Payback (Otter Creek Book 5)

by Rebecca Deel

  He smiled down at her. “If I can arrange it, you might get to meet a very important young man.”

  “Who?”

  “Not telling. I don’t want you disappointed if it doesn’t work out this trip.”

  “Will we come back again? I’ve never been to the nation’s capital. I’d like to be a tourist for a couple days.”

  “I make a great tour guide, complete with personalized Ivy Monroe service.” Cupping her cheek, he said, “I’d go anywhere with you, angel.”

  “Good to know. Right now, come to the office with me. I brought you lunch. You need to eat before we leave.”

  He clasped her hand in his and walked with her to the house. “You got in touch with your broker friend?”

  “Yes. Henry will see us at three.” She handed him her cell phone. “More text messages.”

  Glancing at her, noting the grim expression, he ushered her inside before swiping his thumb over the messaging app. He scanned each, scowled. More and more graphic, anger pouring from the words. Evans was going overboard to intimidate or frighten Ivy. That two-bit thug was in for a surprise. His angel wasn’t going to run. The last text had his eyebrows shooting upward. “Your mother texted? I thought you weren’t on good terms.”

  “We aren’t. I haven’t spoken to her in months.”

  His hand hovered over the first sandwich. “Not even after the fiasco this summer?”

  “She wouldn’t take my call. Still mad at me about Lee.”

  Alex shook his head. “Our mothers are something else.”

  “Eat your lunch. If you’ll give my phone back, I’ll take pictures of all the paintings I want Henry to look at. It’s not as good as seeing them in person, but he might be able to spot something definitive.” She shrugged. “More circumstantial evidence, as Josh would say.”

  “I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes. I’ll find you.”

  Despite the ball of ice in his belly, Alex wolfed down the food on his plate, washed it down with one bottle of water. He’d save the other for Ivy. Grabbing his own cell phone, he placed a call he’d hoped never to make. Circumstances had forced his hand and he would have to call in the favor.

  The phone rang four times before being answered. “Charlotte, it’s Alex Morgan.”

  “How have you been, Alex? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  Not since he and Durango has rescued Charlotte Abrams from the hands of terrorists. Her father, President William Martin, had specifically requested Durango for the rescue operation. In fact, Rio had helped deliver Sam, Charlotte’s son, as the team headed for the landing zone to be airlifted out. “Been busy. New job. New town. New girl.”

  “Ooh. Do tell. What’s her name?”

  “Ivy Monroe. She’s incredible, Charlotte.”

  She laughed. “You sound pretty smitten. Is she The One, Alex?”

  “If I can convince her to keep me.”

  “What woman could resist you?”

  He chuckled. “Quite a few, actually.”

  “Fools, all of them. If Griff hadn’t swept me off my feet, I might have taken a second look at you. I’m a sucker for the not-so-tall, silent types.”

  “Griff’s over six feet tall,” he pointed out. Being five nine made Alex the shortest man in his Delta unit.

  “He was the exception to my list of qualified applicants. The rest were around your height. Does your Ivy have a preference for shorter, dark, silent types?”

  “She seems to and she’s on the petite side. How’s Sam?”

  “Still dragging around your blue elephant. He’s talking a little now. Griff says he’s created his own language. He can’t decipher toddler speech very well.”

  “I’d love to see him and Ivy’s loves children. Any way to arrange a meet?”

  “I’ll see what I can work out. Are you in town?”

  “Yeah. My father’s funeral is Tuesday.”

  “Father?” She gasped. “Oh, Alex, Senator Morgan was your father?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I had no idea. I’m so sorry for your loss. How’s your family doing?”

  “Dealing, but it’s a very hard time for them.”

  “I can imagine. What can I do for you, Alex? I know you didn’t call simply to ask about Sam. You know you only have to ask.”

  “Would it be possible to speak to your father?”

  “He’s on Air Force One right now. He should be back in country late tonight. Is there something I can do in the meantime?”

  “Pass on a message to him for me.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Badger.”

  “I’ll make sure he knows. He’ll either call you when he has a chance or arrange a meeting. How long will you be in the area?”

  “As long as it takes to get some answers.”

  “I checked my calendar while we’ve been talking. Griff’s tied up, but Sam and I can meet with you and Ivy on Thursday. What about coming to the house around two? Sam should be up from his nap by that time.”

  “That would be perfect. Ivy teaches college, so we’ll have to leave by Sunday at the latest. I’ll let you know if something comes up and we can’t make it.”

  Charlotte gave him her address. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you and meeting Ivy. If the rest of your team is here, bring them along, too. We’ll have a regular reunion.”

  Ending the call, Alex collected his plate and Ivy’s water and made his way to the kitchen. Rio, sitting on a barstool at the counter working on his laptop, glanced up when he walked in.

  He smiled a little as he noted the empty plate. “Your girl’s in the living room with Del and Stella. She’s a keeper, Alex, and I think she’s finally getting her balance back.”

  After grabbing more water from the refrigerator, he found Ivy seated on the sofa with Del. Stella was curled in a recliner. “Ready, angel?”

  “Have fun, cousin.” Del smiled, her eyes twinkling.

  In the SUV, he paused before cranking the engine. “So what was that about? Del acted like a cat who ate a canary.”

  “This.” She lifted the wrist on which she wore the charm bracelet. “We were speculating about the next nine charms. Del and Stella were very impressed with your creativity.”

  “What about you?”

  “No one has given me a gift with so much thought behind it. The bracelet means even more because it was from you.”

  Satisfaction curled in his gut. This trip with Ivy had been one stress or crisis after another. He was pleased his gift gave her so much pleasure. “Where are we headed, angel?”

  She rattled off an address in Edenville, a town 50 miles to the west of Hunter’s Glen. His high school football team had played in the regional tournament there a couple years. Nice little town with raving high school football fans.

  Sunday afternoon traffic was light. As they drove, he pointed out places where significant events occurred in his growing up years. He told several stories on himself that kept Ivy laughing.

  “Who was the first girl you ever kissed?” Ivy asked.

  “Martina Gonzalez. She had the prettiest brown eyes I’d ever seen. She broke my heart, though. After I gave that kiss my best effort, she slugged me. I ended up with my first black eye the same day of my first kiss.”

  Ivy laughed. “Were you that bad a kisser?”

  “Probably, although I was a very precocious five year old.”

  More laughter. When the amusement was under control, she dug out her cell phone. “I need to call my mother. She’s going to be furious I didn’t call last night. Do you think she heard about the shooting?”

  Alex shook his head. “I checked the websites and newscasts while you were asleep. None of them reported on the incident. Guess Stella worked some magic and squashed the story.”

  “There’s no telling what she wants, then. I’m surprised she wants to talk to me.”

  “Only one way to find out. Call her.”

  She hesitated.

  “Do you want
me to pull over so you can talk to her without me close by?”

  “Actually, I was going to ask would it bother you if I put it on speaker?” Ivy twisted in her seat to face him. “Being in my life means you’ll have to deal with her and my father as well.”

  “If you want me to listen, angel, I’m willing.” He glanced at her. “Fair warning, though. I won’t put up with any abuse hurled your direction, verbal or otherwise.”

  “Deal.” She called up her mother’s contact info and placed the phone on speaker.

  “Ivy Jane Monroe, what are you doing keeping company with a murderer?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ivy gasped. Oh, man. What had she done, putting this diatribe on speaker? The last thing she wanted Alex to hear was this garbage. He had enough to deal with already. “Mother, that’s enough. You don’t know anything about Alex.”

  “I know what the national media’s reporting.”

  “Surprise, Mother, they lied.”

  “How dare you throw Lee under the bus and get him thrown in jail while you are with a killer?”

  Alex’s hands clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip.

  “Is there anything else, Mother? If not, I’m ending the call now.”

  “You need to come home. I’ve had enough of you embarrassing the Monroe name. I’m sure if you apologize to Lee, he will be glad to take you back. His mother has been telling me how much he misses you. He swears he’ll make it up to you. A simple misunderstanding, that’s all it was. It will be good for both families, Ivy. A society match that can’t be beaten. We’ve given you more than enough time to get over your snit. It’s time to grow up, Ivy Jane, and do what’s best for your family’s future.”

  From Alex’s expression, he was livid and ready to step in. Ivy placed a restraining hand on his arm. “No, Mother, it’s time I did something for my future. I love you, but I’m not ever moving back to Nashville. I love Otter Creek. I love my job. I have many new friends. I feel good about myself and the direction my life is headed. If Lee were the last single man on earth, I wouldn’t take him back. He hurt me and for that I will never trust him again. And by the way, Alex Morgan is the finest man I’ve ever met in my life. I am not giving him up.”

  With that, she ended the call and muted her phone. Enough. If her mother wanted to call back, she could talk to Ivy’s voice mail. What hurt more than anything was that her parents believed Lee Hall’s version of events rather than their own daughter’s. Of all the people she should be able to count on, her parents should top the list.

  “You okay, angel?”

  “Just sorry you had to hear that. I knew the conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  “You held your ground, Ivy. Must have been hard, but I’m proud of you.”

  Determined to move ahead without looking back, Ivy asked more questions about Alex’s childhood. Favorite birthday memory, the best vacation, his friends in school. After a while, the stories began running together in her mind, but she didn’t care. She wanted to know everything about him. Being in special ops, his military stories would be the scrubbed version, focusing on social interactions rather than missions. Right now, he needed a little distance from the military side of his history and she wanted more than anything to give him a break from his chaotic thoughts.

  In Edenville, Alex turned left on Wingate Circle and parked in Henry’s driveway. Her friend lived in a white brick two-story home with navy blue trim and shutters. Kind of like her friend. His hair glistened like snow sparkling in the sunshine and he usually wore navy blue polo shirts.

  Henry answered their knock. “Ivy, my dear. Come in, come in.” He waved them inside, held out his hand to Alex. “You must be Ivy’s friend. I’m Henry.”

  “Alex. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

  “Always happy to see Ivy. We both feel strongly about art education.”

  “How long have you been an art broker?”

  “Quarter of a century.” He led them into a den doubling as a work-room. Various paintings lined the walls along the floor, some Ivy would love to have in her own collection. Such depth and heart. Some of the paintings evoked images of hope and peace, some were fun and quirky. Others were dark, mirroring the harder side of life. Those Ivy avoided examining too closely.

  “Sit down, be comfortable.” Henry dropped into an overstuffed chair. “Now, what can I do for you, Ivy?”

  She pulled out her cell phone, brought up the photos she’d taken of Cynthia Morgan’s paintings. “Take a look at these.”

  “What am I looking for?” he asked.

  “I think the paintings are copies. There’s just something off about them. Can you tell from the photos?”

  “Not a good way to determine authenticity, you understand.”

  “I know. The owner isn’t likely to let me bring you the paintings.”

  “I see.” Henry scrolled through the photos, stopping at each one to examine them closely. His gaze shot to Ivy. “You still have a good eye, my dear. I know these are copies.”

  “How?” Alex asked.

  “Because I handled the sale of these masterpieces.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Oh, over the last six months or so. I advised against flooding the market with the paintings. I floated rumors of the next painting possibly being for sale and the bidding war sure to ensue a couple weeks before each was offered on the market.”

  “Nice,” Ivy said. “Were all of the paintings bought on the private market?”

  “All but two. Those were acquired by two different museums. Funny thing about that. The owner absolutely insisted neither museum be anywhere near this area. Odd request if you ask me. However, as you well know, art patrons can be quirky.”

  “Can you tell us the name of the owner who sold the paintings?” Alex asked.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in that. Aside from the museums, the private buyers insisted on anonymity. The seller, however, made no such stipulation. The seller of the paintings was Alexander Morgan.”

  “That’s not possible, Henry.” Alex’s stomach clenched. Not only had his mother’s paintings been copied and the originals sold off, the seller had used his name to cover his own tracks. There were only two possible sellers in this debacle who were men. His father and his brother.

  “I don’t understand. That’s the name he gave me and the name on the authentication papers.”

  Now he knew something was way off. No way his mother would have given him her prize collection of art, not even in her will. Most likely, every penny and every work of art would go to Porter. Unless his father had followed up his apparent change of heart with a gift after his mother passed away. James Morgan would have no use for those paintings. He’d only indulged his wife over the years. His tastes tended to be like Alex’s.

  “The provenance is accurate except for the owner’s name. I’m Alexander Morgan and the original paintings belong to my mother. She has no idea copies are decorating the walls of her home.”

  The blood drained from his face. “Are you telling me I sold stolen merchandise?”

  “I’m not sure, Henry. At the very least, he misrepresented himself.” He wouldn’t know for sure until he got a copy of his father’s will or spoke to the family attorney. He supposed there was an outside chance his mother had given permission to sell the art. Not very likely, though. “Describe the man who claimed to be me.”

  He frowned. “Six foot at least. Dark hair, dark eyes. Polished. Armani suit.”

  “What do you know about Armani suits, Henry?” Ivy asked.

  “That I can’t afford them.”

  “What about age?” Alex studied the older man. The news of the seller’s deception had rattled him. Probably worried about being charged with fencing stolen property and losing his reputation in the art community. That would end of his career as an art broker.

  “About your age. Mid-thirties I’d guess.”

  “Small scar on his chin?”

 
“That’s right. You know this man?”

  His heart sank. He’d been hopeful the seller was his father with full approval of his mother. He had a feeling his brother was caught up in something not quite legal. “I’m afraid so. Did he say what he planned to do with the money?” Alex didn’t hold out much hope for any additional information. Porter was never one to talk about money matters to strangers. At least he hadn’t mouthed off in the past. Who knew what his brother was really like now?

  “I’m afraid not. He handed me the painting and left instructions to contact him when the sale was complete.” He swallowed hard. “Should I expect a visit from the police, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Not yet. For now, Henry, don’t sell any more paintings brought to you by the man claiming to be me and don’t discuss this with anyone.” Alex withdrew his contact card from his wallet and handed it to the art broker. “If he contacts you again, call me.”

  Back in the SUV, Alex cranked the engine, turned to Ivy. “Porter took the paintings to your friend. He’s been getting copies painted and replacing the originals over six months’ time. That never should have happened, Ivy. I don’t believe for one minute my mother gave permission to sell those paintings. She would as soon sell the house before she parted with one of those pieces of art.”

  “Hard to display artwork without walls. Do you think this is related to Evans?”

  He guided the vehicle onto the street and headed for the interstate. “I don’t know. Given Porter’s insistence that I won’t ever see a penny of the Morgan trust funds, I’d guess he needs a cash infusion.”

  “Maybe the investment portfolio took a hit. That may also explain why he says it’s too late for him to go to medical school.” Ivy sighed. “I hate this.”

  Alex’s head jerked around. “Hate what, angel?”