Broken Promise

by Tara Thomas

  But still, he got to her in little ways. How he’d pour her more coffee if he was getting himself some. The way he’d adjust the thermostat when he saw she was cold. He was exactly what she’d pegged him as the night before—a gentleman. Frankly, he was a lot easier to deal with when he was just an obnoxious rich guy she could ignore. Or arrest.

  But now, especially with them sharing the suites, he was always underfoot, always nearby. She could never not think about him. And though she tried not to let her thoughts go to the carnal, it didn’t always work.

  * * *

  Shortly after lunch, an e-mail appeared in her inbox that had her calling Kipling to come to her quickly. He made it to her side in less than five seconds.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She turned to face him, blocking his view of the computer. “Yes, I just wanted you to be here before I did anything else.”

  He tried to look over her shoulder. “Did you find something?”

  “That’s yet to be seen, but I got an e-mail from the lab this morning saying they hadn’t misplaced the results, they had just been delayed and the results would be entered today.” She sighed. “Finally.”

  “You have them? Thank goodness. I was beginning to think we’d never get them.”

  “I don’t have them quite yet.” She turned back around to face her laptop. “I was getting ready to log on to the portal and bring them up. But I wanted you to be here to see.”

  He pulled a chair over to where they were and sat down. “Go for it.” While she was logging in, he asked, “Tell me again what you tested and what we potentially could see.”

  “From Jade’s hair, we tested mitochondrial DNA. It’s less specific because all the females in a family will have the exact same expression. So, if Jade’s biological mother, sister, grandmother, or aunt is in the system, we’ll find them. In this case, we’re throwing our net wide in hopes of finding out more about Jade. Especially since we already know who her father is.”

  “Makes sense,” Kipling said as she pulled up the home screen.

  Alyssa typed in her username and password and held her breath as she waited for her account page to load. She hadn’t used this lab too many times in the past and hoped that word of her leaving her job hadn’t made it to the private lab the police department sometimes used for testing. Most of the time, she didn’t use mitochondrial DNA. Her account showed the handful of cases and tests she’d ordered in the past and, most importantly, it had Jade’s test file marked as completed and a hyperlink that would lead to the test results.

  “Does that mean there was a match?” Kipling asked. “Or would they still use a hyperlink to tell us there was no match found?”

  “Good question,” Alyssa said. She’d clicked on the hyperlink, but instead of getting results, she was taken to another account verification page. “Are you kidding me with this?” she asked no one in particular.

  “What?” Kipling asked. “Does it normally not do that?”

  “It’s never done it to me before.” She went through her security questions to verify who she was before the system allowed her to continue. “Very interesting. I don’t know if it’s a new layer of security or if it’s because the results are sensitive.”

  She hadn’t thought about that angle. What if Jade’s mother wasn’t dead, but was a celebrity? Knowing what she did of Benedict Senior, she could see it happening.

  It became such a tempting possibility in her mind that she was still thinking about it and pondering who the celebrity could be as the results populated her screen.

  “What does it say?” Kipling asked.

  She read the report summary. It didn’t make any sense at all, so she read it a second time. The second read through was worse than the first. She refreshed her screen. Although her body must have been processing the results faster than her brain because her hand trembled in shock.

  “Alyssa?” Kipling asked again.

  She clicked on the report. The summary must be wrong, that was all there was to it.

  “Damn it,” Kipling nearly growled. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  She couldn’t talk to him yet. She had to know. If she was going to tell him what the results indicated, she had to believe two-hundred percent that there could be no mistake. Taking a deep breath, she read through the words on the screen. From the first sentence that started with the date of the sample to the last sentence that simply stated, “Results verified by repeat analysis.”

  Satisfied, at least intellectually, she turned to Kipling. He sat completely still, his expression showed he knew something bad was getting ready to happen, but there was a lingering hint of hope that he was wrong. He wasn’t, though, and she was going to be the one who smashed that hope to pieces before his eyes.

  She took a deep breath. “Jade’s sample hit on three profiles in the nationwide database.”

  “Really?” he asked, and there was that damn hope again. More pronounced this time. “Three? That’s really good news, isn’t it?”

  Damn, but it was hard to talk to him while she sat in front of him. The best thing she could do was spit it out. All at once. “The three matching profiles are me, my sister, and my mother.”

  He sat frozen for several long seconds.

  “You?” he finally asked in a hoarse voice. “Why are you a match?”

  “Jade is either my half-sister or my niece. I’m inclined to go with my niece because the timing fits and I’m fairly certain I’d remember my mom being pregnant. I don’t believe any teenager can be so self-absorbed as to not notice that.”

  “Your sister?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He hung his head and buried his hands in his hair. All at once, he sat up, eyes blazing, but she wasn’t sure with what exactly. “Your murdered sister.”

  * * *

  “Sir?” The Gentleman’s butler knocked on the door.

  The Gentleman stood panting as he looked over the pile of glass, water, and leather that had once been on his desk. Somewhere in the background Alyssa and Kipling kept talking, but he wasn’t paying them any attention.

  “Go away!” he yelled at his butler.

  “But, sir—”

  “Go. Away.”

  His wife had given him a rare fifteenth-century Ming vase for their anniversary ten years ago. The antique blue-and-white porcelain made a satisfying smash as his fist connected with it and it shattered to the floor.

  The butler didn’t knock or say anything else.

  How had he missed the fact that Allison and Alyssa were sisters? How? They didn’t even have the same last name.

  He’d been a fool. A fool. All those times he’d let Alyssa go because he could always take her out later. After Mac had died and he’d decided not to kill her just yet because she’d done him a favor by being part of the team that took him out, unintentional though it had been on her part, and because he’d always been focused on the Benedicts.

  He may have been a fool then, but those days were gone.

  He couldn’t wait to hear if Alyssa would sound just as pathetic begging for her life as her sister had in the seconds before he slit her throat.

  * * *

  “Now we know what the connection is between our families,” Kipling said.

  “We know your father slept with my sister when she was barely eighteen,” Alyssa countered. “And we know he got her pregnant. It still doesn’t make sense. We don’t know where she went for five years or why she came back. We don’t know who killed her or why. We still don’t know who Jade’s guardian is. And we still don’t have a clue who or what Finition Noire is. We don’t know anything.”

  “I disagree. We actually know a bit more than that,” Kipling said, risking her wrath, and not surprisingly at his words, she glared at him. “Listen to me. I believe we now have a good understanding as to why your stepfather kicked her out the house. He found out that she was pregnant. And I would be willing to bet that is the same reason
he kicked her out again when she returned five years later.”

  Kipling still couldn’t believe it. How was it possible that his father had slept with such a young girl? That he got her pregnant, and then did nothing to support her or his child? He wouldn’t have thought his father to be so cold, so uncaring, but there it was.

  Alyssa stood up; she seemed to have aged in the last few minutes. “I have to get out of here. Walk. Do something. I don’t care what, I have to get out of this hotel room.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Kipling said.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know I don’t, but I want to. And I don’t want you to be by yourself. It’s not safe.”

  He was surprised when she didn’t argue with him. Instead, she calmly walked to the door and waited for him to get ready to walk outside with her. Of course once they were outside, he saw what her plan was. She took off walking quickly, not looking behind to make sure he followed her, or talking to him at all.

  He knew she had received quite a shock today. Hell, he did, too.

  After walking about four blocks, she finally turned. “I wish one of them were here,” she said. “I don’t care which one. I’d ask them what the hell they thought they were doing. And if they had any idea how much they’re messing up everybody because of their actions. I want to ask Allison if it was worth it.” Tears filled her eyes. “And then it hits me, I can’t, because she’s dead. And regardless of what she would say, it wasn’t worth it at all.”

  He moved toward her, unsure of how she would read, but knowing he had to do something. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and when she didn’t flinch or try to move away, he placed one on the other. She took a step toward him and he enveloped her in his arms. For several minutes, he held her, and though he meant to give her comfort, she gave him the same.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel, and regroup.” He kept an arm around her shoulder and gently turned her back to the hotel. “We need to plan our next steps.”

  She didn’t say anything, and silently, they walked back to the hotel together.

  CHAPTER 8

  Alyssa knew as soon as she walked into her suite that someone had been in her room. It wasn’t housekeeping. Kipling had placed the DO NOT DISTURB signs on their doors before they went for their walk, and her bed was still unmade and her towels unchanged.

  In fact, there was nothing she could point to as proof. Rather, it was a feeling in her gut. Those who had never experienced it would likely not understand, but after years of working on the police force, she’d learned to listen to it.

  She took her weapon and carefully looked over everything, searching for any minute detail to back up her feeling. Nothing was out of place until she reached the work area. In the middle of the conference table, a kitchen knife had been shoved into the tabletop, pinning a picture to the surface. She gasped when she saw what was.

  The crime-scene photo of her sister’s body.

  To the side was a note, typed, “Your sister couldn’t stay away from Benedict men, either. You’d better learn or else you’ll meet the same fate.”

  She didn’t realize she was shaking until she tried to take a step forward and almost fell. She reached for the knife, then stopped herself. It was unlikely the culprit left fingerprints, but on the off chance they hadn’t wiped the knife handle, she was going to dust it for prints.

  “Kipling,” she called. “Come here, please.”

  She blocked out the picture of her sister’s broken body as best as she could and tried to concentrate on the note. There was something she had the feeling she needed to pay attention to, outside of the words on the note.

  Kipling’s footsteps sounded, getting louder as he came closer. “Alyssa?”

  She didn’t answer. All of her focus was concentrated on the note. There was something there. What was it she was missing?

  “Alyssa? Are you okay?” Kipling asked and within the next three seconds he had made it to where she waited.

  She could lie and tell him everything was okay and she was fine, but the truth was, she needed to trust someone. She closed her eyes and whispered, “No.”

  He walked to her and put his arms around her; until he did, she wasn’t aware that she was cold or trembling. But it took mere seconds for her to feel warm and for the trembling to stop. She didn’t even know if Kipling knew or realized the effect his touch had on her.

  As it was, he took one look at her, pushed the hair back from her forehead, and asked, “What happened?”

  Silently, she pointed at the table. Because she couldn’t bear to look at the picture again, she kept her focus on Kipling’s face. As such, she watched as shock turned to anger.

  “What the hell is this?” he said. When he looked up, his face was more controlled.

  Alyssa collapsed into a nearby chair. “That’s my sister. Or was.”

  He looked down at the picture once more, and cursed under his breath. “Who did this?”

  She assumed he meant the picture and the knife, since they both knew she had no idea who had murdered her sister. “I don’t know. I think they were here while we went out.” She shivered just thinking about it. God, that had been close. And following along that line, she purposed she wasn’t going to keep doing this. The time had come to take these bastards down once and for all.

  * * *

  There were too many emotions going through Kipling’s body at the moment. Rage. Shock. Disgust. Fear.

  “How did they know?” he asked. “Seriously. How? I mean, we just found out. And unless I’m mistaken, those reports are confidential. Right?”

  She nodded, but her attention seemed to be elsewhere and was no longer focused on him or the knife in the middle of the table.

  “Alyssa?” he asked as she walked away from the table.

  She looked at him only to hold her finger to her mouth. He raised an eyebrow. She wanted him to be quiet? What was her deal? Who could they possibly be disturbing?

  It hit him as she moved around the room, running her hand under the various surfaces. He told himself it was only a precaution and one they should have taken before now. But when she stopped in front of the table the deliveryman had used the night before when he placed the room service tray down, he knew it was more than a mere formality. She looked resigned, sighed deeply, and pointed to a bug.

  Fucking hell. Kipling frantically tried to remember everything they had discussed. So damn much.

  They needed to get out of here and quickly. The only thing was, he wasn’t sure where they could go. Alyssa was one step ahead of him, pulling papers together and packing them up. She motioned with her fingers for him to go get his stuff.

  “I’m hungry already,” she said, like it was most natural thing in the world. He was once more struck by her calmness and how she always acted so cool under pressure. “Do you think you could eat dinner early?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’d love a big ol’ rack of ribs.” He grinned at the last part, knowing Alyssa didn’t eat pork. She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Fine,” she said. “You can have ribs and I’ll get something else.”

  They continued their fake argument as they went around the room, throwing their clothes and toiletries in whatever bag that was the closest. By the time they’d decided where they were going to go for dinner, they were packed.

  From the conversation they had, no one would guess that they had walked out of the two suites with no intention of ever returning. By silent agreement, neither one of them said anything until they made it to Kipling’s car. Alyssa did a quick check, looking for both GPS devices and bugs, but finding neither.

  “We lucked up,” she said as they climbed into his car. “They weren’t expecting you, so nothing of yours is bugged. We have to be more careful from now on. I can’t believe I didn’t think to look for bugs after that bogus deliveryman last night.”

  She almost added she didn’t know where her head had been, but she knew the answer to that one. It ha
d been on Kipling and his kiss.

  “Anyway, I think that’ll keep them off our trail for a little bit,” Alyssa said as Kipling sped away from the hotel as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. “We need a place to stay that whoever is looking for us won’t find easily.”

  “I’d been thinking along those lines,” Kipling said, “and I think I have just the place.”

  “Where?” Alyssa asked, as if she didn’t quite believe he’d have the perfect location at his fingertips.

  “We own a beach place, down in Edisto,” he said. “It’s in my mother’s maiden name, so someone would have to look hard and dig deep to find it.”

  “It does sound perfect. But why is it still in your mother’s maiden name?”

  “My grandparents, my mother’s parents, were never thrilled with my mom marrying my dad. You have to understand, at least from their point of view, Franklin Benedict wasn’t to be trusted. You think my brothers and I are given a hard time by the newspapers? Apparently, compared to my father, we all three qualify for sainthood.”

  “Surely after they got married, they didn’t think the worst of him.”

  Kipling grimaced. He wasn’t one to typically share dirty family secrets, but Alyssa’s sister had not only slept with his father, but had also borne him a child. But more than that, he wanted to share things about his family with her. He wanted her in that circle, “The thing is,” he told her. “I was born six months after their wedding and I was almost nine pounds.”

  “Oh, man,” Alyssa said.

  “Right? There was no way they could pass me off as early.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure if that was their plan or not. Either way, my mom’s parents never got along with my dad.”

  “Are they still around?”

  “They are, but they’re in France and they only make it stateside about once every three years. They say the air in France keeps them young and they’re both almost ninety. Who am I to argue with that?”

  “They sound like they’re quite the pair.”