The Mission (Clairmont Series Novel Book 2)

by L. J. Wilson

  It was the only point at which Evie felt truly ill, no longer able to listen to the plot for a life she didn’t want. Solitude and reflection had run out of room, and Evie took a deep breath. She confessed everything to Hannah, whose shock, Evie thought, might result in a heart attack. When it didn’t, the two women sat staring at one another. One stunned by the unlikelihood of what had happened, the other trying to formulate a resolution.

  “Evie...” Hannah said, stopping and starting for at least the fifth time. Her hand rose to her mouth again, her skin so pale Evie still thought she might faint.

  She forced herself out of the chair. “I know,” Evie said, turning in a tight circle. “It’s the best and worst of everything possible.”

  “I can’t even imagine…” A dazed Hannah blinked at Evie as if she didn’t know her.

  “Do you think I’m awful?” She turned away again. “Of course I’m awful,” she said, tugging at her long, blonde braid until it hurt. “Trust me, I’ve not been sitting here all day excusing my actions.” Deeper guilt pulsed through Evie and she moved farther from Hannah. “I should beg for guidance, seek a way to make it up to Ezra. Forget Sebastian exists.” Evie shut her eyes as the next thought came. “Maybe it’d be best if I just waited to burn in Hell.” She was rambling now, though she supposed it was a fact.

  She startled as Hannah touched her back. “Surely there’s a way to be forgiven.”

  Evie turned, a knot in her throat that felt like a noose tightening around her neck.

  “I can’t claim it’s right…what you’ve done. I can hardly believe you did it—confessed it to me. But if you feel for the miss—for Sebastian,” she corrected, “anything like what I feel for Tobias, then I know some of what you mean. I sat with you in the meeting hall the day before your wedding. I did nothing to help when you told me you didn’t love Ezra… that another man… Well, this proves I’m not a very good friend. But I never thought it would come to…” A breath rose and fell from Hannah. “Oh, Evie, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, hoping for the kind of wisdom Hannah Blyth wasn’t capable of delivering.

  “Pray, maybe,” she said, taking Evie’s hand in hers.

  A voice boomed from the doorway. It wasn’t preceded by a knock. “Good to hear it’s prayer that has you both huddled together,” said Reverend Kane. “Still, do neither of you have a task to keep your minds and hands busy? Who’s caring for your child, Hannah?” He glanced about. “From the quiet I assume he’s not here.”

  “My mother is minding him. Evie and I were talking. I worried she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Then we share similar thoughts. It’s part of why I came by.”

  Hannah moved swiftly toward the door, following the implied direction. Out of the Reverend’s view, she smiled empathetically. It made Evie’s nerves prickle, wondering if the Reverend, indeed, had eyes in the back of his head. He might have been looking out his bedroom window last night—she hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps he’d watched Evie as she’d slipped from her lover’s arms and into her own house. She fidgeted, hands wringing. It might be even worse. Had he seen Evie go to the cabin—listened at the door as she made love to a man who wasn’t her husband, the Reverend’s own son? Perhaps their righteous and stern leader had known all day, letting Evie languish before pouncing.

  A shaky sigh wove out of her. Ominous dread was the least of what she deserved.

  The silent screaming moment lingered. Evie didn’t dare think of Bash—at least she tried. The Reverend finally moved, circling her, his all black attire and commanding presence swallowing the space. She grimaced, wiping damp palms down the front of her skirt. “Is there something I can do for you, Reverend?” He faced her and Evie wondered what she always did: How was it possible that Ezra was even his son? She trembled inwardly, unsure how long she could keep steady on the outside. Usually steps ahead of his flock, the Reverend seemed oddly unaware of Evie’s state.

  “And was Hannah Blyth right? Are you feeling unwell?”

  “I woke with a headache,” she said, telling the smallest lie she guessed the conversation would produce. “I’m sorry about this morning. I’m not often late.”

  “Late in what sense?”

  Evie’s brow crinkled. It pulled tighter as the hint of a smile curved around his mouth. “Are you finally pregnant?”

  “Excuse me?” she said, flummoxed by the question. That he’d ask such a thing or she’d be expected to answer. But in the same instant, Evie realized her father-in-law had no clue about Sebastian. A second shaky sigh seeped from her gut. “If I were, I’d certainly tell Ezra before you. But since I haven’t seen him in months, it’s not a conversation we’ll be having anytime soon.”

  “Good,” he said, stepping toward her.

  “Good?” she replied.

  “I’ve been praying, Evie, asking God why it is you and Ezra have no children. My son’s been present enough to see to it.”

  “I…” She stepped back, finding herself flat against the wall of the small cottage. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  “Nonsense. Every subject in Good Hope is my concern. Particularly those closest to me.” He drew tighter, grazing his hand against her cheek. “You know this.”

  Evie brushed the feel of his touch away. “You have your answer. If that’s all you wanted to know…” She looked toward the door.

  “Hardly. In fact, we’ve barely broached what I’ve come for. You see, I’ve finally been given answer, Evie. I understand your situation and what’s to happen here.”

  “My situ… I think you should go.”

  He reached with his long fingers, gripping her chin. “Go? Go from where? My property?” he said, his eyes roving Evie. “When you married my son, you became his property. And Ezra has no property that isn’t mine. Serious, prayerful counsel has made this clear to me. I was only uncertain, exactly, what to do about it.” The Reverend eased his grip on Evie’s jaw, his coarse thumb running the length of her throat. “You’ve no children by Ezra—and he’s had sufficient opportunity. Yet the Kane bloodline needs to continue. That is a certainty. Adah is gone for the evening. You’re alone.”

  “I don’t… What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the Lord told me that I’m to be the instrument.”

  Evie filled with shock and fear—the beauty of last night clashing with the twisted moment. His hand moved lower, groping her breast, and Evie struggled as his body pressed hard into hers.

  “Feistiness suits you, Evie. Compliance comes so easily to most women. God has truly offered me a conquest. The reward will be that much richer when I have your obedience.”

  Evie recalled the slap from years before. The pious coldness Reverend Kane delivered as her mother lay dying. She realized how he justified every behavior—she’d be damned if he got away with this one. Evie slammed her knee upward, catching him hard in the groin. The stunned expression on his face, the swear words spewing from his mouth—the Reverend’s very human reaction. She’d never seen anything like it, not from him. His ashen face reddened as he staggered back. But it wasn’t enough to elude his grasp, and Duncan Kane recovered, grabbing Evie’s blouse. Fabric tore as he forcefully spun her about.

  “You’ll not escape my mission, Evie. It’s God’s will.” He had her by the hair, making his point by striking her hard across the face. The sting was reminiscent, Evie tasting blood. Spittle hit her face, coming from his mouth the way it did when he preached furiously from the pulpit. Evie tried to wrench away, but his grip was like an iron cuff. The Reverend’s mouth was over hers. Could God truly be so vengeful? It seemed possible as Reverend Kane pushed her into the cottage wall. He groped beneath her skirt, his icy hand meeting with her bare skin. Evie shuddered, inside and out, wondering if this was punishment for betraying her husband and her life in Good Hope.

  Present Day

  Alec sat on the edge of his hotel room bed thinking everything about his parents’ past
seemed to hit a wall. He’d begun to wonder if their life together had been as complicated as their deaths. Right after Kiera made the curious statement about Evie’s connection to Ezra Kane, she’d clammed up, told him to get out. And because she was waving a gun at him, leaving seemed like a reasonable suggestion. He’d try again tomorrow. Kiera Blyth definitely knew more than she was saying. Alec was only in his hotel room a few minutes when there was a knock at the door.

  “It’s me.”

  He opened it. Jess was on the other side. He knew that look, even the smell. She’d just showered, his nose filling with sunset vanilla—at least it’s what the label said on one of the many bottles that had invaded his apartment shower. Layers of curly, blonde hair were already drying in the heat. Inwardly, he squelched other information—like the fact that forcing her hair straight took an hour and serious swearing. But she liked to wear it that way sometimes. He stepped back, clearing personal space. Home…

  Since they’d arrived in La Carta the concept had steadily deteriorated. Even friends who shared a living space felt like shaky ground. Jess brushed by him wearing a skimpy, black dress and an attitude.

  “Julian went into town. He’ll be back shortly.”

  Alec didn’t reply, still staring at the dress. He didn’t like it. Not here. For her capable, independent state, Jess looked best in the cargo pants she usually wore on assignment. Maybe the casual flowy skirts and flip-flops she’d wear on the weekends. The sexy dress conflicted with both images, but he supposed that was the point—looking hot for her almost ex.

  As roommates, she and Alec had spent time together by default—open Sundays and holiday Mondays. They were good at being singular creatures in the same living space. There’d been trips to the supermarket and a flea market that Jess had dragged him to once—a place where he’d had a surprisingly good time. On occasion, she’d gone with him to the Clairmont house for dinner— nothing big. Nothing planned. Now, Alec dragged his gaze over what he perceived as a rather planned appearance.

  “Are you going to answer me?” she said. “Did you learn anything from the schoolmarm?”

  He hadn’t realized she said anything beyond noting Julian’s whereabouts—like he gave a shit about that. “Bits and pieces. Despite the schoolmarm’s evasiveness, she did admit to a connection between this group in Pennsylvania and my mother. She called them the Fathers of the Right.”

  “Sounds like a panel on Fox News.”

  “Or worse—religious extremists.”

  “It’s not the same thing?”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t make sense. My family wasn’t big on religion. I’d say my mother was more spiritual than anything, but it wasn’t something she forced on us. Evie Neal definitely didn’t fit with what I saw today. And Kiera Blyth—that’s the girl… woman… teacher’s name—she’s holding back.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You remember her name.”

  Alec narrowed his eyes. “If she has relevant information about my parents, I would have remembered her shoe size.”

  Jess let it go.

  “I’ll take another pass at her tomorrow. As it was, I was on the verge of getting myself shot.”

  “How would you…?” He guessed she dismissed it as Alec being flip, moving on. “Why don’t you let me talk to her tomorrow? Maybe having a woman there would put her at ease.”

  “Maybe. And no offense, but I do have experience talking with hostage takers and those taken hostage. I can handle her.”

  “Fine,” Jess said, holding up a hand. “Far be it from me to get in the way of Alec Clairmont in action. If you don’t want my help…”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what?” she said. “You’ve been standoffish—or more like pissed off—since you broke me out of that jail. Aside from the reason we’re here, which I get is difficult, what gives Alec?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, eyeing him in a way that only Jess could. “I know detached, unemotional Alec. This is detached, unemotional Alec with a nasty chip on his shoulder.”

  He shook his head, turning away. “Can’t help what you’re imagining. Isn’t what’s going on with my parents enough?”

  Jess folded her arms, tipping her head at him.

  “Look, aside from coincidence, my parents aren’t even the reason you’re here. Not because of what’s happening to me or my family.”

  “Thanks, Alec. Ankle-deep thoughtfulness, as usual.”

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing toward the open balcony, the blankness of the dusky sky.

  “Maybe things didn’t start out that way, but how could I not be involved? We’re hardly strangers, and if you don’t mind me saying, your hard-ass attitude is bordering on ungrateful.”

  “Ungrateful?” he said, his voice rising. “How am I being ungrateful? I would have said more than ‘thank you’ when we got back to town—maybe bought you both a beer—but I couldn’t fit it in before you and Julian took off. Sorry if figuring out what happened to my parents is cramping your sex life.”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Jess stiffened her shoulders, folding her arms tighter. “You’re seriously going to pitch a fit over Julian? Get real. You forget, I pay rent to live in the land of casual, no-context sex. A place where I have to negotiate around whatever piece of ass you drag back to our apartment after some bodyguard gig.”

  “So what?” he fired back. “You seem content enough fucking your almost ex-husband.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? And it’s not like I’m fucking him directly across the hall in an apartment with paper-thin walls!”

  “No, just one floor below me.”

  “Fine, Alec. You’ve got me there.”

  He backed up a step, but it was the confirmation of Jess and Julian sleeping together that created real distance.

  “And just so we’re clear,” she spat at him, “until you’ve waited in said hall, while some strange woman flushes whatever she’s flushing, then passes by you without so much as a ‘Hi, I’m the skank du jour,’ before slamming your bedroom door, you really don’t have much to complain about!”

  “I didn’t know it was such a strain on you. What do you care anyway?”

  “I don’t,” Jess snapped, turning toward the door but pivoting back. “Maybe it was just the shock of realizing that Alec Clairmont hype was, in fact, reality.”

  “Hey, you have no right being pissed off at me for discovering that I’m exactly what was advertised. You rented a room, Jess—not a piece of my life.”

  “No arguing there.” Her glare cut like a razor. “I guess it was the confusion of those faint glimmers.”

  “Faint glimmers? What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Moments where letting your guard down didn’t seem like the worst thing that could happen to you. You know, Alec. A real life. The thing you avoid at all costs.”

  Alec shoved his hands into his pockets. A constricting six-pack of abs grew tighter by the sentence. It was true. Aside from his family, Jess was the only person who caught parts of an Alec he preferred not to let breathe, never mind acknowledge. The fact she’d said it out loud—or maybe that she noticed—totally ticked him off. On occasion, he could do the casual weekend thing. But he couldn’t do this. “Enough,” he said. “If we don’t learn anything more by tomorrow, I’m headed back to the States, picking up the investigation there.” Alec walked to the balcony, below was the dimming street. “Great,” he said, glancing back. “You can put your dress into action. Julian’s on his way in.” He faced her and Jess narrowed her hazel eyes. Among his survival skills, Alec was particularly adept at being a complete bastard if need be. “Would it make things even if I came down one floor and waited outside your room while you fuck him?”

  Jess stormed past, thrusting the door open. It slammed, flakes of ceiling plaster snowing down on Alec’s head.

  He didn’t feel like food. Booze, on the other hand… Fi
nding the liquor mart in La Carta was a no-brainer. Sitting in his room, Alec was a quarter of the way through a bottle of tequila when there was a knock at his door. It had to be Jess. Rumblings from the room below had dissipated. He’d guessed the two had gone out for sustenance afterward. Yeah. The chipped turquoise painted floor was that thin.

  Jess had brought a guy home once since moving into his apartment. Upon realizing it, Alec left, spending the night in Aaron’s old room. He’d thought he was giving them privacy. Downing another shot, Alec assured himself that short of finding another hotel, liquor was the best way to do that now. The knocking grew more intense. No doubt Jess had gotten to the “count on it” fight with Julian. She wasn’t on the verge of divorcing him without reason. The guy was a prick—definitely in Alec’s opinion and in Jess’s when she was seeing straight. Why she’d lost sight of that since arriving in La Carta… well, go figure.

  Positive that vindication was on the other side of the door, he let her knock again. No need to rush the shoulder to cry on… Not that Jess really ever did that. One more passionate knock penetrated. Alec hauled himself out of the chair, striding confidently across the room. Righteousness seemed to sober up his half-crocked head. He swung the door open, unable to smother an “I told you…”

  “Hello… Alec, right?”

  “Uh, right.” Confidence faltered. On the other side of the door was Kiera Blyth. “What… How did you find me?”

  “La Carta is a small place. Strangers stand out. You left a pretty good trail in the village today.”

  “Like I said, I’m looking for information.”

  She didn’t wait for an invite but helped herself to the inside of his room. Her clothing was different from earlier—still a simple blue dress, but more in tune with the climate, definitely her figure. Her brown hair was no longer braided but fell in full waves past her shoulders.

  Kiera cocked her chin at the nightstand. “I see you found the liquor store.”