“Is it dangerous?” Tammy asked. “Should I get Lance and Suzie? They could help.”
“No, no,” Kemble said, a little too quickly for Tris’s liking. “Not dangerous.”
Greta rose slowly from her chair. “Lanyon’s back.”
Everyone at the table turned and stared at her. She knew where Lan was. They all knew what that meant. Maggie and Kee took in a breath and exhaled. That was it. Greta was Lan’s Destiny. There was no question now. The only question was how hard his butt-head younger brother was going to make it on himself and this girl.
Tris set his lips and followed Kemble’s long strides to the front door.
“What is it?” Tris whispered when they were out of earshot of the family.
“Greta’s right. Somebody brought Lanyon home,” Kemble muttered. They exchanged glances. Both knew what Greta being right meant. But they had other fish to fry at the moment.
“Clan? Why would they bring him here? Hold him hostage more likely.”
“I don’t know. Could be something worse than Clan. Maybe I’m wrong. Those cameras aren’t that clear.” He pulled open the front door.
Both Kemble and Tris stopped dead. Tris came to himself first, pulled Kemble out the door and hastily shut the door behind them. Edwards, Ernie and Rory surrounded the guy on the portico, looking wary. He had Lanyon thrown over his big shoulder. Lan was out cold, his long hair swinging over lax features. But none of that was what held them speechless.
The guy was pretty much the spitting image of them both, except for a nose that had been broken, a scar across one side of his face and the hardness of his eyes. It was like looking in the mirror at a tougher version of themselves.
Tris could feel both their brains going from frozen to top speed in nothing flat. There was only one explanation for this. Before their father had gotten the magic of an Adaptor, he’d been a con man, one of the best, able to pretend to be or do anything. Therefore, not a saint. When he’d met their mother, that chameleon-like quality became the ability to actually do or be anything. He lost the ‘pretend’ part. Tris knew his father was an only child. So there was no question—the man who stood before them had to be their half-brother. The only question was whether he had been conceived before or after Senior had married their mother.
Oh, boy.
“Lost something?” the guy asked in what Tris thought was a French accent. Guess Senior had spent some time in Europe. When they just continued to stare at the intruder, his brow furrowed. “Unless you would like me to dispose of him elsewhere?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Kemble barked.
“Eef you were closer, you would smell thee whiskey.” He wrinkled his crooked nose.
The door opened behind them. Tris whipped his head around. Jane. She gave a little gasp, but recovered immediately. “Poor Lanyon,” she said. “Why don’t you bring him inside?” Jane held the door open for the intruder and his unconscious burden.
“Thanks, guys,” Tris said to Edwards and his guys. “I guess we can take it from here.” They touched their temples in acknowledgement and moved off, their faces carefully blank. Only Rory, the youngest of the lot, raised his eyebrows as he turned away. Tris looked over at Kemble as they watched the interloper haul a gently bobbing Lan inside. Tris saw his own misgivings reflected in his brother’s eyes.
“We’re in for a bumpy ride,” Kemble muttered.
CHAPTER NINE
‡
“Put him down on the couch, if you don’t mind.” Jane motioned toward the living room. Tris couldn’t see any way this didn’t turn out badly.
“Lan?” Tammy jumped up from her seat in the kitchen. It had a clear view of the recent arrivals. “Goodness. Is he okay?” She hurried out, followed by most of the rest of the family.
The scarred guy slid Lanyon off his shoulder. Lan slumped onto the couch. Tris grabbed his legs and put them up. Lan’s head bounced down onto the couch cushions. The family was clustering around now. The Parents hadn’t yet come downstairs. Thank God for small favors. Greta stood, wringing her hands in the background. Poor thing. After all, she loved his scapegrace little brother, whether she wanted to or not, whether she knew it or not.
“He’s just drunk,” Tris said to reassure her. No use dressing it up. Greta visibly relaxed. The rest of them hadn’t seen the ‘other shoe’ yet. They were too focused on Lan.
“Thank you so much for bringing him home,” Jane said to the guy in her soft voice.
The big man stood. Hard to mistake him for anything but a Tremaine. Same black hair, light eyes—green like Tris’s—fair skin. His features were those Senior had handed down to all the boys. This guy was bigger than Tris or Kemble, though. He might even beat out Michael’s six-five. And he looked hard as nails, not just because of the scar or the hard bulges of muscle that stood out under his black tee. His expression said he’d seen stuff. Bad stuff.
“Thee bartender wanted to call thee cops,” he said. “Your brother was getting, how you say, rambunctious? Très fortuné he passed out. I did not have to deck him.”
This speech unfortunately focused everyone on the newcomer. Tris was in a great position to see the quizzical expressions, followed by realization and, in some cases, downright horror on their faces. But it was Greta, to Tris’s surprise, who spoke first.
“I know you,” she said slowly. “You’ve been at the clubs. You decked that guy who was trying to hit on me. I…I never got a chance to thank you.”
The intruder bowed slightly. “Tout le plaisir était pour moi, mademoiselle.”
“Looks like you’ve been stalking our little brother,” Kemble said, the set of his mouth saying that he suspected foul play somewhere along the line.
“I had the interest in him, oui.” The guy glanced around. “Maybe more than you, n’est-ce pas?”
The guy went on the offensive. He’d be good in a fight. “Lan’s a little hard to contain,” Tris said.
The Frenchman chuckled. “He sows the wild oats, yes?” He shot a look to Greta. “I think he would like to sow these oats with you, ma petite.”
Tris watched Greta turn bright red. “I don’t really even know him.”
“My words, they stand.”
Jane was busy taking Lan’s pulse. Drew had recovered her bored drawl, “Looks like the family is larger than we thought. Care to introduce yourself?”
“Luc Marrec.” His tone was clipped, reluctant, as if he didn’t like giving out his name.
“And not a cousin, I suppose.” Drew, for all her nonchalance, was grasping at straws. She, too, knew Senior was an only child.
“What do you think?” Marrec snorted.
Jane stood. Tris was relieved. Jane would know what to do. “Kemble, Dev, can you get Lanyon to his room please? I’m afraid there’s nothing for this but to sleep it off. Tammy, why don’t you dig up one of those sports drinks with electrolytes and some Ibuprofen and leave them by his bed. I’m afraid he won’t be feeling well when he wakes up.”
Funny, these days when Jane gave her soft requests, everybody jumped to it like she was General Patton barking orders. She was somebody you could depend on, and when she asked you to do something she was depending on you to do it. So you did. Seemed only fair. Lan was lifted off the couch. Tammy disappeared.
Jane turned to their…guest? Visitor? Intruder? What would you call him?
Actually, they might have to call him ‘brother.’
“Mr. Marrec, why don’t you come out to the terrace? It’s lovely out there this morning. Kee, perhaps some iced tea?”
Kee scurried into the kitchen. Jane motioned Marrec toward the back of the house.
“Après vous,” he said with pointed graciousness.
Jane led the way out through the French doors in the family room. Jesse was building a fort out of blocks on the lawn. It apparently involved explosions. Maggie watched from the pergola and rocked Elizabeth in her pram. In some ways, Tris was the luckiest man in the world. But all this could be taken from h
im. Senior had proven that. For the millionth time, he wanted to hit something because there was nothing he could do to make his family secure. Was this new arrival a threat to the family as well? The Tremaines arranged themselves around the teak patio furniture.
“Quite a place you have here,” Marrec said. He stood, looking out to the Pacific and around the Santa Monica Bay to the north.
Tris got a bad feeling. Exactly why had Marrec sought them out? He’d stalked Lan to find a way in. That was obvious. And Marrec must have been overjoyed to find out that his father was rich. Really, really rich. Tris set his lips. Well, Tremaines weren’t pushovers. He, for one, wasn’t going to let some mistake of his father’s bleed the family—the real family—of anything. Maybe they could get rid of this guy before their mother saw him. That was what worried Tris the most. He didn’t want to see her hurt.
“We like it,” Drew drawled. “But it seems you know much more about us than we do about you.”
“Before we go any further, how old are you?” Tris asked. Might as well put it out there. Age, in this case, made a big difference.
“I believe I’m your big brother. Well, half-brother. I’m thirty-nine.”
He could feel a collective sigh exhale all over the terrace. Senior hadn’t cheated on Mother. “Guess Senior sowed some wild oats himself,” Tris muttered.
“Oh, it was more than that. Your father and my mother were together for two years.”
Kee came out with a tray of glasses of iced tea, a pitcher of more, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. She offered Marrec a glass first. Tris noticed that his eyes were watchful, constantly assessing. Kee passed the tray around.
“Unfortunately,” Marrec continued, “Our father had to make the quick escape. My mother was heartbroken.” Marrec’s hard eyes got even harder. “She grew to hate him when she realized he was a criminal who lied for a living.”
“So your mother never told Brian about you?” Jane asked.
“Why would you say that?” the interloper asked.
“Because,” Drew drawled, “my father shoulders his responsibilities.”
Damn. Drew was giving Marrec a clear indication that any blackmail scheme he had in mind was a shoo-in to succeed.
“Good to hear.” Marrec sipped his tea. “But in fact, you are right. She did not. Nor would she allow me to contact him.”
“You’re a big boy,” Tris said. Might as well get this out into the open as well. “You just decide to show up when you need money?”
Tris heard the French door open behind him. Shit. He turned. The Parents stood in the doorway like pillars of salt.
Marrec turned. “Madame.” He ducked his head. “To alleviate any concern, let me repeat what I have told your so handsome family. I am thirty-nine.” His eyes slid to Senior though. It was almost as if Marrec couldn’t take his eyes off him. After an awkward silence, Marrec looked around and shook his head. “We all look just like you, non?”
“Well,” Drew said, “the boys anyway.”
“Mom, sit down,” Tammy said, as she came in behind them. “You too, Daddy.”
Marrec’s sharp eyes took in Senior’s cane.
“C-clotilde?” Senior asked, sitting heavily on the bench at the big teak dining table. He looked stricken.
Marrec nodded.
“Why d-didn’t she t-tell me?”
“You were a criminal. The gendarmes were after you. You left her without a word. And,” here he looked around at them, “èvidement, you did not look back.”
Senior looked shaken. “I would have…”
Tris’s mother looked as though she had turned to stone. But she patted her husband’s arm. “Don’t upset yourself. You know Dr. Tanet says that isn’t good for you.” Then she glared at Marrec. “What do you want?”
He gave a Gallic shrug. “To know my only relatives, now that my mother is dead.”
Yeah. Right.
“I’m sure you’ll get around to your real demands,” Tris’s mother said.
Tris had never heard such acid in her tone. He was shocked. She was usually so polite. And she’d certainly drilled into them that rudeness to guests was not tolerated. “He brought Lan home, Mother.” Tris had to give him that much credit.
His mother looked put out that she owed Marrec anything. “Thank you for that.” You couldn’t say her gratitude was effusive, that’s for sure. She turned to Jane. “Is Lanyon all right?”
“He’ll have a very bad headache when he awakes.”
“Oh, dear. He’s been drinking again.” Tris’s mother sighed.
“For two days straight,” Marrec agreed. “That one, he can drink.”
“S-sit down, shon.” Senior looked stricken when he realized his Freudian slip. He’d obviously used the word as a generic term of fatherliness, but it was more than that in this case. Senior regrouped. “T-tell ush about yourshelf.”
Tris saw Marrec immediately shut down. “Not much to tell.” He didn’t sit.
To Tris’s surprise, Michael weighed in. “Well, you’ve seen some action.”
Marrec studied Michael for a moment. “Takes one to know one.”
Michael gave a half-grin. “Yeah. I was Delta Force for more years than I wanted.”
The challenge was implied. Would Marrec say anything about himself at all?
“I hire out.”
A mercenary. God in heaven, the guy was a merc. Around the terrace, the looks of dismay didn’t escape Tris. Or Marrec.
“Guess I better be going.” He set down the iced tea. His face was blank, his eyes hard.
“W-why did you c-come here?” Senior asked. Funny, even as damaged as he was, only he could ask that question and expect to have it answered. Kemble could have said the exact same thing, and Marrec would have already been out the door.
“It was a mistake,” their mercenary half-brother growled.
“But you h-had a r-reashon.”
The guy drew himself up. There was a lot of ‘up’ to him. Tris confirmed his earlier estimate; six-five, maybe two-thirty, none of it fat. Marrec looked for the door. Then he gritted his teeth. “Thought you might need some bodies guarded.”
Well, that was a surprise.
“We have a security team,” Kemble said.
Marrec snorted. “Those guys? You need more firepower than that. After Chicago, or what happened up in Hollywood, even the dead you left in the desert of Nevada, then the attack here…I’m not sure how you have been keeping one step ahead of whoever is after you. Me, I think your luck has run out.” He nodded to Senior’s cane.
How could this guy know where all the bodies were buried? They’d covered their tracks. The authorities hadn’t connected Tremaines to the fire in Chicago. They’d assumed the family were some of the many victims. The mudslide in Hollywood had been a natural disaster, for all anyone knew. Tris’s defense of Maggie in Nevada—well, no one would believe what had happened there anyway.
The rest of the family was just as uncomfortable about Marrec’s revelations as Tris. This guy was dangerous to them.
Kemble apparently didn’t think so. He was all calm and hard as he said, “A tragic fire in Chicago and a natural disaster in the canyons above Hollywood. Unfortunate that we were there, but hardly planned.” Good for you, big brother.
“Don’t give me that,” Marrec scoffed. “Bad people exist in the world, n’est-ce pas? And you have some very bad people after you. I wonder that you let your brother wander around where he can be picked off.”
That struck a nerve with Kemble, who was about to retort when Senior interrupted him. “I think it’sh g-good of you to offer y-your shervices.” Senior was actually directing the conversation. That was new.
“I figure you can afford to pay well.”
“Now, we get to it,” Kemble said, rolling his eyes.
“Perhaps it’s too soon to make commitments on either side.” Jane smiled. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Mr. Marrec? We can all get to know each other a little better.”
> He looked like a rabbit about to dash for the door, if a rabbit could look that dangerous. This guy was really conflicted about being here, meeting them, offering to work for them, trying to rip them off—something. Slowly, Marrec swallowed, got himself under steely control and gave a jerky nod.
“Well, then, that’s good,” Jane said.
Senior gave a small smile.
Tris’s mother’s lips thinned in disapproval.
*
Well, well, well. Jason sat back in his chair, pushing it back from the high-powered telescope. His vantage was high above the Tremaine estate, in a house at the top of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. The estate on the bluff above the ocean was so far away no Tremaine would think they were being observed.
And Morgan would both love and hate the information he had to give her. Looked to him like there was another Tremaine they hadn’t known about. Actually, from the shocked look on the face of the brothers who’d answered the door, the Tremaines hadn’t known about him either. Fun, fun, fun. Another way to hurt them. Morgan would love that.
Even better, although more problematic, there was a girl. The damaged kid had brought her. And she was still there. That would have Morgan worried and rubbing her hands in anticipation all at once. Maybe now she’d finally let Jason move against the kid. He was securely at the estate, but not for long. That kid was a runner. Even if he’d found his Match, he wasn’t going to stay cooped up at the Breakers for long.
Jason knew what was happening. Kid was trying to drown out the initial, overpowering reaction to finding his mate. Jason remembered that feeling only too well.
“Sela,” he whispered. Her name was torn from him.
But it did no good to pine over that. She was dead and gone, and since Morgan had decreed her death, she’d never bring his one true love back to life. All he had now was Morgan. She was where he belonged, and he wasn’t going to blow it.
The news he had would keep him in her good graces for the foreseeable future. She should be back tomorrow, but she wouldn’t want to wait for this news. Hardwick could call her.
The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) Page 13
