Front Page Affair

by Jennifer Morey

  * * *

  Leaving his mother had been difficult. She had a sister who was flying in from Oregon. That helped. And he’d have stayed until his aunt arrived, but time was of the essence, and he had to make sure Aiden was safe. He still had his reservations about leaving him with Arizona’s parents. He didn’t even know them. And all the security in the world meant nothing if it wasn’t better than the expertise of his enemies. Guards could be lazy. Electrical systems could be breached. He had to spend at least a little while there so he felt better about leaving his son there. A family reunion was weird, but in this case it’d work out in his favor. He’d know by morning if he could leave Aiden there.

  Braden drove his SUV through the gate after a guard recognized Arizona and gave them the go-ahead. The fact that he checked Braden’s identification was a good sign. There were three more guards inside the gate. All of them wore flak jackets and had rifles hanging on their backs and pistols in holsters at their hips. In the rearview mirror, he saw the ten-foot, black iron gate swing closed and the guards resumed their vigil in front of it.

  “My father only hires the best,” Arizona said. “Ex-military types.”

  He sent her a wry look. She’d picked up on his skepticism.

  There were a lot of trees on the property, obscuring the perimeter fence. Did the guards patrol it? Reaching a circular stone driveway with a grand water fountain in the middle, he stopped in front of the sprawling mansion. Security cameras were mounted to the impressive roofline.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “This is a quarter of the size of their home in California.”

  This one had to be around twenty-thousand square feet. Who needed that much room? The home resembled a castle. Made of stone, two giant turrets towered over each side of the structure. Copper gutters along a modern roofline and giant windows were only a few of many indicators of the money it must have cost to build this.

  “Wow!” Aiden exclaimed from the backseat.

  Braden caught Arizona’s flinch. She must have forgotten he was in the car. He’d just woken up when they were driving through the gate and was now growing more alert.

  “Does Harry Potter live here?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty of movies here.”

  “My aunt will be here with her three kids. One of them is about Aiden’s age. There’s a playground in the back. And a pool. Miniature golf. Inside there’s a game room and a general playroom. You name it.”

  “Wow! A game room!”

  “Yeah. Plenty of room to fly your helicopter.”

  Without running into anyone, namely her—Braden could hear her thinking.

  A valet opened the door for her. Braden let himself out. The house was bigger up close than it appeared from a distance.

  “A fraction of the size, huh?”

  “Just ignore it.” Arizona stepped up the twenty-foot stone staircase to a circular landing surrounded by beds of flowers. Up narrower stairs, they reached the front door, where a doorman was waiting.

  “Welcome, Ms. Ivy.”

  “Thanks, Berto.”

  “We have you in the west suite.”

  “Perfect. My favorite.”

  “Of course, Ms. Ivy.”

  She looked around the ridiculously large entry. There was a library to the left and a parlor to the right that must serve as a waiting room for guests. The entry was closed off to the rest of the house, but a panel of about six doors was open straight ahead.

  Aiden bounded in, carrying his helicopter, flying it beside him.

  “Everyone should be here by now.”

  He looked over at her. “Everyone?”

  She bit her lower lip and wore contriteness poorly. “I should have warned you. My mother arranged a reunion. She does that every chance she gets. The minute I called to say I was bringing you and Aiden, she gathered everyone available to meet here. Her existence is nothing but social events and home decorating.”

  He took in the grandeur again, his son making helicopter noises and his running feet echoing in the bright, cavernous room. “She decorated this?”

  “It’s one of her favorite pastimes.”

  Rich people were funny that way, he supposed. When you didn’t have to have a career, you had to find something to do with all your time.

  “She designed and decorated all of my parents’ homes.”

  “How many are there?”

  Aiden bumped into Arizona and resumed his flight around the room.

  “Five?” She screwed up her nose and dodged another collision with Aiden, shooting the boy an annoyed look. “Maybe six.”

  “All here in the U.S.?”

  “England, Switzerland and I think they just bought one in Hawaii. The others are in California, here, and North Carolina. My mother loves the Outer Banks.”

  This was a side of Arizona he hadn’t seen before. She answered his questions factually, as though impressing him were the least of her motives.

  “And you think you can top this?” He caught his son and whirled him around. He laughed the way he loved to hear him do and his feet lifted off the ground.

  Setting him down deliberately in front of Arizona, he let go. Aiden stumbled and bumped into her again.

  He smothered a laugh as she lifted her hands as though the boy were contagious.

  “Not top it. Just...get away from it for once.” She eyed Aiden as he flew through one of the open six doors.

  That was an interesting thing to say. She viewed all of this as part of her association with the great Jackson Ivy. The money didn’t matter. She could live without it.

  “Now you know why I want my own identity,” she said as he regarded her.

  She couldn’t be more wrong. That wasn’t what he was thinking at all. She already had her own identity. Even after being raised rich and pampered, she was a survivor. She made her own way in life. She didn’t need money to feel good about herself the way Serena did. She wanted to escape it. And, he supposed, to feel normal. Being this rich must have set her apart from other kids growing up. She’d fought it her entire life. And as a result, she was strong. Independent. Secure.

  “What?” She cocked her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He grinned. “You’ll never be able to escape this.”

  “What? I don’t need to escape anything.”

  While he sent her a dubious look, they entered a great room that was surprisingly not dissimilar to those found in suburbia, except this room was bigger.

  “They’re all downstairs. There’s a bar and a kitchen and a walk-out to the pool.”

  “Everyone’s here already?”

  “Everyone who could make it.”

  “On such short notice?” They’d stayed only one night with his mother.

  “Spontaneous is our middle name.” She smiled at him.

  Not hearing anything to indicate a crowd had gathered, he followed her down a wide and curving stairway. Reaching another big room, he took hold of Aiden’s hand when the boy would have run to investigate display cases of art. They walked down a hallway, passing one double door open to a Winston Churchill–like room until, finally, he heard voices.

  At the end of the hall, the ceiling arched and opened into a rec room. The bar rivaled any he’d seen in upscale restaurants, with a mirrored wall, polished dark wood and bottles filling glass shelves. Music played at a low volume. Nothing stuffy, just soft rock.

  “There she is.” A woman slightly older than his mother approached with arms spread. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved silky green shirt. Her blond hair was in a bob and she had Arizona’s blue eyes. She was a casual version of his mother, which he found most intriguing.

  Arizona hugged her. “Hi, Mom.”

  “It’s so good to see you. Li
ncoln said you’re after some sort of story. A missing person?”

  “Braden’s sister. I’m helping to find her.” She glanced back at him. “That’s all. No story.”

  He didn’t believe her. Nice try, though.

  “Well—” she patted Braden’s cheek “—you make yourself right at home and don’t you worry one bit about your son. We’ll take good care of him. You concentrate on finding your sister.”

  “Thank you.” He needed to see for himself that Aiden would be safe here. And so far he wasn’t sure yet.

  “Jackson and I will help in any way we can.”

  “Thank you.” Even if they could send a team of special forces in to save his sister, he wouldn’t expect them to. They could help in other ways, and he was grateful for that, especially since her offer seemed genuine. Serena’s parents often offered their assistance but they rarely meant it. He felt Arizona’s mother was the opposite. She didn’t say anything she didn’t mean.

  Lincoln hobbled over on crutches, blond hair messy and blue eyes smiling, although Braden thought there was something haunting about them, or something that haunted him. He’d seen it that day he went to his house for help, that first day he’d met Arizona, hidden behind a contagious personality.

  “You made it,” Arizona said, hugging him.

  “Brandie picked me up.” He leaned back with a playful look. “My new neighbor saw her and I don’t think she knew she was my sister. I think she was jealous.”

  “You want to make your new neighbor jealous?”

  “She’s pretty hot. But she’s also not very friendly and her boyfriend is abusive.” He told her about the woman and her boyfriend who’d hit her.

  “She sounds more like a hot mess to me.”

  Lincoln chuckled. “I can always count on you for the truth.”

  “Hey, Arizona.” Brandie approached. Her sister was a five-foot-eight-ish slender woman with light red hair and green eyes. Striking in beauty.

  “Brandie, this is Braden. Brandie is an antiques collector.”

  “I just ran across a pair of shoes worn by a cowboy who was hung for shooting two railroad officers.”

  “Fascinating, Brandie,” Lincoln said, shaking his head.

  “She’s always telling stories,” Arizona explained.

  Brandie crouched to Aiden’s level, where he clung to Braden’s leg. Bashful initially, but he’d warm up. He’d already been eyeing a room off this one, where lights blinked and games dinged and exploded.

  “Would you like to go play in the game room?” she asked.

  Aiden looked up at him.

  “Go ahead. Have fun.”

  Shyly, Aiden gave Brandie his hand and she led him off.

  “Brandie should have kids of her own,” Arizona said.

  “If only she’d get over her last relationship,” Lincoln said, and then turned to Braden. “But enough on that. Someone came after your son?”

  Braden nodded, helpless fury clenching his insides. No one went after his own and got away with it. “Luckily they were sloppy.”

  “Was it the same man who attacked Arizona?”

  “We think so.” Recalling they hadn’t told him about their trip to Atlanta, he said, “We also discovered I have a half sister who contacted Tatum and went to Tortola. That was why Tatum went there. She was going after Courtney.”

  “What?”

  He explained everything about the arms shipment.

  “So, this all has something to do with the arms shipment.” Lincoln gazed off at the floor a distance away, thinking it over. Then he met Braden’s eyes again. “But if Tatum isn’t guilty, then why did she steal your files?”

  He thought his sister may have been working with Courtney.

  Braden couldn’t answer that, and it made him mad.

  “How did the arms dealer know to contact your sister or this Courtney woman?”

  “He must have known one of them,” Arizona answered. Braden was glad she did. He didn’t like talking about his sister as though she were some sleazy criminal.

  “I know a guy who works with the ICE. I’ll see if I can find out where they are in the hunt for the dealer.”

  “How do you know someone with ICE?” Arizona asked while Braden’s mood lightened.

  “I knew there was a reason you were the first person I thought of when all of this started,” he said.

  “Don’t be too appreciative yet. He may not be able to tell me anything.”

  He’d take anything at this point. He had to protect his son. And save his sisters—two of them now.

  Arizona hooked her arm with Braden’s. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  He met Jonas, a self-proclaimed singer who had no record label yet. He was overly muscular in Braden’s mind, too muscular for his five-foot-eleven frame. Riana was an interior decorator, and unlike her mother, made money doing it. Arizona’s aunt was here. She lived in Denver and had two kids, one ten, the other seven. That was who Aiden was playing with in the game room. Clever to have that right off the adult playroom. As long as things didn’t get carried away. He didn’t see anyone drinking, though. Just smelled something smoking outside.

  “Macon, Autumn and Savanna couldn’t make it,” Arizona’s mother said, having followed them from person to person.

  Arizona searched around the room. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s getting the horses ready. He wants to get to know Braden.” She wiggled her eyebrows at her daughter. “Check out the new boyfriend. He’s handsome.”

  “Mom,” Arizona protested, rolling embarrassed eyes his way.

  Braden wandered to the open glass doors, the smell drawing him as much as the need to get away from Arizona’s mother and her ideas about them as a couple. It had a strange effect on him. Appealing. Too much so.

  A team of white-clad cooks prepared the barbeque. Of course they wouldn’t have to do the work themselves. Braden would rather do the work. Most of the fun in barbequing was preparing the food. He watched the men talk and smile as they grilled and made potato salad beneath white scarves clinging to a log frame and flowing in a slight breeze, blocking enough of the sun. It wasn’t a hot day.

  He walked to the edge of the patio, looking toward the perimeter. If a man could get over the ten-foot stone fence, he could easily make it to the house unseen. He was seriously considering taking Aiden with him when a man appeared at his side.

  “You must be Arizona’s new man.”

  Braden turned to see a russet-haired man stand beside him. He must have come up the stairs near the cooks. He wore a fisherman’s hat and dark blue jeans with a long-sleeved, light blue denim shirt. Not GQ, just comfortable. His pale green eyes smiled from behind John Lennon style glasses, going well with his near-red, curly hair, which was more of a brown color with a few strands of gray that were barely visible. He was tall and lanky.

  “Braden McCrae.” He shook the man’s hand. “Arizona is a friend.”

  “Jackson Ivy. Any progress finding your sister?”

  “A little.”

  “Lincoln has every resource available to him helping out. I made sure of it.”

  “That’s very kind of you. He has come up with some vital information for us.”

  “I wish there was more we could do.”

  “Watching my son is enough.” And keeping him safe. Braden looked toward the perimeter again. He hadn’t seen any guards inside the house, only at the gate.

  “Let’s go for a ride. There’s some things I want to show you. And I’d also like to talk to you about Arizona.”

  Braden went with him down the stairs, past the delectably smelling smoker and grills. A stable hand held two horses by the reins.

  “Do you ride much?”

  “I’ve ridden before.”


  Jackson climbed atop a big black stallion, leaving an equally big chestnut for him.

  Braden reined his horse away from the deck, across the lawn and past an outdoor swimming pool with tables and umbrellas mimicking a seaside resort. He guided Jackson where he wished to go.

  “Lincoln tells me Arizona is trying to make her way into serious news corresponding.”

  “She’s said as much.”

  “And she means to do this with you?” Jackson glanced over at him. “It strikes me as odd. Lincoln, too. Her going off to the Virgin Islands to help you search for your missing sister.”

  And now his half sister, as well. Braden reined his horse more to the left, hoping to catch sight of the perimeter fence soon.

  “Ever since her fiancé died, she’s been going through a change,” Jackson continued. “She doesn’t know which direction she’s going, although you better not tell her that. If it isn’t her idea, she can be the most stubborn woman you ever met.”

  Braden breathed a short, wry laugh.

  “You’ve noticed?” Jackson chuckled. “Arizona may be my youngest, but she’s got plenty of fire in her.”

  “I’d rather she didn’t do a story on my sister. She’s been through enough...assuming I find her alive.”

  Jackson rode facing straight ahead for a bit. “She’ll make a lousy news correspondent.”

  Grinning, Braden studied Jackson’s profile. Love and worry combined in the lines around his eyes and mouth.

  “She doesn’t want to be like you,” he said.

  Jackson grunted ruefully. “She hates being Jackson Ivy’s daughter. Or she claims to. But if you really know my daughter, Braden, you’ll see it’s all a smokescreen. She has herself convinced she needs an identity that’s separate from me, when in truth, her identity is firmly in place and she’s perfectly content with it.”

  “I’ve noticed that about her.” He reined his horse around a tree.

  Jackson did the same on the opposite side.

  “It sure didn’t take you long,” he said when they rejoined on the other side.