The Red Ledger, Book 4

by Meredith Wild

  The together part has my chest struggling to expand. Because someone could rip her away from me in an instant. If I fuck up. If I lose her… It’ll be like losing my memory and my past and my freedom and everything that’s ever mattered. Except it’ll be so much worse because I won’t have the benefit of amnesia to mask the pain.

  We order drinks and a few small bites for lunch. When my phone vibrates—the burner one I told Crow to contact me through on short notice—I pull it out of my pocket and answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s Crow.”

  “What do you want?”

  Is everything okay? Isabel mouths the words silently.

  I nod, get up, and pace a few steps from the bar.

  “Wanted to know if you gave my proposal any more thought,” he says.

  “That was twelve hours ago. I told you I’d let you know.”

  “So let me know now. I’m anxious. I need something to do, and I’m ready to put this into action. I’ve got a hit list mapped out. Recent jobs from the last few months that should be fresh in Jay’s mind. No excuses for being forgetful.”

  I look back to Isabel, who’s sipping her drink and shooting nervous looks my way.

  “Listen, Crow, we’ve both got issues with the Company, but we’re in this for different reasons. I can be a resource. I can’t be your partner.”

  He sighs loudly. “All right. I figured you’d say something like that. I’m not sure I can work that closely with you and not fucking shoot you anyway.”

  “Great, so we’re in agreement.”

  “If you want to be a resource, I need a favor before you ride off into the sunset with the girl.”

  I halt my pacing. “What do you want? And what are you offering?”

  “We working together or we negotiating, Red? You do me a favor, and when you need one, I’ll do you one.” His voice is unnecessarily loud and tinged with his Italian roots, more than usual.

  He may be delusional and inept, but I’d rather he focus his anger on Jay. Unfortunately he’s not likely to live long enough to repay any favors, but I figure I’ll hear him out. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to get me Jay.”

  I haven’t forgotten the details of my last encounter with her—one I’m not thrilled to repeat. “I’m playing nice with her right now. It’s not good timing.”

  “Listen, just set up the meeting, and I’ll take care of it. You don’t even need to show up.”

  Unwelcome concern for Jay needles me. “I don’t think she knows as much as you think she does.”

  He laughs loudly. I yank the phone away from my ear until it fades out.

  “Red, she’s been the manager for years. Trust me, she knows plenty. Anyway, I just want to pump her for some info, and then I’ll throw her back when I don’t need her anymore. Or not. I’ll have to see how it goes.”

  I think how my strategy changes without Jay in the picture. She’s my line into the Company. She’s as deceitful as they come, though, so it doesn’t really matter. My history with her is an impediment to getting to Soloman and shutting the rest of this shit down anyway.

  “Fine,” I say. “I’m expecting to hear from her with some information tonight. I’ll send you the details when I set something up.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Listen, Crow. I showed her mercy last time. Barely. She’ll be expecting trouble. She had someone else from the Company with her and half a dozen others on her heels ready to act.”

  “Sweet-talk her into traveling light, Red. I’ll do the rest. Don’t worry. I won’t fuck it up.”

  “Don’t,” I say with force before hanging up.

  I return to the bar, slide onto the stool, and down a few gulps of my beer. Fucking Crow. He’d better be more help than hindrance or I’ll kill him myself.

  “Who was it?” Isabel’s voice pulls me out of my aggravation a little.

  “Crow.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He’s pressing me to make a decision on the ‘plan.’”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  I take another swallow of my pint to avoid answering her right away. A few hours ago, I all but promised transparency with Isabel. I’m not sure she’s ready for the cold, hard truths of how I work, though. I can’t tell her I’m about to set up a kidnapping of a not-so-innocent woman that could very likely end in her death.

  I can’t say that, because it’ll show her the monster she’s trying to save.

  “I told him I’m still thinking about it. Just stalling him until we get a name from Jay. He’ll wait,” I lie.

  I offer her an easy smile and hope to hell she buys it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Isabel

  Something’s changed since Crow called. Tristan has an edge about him that didn’t exist this morning. He was softer before. When he looked into my eyes, I felt like he was really seeing me and I was seeing him.

  Now, after one conversation with someone from his old life, he seems hurtled back into it. He tries to play at being normal with me, but I’m beginning to know him better. I can decode the absent touches. The distracted way he engages when we talk, like he’s somewhere else.

  “Any word yet?”

  It’s almost midnight. He’s lying on the couch with his computer on his lap. He clicks around the track pad a few times. “Not yet.”

  I can’t see his screen but trust that Jay still hasn’t reached out.

  I’m curled up on the opposite couch, scrolling through my phone. The waiting game is killing me. So I decide to search for the password he told me earlier. The results return a nineteenth-century poem written by John McCrae.

  Breaking the silence, I read it aloud, drawing Tristan’s attention to me once more.

  In Flanders fields the poppies blow

  Between the crosses, row on row,

  That mark our place, and in the sky,

  The larks, still bravely singing, fly,

  Scarce heard amid the guns below.

  We are the dead; short days ago

  We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

  Loved and were loved, and now we lie

  In Flanders fields.

  I stop before the next stanza because what I’m reading is gradually tearing me apart. Haunted visions of the fallen take up space in my thoughts. Soldiers brought to battlegrounds to fight wars they didn’t ask for. Tristan was one of those soldiers once.

  “Keep reading,” he says quietly.

  So I do.

  Take up our quarrel with the foe!

  To you from failing hands we throw

  The torch; be yours to hold it high!

  If ye break faith with us who die

  We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

  In Flanders fields.

  A long silence stretches between us. I reread the words, new meaning resonating each time I do.

  “A field of red poppies is one of the things I remembered from my old life,” he finally says. “Blood red, as far as the eye could see. In the nightmares—dreams, whatever—it’s the last thing I see before I die.”

  “But you didn’t die.”

  “I should have.” He breaks eye contact and stares up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I used to read a lot right before Jay started keeping me busy. Stumbled across that poem and it stuck with me, I guess.”

  “I can see why.”

  He refocuses on his computer, and I stare out the window at the city lights twinkling. Several minutes pass before his voice cuts through the silence.

  “It’s done.”

  Tristan closes his laptop and sets it aside, straightening as he does.

  I blink a few times until I catch his meaning.

  “She gave you a name? Who is it?”

  “Devon Aguilera.”

  It’s late afternoon before I step out of the nearest Krav Maga center and onto the busy sidewalk. I head toward the apartment several blocks away, thoroughly wiped out but driven by purpose I didn’t hav
e before. Because now we have a name.

  Going up against the Company this way is intimidating but undeniably thrilling. My adrenaline hasn’t stopped pumping since Tristan got the message last night.

  Devon Aguilera is an associate professor at Florida State University who’s been causing enough trouble for someone to want her dead. Jay made a specific request when she sent the file on Aguilera. Her death is to be made to seem accidental, which means a homicide will have too many people finger pointing, likely in the right direction. For this reason, I’m confident Jay’s supplied us with a prime lead. Someone who likely already knows her enemies and can lead us right to them.

  Tristan has one week to show results before she’ll give him his next job. Little does she know, he’ll never get that far.

  I’m near the apartment, ready to pack up and hit the road with Tristan as soon as we can, when I stop in my tracks.

  An old man is leaning against the building. He’s short in stature, slender and unassuming except for the dark suit he’s dressed in. When he glances up, his dark eyes brighten. “Isabel.”

  I’m momentarily speechless as my mouth falls open. “Papa!”

  My grandfather comes to me and pulls me into a tight embrace, sighing as he does. He whispers my name once more and cups his hand at the back of my head like he did when I was a little girl.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He finally releases me, his eyes shining with emotion. “I came back for your funeral, Isabel. And to speak with your mother. She’s worried for you.” His silver brows furrow.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” I say, not really believing my own words. “I told her I was fine.”

  I curse myself for not calling her sooner. Unsure how to explain the shift in plans that brought us to New York, I only sent her a brief message that I was in the city and would call soon.

  “She was trying to give you space to start fresh. But she’s worried about this man you’re with.”

  I glance across the street to a café. Taking him up to the apartment to meet Tristan may not be the best choice right now. “Do you want to get some coffee?”

  “All right,” he says and then follows me across.

  There we snag a little table that’s set uncomfortably close to others but will have to do. Everyone seems too absorbed in their own conversations or devices to bother with us.

  “I’m safe with Tristan, Papa. You don’t need to worry about that,” I finally say.

  “I tried to reassure Lucia. Perhaps it takes a dangerous man to protect you from dangerous people.”

  “He is, and he does.”

  He nods, but his expression is tight with concern. “I think she’s also worried about driving you closer to him when it’s not meant to be.”

  As I consider his words, an unwelcome thought presents itself—the possibility that my mother too had encouraged Tristan’s enlistment plans without my knowing. I sigh and rub my temples. It’s too much of a betrayal to wrap my head around right now when nothing can take me off my current course—one that involves Tristan and ends with him being in my life indefinitely.

  “So she tracked my phone and sent you here instead, hoping to reason with me?”

  His eyes soften. “You’ve been given a new life. A chance to start over. The path is yours, Isabel. I came because I haven’t seen you.”

  My shoulders relax. “I’m glad you did. I’m sorry.”

  The barista calls out an order loudly, and the door to the street opens with a jingling sound. No one here has any idea what I’ve been through. That on paper, I’m a dead woman.

  “How did you do it, Papa? How did you fake my death?”

  He takes my hands, holds them between his, smooth and wrinkled with age. “I will do anything for my family. I would give my life for yours. I would have given it for Mariana’s in a heartbeat if I’d been given the chance.”

  Sadness sweeps between us. The faintest memories of Mariana are tainted with what I know about her death now. Without a doubt, I’ve inherited the grudge he and my mother have been holding on to for years.

  “You heard about Vince Boswell?”

  “Martine told us what happened. Sadly, he’s not the worst of them.”

  I flinch involuntarily, haunted by visions of what went down in the hotel room in New Orleans only days ago. “That’s hard to imagine.”

  “It takes a diabolical man to raise his children to act as they have.”

  “Vince’s father?”

  “Kristopher. I worked closely with him. He was the one who insisted I skew my research so it would pass the regulatory tests. Once I saw the depth of his greed—really understood how little concern he had for the welfare of others—I knew I had to come out against him publicly. I couldn’t stomach that the work I’d done to help people could be used to hurt them. He cared only about the momentum he could gain and stopping any impediments to growing the company as large as he possibly could.” He’s quiet a moment. “He’s won. Their wealth, their reach… It’s everything he wanted. We’ve done so little to slow their progress. The inevitable, it would seem.”

  I squeeze his hand in mine. “Papa, no.” But I fear he’s right. Whatever my mother and Martine have done to handicap their growth hasn’t been enough.

  “It’s all right. The way I grew up, and your mother too, we understood fear and also the power of resistance and fighting back. But this war with their family…” He shoots me a hollow stare, his voice broken with defeat as he speaks again. “I’m so sorry, Isabel. For everything this has brought upon you. Of all people, you’re the least deserving of their malice. And yet, that’s how they strike. They knew exactly where to hurt us, and over the years, we’ve become complacent.”

  So complacent that Tristan was sent to kill me.

  “You’re certain about Mariana? They definitely knew what they were doing?”

  Papa’s lips thin. “We haven’t been on this journey without certain cause, I promise you. We’ve fought long and hard for justice for Mariana, but the time’s come to admit defeat. Protecting what we have left is more important than anything else right now.”

  I don’t know what to say. Because I still have fight in me. In fact, nothing but blind determination to take down the Company and people behind it have fueled my thoughts for days. This same fire has been burning in my mother and grandfather for years, yet I’m not sure I’m as capable of giving up as they seem to be.

  “Tristan… What kind of man is he?”

  I’m not sure how to describe Tristan, especially if my parents have already poisoned Papa with their own opinions.

  “He’s…”

  Broken. Scarred. Dangerous.

  Mine.

  I manage a small smile and meet Papa’s eyes. “He’s the only reason I’m alive right now.”

  “I’d welcome the chance to thank him one day.”

  I nod but don’t reply. The prospect of introducing him to Tristan feels oddly like worlds colliding, especially if my parents are still eager to drive us apart. That realization triggers my need to protect what Tristan and I have at any cost. For now, my grandfather’s world is theirs. He belongs to a life I had to leave behind. Ironically he’s had a big hand in that coming to pass.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “Today doesn’t have to be that day. I plan to stay in the States for a little while. I have business with Martine that needs attention.”

  “If you’re ready to let things go with the Boswells, what’s left to work out with Martine?”

  “Mariana’s been gone for over twenty years. We’ve been helping each other ever since. Halo’s mission has been far-reaching, well beyond the misdeeds of Kristopher and his heirs.”

  I think back to the day Martine welcomed me into Halo and her speech about illuminating the truth and shining light on those who would do us harm. I remember how her words comforted me then, even as I questioned how she carried out her mission.

  “She told me as much. But she’s been vague. I
guess I didn’t stay long enough to truly understand what it is that Halo does.”

  Papa hesitates, as if he’s contemplating whether to tell me more. He frowns a little. “Will you go back?”

  I shrug. “I’ve thought of it. We have to take care of some other things first.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  I chew the inside of my lip. The new plan is exciting but dangerous enough that anyone who truly cares for me would worry for my well-being. Still, Papa has come all this way, and he doesn’t seem to be a stranger to risk.

  “We’re trying to get more information on the people Tristan used to work for. It hasn’t exactly been a clean break.”

  “Information is something we could help with.”

  I consider his offer. The web of information Skye claims Halo is banking is something I’ve thought of since Aguilera’s name came up. But Martine’s the last person Tristan would go to for help after what I went through with Vince. He doesn’t need to say it. I can see the rage burning in his eyes every time he lingers on the bruises that I can finally hide with a little makeup. He’d never tolerate something like that again.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Papa. Thank you.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “It’s not that. I’m not opposed to help, but I think Tristan wants to fight this battle on his own. The things that happened with Vince broke his faith with Halo, I’m afraid.”

  “You were hurt.” Pain flashes behind his eyes like a parent who feels every pang of a child’s suffering.

  “I’m fine now. But he saw everything. He doesn’t forgive easily.”

  He exhales a sigh. “Martine shouldn’t have used you as a pawn. She takes risks…” He shakes his head, glancing away for a moment. “If I’m telling the truth, sometimes I don’t entirely trust her. Tristan might be wise not to either.”