She and Ellis settled on the damask covered settee kitty-corner to her father’s oversized leather chair by the fireplace which this time of the year sat empty.
“I told you I have a friend with me. This is Detective Ellis Hunter from Virginia. I’m sure you remember him from the hospital.”
From the thin white line around her father’s lips she had a feeling he was none too happy.
Oh well. Peyton could only remember making her father truly happy once, and now even that had a whole new connotation. She might even ask him about that today if she could work it into the conversation.
Charles looked good for a man in his early sixties. His hair was gray but his body was in good shape due to workouts three times a week plus as much golf as he could fit into his schedule. He hadn’t slowed down much in his late years, still in control of several companies. Peyton had assumed he might hand over some of the control to Jensen, but so far he didn’t seem in any hurry to do that. He would probably go into the great hereafter at his desk.
“It’s very nice to see you again, sir,” Ellis said, extending his hand. Charles stared at it a second or two too long but did eventually rise slightly from his chair and shake Ellis’s hand.
A young maid bustled into the library at that moment, setting out an elaborate tea service on the large round coffee table. When she was finished, she left as quietly as she’d entered.
Her father cleared his throat. “Your mother isn’t here to pour, Peyton Elizabeth.”
Peyton hadn’t poured at a formal tea since her cotillion days but she’d try. Studiously keeping her hands from shaking, she served three cups of tea in tiny, fragile porcelain so delicate she could see the shadow of her hand through them. Finger sandwiches and small tarts were served on little plates, and by the time she was finished pouring she’d worked up something of an appetite.
“So you called me, Father?”
A sidelong glance at Ellis before Charles answered. “I did, young lady. It seems we have something to discuss but this is family matters.” A more pointed look at Ellis this time. “Private matters.”
“He’s here to protect me.”
Charles waved at Ellis. “Yes, yes, that’s what you said and what Jensen told me. But what’s going to happen to you in your own parents’ home? He can wait in the kitchen with the cook.”
Her father was often insufferably rude to people and he was doing it again. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at how Ellis was being treated. “Father, you’re not being very polite–”
Ellis stood, his hand on Peyton’s shoulder. “Actually, I think that’s a good idea. I’ll give you two a chance to talk. Where is the kitchen?”
Scowling, Charles took a sip of his tea. “I have no idea, young man, but I’m sure someone as industrious as you are can find it.”
She would have given her father a blistering reply but Ellis’s hand tightened slightly in warning. She’d cautioned him about her dad and he’d replied that he didn’t want to get into it with the old man. Ellis assured her that he wouldn’t be an extra irritant to Charles McMillen since she was probably already in trouble about Evandria.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
She had no business feeling abandoned but she’d grown used to having Ellis at her side almost twenty-four seven. It was strange when he wasn’t there. But Charles had a point; no harm was going to come to her in the library of her parents’ home, especially with Ellis only a few feet away.
She’d learned a great deal about Detective Ellis Hunter in the last few weeks and she’d bet he wasn’t going to the kitchen right now. Instead, he was going to prowl around the house checking for people watching them. He was a cop through and through.
“So now will you tell me what you wanted?” she asked when Ellis was gone. “Why I was summoned today?”
Her father harrumphed and put down his tea cup, reaching for the whiskey on the small table next to him. “You act as if seeing your family is some sort of imposition, Peyton Elizabeth.”
Controlling the laughter that bubbled up at his words, she didn’t take the bait. “You asked to see me. Now I’m here.”
“What is that man doing in London with you?”
Was this what her father wanted? To talk about Ellis?
“He’s protecting me,” she said again. “There have been a couple attempts on my life, first in Williamsburg and now here in London.”
That captured her father’s attention. “Here? When did that happen?”
“This morning. A taxi tried to run myself and Ellis down.”
Charles always looked unhappy but his expression was thunderous at her statement.
“Did you call Scotland Yard?”
“What’s the point? We can’t prove it and the taxi was quickly lost in a sea of them. There’s not much to be done.”
Leaning forward in his chair, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Seems like this detective isn’t doing such a great job of protecting you.”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” she shot back. “He’s doing a fine job. I do notice though that you haven’t asked me why I believe my life is in danger, so I assume you’ve talked to Jensen. My dearest brother never could keep a secret.”
“Jensen is a fine son to call and let us know what’s been going on with you—otherwise we might never have found out.”
Inwardly rolling her eyes, Peyton had to control the stream of sarcasm that was waiting to come out of her mouth. “Now you know. But I think the real question is more like…how long have you known? Did you know Greg was in Arsenal? Did you know that he had another family here in London?”
Charles McMillen’s expression gave nothing away but that wasn’t a shock. He was a master businessman, used to hiding his thoughts and feelings.
“I had no idea Greg had volunteered for Arsenal nor did I know about his other family. I would never have approved of you staying married to him if I’d had that knowledge.”
She found that difficult if not impossible to believe. Her father had put Greg Nelson in her path for one reason and one reason only. To be her lawfully wedded husband. It had sealed a huge merger between Greg’s parents’ company and Charles’s. Their children had simply been the pawns in the business deal.
“Are you sure, Dad? Because you were desperate for me to marry Greg and when I talked about divorcing him you were desperate for me to stay married to him. In fact, I think you loved Greg more than I did. Maybe you should have married him.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining much when you two met. You thought he was wonderful and couldn’t wait to tie the knot, if I recall.”
She remembered it too but things hadn’t turned out like she’d hoped. “You made sure I did. He was sold to me as the anti-you. He was free-spirited, creative, and openly scornful of conspicuous consumption. What I didn’t know was that he was an irresponsible asshole who drank, womanized, and gambled his way through Europe. But I’m guessing you knew he was like that before you ever introduced us.”
“You give me too much credit, Peyton Elizabeth. I only wanted what was best for you and I thought a husband would help you settle down. You didn’t seem to know what you wanted to do with your life. Marrying Greg gave you purpose.”
It sure as fuck did. Keeping her husband alive after too many bottles of wine or losing too much money at the casino made sure her days were filled.
“And look how that turned out,” she said, her tone hard. “A disaster.”
Her father had the nerve to nod and agree. “It was. There’s a pattern there though. Everything you touch seems to go in the wrong direction. Your mother and I are offering to get you back on the right track. Forget this vendetta about Evandria and Greg. He’s gone and nothing can bring him back. There’s a place for you in any of my businesses. Just pick one and it’s yours.”
Jumping to her feet, she turned her back on her father, walking to the wall of bookshelves and pretending to peruse the titles. Anger burned in her gut but she wouldn�
�t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’d got to her. That’s all he truly wanted. The offer to give her a company was bullshit. If she called his bluff he’d never do it. If he hadn’t given one to Jensen, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it for her, his flighty daughter.
“I’m not sure how my lousy marriage was my fault when you picked my husband, Father. But I’ve already found his killer. Archer Caldwell killed Greg along with several others. He did it for the power. So my next question probably seems obvious. You’re a member of Evandria and you have been for years. What side are you on in the war?”
Laughter. Her father’s deep laughter reached her ears and had her turning around to face him. He looked amused as if she’d told a ribald joke.
“Darling, there is no war. There is always a struggle when it comes to power, but a war? You always were so dramatic.”
“Then why did Grant Hollister and Nigel Holmwood both say that me and my friends are caught in the middle of a battle? That our lives were in danger and we needed to leave Midnight Blue Beach? Were they just playing with us? Just joking around?”
Charles shook his head before draining his glass. “I’ve never even heard those names, Peyton. But if I ever do meet them I’ll be quite angry that they’ve filled your head with nonsense. What happened to you at the hotel in Williamsburg was an accident. An explosion meant for someone else. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And the taxi this morning?”
“The drivers in this city are simply crazy. Dangerous but it had nothing to do with you.”
She smiled as she thought of the word she was about to use. The word they’d all come to hate.
“It was all a coincidence then?”
He smiled as much as he was capable. “That’s it. Just a coincidence.”
“Like how Greg died on the same exact day as Frank Scott and Alex Vaughn?”
The smile faded but she pressed on.
“Like how Stephen Baxter died even though the doctors said he was getting better. Like how a car bomb went off in Midnight Blue Beach, blowing up Nigel Holmwood’s car. And let’s not forget that Roy’s Bar was set on fire because I was going to meet Grant Hollister there and he was going to give us the evidence that Archer Caldwell had killed our husbands. Shall I go on, Father? Because that’s one hell of a lot of coincidences. I didn’t even mention how Greg was killed on the anniversary of the birth of Evandria. That’s strange, don’t you think?”
Her words dripped with acid but Charles appeared unmoved and unamused. In other words, his everyday expression.
“You’re overwrought but if you truly believe that you are in danger I’ll hire a twenty-four-hour security firm. The best in the business. Much better than that small town cop that’s been following you around. He can go home.”
She looked her father straight in the eye. “You don’t like Ellis because you didn’t pick him out personally.”
“And you like him because I don’t. Do you honestly think you could make a relationship with him work, Peyton Elizabeth? You were born for better things…better men.”
She sucked in a breath at how heartless and snobby her father could be. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known. Ever.”
She said the last word with emphasis, wanting to be sure he knew her meaning. Ellis was the best man she’d ever met including Charles McMillen.
“You believe that now but your judgment has never been the best. Come home and we’ll set everything to rights. Leave Evandria alone. It’s not responsible for your life, you are.”
Whirling around, she headed straight for the library door. She’d had enough familial love for the day. “I’m going to find out who tried to blow me up. I’m going to find out who ordered Archer Caldwell to kill Greg, Alex, and Frank. I’m going to find out who wants to kill me now. I can do it with your help or without it. It’s up to you.”
“Foolish child,” her father jeered as she jerked the door open. “Nothing is as you think it is. But even if it was, you think you could bring down Evandria? That’s a pipe dream. It has power that you can’t even begin to imagine.”
“You always accused me of being a dreamer,” she said as she breezed out of the room, almost running right into someone. Stepping back, Peyton realized it was her mother.
“Leaving so soon?” Buffy McMillen said, glancing into the library and then back at Peyton. “Why don’t you come out to the garden and we’ll chat?”
It wasn’t a request but a command. This time Peyton didn’t argue or fight it. She needed to find out what her mother knew about Evandria and why she’d kept her daughter from joining.
Chapter Four
Buffy’s fingers caressed the velvety petal of a crimson rose. Dressed in a pale pink Chanel pantsuit she was the epitome of class, style, and old money. She was the quintessential corporate spouse, always putting her husband first, while simultaneously throwing lavish parties.
Peyton hoped she would age as gracefully. Her mother looked years younger than her actual age with stylish blonde hair, a trim figure, and well-cared for skin.
“The blooms turned out especially lovely this year. I rarely get to see them as we’re usually in Tuscany. I’ll have one of the maids cut a bouquet for you,” Buffy said, cutting a flower from the bush.
Peyton sat down on one of the padded lounge chairs situated in the middle of the garden under a vine trellis. “I don’t have anything to put them in, Mother. We’re staying at a hotel.”
“You should just stay here. We have plenty of room.”
Not a chance in hell.
“We’re fine where we are, but thank you for the offer. Honestly, I don’t think Father would like Ellis staying here.”
Her mother came to sit next to Peyton, a rose in her hand. “I can handle your father.”
“You don’t need to do that. We’re quite settled into the hotel and it’s a nice place. We all just argue when we’re together.”
Buffy smiled at Peyton’s honesty. “We weren’t the right parents for you, were we? You needed a different type of mother and father, the kind that snuggled and read bedtime stories.”
Peyton couldn’t imagine her mother and father doing any of that even on their last day on earth. “The nanny read to me.”
Brows up, Buffy looked surprised. “Really? Which one?”
“All of them, Mother. At least until I was a proficient reader on my own.”
Buffy should never have had children. She didn’t even know that reading bedtime stories was a normal occurrence. But then Peyton often wondered at her own mother’s upbringing and if it had been as cold and sterile as her own. Maybe it was all she knew.
“Well done, then. I chose my employees well,” her mother congratulated herself. “Now tell me about this threat on your life, Peyton, and what you’re doing to protect yourself. Jensen said you’re in great danger from Evandria.”
“Father thinks I’ve made all this up,” Peyton retorted. “That my head is filled with fairy tales.”
Sitting back in the chair, Buffy folded her hands together on her lap. “If you believe it, then I believe it.”
This was new. Her mother was being…supportive? Had she started drinking or something?
“I know it’s true. Some cabbie tried to run me down this morning and you know about the package bomb. Plus, there have been other incidents. I found out Archer Caldwell killed Greg, Frank, and Alex but I don’t know who ordered him to. Evandria doesn’t want me to find out.”
“This was why I wanted you kept out of that organization,” Buffy said, shaking her head, lips in a tight line. “I never liked those men that Charles would spend time with. They all seemed power hungry to me, and rather arrogant. I thought the same about Archer whenever I was around him. I thought he could be ruthless if he wanted something.”
For some reason Peyton was surprised that her mother knew Caldwell. “How long have you known Archer?”
“For years. We all travel in the same social circles.�
��
“Then you know Nigel Holmwood and Grant Hollister?”
Peyton hadn’t forgotten her father had denied knowing them, which had to be bullshit.
“We’ve met many members over the years. Are they important?”
Nodding, Peyton wondered how much to tell her mother and what Buffy McMillen already knew. “They both think that myself and my friends are caught in the middle of a war for power in the organization. Mother, you deliberately kept me out of Evandria?”
“I did and I’m not sorry. I saw how petty they all were, always fighting amongst themselves about officer elections and department appointments. You would have never been interested in anything like that. To them it’s all about the money, something you don’t care about either. I thought the perfect compromise was to have you marry someone in the organization. You were a part of it without being official. You got to keep your freedom to do whatever you wanted.”
It made sense. Peyton wouldn’t have cared about Evandria although the young, idealistic girl she’d been years ago might have been drawn in by their mission to make the world a better place rhetoric.
“What about their philanthropic works?” Peyton asked. “Did you think I’d be interested in that?”
Buffy’s lips turned up at the corners but it was a cold smile, the kind that didn’t speak of happiness or cheer. “You weren’t even interested in being our child, let alone joining a club of rich people who wanted to change the world. Evandria didn’t have what you wanted. Freedom.”
Peyton couldn’t stop herself from asking the question, although she was sure she knew the answer. “What about you, Mother? Did you get what you wanted?”
“Yes, I did,” Buffy answered simply but didn’t expound on the reply. “Now, are you and your young man going to stay for dinner? We’re having duck.”
Shaking her head, Peyton decided to ask one more question. “Thank you but we can’t. Mother, did you know Greg had another family?”
If it was possible, her mother’s icy blue gaze turned even chillier, almost silver. “If I had known he would have regretted that decision. He brought shame not only to you and himself but his family, friends, and Evandria. You’re better off without him. You need to find another man to spend your life with. Someone stronger than Greg and with more integrity.”
Kiss Midnight Goodbye (Midnight Blue Beach Book 3) Page 3
