by Sela Carsen
“Thank goodness.”
Mrs. Moreau rose to her feet—she was compactly built, but he decided right then that he wouldn’t be the one to cross her—and Blair bent to hug her.
“You take care of whoever hurt you, then hurry back. Your young man hasn’t answered all my questions yet.”
“Mom!”
“I’m just doing my job,” said Mrs. Moreau. “And your father is doing some truly inspired looming.”
He felt like a kid picking up a date while Dad cleaned his rifle in the living room. Blair took his hand and led him out, and he let her.
“Your parents are kind of scary,” he said once they were in the car.
“You think?”
“I started out practicing criminal law. I know from scary.”
She smiled. He was not comforted.
Chapter Eight
They pulled up in front of the Cotesworth Construction offices and sat for a moment. When Conn turned the engine off, the silence was deafening.
“We have absolutely no proof he was at the house last night,” he said.
“We have some, but very little that would stand up in court. Anyway, proof would only matter if, say, we wanted to bring him up on charges. Is that where you’re going with this?”
His jaw turned to stone. “Jail isn’t going to accomplish what I want.”
“What do you want, Conn?” That was the key question here, and she was surprised at how much she wanted to hear his answer.
“Aside from you?”
She smiled. So far, so good.
“Yes, aside from me.”
“I want…I want to not be the whipping boy anymore. I want to not be hated because my mother made a bad decision. But I know I don’t have any control over what other people think.” His hands were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and she ached for him. She couldn’t imagine being an outcast in her own family.
“So since I can’t get those things, I’ll settle for them leaving me the hell alone. When I was a kid, I tried to please them. When I came back, I tried to ignore them. Now, I want them to stay away. They don’t want the house. They just don’t want me to have it. I can’t believe they went so far as to try to have me killed. I guess it’s time to show them who’s the big dog here.”
“Woof.”
He grinned and the lines around his eyes crinkled appealingly, but then he got very serious. “You. You don’t go in there. You stay here where it’s safe.”
“You must not be as bright as I think you are. Unless he carries a nail gun in a shoulder holster, I’m perfectly safe.”
His brows were drawn together and she leaned forward to kiss the little line bisecting his forehead.
“How about this? I’ll follow your lead. If you want to play it close to the vest, I can do that.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then he’ll wish he carried a spare pair of tighty whities with him.”
Finally, the smile he’d been holding in came out.
He held the door open for her as they entered the office. A blonde woman looked up at them and stared blankly. Her desk was decorated with photos and memorabilia of her past as second runner-up in the Miss Lower Richland County pageant. Blair wondered if she’d put it on her resume.
“We’re here to see Aubrey,” said Conn with a professional smile. Bimbo smiled back and preened for a moment before she caught Blair’s murderous glare. Her smile faded and she pouted before hitting a button on her phone.
“You have some visitors, Mr. Cotesworth.”
“Send ’em on in, Becky,” replied Aubrey’s tinny voice.
Becky waved a pink-clawed hand toward the hall and went back to her—Blair looked as they walked past her desk—very important game of Spider Solitaire. Which she was losing. Blair smirked. She wasn’t above being petty.
Aubrey pretended to be on the phone and held up two fingers when they arrived, but she knew there was no one on the other end of the line. There was no point in letting him think he was playing them, so she walked over and put a finger on the hook.
“Hey,” he protested, but she shook her head and perched on the edge of his desk.
“Nice try.” She tamped down her glee. Being the bad guy was fun.
He regrouped for a moment before sitting back in his big, important-looking leather chair. “I remember you. You’re Conn’s little slut.”
Conn stepped forward, but she smiled. “I remember you, too. You’re a little prick.”
Aubrey obviously wasn’t used to people who didn’t roll over for him, so he was silenced while he tried to think of a comeback. Blair got off the desk and sauntered back to stand next to Conn.
“Nice to see you two getting along so well,” drawled her man.
The door behind them wasn’t shut all the way. It creaked slightly when a dog nosed it open. A big dog. The unneutered Doberman was all muscle, with cropped ears and a thick, studded collar. It stopped as soon as it saw the strangers and began a low growl.
“Y’all should meet Mojo, here.” Aubrey smiled, his eyes narrowing.
Conn stayed perfectly still, but Blair met the huge animal head on. She lifted her lip and stared straight into Mojo’s eyes. After a moment, he stopped growling, then lowered his ears and finally dropped to the floor, rolling over and showing his soft belly, whimpering lightly.
She rubbed his belly and he rolled back up, licking her hand while he piddled on the floor. “Oops. Looks like Mojo had a little accident. It’s okay, baby,” she said, letting the dog lean against her. She opened the door behind her. “Becky, could you take Mojo for a walk while we talk to your boss for a few minutes?”
The blonde clattered over on heels that looked half a size too small. She spotted the puddle on the floor and started to scold the dog, but Blair interrupted. “Don’t worry about it. Your boss will clean it up himself.”
Becky called the dog over and after a final lick at Blair’s fingers, he followed the secretary out the door. Blair closed it behind her.
“You done having fun now?” Conn asked with an amused look.
“For now.”
Aubrey hadn’t moved during the entire encounter, but his expression had gone as sour as the milk in Conn’s fridge.
“What are you doing in my office, bastard?”
Blair flinched, but Conn took it in stride. It made her wonder how often he’d heard the slur growing up.
“I’m here to tell you to stay off my property.”
“What makes you think I was on your property last night? Do you have any evidence to that effect?”
She and Conn smiled at each other. “One, I didn’t say anything about last night, and two, in fact, we do.”
“I don’t believe you. In any case, I don’t think you’ll have the property for much longer. It should never have passed to you in the first place and I am determined to do whatever it takes to make sure it comes back to the family. Where it belongs.”
Conn felt the words slide off him. Years ago, even a month ago, the taunt would have stung. Being pushed to the outside, looking in on the Cotesworth clan like a poor kid staring at a window display of riches.
This time, it didn’t even faze him. The house was his. He was a Cotesworth by blood, if not by name or filial bond.
“What were you looking for anyway?”
Aubrey leaned back in his chair again, elbows wide as he propped his hands behind his head. “You don’t know? You want to hang on to that old wreck and you don’t even know what it holds.” He laughed like it was funny.
Conn pulled out a chair and sat down. He was willing to learn, willing to play along if that’s what it took to get the information he needed. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know how much you know about the Cotesworths, but I’m going to assume you’re dumber than dirt.”
“Assume what you like.”
Aubrey didn’t like that. Didn’t like someone else humoring him. He sat up straight again.
“There’
s a treasure in the house. One that’s only for the Cotesworths. Something the old swamp witch Temperance left behind.”
“You mean you really believe the old story about the pirate’s widow hiding his treasure?”
“It’s true, I swear.” Aubrey looked like a five year old defending the existence of monsters in his closet.
“You know as well as I do that if there was any treasure there, it’s all gone. If it really existed, the Cotesworths would never have abandoned it. I bet it was found when they built the new house on top of her old cottage.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Conn. How could you? I think we always thought we’d get back to it eventually. We figured someday, some inheritor would find the location of the treasure and dig it out.”
“You mean y’all were just too lazy to do anything about it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were until you found out you didn’t own it anymore.”
“Well, I suppose it’s still in the family. After a fashion.”
Conn burst out laughing. “You’re serious? You’ve called me a bastard and a mongrel since I was born. Nearly everyone in the family disowned me except Aunt Pinkney, and I think most of the reason she left the house to me was to piss everyone else off. But now you want to call me cousin?”
Aubrey pounded his fist on the desk, but Conn didn’t flinch.
“You can be a Cotesworth. All you have to do is sell us back the damn house!”
“You want me to buy my way into a family?” This time it was Conn who leaned back in his chair. “I may not know much about how it works—given that I have you all for relatives—but I do know I shouldn’t have to pay for my spot.”
“Now.” Conn slapped his hands on his knees and rose to his feet. “You can drive yourself to bankruptcy trying to get the house back through the courts, but I am here to tell you this. If you so much as put a toe on my front porch ever again, they’ll have to drag the swamp for your body.”
Aubrey took him at his word and paled, then tried to puff himself up. “Like I said, you can’t even prove I was there last night.”
“Take off your shirt,” interrupted Blair.
“What’s the matter? Your boy here not man enough for you?”
Blair fingered the letter opener she’d lifted from the desk. “Take off your shirt,” she repeated in a bored voice.
“Hell no,” he said, belligerent now, but Conn could see a beading of sweat gather at his temples.
She sighed and stripped to the skin before either man could say a word. In another breath, she Changed, and Conn was nearly brought to his knees by the beauty of her transformation. Her wolf was large, with intelligent eyes and a half-smile that allowed her fangs to peek out.
She padded around the desk and placed both front paws on the arms of Aubrey’s chair. Conn thought she looked amused, but he figured Aubrey wouldn’t see it that way.
“I think you should take off your shirt, cousin.”
Shaking, his eyes peeled wide, Aubrey shrank back in the chair and reached for his waist. Blair got off the chair and waited, pacing in front of him. He pulled his shirt out, then tugged it over his shoulders with a noticeable wince.
As well he should have. His back and shoulder were shredded, her claws having left rows of ragged slashes in his flesh.
“Care to explain how you got all those wounds, Aubrey?” asked Conn, propping his hip on the edge of the desk. “Have you had a doctor look at those? You could get a nasty infection.”
“What the hell is that?” He nodded at Blair and he was an unhealthy shade of pasty redneck.
“You don’t need to know, Aubrey. You do need to know she tore you up even after you shot her. Last night.”
“You’re the…”
Conn cut him off. “So here’s the deal. You leave the house alone. You leave me alone. You leave Blair alone. Her whole family shares this gift, and if her mother finds out you’re the one who shot her baby? And her dad? And her brother? You. Are. Fucked.”
Blair growled low in her throat, lifting her lips in a genuine snarl. It was impressive until she sniffed and stepped back, sneezing.
Conn leaned over the desk to the dark spot spreading on Aubrey’s lap. “Oh. Oops. You should get that chair cleaned before the smell sets in.” He stood, looking bored. “If you tell anyone what she is, you know what’s going to happen, don’t you? Gary Corvell ended up in Columbia at the state mental hospital. I’m sure your father would be devastated were his only son and heir to be declared insane. Think of the stain on the family honor.”
Aubrey looked like he was going to throw up, but he nodded.
“And I don’t want to hear from the rest of the family, either. If any of them come after us, we’re going to assume you sent them. Did you know wolves don’t always kill their prey before they start eating? I love the Discovery Channel.” He smiled faintly, enjoying the novel sensation of deliberate cruelty, but understanding its dangerous appeal. “Do you understand me, Aubrey?”
He nodded again, convulsively.
“Then I think we’re done here.”
Blair Changed again, swiftly clothing herself as he stood in front of her, blocking her from Aubrey’s still stunned view. “I am never going to see you again, Aubrey Cotesworth. Never. As your life depends on it.” Conn opened the door for Blair and waited while she played with Mojo in the reception area for a moment before stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The dog followed them outside and up to the car, wagging its stubby tail. Blair turned to him, and Conn got hit with two sets of puppy dog eyes.
“You want to take his dog?”
“He’s so unhappy, Conn. He doesn’t like Aubrey and he hates this silly collar. Please?”
Mojo sat and offered his paw. Oh hell.
Aubrey was approaching like an overheated steam engine with a leaky lap. “Mojo, you gitcher ass back in here right now or I swear I’ll beat you to death.”
The dog crouched and whimpered. That decided it, right there.
Conn turned to Becky, who was watching the scene like a tennis match. “Becky, I’m not stealing his dog, I’m rescuing it from an animal abuser. Got it?”
She nodded, her hairsprayed coiffure bobbing along with the motion. Aubrey realized that Becky wasn’t the only one watching. Charlene King and a couple of her customers had poked their heads out of the salon next door and stood there with shocked expressions.
“Why that poor, precious baby dog,” said Charlene. “You go right ahead, Conn Lucas. Aubrey, if you so much as wave at the sheriff, I’ll tell him what you said about beating that poor dog to death. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She marched back into the beauty shop with her ladies behind her. Aubrey stalked back into his office and slammed the door.
Conn opened the back door of the car and the dog leaped in, leaned over the front seat and swiped Blair’s face with a tongue that looked a yard long. Conn paused before he joined them. The small town seemed different now. As a child, it had been a prison of sorts. Now it felt safe. Comfortable. Culford felt like home.
He had been offered the chance to have what he always wanted—a family—and he’d let it go. Thrown it away. And suddenly he felt more whole than he’d ever been in his life. He took Blair’s hand in his and raised it to his lips. He wanted to take his new dog and his girl in her ass-kicking boots and…
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter Nine
They drove back to the house with Mojo hanging his head out the window. When they arrived, Blair realized Conn was humming as he held the front door for her.
“Are you usually a hummer?”
“Hmm?” he asked.
“You’re humming. I wondered if it was something you usually did.”
“He used to hum. When he was little.” Pinkney sat in her favorite chair in the parlor, her lap covered once again in a pile of crocheted thread.
“Aunt Pinkney.” He greeted his aunt with a smile before he kissed Blair on the cheek and
went to the kitchen, leaving the ladies alone in the front room. Mojo immediately set to sniffing out each room and disappeared upstairs.
“He was born in this house, you know. Right upstairs. And he slept in the nursery, smiling at the ghosts who visited him. He’s the last Cotesworth born in this home.”
“Is that why you left him the house?”
“Yes. He’s the only one left with a real connection to it. He’s the only one who can truly bring it back.”
“Aubrey mentioned something about a treasure. Conn doesn’t seem like he could care any less about it, but I’m curious.”
“Curious about what?” asked Conn as he walked into the room with a half-eaten apple in one hand and a fresh one for her. She declined with a shake of her head, so he dropped it on the table.
“The story of this treasure.”
“I thought I told you about it at dinner.”
Blair rolled her eyes. “You told me a little. Something about a pirate’s widow and burying it in the house, but that was it. There have to be more details.”
He sat down on the couch and thought for a moment. “This is just what I’ve heard, so I have no idea how much is true. Temperance Cotesworth was born in Charleston to a well-to-do merchant’s family. The story goes that Miss Temperance was beautiful—now we’ve seen her, we know it’s true.”
“Thank you.” Temperance shimmered into view and sat delicately on the loveseat, making Blair, who was semi-sprawled in a chair, feel very gauche. She sat up.
“Maybe we should let you tell it. After all, you were there.”
“I should like to hear the modern version of my tale. I can correct later.”
Conn shrugged and continued. “When she was a girl, Bayard Stede, the famous ‘Gentleman Pirate’, blockaded Charleston and demanded ransom for the prisoners, one of whom was Temperance. He eventually got the ransom and returned everyone but the very pretty girl who fell in love with him. The feeling was mutual because he officially married her, set her up with a beautiful home and visited her frequently.”
Temperance was smiling. “When women tell the story, they also mention how handsome he was. How gallant and romantic, how well-educated and well-mannered he was.”
