Red After Dark: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 13)

by Elise Noble

  “I just said I wasn’t hungry.”

  The movie theatre at Riverley Hall was usually a comfy, cosy place, but tonight, a chill washed over me as I stepped through the door. The big screen at the front of the room glowed grey as it waited for me to press play on the clip I’d cued up earlier. A picture painted a thousand words, right? So a video should be good for a million. I couldn’t speak anyway. My throat was too dry.

  Nine sofas—three rows of three—sat on three levels, complete with cushions and fluffy blankets. Vintage movie posters decorated the walls, and a drinks cooler hummed in one corner. A table held bags of candy Toby hadn’t yet got around to confiscating, and because Bradley had done the decorating, there was a vase of fresh flowers too.

  Black dropped onto the middle sofa and patted the seat beside him.

  I sat.

  Felt sick to my stomach as I pressed play.

  Raw footage from Sam’s jump flickered across the screen. The roll. His release. The ground rushing towards him, a lurch as he adjusted his direction, and finally, the slate tiles of the guest house roof filling the lens. Black’s arm dropped away from my shoulders. I’d never known him to be scared before, not once, but that night, I smelled the fear seeping from his pores.

  And then I knew the truth.

  “What’s all this about?” he asked mildly, but he couldn’t hide the tension in his voice.

  Our guess had been right on the money.

  “I don’t think I need to explain.”

  His voice softened to the faintest whisper. “I didn’t plan to do it.”

  “Oh, right, it just happened, did it? You simply tripped over the briefcase and decided to replace the contents with a bunch of fakes?”

  “I came home early because there were things we needed to discuss. And then I realised he was there, and I heard you fucking, and…”

  “You thought you’d destroy him and then lie about it?”

  “Technically, I never said I didn’t do it.”

  Oh, that prick… I shoved him in the shoulder and stood up.

  “Don’t treat me like an idiot. You offered to head up the investigation into the theft and then conveniently didn’t find anything.”

  Black stood too, and I wished I had a stepladder.

  “I spoke to people. Made sure the FBI didn’t prosecute.”

  “Oh, gee, so because Alaric stayed out of prison, that makes everything okay, does it?”

  “Clearly not.”

  “For once in your life, can’t you show some empathy?”

  “I…struggle with that.”

  “No kidding. You almost got me killed that day. How does that make you feel?”

  “I had no idea you were going with him. If I had…”

  “You’d have come clean?”

  “I’d have stopped it somehow.”

  “People died, Black. Alaric lost everything. I lost a man I cared about.” I sucked in a breath and stared my husband straight in the eye. “Who I still care about. And now I’ve lost you too.”

  “Emmy, I—”

  “Shut up! Your jealousy’s a monster. Sure, you had feelings for me back then, I get it. But instead of growing a pair and telling me, you sabotaged nearly every relationship I got involved in.” I ticked off on my fingers. “Take James, for example. Rather than risking us getting back together, you engineered him into the presidency and bribed a woman to marry him. A woman, I hasten to add, who you were fucking at the time. You think I didn’t know that? Yet you don’t see me losing my shit every time you’re alone in a room with Diana, do you?”

  “James wanted to marry you.”

  “So? Did I want to marry him? No. After everything that happened—” I swallowed down the sob that threatened to burst out as I recalled the nightmare of a week that had ended my relationship with James Harrison. “After everything that happened, marriage was never an option. And you’re still an asshole to him even now, eleven years later.”

  “Because he’s still in love with you.”

  “Fucking hell! It takes two to tango, and the last contact I had with his balls was when I planted my knee in them. You’re irrational! And what about Gideon? You had him reassigned to Paris.”

  “It was a promotion.”

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath.

  “That’s not the point. You split us up on purpose. And Alaric… Where do I even start? You knew I liked him. A lot. At least with James and Gideon, you gave them a consolation prize, but you ruined Alaric’s life!”

  “I tried doing it the nice way first. Why do you think he got assigned to the overseas art squad? But he just kept coming back. And…” Black’s turn to compose himself. “And I kept asking myself, what did he have that I didn’t?”

  “Nothing. He had nothing that I wanted more than I wanted you.”

  I tore a hand through my hair. A clump snagged on wedding ring number two and ripped out from the roots. Ouch, fuck. Alaric was an amazing guy, but if it had come down to a choice between him and Black, it would have been Black. Always Black. Except maybe today.

  “There must have been something,” Black said, a dog with a damn bone. “I remember the way you looked at him.”

  “Fine.” I narrowed my eyes, irritation getting the better of me. “You’re really that desperate to know? Then I’ll tell you. Alaric was the master at giving it to me up the arse. The king of anal. Is that what you wanted to hear? Oh, and he didn’t take himself so fucking seriously all the time either.”

  Black’s eyes glittered, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. Winding him up was like poking a sleeping bear with a really big stick. But I just couldn’t stop.

  “And above all, he was a friend. Newsflash: I have lots of friends. You never get jealous when I go out with Sofia, and I hate to tell you this, Chuck, but if I was gonna fuck around behind your back, I could just as easily do that with a woman. So it’s the dick, right? You got scared in case Alaric had a bigger fucking dick than you.”

  “Emmy, shut up.”

  He sounded annoyed. Well, I was pissed off too. Pissed off that Alaric’s life had been ruined, and angry that I hadn’t realised Black’s role in the affair sooner. How could I have been so blind?

  “Screw you.”

  “Really? You want that? I’ll show you who’s got the biggest dick.”

  He spun me around, reaching for my zipper, a move he’d pulled a hundred times before. But today, I batted his hand away. He growled and fisted a handful of fabric, and my dress tore as I sidestepped away from him. Top to fucking bottom, and Black was left holding the remains of my outfit. A fine piece of Italian workmanship that turned out to be.

  “Get the hell away from me. You’re not fucking your way out of this mess.”

  “We can talk about this.”

  Now he grabbed my arm. I tried to unpeel his fingers, but he wouldn’t let go, so I did what came naturally. Hit him with a right hook. He staggered backwards and fell against the side table, but his eyes quickly focused again, and he didn’t flinch when the vase wobbled and crashed to the floor. Quick as a flash, he threw me backwards onto the sofa, but I kicked his legs out from under him on the way down. It only took me a second to roll sideways and get into a fight stance, but what was left of my bra pinged open and sagged around my chest. I flung it at Black as he scrambled to his feet. Of course, he ducked.

  “Diamond, what are we doing?”

  Black was looking for an opening, a way to subdue me, but I was in no mood to listen to his bullshit. When he dropped his gaze for the merest fraction of a second, I knew he was going to go for my legs. Getting me flat on the floor was his best option. So I ducked under his guard before he could make a move, grabbed his shirt for leverage, and kneed him in the bollocks. Normally, that would have been counterproductive, but today I didn’t care. Buttons flew everywhere as his shirt ripped. Black gave a satisfying grunt, then tried to tackle me but missed when I leapt back.

  “I’ll tell you what you’re
doing. Proving you’re the world’s biggest dick.”

  When he began to straighten, I raised one foot, not bothering to temper my fury as I booted him in the chest with a stiletto. He fell back onto another sofa, and this time, he didn’t get up. My spiked heel had left a red mark on his chest, right over his traitorous heart. Good. He deserved it.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “You absolute fucker.”

  Even if he forged each letter from steel and honed every edge until it was razor sharp, “sorry” didn’t cut it. For a moment, I was tempted to go in with a left hook as well.

  “Diamond…”

  “Don’t think you can talk your way out of this either.”

  “Just—”

  “Enough!” I strode towards the door, holding my head high as I fought the urge to cry. In a final insult, the elastic on my flimsy silk knickers gave way, and they floated to the floor. “Don’t even think about coming near me.”

  “Emmy?”

  At first, I thought it was Black who’d spoken, but as I blinked back tears, I saw the blurry outline of Alaric standing in the doorway. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How much had he heard?

  “Are you okay? I came to talk over the case, but I heard shouting…”

  “I’m fine. Perfectly, wonderfully fine.”

  I took one last glance at Black, sitting motionless in semi-darkness, and pushed past Alaric. Horror turned into devastation as I walked and then ran through the house, barely noticing when I smacked my bare hip bone on the edge of a door. I had to get out of that place. Get home to Little Riverley, call Ana, scream.

  I was fumbling with the lock on the front door when a hand closed over mine.

  “Get off me!”

  “Cinders, you can’t go outside like that. Here…” Alaric tucked his sport coat around my shoulders. “What happened in there?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay.” Alaric shrugged, accepting, always accepting. “But if you think I’m letting you run upset into the night, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “Then I’ll walk you home.”

  CHAPTER 37 - ALARIC

  WAS EMMY CRYING? Emmy never cried. She seemed to have loosened up a bit emotionally since the old days, but tears? What the fuck had happened in that room? Was there trouble in paradise? Alaric had never seen Black look so…contrite.

  Turned out the iris scanners didn’t work when Emmy’s eyes were watering. Alaric leaned forward and stared into the lens himself, and the bolts securing Little Riverley’s front door shot back with a muffled thunk.

  “What can I do? I hate seeing you like this.”

  Emmy started to wave him away, but when she held up a hand, they both saw it was shaking.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Pour me a glass of wine.”

  “Alcohol isn’t the answer.”

  “Where have I heard that before?”

  At a guess? Toby with an outside chance at Ana.

  Alaric nudged Emmy inside and closed the front door behind them. Gee, this wasn’t awkward at all, standing in front of his half-naked ex.

  “Let’s find you some clothes.”

  When Emmy made no move towards the stairs, Alaric pressed the button for the elevator. The fact that she didn’t complain was a testament to just how unsettled she was. Usually, she hated the thing, and anyone caught taking it got forced to do push-ups as a penalty.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Alaric promised as they climbed on board.

  She didn’t even acknowledge his words.

  The last time Alaric had been in Emmy’s bedroom, on that fateful visit when Emerald’s pay-off had disappeared, the decor had been blue and white. Today, it was earthy tones—browns, creams, and beiges—complete with a driftwood sculpture in one corner. What was it? An ostrich? A canoe?

  “It’s called ‘Dragon Fruit,’” Emmy said when she saw where he was looking, followed by a sniff. “Bradley bought it from some bohemian artist in Portugal.”

  “Aren’t dragon fruit normally pink, spiky things?”

  “The front end’s a dragon and the back end’s a banana. The sculptor’s doing six months for possession now.” Pain filled her eyes again. “I guess I should get dressed.”

  “Do you have pyjamas?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “There’s probably a pair somewhere, but…” She shrugged. “Usually, I sleep in a T-shirt and a pair of Black’s boxers, but tonight…no.”

  That must have been some bust-up. Alaric was curious as hell about the circumstances, but he also knew Emmy would never talk if she didn’t want to. She’d done drill after drill as a prisoner of war, stress test after stress test, and she’d protect Black the way a momma bear protected her cubs even if he wasn’t her favourite person at the moment.

  Alaric’s jacket slipped off her shoulders, so he darted into the walk-in closet and grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a sparkly pink dress completely unsuitable for the occasion—and quickly tugged it over her head. Actually, was it a dress? It barely came to mid-thigh. Hard to tell.

  And that wasn’t the only problem. He headed back into the closet, which was bigger than the first apartment he’d rented in Thailand, and rummaged through the drawers. Wallets, purses, a selection of firearms… Eight drawers in, he found a selection of underwear, not the sporty stuff she used to wear but frilly, lacy lingerie, each set in its own compartment. He grabbed a black bra and panties and tossed them out the door.

  “You’ll need these.”

  And pants. She needed pants. Skinny jeans, or leggings, or…yes, this looked like a cross between the two. And that shawl would work as a cover-up. When he’d first met Rune, she’d been a quivering mess for weeks, and she’d liked to wrap herself in a blanket. Even now, she resorted to scarves and big, bulky jackets whenever she felt insecure.

  “Here you go.” He emerged into the bedroom just as Emmy tugged the panties up her legs, and he hurriedly averted his eyes. Yes, he’d seen it all before, but that was then and this was now.

  “Good thing I waxed, huh?”

  Even joking, she still sounded sad, and when Alaric tried to wrap the shawl around Emmy’s shoulders, she shrank back.

  “Cinders, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  “You already did,” she muttered.

  He deserved that.

  “And I’ll forever be sorry, but I’ll never do it again.”

  “Thanks, but you can go now.”

  That stung. After the way he’d run out on her, he deserved to be pushed away, but it still stung.

  “I’m not leaving you alone. Who can I call? Who do you trust?”

  “Right now? No one except Ana, and she’s out.”

  “What about Dan? Mack? Nick? Sofia?”

  Emmy shook her head. Why not them? They were her oldest friends. Alaric’s synapses fired, and suddenly he understood. Shared loyalties. They were Black’s friends too.

  “If you want space, I can sit downstairs.”

  “Just leave. You lied to me. Everybody lies.”

  “Cinders, if I could turn the clock back, I would, but I can’t. I left you, and I’ll always regret that, but I swear I never lied to you.”

  “Oh, really? So you…what? Just completely forgot to mention your daughter the whole time we were dating? Even if you weren’t with her mother, surely you knew she existed?”

  Alaric laughed. He couldn’t help it, even when Emmy gave him the mother of all glares.

  “You’re talking about Rune?”

  “Unless you have two daughters?”

  “Emmy, Rune isn’t my biological daughter. I didn’t tell you about her because I hadn’t even met her at that point.”

  Now Emmy raised her eyes and met his gaze.

  “Then what…? Did you adopt her?”

  “It’s a long story. How did you find out about Rune?”

&n
bsp; A shrug. “Sources. Are you going to tell me the story? Or is it a big secret?”

  “I’ve been waiting for the right time. We’ve both been so busy, and…” They’d been finding their way back into each other’s lives slowly. Truth be told, Alaric had been on tiptoes, sticking to business for fear that Emmy might slam the door in his face. And there’d always been somebody else around. Black, or Beth, or Sky, or Emmy’s staff. But that wasn’t a great excuse. “I should have made the time.”

  “Seems our communication could do with some improvement all around.”

  Alaric held out a hand. “Then let’s talk. But not here—too many bad memories.”

  If Black was being a prick, then Emmy could do with getting away from Riverley too. He’d probably bugged the place, and if not him, then Bradley had a habit of planting clunky surveillance devices he bought from internet spy stores. Weekly sweeps picked them up for the most part, but every so often, one slipped through temporarily. Alaric didn’t exactly want their private conversation, their secret thoughts, broadcast to all and sundry.

  Emmy put her hand into his. “Okay. Where are we going?”

  “I’ll drive.”

  They often used to sneak out to CJ’s Diner in the old days. CJ’s served the best cheeseburgers, and the high-sided booths kept private conversations safe from prying ears. Eight years had passed since Alaric last set foot in there, and the place hadn’t changed a bit. Same wood-panelled walls, same faded red vinyl seating, same crackly jukebox. Even the same waitress, although her hair was mostly grey now.

  “I haven’t been here in forever,” Emmy murmured as Alaric led her towards “their” table—the one right at the back, nestled beside an ancient cigarette machine. An Out of Order sign was taped over the coin slot.

  “What can I get ya, hun?” the waitress asked, no hint of recognition in her eyes.

  Alaric already knew what Emmy would have. “Two cheeseburgers with everything, two portions of fries, one of onion rings, a diet cola, and a sparkling water.”