“Yes. It’s not safe for you to be alone in the house. We’ll need to arrange for security.”
“We have a security service that monitors the estate.”
The corners of his mouth turn down as his eyes narrow. “Which didn’t work the night of your grandfather’s death. We need to figure out what happened.”
It’s the we in the sentence that gets to me. “‘We’ don’t need to figure anything out. I do. It’s my home.”
Going by the jerk of his chin, he’s taken aback by my reaction, but his reply is kindness itself. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right.”
“Stop trying to pacify me.” I shouldn’t be yelling at him. But the tears released the anger I still feel at my grandfather’s death, at the unfairness of it all. I’m in charge of everything. The house, the estate, Madison. Everyone’s depending on me. I need to be strong, get a handle on things. Not depend on Steele to manage me.
“I’m not. I’m trying to help.”
“Then stop being so damn bossy.” He likes to control every situation, but I’ll be damned if I let him this time.
“Sweetheart, I’m not.” He tries to embrace me, but I fight him off.
“Leave me alone, Steele.”
“I can’t.”
I stand and turn my back to him. “I think you should go.”
“The hell I will.” He storms to his feet and steps in front of me. His eyes spark with emotion. Probably annoyance. “You’re in danger,” he says. “Someone murdered your grandfather. Whoever did it could come back, or, even worse, it could be someone right here in this house.”
My head ticks up at that. “Do you honestly believe one of the staff killed Gramps?”
“Someone killed him, and right now we have no clue as to who.”
“I don’t believe it was anyone in this house. Our staff has worked with us forever.”
“Most were here that night. We’ll need to question them. Make sure we know where everyone was at the time of the murder.”
“We can’t do that. It’ll make them look like suspects.”
He slices his hand through the air. “Of course they’re suspects. Everyone in this house is. Stop acting like a petulant child.”
I glare at him. “A child, am I? You didn’t think so when you had sex with me.”
“Madrigal, be reasonable. You’re in danger. You need someone here.”
“Not you. Not tonight. Please leave.”
Someone knocks on the door, interrupting our argument.
“Come in,” I yell.
Olivia steps into the room, her brow wrinkled. After our parents’ deaths, she helped raise Madison and me while acting as Gramps’s housekeeper. “Is everything okay?” Her voice is filled with concern. We’d closed the door, but our argument had probably carried into the foyer.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, wrapping my arms around my middle. “Steele’s just leaving.”
His jaw clenches. “I’m not going anywhere until you have someone watching over you. Where’s that horse trainer of yours?”
“Hartley?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“He’s in the stable, nursing a sick foal.”
“Get him,” Steele says to Olivia. “Please.”
Once Olivia leaves, I say, “His job is to take care of the horses, not us.”
“Someone killed your grandfather, and we don’t know who. It could be anybody. A friend, an acquaintance, a servant in this house. You and Madison need protection. By tomorrow, I can get a security team here. But tonight someone must stand guard.”
Somehow his logic gets through to me. And for the first time, I’m afraid for our safety.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”
“You wanted me, Ms. Berkeley?” Hartley stands at the door with his ever-present cap in hand.
I breathe out a hard sigh. I really have no recourse. Steele is right. We must have someone here guarding us. “Mr. Steele suggested we need protection, and he thought of you. I told him you were busy with the foal.”
“She’s doing better, Ms. Berkeley.” He nods. “The medicine the vet prescribed fixed her right up. I was just about to head home.”
“Could you stand watch over the house tonight?” Steele asks.
Hartley’s gaze bounces from Steele to me. “Anything wrong, miss?”
“Mr. Steele’s worried that the house is vulnerable.” It’s not the right time to tell any of the staff that Gramps was murdered. I’ll do that in the morning.
“Can you make sure the alarm’s set and all the doors and windows have been secured?” Steele asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“Once you’ve checked everything, I need you to stand guard in the foyer. With your shotgun.”
Hartley’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t question Steele’s command. Squaring his shoulders, he says firmly, “Yes, Mr. Steele. Don’t worry. I’ll keep Ms. Berkeley and her sister safe.”
Steele turns to me. “Make sure the windows in your room and Madison’s are locked up tight before you go to bed.”
I nod, unable to say a word to him. It’s beginning to dawn on me how wrong my behavior has been. I should apologize, but I’m too proud to do so now.
“I’ll help her, Mr. Steele,” Hartley says.
“Thank you. If you don’t mind, could you secure the place now? I need to talk to Ms. Berkeley before I leave.”
Once Hartley is gone, Steele’s hard gaze drills into me. “You’re not shutting me out, Madrigal. I’m in your life now, and I won’t allow you to push me away. I’ll be back in the morning, and then we’ll talk.”
“Fine,” I whisper. When he tries to kiss my lips, I turn my head so the kiss lands on my cheek instead. If I allow him to kiss me, I’ll beg him to stay, something I can’t afford to do. With everything that’s happened, I need to mull things over, and I can’t think straight when he’s around.
After he leaves, the place is silent, too silent. I shouldn’t have yelled at him, but I resented like hell his assumption of command. I hate it when he does that. This house and everyone in it are my responsibility now. He has to understand he can’t come in and issue orders, especially to me.
After Hartley helps me check all the windows in the house to ensure they’re locked tight, I change into my nightclothes and crawl beneath the sheets. Thoughts of Steele loving me, caring for me, pop into my head, making it almost impossible to fall asleep. I’d been wrong when I asked him to leave. But I hated his presumption that he’s responsible for the welfare of my sister and me. I can take care of Maddy, of myself, as well as manage the house and the servants. Maybe I’ll make mistakes. No maybe about it. I probably will. But I don’t need him to save the day. Thing is with Gramps’s death being ruled a murder, life has gotten infinitely more complicated. So even though I resent his take-charge attitude, I’ll have to accept his help. I’ll just have to set down some rules, some lines he cannot cross.
Chapter 3
Trenton
Worried as I am about Madrigal, I barely sleep. Doesn’t she realize the danger she’s in? Somebody killed her grandfather, and it sure as hell wasn’t Mitch.
He’s been a close friend of the family since he was in prep school with Marlena, Madrigal and Madison’s mother. When Holden created trusts for his granddaughters, Marlena insisted Mitch be appointed as co-trustee. He’s showered Madrigal and Madison with birthday and Christmas presents and attended plenty of family functions.
On the night Holden died, Mitch and I were trying to rescue Madrigal and Madison. Holden had put Madison in a mental institution and locked Madrigal in her room. I’d been concerned about how Holden would react to our interfering with his granddaughters, but Mitch had assured me he had an ace up his sleeve as far as Holden was concerned. He never revealed what it was, but that’s something I need to find out if I’m to keep Mitch out of prison.
Detective Broynihan knew about our rescue attempt. But somehow he’d added two and two and come
up with five instead of four and arrested Mitch for Holden’s murder. But he’s dead wrong. Mitch is not the culprit, and it’s up to me to prove his innocence. There’s a killer loose out there. And Madrigal and her sister are vulnerable.
A foolproof security system needs to be set up. The night of Holden’s death, someone disabled the alarm, because it didn’t go off when I climbed over the fence to rescue Madrigal. The company that installed the security system is one of the best in the area, so if it was tampered with, it had to have been someone with expert knowledge of alarms or who lives or works in the house. And I’ll need to figure out which.
I can’t hold out any hope that the person I saw running across the grounds that night killed Holden. The shot went off inside the house a mere second before I saw him. But who was the bastard? And what was he doing there?
So many questions with no answers. But I’ll find out if it’s the last thing I do.
As soon as dawn rolls around, I call Charlie White, the guy I employ to investigate criminal matters. Charlie had been a detective since his early twenties and, after retiring from the force, set up his own agency. He’s done his share of investigating adulterous spouses, missing property, and the like. But his specialty, and the one thing he loves, is investigating criminal cases. Twelve years ago, Madrigal’s parents had been killed. Earlier this summer, Madrigal set out on a quest to discover the truth about their murders, so I’d asked Charlie to look into it.
But now I’ll need him to shift gears and help me with Mitch’s case. Hopefully, he can get some information before Mitch’s arraignment, which will probably take place on Tuesday.
“Chief.” Charlie’s voice is groggy as all get-out when he answers the phone. “What the hell are you doing calling me this early?”
“It’s six thirty.”
“On a Saturday morning. The only damn day I get to sleep in.” Hard as it is for me to believe, Charlie goes to church every Sunday, a habit ingrained in him by his mother. I think he does it more to honor her memory than anything else.
“Sorry. It can’t wait.” I take a deep breath before I break the news. “Mitch’s been arrested for the murder of Holden Gardiner.”
“Son of a—”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums up the way I feel about it. I need you to—”
“Hold on, Chief. I gotta take care of business.”
While I wait impatiently for him to return, I make a list of the things I want him to do.
“Okay, I’m back. Damn bladder.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, like this shit happens to you.” Charlie’s in his early sixties. I feel for the guy, but he’s a smoker and drinker and hasn’t led the life of a saint. Maybe a word of advice would do him good.
“Well—”
“Yeah, don’t go there. So what do you want me to do?”
“I need you to call your contact at Loudoun County police. Have her find out everything she can about Mitch’s arrest.”
“When did it happen?”
“Yesterday. The bastards showed up at the SEC.”
“Hey, don’t get pissed off at them. They got a job to do.” Figures he’d take the side of the police.
But he’s wrong. They could have made it easier on Mitch. “They could have damn well arrested him at home, and you know it. No. They intended to make it as public as possible.” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know how much damage control I can do before it gets leaked to the press. At the very least I’ll ask Madrigal, her sister, and their staff not to answer any media questions. If anyone comes to the house, they can be referred to me.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Going by the phlegm in his voice, he hasn’t lit his first cigarette of the day.
But then we all have our bad habits. In need of a caffeine fix myself, I head toward the kitchen. “What do you mean?”
“You’re representing the man who’s been arrested for Holden’s murder, and you want the media to talk to you rather than Ms. Berkeley or her staff. Someone might cry conflict of interest.”
“Not if Madrigal appoints me as her spokesperson,” I say, dropping a Keurig coffee pod into my single-server machine. Not as good as espresso, but darn close.
“What about Mitchell Brooks? You think he’d be okay with you acting as their adviser?”
“I not only think he’d approve, I think he would strongly encourage it. He loves Madrigal and Madison and wants the best for them.”
“And that would be you?”
Of course it would be me. Who else would it be? Certainly not that idiot ex-boyfriend of Madrigal’s. Brad Holcomb’s as weak as they come, depending on his father’s nonexistent money to bankroll his way through life. “I’d like to think so, yes. After all, I have their best interests in mind.” Eager to get the hit of java in me, I grab the cup off the coffeemaker as soon as it’s done.
His silence tells me he doubts the wisdom of my reasoning.
“So, about Mitch. What’s your next step?” he asks.
I’m glad for the change of subject. Trying to talk me out of anything that affects Madrigal is futile. “Do my best to get him out on bail,” I say, blowing on the steaming coffee to cool it down.
“I don’t know about that, Chief. If he’s charged with first degree murder, the judge won’t cut him loose.”
“I won’t know the charge until the arraignment.”
“Anything else you want me to do?”
“Yeah, I need you to contact that private security firm you’ve worked with in the past. What was it?”
“Stone Protection Services.”
“That’s the one. I need round-the-clock protection for Madrigal and her sister as well as the house. Have them send me the bill.”
“Have they been threatened?”
“No. But somebody killed their grandfather. Until we find out who, I’d rather have someone around who knows the business end of a gun.”
“How soon do you need someone?”
“Yesterday.”
A phlegmy chortle rings out. “That soon, huh? I’ll talk to him. See if he can get someone there by this afternoon.” After a pause on Charlie’s end, he says, “You have cleared this with Ms. Berkeley?”
“We talked about it last night.” Of course, she hadn’t agreed, but I’ll convince her to do the right thing by playing on her weakness—Madison. “Oh, we’ll need at least one person who knows how to ride horses.”
“Chief, that’s not a skill the typical bodyguard possesses.”
“Well, see what you can do. Thank you for the file from Detective Collins. Strange he sent it to you and not me.”
“You really didn’t want that delivered to your office, did you? If your assistant read that file, it could have gotten back to Holden in a flash.”
And that would have caused Madrigal a world of hurt, since Holden would have gone ballistic over his darling granddaughter’s covert investigation into her parents’ murders. “You’re right. Thanks for looking out for Madrigal. We’ll need to go over the file at some point, but that can wait for now.” Collins had been the police detective in charge of investigating the murder of Madrigal’s parents. He’d kept a secret file on the case that I’d paid to have sent to me. But we’ll need to take a break from that investigation while we deal with the charges against Mitch. As much as I sympathize with Madrigal’s need to discover the truth, Mitch’s case takes precedence.
“Have you told Ms. Berkeley about that file?”
“No. And I’m not going to tell her either.”
He grunts. “Steele, that’s not right.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She can’t stand another shock. Not after the way she reacted last night to the news of Mitch’s arrest for her grandfather’s murder. I will bring it up. In time.
After hanging up, I shower, get dressed, and grab a quick breakfast before heading back to Madrigal’s house. The drive to Loudoun County, Virginia, takes me north to the George Washington Parkway, then w
est to the Beltway and I-66 before heading to Route 50. The weather is typically hot and humid, one of those sultry summer days that Washington, DC, is famous for. But the AC in the Jag keeps me comfortable. One of the things I’m infinitely grateful for is air-conditioning. When I was little, we couldn’t afford it, so my brother, Reece, and I broiled in the heat of the hellish DC summers. If we were lucky, someone would crack open a fire hydrant. We’d rush out into the street to play in the water spray until some utility worker showed up to end our fun. Even though I was only five, I’d looked out for my three-year-old brother to make sure he didn’t get injured by a passing car. Protecting my brother came naturally to me. God knew nobody else would.
I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Not that they will be gone for long. Memories of the brother I couldn’t save will haunt me for the rest of my days.
An hour later I arrive at Madrigal’s home. It’s barely eight, but she’s inside waiting for me. After her grandfather’s murder, she gave me the code to the front gate so I could let myself into the estate, but of course the system alerted her to my arrival.
After the way we left things last night, I don’t know what to expect. But before I have a chance to do much more than walk into the house, she wraps her arms around me and kisses me. Her lips are soft and hint of tears. Her scent, her taste, set me ablaze as they always do. But we’re standing in the foyer where anyone could walk in on us, so I attempt to pull away from her.
Refusing to let me go, she curls her arms around the back of my neck and whispers, “I’m sorry,” against my mouth.
I glance into her flushed face. Her dark-haired beauty and blue-purple pansy eyes have drawn me in from the first day we met. I’m willing to forgive her just about anything. “What for?”
“Last night. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Madrigal. It was a lot to take in. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?”
“I’m fine, now that you’re here. I couldn’t sleep last night. Missed you so much.” She brushes her soft lips against mine once more. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out.”
I push back a lock of her hair, which has fallen across her face. “I missed you too.” I burn to kiss her, to savor the sweetness of her, but it’s something we can’t do out in the open. Grasping her hand, I lead her into the morning room. After closing the door, I take her into my arms and crush my mouth against hers.
Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) Page 2
