The Darkest Frost: Vol 2 of a 2-part serial (TDF, #2)

by Tanya Holmes

  Cupping a hand over my mouth, I backed away from the window in horror just as my phone vibrated. I deliberated whether to answer it, but gave in once I recognized the number.

  “Hi,” I said, knowing what was coming.

  Luke’s booming voice shot from the receiver. “What the fuck, Deni?”

  I kneaded my temple. “Can you bring the screaming down an octave? I’ve got a headache and I think you just shattered my eardrum.”

  “I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday morning.” A table saw buzzed upstairs. More hammering. “What the hell is that racket?”

  Something crashed above me. “Hold on.”

  I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door with my back. This cut the din to a muffled roar, but the pounding in my skull wouldn’t let up. “We’ve got landscapers outside and carpenters upstairs. What do you need?”

  “I need you to pick up your damn phone when I call. Why don’t you check your messages?”

  “I’m sorry, all right? I’ve had a rough couple of days.” I pushed my hair off my face as the unsettling incident between the twins replayed in my mind’s eye. “Again, what do you need?”

  “Can you get out of there?”

  I eased down onto the lip of the claw-foot tub. “Why?”

  “I’d rather not discuss it on the phone.”

  The ominous note in his voice gave me a chill. “I am so not in the mood for cryptic, Luke. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s about Frost.”

  “Of course it is,” I said with an exasperated sigh.

  “I have to see you ASAP.”

  There was that fateful tone again. Knowing Luke like I did, ignoring it wouldn’t be wise. Only something big could get him this spun up. I glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. I had to shower, deal with the landscapers and the carpenters, speak with Braeden, make some follow-up calls, and then host Samuel Nowak and his daughter. They were due at two. I calculated in my head.

  “Is five o’clock okay?” His silence roared through the phone. “I’m sorry, Luke, but that’s the soonest I can swing it. I’m juggling a bunch of balls over here today and I’m really dragging.” I stood and stared into the mirror, noting the circles beneath my eyes. Wincing, I said, “Look, if it’s that big a deal just spill it.”

  “No, I need a face-to-face. The Keystone Diner. Know where it is?”

  “That greasy spoon off Thompson Boulevard?”

  “Yeah. See ya then.”

  “Wait.” I sorted through my toiletries. “Can you at least give me a hint? You’re scaring me.”

  “Well, you should be scared. Now I gotta go. Just get there on time, otherwise I’m coming for you. And Deni?”

  “Yes?”

  He paused a beat. “Be careful, babe.”

  CHAPTER 2

  OUTSIDE THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  Denieve

  ____________________________

  Luke’s disturbing call slipped from my mind when I saw Braeden out front. I found him in the garden kneeling beside a chrysanthemum bed examining a stem. An hour ago, he’d left the house and had just returned. He had no bruises on his jaw or any trace of the punch Xavier had thrown. Thank God.

  His head shot up when my shadow touched him. Though his chest rose and fell with a slight shudder at the sight of me, he was the picture of control once he stood. His gaze latched to mine.

  Did he know? And if he did, what had Xavier told him? In desperation, I searched his unblinking eyes for an answer, but only found a flash of something that vanished as fast as it had appeared, leaving his face blank.

  Several beats later he glanced at the plants as a cool breeze whipped across the blossoms, scattering purple and gold petals along the thick carpet of grass. “The two of you reached them in the nick of time. The damage could’ve been much worse.”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice unsteady. “We were lucky, I guess.”

  He nodded stiffly. “How are you feeling?”

  From the anticipatory expression, he seemed to dread my answer.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “And you?”

  He ignored my question. “You look tired.”

  “Maybe a little.” The urge to touch him was overwhelming, but I didn’t know where we stood. “Braeden?”

  “Yes?”

  I swallowed hard, my courage almost failing me. “I missed you.”

  My spirits lifted as he opened his arms. That was all the encouragement I needed. I didn’t waste a second throwing myself into his embrace. He cradled me there, running his hands along my back as I clung to his powerful body.

  However, my euphoria faded when a disturbing realization hit. The way he held me. It was different, almost imperceptible. So subtle, I wouldn’t have noticed the change had I not known his touch before. The day I first met him in his suite, when we shook hands, he’d touched me with the same reluctance and detachment.

  He knows.

  Cautiously, I asked, “Why were you fighting with Xavier?”

  A lifetime passed before he voiced his wooden reply. “It was nothing of consequence.”

  I stiffened in his arms. “Nothing of consequence?” I gazed up at him, fearing the worst. “He told you what happened, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  A sharp pain stabbed me in the chest as I pulled away. “Why would he do that?” Anger burned. “Why? I told him I wanted—”

  “Because,” he said softly, “he tells me everything. He always has. Besides, how else was he to explain why he destroyed my room? Broken furniture. Art pieces. It took an hour just to clean up the glass.”

  Though I heard Braeden, I wasn’t listening. I was too caught up in my own misery. My restless gaze hit the grass, the plants, the sky. I struggled to keep my composure. “I swear I intended to tell you as soon as you got back, but then I saw you fighting out here and…” Squeezing my eyes shut, I said, “He knew this. He knew I wanted to be the one to break it to you, but he couldn’t wait to blurt it out.”

  “No, that’s not how—”

  “He probably did it the minute you walked through the door, didn’t he?” I turned away, raked a trembling hand through my hair as anger shifted to rage. “Why am I surprised? He’s determined to ruin everything.”

  “Danielle, it’s not like that.” A weighty sigh rushed out of him. “My brother…he’s…he’s not wholly responsible for his—” He paused, searching for words. “There are things about him…things you don’t know…that you need to understand.”

  I didn’t want to understand! I just wanted us to go back to normal.

  “There’s a reason he acts the way he does,” Braeden continued in that detached tone of his. “Right now he’s extremely…conflicted. On the one hand, he’s angry with me—”

  I rounded on him. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong!”

  Braeden’s gaze fell.

  I took his beautiful face in my hands. “I don’t care what’s going on with him. I care even less that he’s conflicted. You’re what matters to me. I never meant to hurt you, Braeden. Believe me, I tried so hard to—I begged him to leave, but…” I shook my head in disgust. “No, I won’t make excuses because there are none. I don’t know why it happened. I honestly don’t, and I feel horrible. If you never want to see my face again, I’ll completely understand—”

  “Stop it. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “How can I stay after what I’ve done?”

  “Just answer me this,” he said, his gaze pinning me in place. “How do you feel about him?”

  That made me blink. “How do I what?”

  “Feel. About Xavier.”

  One second. Two seconds. Three seconds passed. And still the truth eluded me. I blinked again, blindsided. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Why is that?” he asked. His voice was unnervingly calm. Then I saw it. The pain and uncertainty he’d tried to conceal. I’d hurt him, truly and deeply. He glanced off. “It’s not a hard ques
tion.”

  I turned his face back to me. “I don’t want him, okay? Do you understand? I want you. Only you.”

  “If you’re not clear about your feelings, how do you know for sure?”

  My tongue froze. It was true.

  “But it’s all right,” he said. “Everything will be all right.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Braeden just looked at me for a time. “Because I can’t lose you.” He gathered me into his arms, but it still felt mechanical and rehearsed. Not the same as before. His body straightened, and he ran restless hands over my shoulders. Warmth radiated from the soft leather sheathing them. “It looks like my two o’clock is here,” he said, bracing my shoulder. “Show them into the library. I’ll be there shortly.”

  He bent to kiss my cheek and went back inside, leaving me where I stood.

  His mouth had told me everything was fine, but his body language said otherwise. I didn’t need my gift to know I was not forgiven.

  * * *

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  Denieve

  ____________________________

  The carpenters were packing up their trucks by the time I opened the front door to Gita Silverman and Samuel Nowak. I was still bewildered and upset about my encounter with Braeden, and now I dreaded what Luke had to tell me. Though my headache was down to a dull roar, it was a battle just to stay focused, but I put a brave face on anyway for our guests.

  While I escorted them to the library, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen Gita somewhere before. The pronounced widow’s peak, thick brows, and far-set, tilted eyes awakened a fuzzy memory. It got so bad I had to apologize when she caught me staring.

  “You look so familiar,” I said, throwing the library doors open.

  She assured me we’d never met, though she added, “Everyone has a double somewhere.” This, she said while glaring in her father’s direction.

  Today, Samuel Nowak looked even frailer up close. His sad blue eyes, craggy face, and rail-thin body gave evidence of a life lived on the edge. Despite that, he had the unrelenting curiosity of a toddler. As he ambled around, eyeing the books, surveillance equipment, and knickknacks, Gita tried to guide him to a chair, but he slapped her hand away. The more she fussed over him, the more agitated he became.

  Two minutes into this battle of wills, Gita relented. “Apologies,” she said joining me on the sofa. “We wouldn’t be here had I not taken my eyes off him. I told Erik to stop bringing Papa last month, but they got past me.” She shrugged. “My husband indulges him. They scheme behind my back.”

  “I’m not a prisoner,” Samuel snapped. “And I go where I damn well please.”

  Gita gave her head a weary shake. “Daj mi siłę.”

  Samuel waved her off with a huff.

  I quietly cleared my throat. “Are you sure I can’t get you two anything? Coffee? Tea? A soft drink?”

  “Nothing for us,” she said. “We won’t be here long.”

  Samuel huffed again at her words as I sensed Braeden coming down the stairs. I excused myself, closing the doors behind me. He’d just cleared the second landing when I got to the foyer. Though he looked relaxed, I sensed he was wound tighter than a banjo string. Whether it was because of our unsettling encounter outside or this meeting I wasn’t sure.

  There was a distance between us now, and I didn’t know how to bridge it.

  Braeden approached me and nodded a thanks, then disappeared around the corner. The faraway stare he’d had out in the garden was back. Like he was somewhere else, a place he rarely visited.

  * * *

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  BRAEDEN

  ____________________________

  At the sound of Danielle’s retreating footsteps, Braeden set a hand on the closed library door and sank his forehead against the cool wood. How long could he continue this maddening façade? The anger over what Xavier had confessed this morning had yet to subside. If anything, it had taken on a life of its own.

  But this was what he’d wanted to happen, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he decided it was the only solution? How could he blame Danielle for reacting to something beyond her control? Her attraction to Xavier was supernatural—a powerful spiritual phenomenon no mortal could resist. Xavier could morph into a toad, and she’d still be attracted to him—because her feelings for Braeden were true.

  In fact, she could no more resist the pull than he could ignore reality. He had eyes. She looked pale and tired. Her health, Asylum, and the possibility of Protocol hung in the balance. Oh, how he’d longed to tell her everything. That it wasn’t her fault. That what she felt for Xavier was a natural extension of her feelings for him.

  Knowing this didn’t make it hurt any less though. And it didn’t take the edge off his jealousy, which was ridiculous. How could he be jealous of himself? He was the “other man” after all.

  Muffled voices drew him back to the latest drama to unfold beneath this cursed roof. Sweet Jesus, he didn’t know what disturbed him most: Xavier kissing Danielle or the prospect of sharing a room with Samuel Nowak again, this after seventy-plus years.

  Mind warred with heart. Instinct raged against obligation. He wanted to throw his arms around the man. Ached to convey how relieved he was to see he’d lived a long life, in spite of the deadly price Hannah paid. But it would never happen. Bound by duty, Braeden would deny, deny, deny. Even now Samuel’s life depended on it.

  Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the doors open.

  Samuel was seated on the sofa next to the woman. Memories rushed his senses. She was the spitting image of Hannah. For months, he’d put Samuel off, not wanting to revisit a horror that haunted him to this day, but after seeing Samuel’s daughter outside, a woman with a face so like the girl whose tragic death had torn him and Xavier apart, he’d had no choice but to see them.

  The old man rose. His daughter followed. Their gazes locked on him. The intelligence blazing in Samuel’s bright blue eyes struck Braeden. It was all that was left of the precocious child he’d known so long ago.

  “Dr. Frost,” the woman said. “I’m Gita Silverman and this is my—”

  “On wie kim jestem,” Samuel rudely cut in, the Polish thick on his tongue.

  Yes, Braeden most definitely knew who he was. “Please.” Gesturing for them to sit, he gathered his well-worn composure and settled into a wing chair across from them. “What can I do for you…mister?”

  The old man looked him square in the eye. “Samuel. Uri. Nowak.”

  “And this is regarding?”

  Samuel’s expression hardened. “I’m here to tell you a Polish war story.”

  “Pardon?” Braeden asked.

  “A WWII story. And it’s one-hundred percent true.”

  Braeden fought to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nowak, but what does this have to do with—”

  “Just listen.” Samuel’s eyes burned with passion. “Can you do that?”

  Braeden knew exactly where this was going. “Yes. Of course.”

  The man shot a quick glance at his now fidgety daughter. She sighed hard and crossed her arms.

  “I lived in the Warsaw ghetto during the Nazi occupation,” Samuel began, returning his full attention to Braeden. “At first we didn’t know what they were doing. We’d heard many rumors, but a lot of us were so far in denial we refused to believe the horrors. But for my family, it became all too real after my sister was murdered. Hannah had gone to meet her Polish boyfriend one night. She was crossing the street when a military jeep hit her. The Nazis shot her in the head like a dog as she lay unconscious, and when my father went looking for answers, they beat him to within an inch of his life.”

  His eyes drilled into Braeden’s. “Once the uprising began, everything devolved quickly. My friends and me were just boys, but we joined ŻOB and battled them in the streets, bunkers…the sewers. Everywhere. We vowed to fight to the death. Anything was better t
han to be dragged off to burn in their ovens.”

  Braeden shifted uncomfortably in his chair, threaded his fingers in his lap.

  “Then a miracle happened,” Samuel said. “We found a way out. You see, Hannah’s ‘Polish’ boyfriend Marke was actually a Scottish medic working for the resistance—the Polish underground. His real name was Ian McBride and he’d paid off some of the greedy SS to help us. Only Papa was too ill to travel, and Mama wouldn’t leave his side. They both begged Ian to take me with him.” He drew a deep breath. “But when it came time to escape, the SS betrayed Ian. So we had to get to the forest through the sewers.”

  Braeden swallowed, saying nothing.

  “We were on the move constantly, me and Ian,” Samuel continued, “looking to touch base with a resistance unit hiding in the woods, but after days of walking, I was so tired and dehydrated, I needed to rest. That’s the only reason we stopped. Because of me.” Samuel looked away. “A little after midnight I got up to relieve myself. I was on my way back when it happened. The soldiers who patrolled at night—they’d found us. There were at least six of them and they had Ian surrounded.”

  A single tear slid down Samuel’s cheek. “I’d hidden in the bushes so they couldn’t see me, but he did. His eyes told me to run, then he charged them to create a diversion, and that’s when they shot him. I saw Ian McBride take his last breath. I heard…I heard them call him a ‘Jew lover’ while they kicked his lifeless body. I watched them pump bullets into his corpse. Over and over again.” His sorrowful gaze sharpened on Braeden. “Did you hear me, Dr. Frost? I. Watched. Him. Die.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE FROST ESTATE

  DEARBORNE, MARYLAND

  BRAEDEN

  ____________________________

  Tears rolled down Samuel’s gaunt cheeks. He slipped a handkerchief from his suit jacket, wiped his face. “I waited for them to leave. Then I dug a shallow grave using sticks, my hands, and anything else I could find. The ground was so hard I could only dig a couple feet. But I was determined to give him a proper burial, so I ended up covering him with shrubs, branches, and rocks. After that, I wandered the forest for days, walking in circles. Dozens of circles…scared, starving, and mourning. I’d lost everyone I loved.”