by Tia Louise
Dropping my bag in the chair, I go to the laptop and return to my windows. I want to catch a glimpse of Ramona and Emily now that the spell seems to be broken. Seeing Grace was such a jolt of motivation. I’m at my laptop and heading straight to Miami.
It’s early evening on the creepy street where she lives. Moving the target, bright yellow tape catches my eye. It’s different than before, and I wonder if I accidentally changed the coordinates.
Reaching for the index card, I type her exact address and let the camera move in closer. A black car is parked out front, and I watch as a man leaves her building. He’s wearing a dark jacket, and he goes straight to the car.
Somehow this looks strangely familiar to me. It’s like something I’ve seen in a movie or on television. It looks like… a crime scene.
Is Ramona in trouble? Do I need to warn her? How can I warn her?
My chest hurts, and I’m breathing faster. I pull up another browser and type in her address looking for news. Nothing comes up, so I search for local police stations. As the list appears on the screen, I chew my fingernail. Freddie taught me how to access the police scanner…
“No,” I whisper. Something in my gut tells me this is bad.
Again, I type in Ramona’s address, searching the wire report until it stops at two lines of green text in a small black window. It looks like ancient computer code.
10-33 Suspected burglary. Shenandoah apartments. 10-54. Correction, 10-55. Request backup. Over.
What does it mean? I search police codes as fast as I can. 10-33, Alarm sounded… 10-54, Possible dead body.
“Oh, God no,” I whisper again, mist heating my eyes.
10-55, Coroner case.
I push back from the laptop, a painful knot in my throat. Burglary? Murder? Was it Ramona? I have to search the coroner’s report… Would they know who she is? Does she have any family?
Several more clicks, and I’m at a news website. It gives no names. It very briefly describes a robbery gone wrong at the Shenandoah apartments five nights ago.
Five nights? That can’t be right. Was I watching the wrong street? I’m so confused, but I continue reading.
The apartment had been ransacked as if the intruder was searching for something. Police suspect the owner returned home and caught the burglar in the act, which caused him or her to panic and ultimately strangle the victim. The victim’s name is being withheld until next of kin have been notified.
With trembling fingers, I go to Freddie’s database and use it to search the Miami-Dade coroner’s records. Going back five days, the sight of her name hits me like a punch to the stomach. Ramona Lewis, followed by her address.
How could she be dead so long and no one know about it? Didn’t she have any friends? Sadness washes over me so forcefully, I lean my forehead on my hands. The only image I have of her is the dark-haired girl with no smile. The sixth grader who suffered who knows what, ultimately strangled to death.
A hot tear slips down my cheek, and I push away from the desk. My whole body is trembling. Taking deep breaths, I pace the large office before going to the window. I didn’t get to her in time. I didn’t save her.
If she’d had the money, she could have found a different apartment in a better location. She could still be alive. The thought drives me back to the laptop. I quickly type in Emily’s Maryland address. Her house is small, but the exterior is quaint Americana. It looks peaceful and normal.
A few clicks and my view of Grace’s flat is up in another window. It’s also quiet, and for several minutes I stare at the sidewalks. I watch the same short woman in her grey coat walk a little dog up the lane.
Seventy-five thousand dollars won’t last forever, but I remember when Zelda and I were living on the streets, doing whatever we could to survive. It would have changed our lives.
Clicking around the screen, I’m back on the newspaper article. The victim was strangled to death…
Pressure tightens my brow, and I don’t want to be in this room. I go to the window and look out at the ocean rolling over itself far below. I rest my head against the glass and watch it repeat the motion, over and over, oblivious to the events happening on land. No matter how horrible we are, it keeps churning, day after day until the end of time.
“I’m so sorry, Ramona,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”
Chapter 9
Rowan
Our rooms are dim when I arrive at the suite. The doors facing the ocean stand open, allowing the light from the setting sun to illuminate our chambers, but the sitting room is empty.
“Ava?” I walk through the space to our bedroom, tension clutching my shoulders.
I see a lump in the bed and realize it’s my wife. She’s curled under the blankets, and I hear a noise like a sniffle. I’m at her side at once. “Ava, what’s wrong?”
Sitting beside her, I smooth her damp hair away from her face. Her slim hand comes up and covers mine, squeezing it in a tight grip. She’s still curled, and I remove my shoes, lifting her hand to kiss it before I stand and discard my suit coat and tie.
“Tell me why you’re crying.” I’m in the bed behind her, curled around her body.
Her arm goes over mine around her waist, and she takes a moment to clear her throat. “I was too late. I didn’t help her in time.”
My mind races through the last few days. “One of the orphans?”
She shakes her head. “No.” A tremor is in her voice, and I tighten my hold around her. “One of the girls… from Florida.”
“The ones you were searching for?” She nods in response, and I try to think. “What happened? Was she sick?”
“She was killed in a robbery. Five days ago”
Pulling back, I can’t hide my alarm. “Killed?”
“I never even had a chance to send her the money. It might have saved her.”
Confusion lines my brow. I’m not sure I’m following her logic. “Darling…” I pull away, turning her to face me. Her eyes are watery with tears, but she’s still so beautiful. “How can you possibly blame yourself?”
“She lived in a bad part of town. Someone broke into her apartment, and the police think she caught them in the act.”
A dark feeling of menace pricks at my mind. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Her eyes blink down to my chest, and I feel her circling the button of my shirt with her finger. “The story only said it was a robbery gone wrong. Police think she caught the person, and whoever it was… strangled her to death.”
Her voice wobbles, and I pull her to me again, smoothing my hand down her back as I try to deny the obvious question. “They don’t know who did it?”
“It didn’t say, but they must not. The article listed the number for a tip line.”
We’re quiet, and I think about the little she’s told me about this situation. “Were you close to her?”
She shakes her head no. “I didn’t know her at all. I only had her picture… I only know she was one of us.”
Anger tightens my throat. I’ve heard as much as I can take of this situation.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
“I just want to sleep.”
“Sleep, my love.” Holding her close, I kiss her head again. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
Her hand clutches my dress shirt, and I get comfortable holding her as I think. It’s not in my nature to wait for trouble to come looking for me. It’s time I find the bastard.
* * *
Ava is sound asleep in our bed when I call Freddie and André, Logan’s backup guard, to the palace for an urgent meeting. It’s after eleven, but I couldn’t give a fuck. Her safety is my top priority. André sits at the large table in the war room across from Freddie, who is typing on his laptop. I pace, watching Freddie’s dark eyes flicker back and forth across the screen.
“Well?” My patience is at an end.
His dark brow lowers, and he sits straighter in his chair. “Dwayne Vega hasn’t lived in Wa
kulla Springs for almost ten years.”
André and I exchange a glance. “Where is he now?”
“South of Tampa. He hasn’t been there very long either.”
“Where has he been?” André asks the question on both our minds.
“Prison.”
“What the fuck?” I’m around the table now and looking at the screen in front of Freddie. It’s a black window with columns of green text on one side and a mugshot on the other. “Why was he in prison?”
“Looks like assault. He’s only been out six weeks.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I pinch my lips. Dwayne Vega had a note worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars stolen from him almost ten years ago. Ava says he never came after it. She never heard from him again.
Freddie continues. “I don’t expect him to stay in Florida.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“He used a credit card to book a hotel room. It was the second room he’d booked on the same card. He still hasn’t paid the bill.”
André slides his chair back and stands as well. “It sounds like he’s running or searching.” He glances at me. “You said Ava stole money from this guy?”
“Accidentally,” I say, although I don’t need to justify my wife to these men. For starters, they know her history as well as I do.
Freddie squints up at me. “When has Ava ever accidentally stolen anything?”
“She said the money was in the wallet when she stole it. She didn’t find it until later.”
“Wallets usually contain money.”
“Apparently, he only used this particular wallet for one thing.” Another pulse of rage tightens my stomach. “He kept her picture in it… and the pictures of three other girls.”
Freddie and André both look at me confused, but I won’t elaborate. Ava trusted me with her story, and I don’t have her permission to share it.
“She said she wanted her picture back. The rest she discovered later.”
Freddie rocks back in his chair. A shiny pen is in his hand, and he clicks it a few times as we’re quiet, thinking. “Do you want to return the money?”
“I haven’t decided.” Walking back to the window, I think about Freddie’s question, about what I know. I think about Ava’s plans for the money, and the mysterious death of one of the girls. “It will be difficult to protect her from the gossip if we do something so obvious.”
“Something is on your mind, or you wouldn’t have called us here,” André says.
“One of the girls was recently killed.” They both sit a little straighter at that news. “She was strangled to death during a robbery.”
Freddie’s fingers are moving over the keys, and André turns to me. “So he is looking for his money.”
“It was my first thought. Ava hasn’t put the two things together.”
“Why not?” Freddie’s voice is full of disbelief.
“She thinks he would have come after her sooner if he knew she had it.” Quietly, I add, “She doesn’t know he was in prison.”
“What do you want us to do?” André asks.
“It’s possible she’s right,” I say with a shrug. “However, I’m not going to take that chance. Freddie, I want you to keep a watch on Vega at all times. I want daily updates on his whereabouts and his behavior. Do you have the tracking app we used to find Kass?”
He takes out his smartphone and touches the face. “We have the queen regent already in the system.”
Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone. “Sync it with mine. I want to be able to see her.” Freddie takes the device and configures it. “For the time being, Hajib will be her only driver.”
“I’ve set up an alert on his name,” Freddie says. “If any reports surface involving him, I’ll know.”
“For now, we’ll monitor the situation,” I say, slipping my phone in my pocket as I go to the door. “I want to know the moment anything changes.”
Back in our bedroom, Ava is no longer curled in the fetal position. She’s stretched out with her hand extending to my side of the bed. Stripping out of my clothes, I slide through the sheets, lifting her hand and placing it on my chest. She doesn’t stir, and I study her face, relaxed and dreaming. Her eyelids flicker.
I try to imagine her living on the street, stealing food or personal belongings to survive. She’s so beautiful and elegant now. She’s so kind. I think of her with the orphans, her compassion.
“I will not let anyone hurt you, my love,” I whisper. “We’ll sort out your past. I’ll make this right.”
She stirs lightly, and her fingers move against my skin. I cover her hand with mine and look into the darkness, waiting for sleep to come.
Chapter 10
Ava
The next morning, I track down five more leads to send to Clare at the orphanage, all the while watching the windows on Emily and Grace. I still haven’t seen either woman coming or going from their houses. I never saw an adult photograph of Ramona. I don’t want to see her now.
My sadness over the discovery has faded slightly, but my resolve to make a plan for sending the money is stronger than ever. I don’t want them to have to pay taxes on this money. I’m not sure the right way to send such a large sum of cash. Especially overseas…
I’m thinking about the details when a bell rings out on my phone, and I pick it up to see a text waiting from Rowan.
Free this afternoon? Want to meet at the track?
Glancing at the computer screen, I decide this is enough for one day. That’s a random request. Everything okay?
Blowing off some steam. Want you there with me. Is that a yes?
Of course. We can spend the night at Occitan, I text back.
We might make it to the ocean this time.
Maybe. Excitement flutters in my stomach, and I have a different idea.
It’s been too long since my husband, the king, had an evening of complete dominance. He needs it. I need it—especially now, when things feel chaotic.
Placing my phone aside, I close the windows and shut down my laptop. I have just enough time to visit the boutiques. I’ll pick up a dress, but I’ll also pick up something else, something that will require discipline.
Two hours and a light lunch later, I’m headed to the private racetrack where Rowan has his time trials. Hajib drives me everywhere now it seems. He’s Rowan’s best driver, and he’s been with the family since Rowan and Cal were boys. It’s unusual for him not to be with my husband. I’m starting to wonder if he knows about our family planning, and I’ve suddenly become fragile.
He catches my eye when I step out of the car, and I give him a knowing smile. I can only guess Rowan is behind this, but I don’t say anything. It’s sweet. The loud rip of a race car engine draws my attention, and I hurry up the steps to the luxury box.
The wind swirls my short black dress around my legs, and I have to catch the skirt so it doesn’t fly up and reveal my lack of panties… by royal command. I love our little secrets, I think with a smile.
Once I’m above the stands, I turn to see Rowan’s bright red Formula One car flying down around the curve. It shoots past with so much noise and speed, my breath catches. I never watched racing before I met Rowan, and I had no idea how much skill it required—or how dangerous it is. The cockpit is barely large enough for one person, and the speeds are unbelievably fast.
Taking out my phone, I remember how Cal taught me to time him. I wait for him to make it to the white starting line and hit the button on my phone. The seconds stream past as he races through the straight in a noise as loud as a jet engine, then I watch as he slows just barely around the curves, flying again into the straights until again slowing on the second curve and going full-throttle to the starting line again.
Looking down at my phone, his time is one minute eight seconds. My heart thunders in my chest, and I jump up and down cheering. A few men from his old pit crew jog out onto the track as the car slows. He’s coming in, and I have just enough
time to run down the steps to the red and white-painted edge of the asphalt.
The car enters the pit just as I reach the track, and Rowan pushes out of the narrow cockpit and pulls off his helmet. His hair is damp around his ears and hangs in messy waves. When our eyes meet, heat races from my chest to my core. His eyes burn navy, and he’s so sexy, I feel my cheeks flush.
With a smile, he holds out his hands, and I trot forward into his arms. “How did I do?” he asks.
“It was one of your best times,” I answer softly, fixing my eyes on the white stripe in his fireproof suit.
It’s silly, considering everything, but I feel almost shy. His hand is on my lower back, and I want him to slide it lower.
“What are you thinking, my queen?” His deep voice sends butterflies through my stomach.
“It’s been so long since you came to the track. I’d forgotten how it makes me feel.”
“And how is that?”
A smile curls my lips. “Like I wish you could take me right here on the hood of this car.”
His expression darkens. “An idea for another day?”
I glance around to be sure the crew is busy with the car before blinking up to meet his eyes. Reaching around my back, I move his hand lower, over my bare ass under the dress.
“Good girl.” It’s a low rumble that lights my insides.
“Hajib will take me to Occitan.”
“I’ll shower and be right there.”
“Don’t be long.”
* * *
When I arrive at Occitan, I remove my dress and bra and pull one of Rowan’s dress shirts over my shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned. A large, black wedge-cushion is on the floor beside the narrow coffee table, where I’ve placed a black silk mask, thigh restraints with wrist cuffs, a narrow riding crop, and a wide black belt like a cummerbund with handles.
