold for an outdoor tour, isn’t it?” Emma asks.
“We have carriage rides through the property setup,” I say, my hand settling on her lower back, as we enter the castle.
We’ve barely stepped into the foyer when Jill comes rushing at us, like she was on a stakeout for us, waiting to attack. Thankfully, she’s traded her red dress for pink. “There you are.” She ignores Emma completely. “Your meeting is set up in the library including food but Grayson and Eric haven’t made their way this direction yet. They are, however, present in the castle already. And I need to speak to you alone before that meeting.”
“Hi, Jill,” Emma says, refusing to be ignored, which only serves to make me crazier about her.
Jill casts her a chilling look. “Hello, Emma.”
If Emma notices, and she has to, she’s nothing but gracious in return. “Can I do anything to help?” she offers.
Jill purses her lips. “I don’t know how you’d help.”
“Right,” Emma says flatly. “Of course, you don’t.” She turns to me. “I’ll just go into the brunch and have a chocolate-covered breakfast. Chocolate sounds really good right now. Is it in the same area as the other tastings?”
Amused by her delicate but rather cutting dismissal of Jill, my lips curve. “If is,” I confirm, pleased that she’s comfortable enough to go on ahead of me. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.” I glance at my watch and then her. “I have a good half hour to make the guest rounds before my meeting.”
“Sounds good.” She eyes Jill. “If I see a problem, I’ll jump in and help, but you know where to find me if you need me.”
Jill gives a curt nod and when Emma would walk away, I catch her hand, walk her to me, and kiss her. “Watch out for Sawyer. He’ll be here.”
“He is here,” Jill says. “And don’t even get me started about that man.”
Emma glances her direction. “I heard he was a bit of trouble for you last night. I hope he wasn’t too inappropriate.” She turns her attention to me. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll handle him if necessary.”
Jill makes a disgusted sound. Emma smiles at her response, as if at this point, she can do nothing but be amused, and heads toward the brunch. I step closer to Jill and lower my voice. “Emma’s not going away, Jill,” I say, “and most people find her quite charming.”
“Can we have that private conversation?”
I motion her forward. “Lead the way.”
She turns on her heels and marches toward her office. I follow her and shut the door. She doesn’t walk around her desk. She stands her ground on this side of the small office. I make use of her visitor chair and place it between us, my hands on the back. “What’s up?”
“Sawyer tried to recruit me away, groped me, and then vow that we won’t get his business if we’re doing business with the Knight operation.”
Savage said otherwise, but physical contact is too serious for me to dismiss and I’m feeling pretty done with Sawyer anyway. “The groping alone is good enough for me. We won’t do business with him.” I push off the chair, intending to leave.
She holds up a hand. “Wait. I’d rather you do business with him than the Knights.”
“Sawyer will slit our throats if we give him the chance.”
“Better than pushing us off of a ledge, now isn’t it?” she snaps back. “Her father was here, Jax. He visited Hunter often. He messed with Hunter’s head. I don’t know what went down, but he was not the same after that man came around.”
“And yet, you never came to me.”
“I did. I came to you.”
“Too late.” I lean across the chair, anger burning in my words. “Too damn late, and you know it.”
“How can you have that woman in your bed?”
“Who is in my bed is not your business, but Emma is not her father. That man barely acknowledged her as his daughter. And yet, you’re a bitch to her. And don’t even get me started on Brody. My brother damn near shoved her off the ledge Hunter fell from.”
She blanches, a stunned look on her face. “What?”
“You heard me. He hung her off the ledge. And yet, she’s still here, and honestly, anyone else would be gone.”
That fires her up. “Then why isn’t she? Think about it, Jax. Why isn’t she?”
“Because I asked her to live here with me.”
She blanches all over again. “You—you asked her to what?”
“That’s right. And I’m telling you, right now, that if you make decisions based on revenge and bitterness, you won’t be here for another Harvest. I need you here, Jill. You are valued, but that kind of motivation is dangerous. And I will choose her over you.”
She hugs herself and tears up. “I just—I just don’t know how, I don’t know how to let it go.”
“Then take some time off for the holidays to cope. You never took any time off after Hunter died. Take some time.”
She swallows hard, tears pooling in her eyes, and for once, I’m not thinking about her as guilty of anything but grief. “This place is all I have left of him,” she whispers, driving home that point.
“But, is it rubbing the loss in your face?”
“I need closure. I need someone to pay for what happened to him.” She looks away and then back at me. “He left me nothing. I think maybe he didn’t love me like I loved him.”
And just like that, she loses me. Is she crying over losing him or losing his money?
“Money isn’t love, Jill. Take December off with pay. It’s the slow season. That’s an order.” I reach for the door, and I’m about to open it when she says, “Brody is at the brunch.”
I whirl on her. “What the hell, Jill? I just told you that he tried to push Emma the landing, and you didn’t tell me that he was here?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“After Emma has been out there alone for an extra five minutes.”
“And he wasn’t going to push her. He told me he just wanted to scare her away.”
“You knew? You acted like you didn’t know.”
“I knew, but hearing you describe it wasn’t like hearing him describe it.”
I grimace and exit the office with one goal: find Emma.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Emma
The same room where the tasting was held is now setup with desserts and a bar, but the brunch is actually being held in the center of the castle. I treat myself to a delicious mini chocolate croissant and then walk through the giant archway to the main event, where people chitchat in small groups and waiters walk around with trays filled with yummy food. There are tables with more yummy food. Another bar. And more people.
My gaze lifts and scans the high stone walls and the arched cutouts above, with paintings inside them, only to find myself staring at the woman in red. Well, a painting of the woman in red. It’s mesmerizing, and I wonder why I never fear seeing her when I’m here. Perhaps because she’s at peace here, and despite all the reasons I should not be, I am, too. I feel like I belong here, or more it could be, that I simply belong with Jax.
I maneuver through a few small high tables meant for snacking and standing, but stop dead in my tracks when I spy Kent Sawyer talking with a woman I don’t know. He is, as I’ve noted in past, rare in-person brushes, dressed impeccably in a gray suit. He’s tall, on the thin side, his face handsome but a bit gaunt. His thick salt and pepper hair reflecting his age, which I estimate to be mid-fifties.
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