A soft sigh escapes her as I devour her. Clamping my hand on her ass, I lift her and grind against her. I’m thinking about taking this vertical when, just like last night, a knock sounds on the door. “Mad?”
Madrigal wriggles free. “It’s Madison.”
“Have you told her about us?” She would have had time last night after I left.
“No. It didn’t feel right to tell her without you standing next to me.”
She hasn’t made our relationship public yet. Not a surprise. Madison is not keen on me. It’s not anything I’ve said or done. She just resents the hell out of anybody taking her sister’s attention away from her. Like the teenager she is, she wants Madrigal’s focus solely on her.
“I didn’t tell her about Mitch either. I wanted you here. She’s bound to be upset, and you can answer questions about his case better than I could.”
“I don’t know much more than what I told you last night.”
“Mad?” The rat-a-tat becomes even more urgent.
“Come in,” Madrigal yells.
I try to step away, but she pulls me right back to her. From her shoulder to my hips, we’re glued to each other.
With the energy of youth, Madison bounces into the room, but stops cold when she sees me. Her gaze pings back and forth between us before it settles on me. “You’re here again.”
I don’t know what to say other than, “Yes.”
Her eyes grow wary. “Why?”
“I have some news for your sister.”
“News?”
“It concerns you as well, Maddy. Please take a seat,” Madrigal says.
“You don’t need to explain things. I know you hooked up. I got eyes in my head. I can tell.”
Madrigal frowns. “Maddy, please. Don’t be so crass.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? You and him. He’s not moving in, is he? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about last night?”
Madrigal points to the settee we occupied the night before. In a no-nonsense tone, she orders, “Please sit.”
The sixteen-year-old flounces to the small sofa and plops down on it. “Just for the record, I don’t approve.”
“Of what?”
“Of him moving in.”
“If we decide to live together, that’s none of your business.”
“What about me then? You gonna leave me behind, the way you did when I was four?”
“I didn’t leave you behind. Gramps put me in the Meadowlark Mental Health Facility, the same place he put you in two weeks ago.”
Madison fists her hands, worries them against her stomach. “You didn’t come home for a year. I was all alone. With Gramps and Olivia. No mother, no father, no sister.” She lances Madrigal with her glare. “You all abandoned me.”
Madrigal blinks as her mouth pinches into a tight, white line. “Did they abuse you, Madison?” she asks.
“No. They treated me right enough. But I missed my big sister. I missed Mom and Dad. And I only had Blue for company.”
“Her stuffed teddy bear,” Madrigal says by way of explanation to me. “Sweetheart, something happened yesterday.” Her voice quivers.
“What?” A shadow rolls over Madison’s eyes. I don’t think she can take much more tragedy.
“Gramps.” Madrigal clears her throat. “Gramps didn’t commit suicide.”
“He didn’t? But you said—”
“That’s what we all thought. But the police believe he was murdered.” Madrigal’s lips tremble as she says that last word.
Bending from the waist, Madison drops her elbows on her thighs. “Who would kill him? Who?”
Madrigal takes a seat next to her on the settee. Much like I did last night when I broke the news, she sweeps a hand down Madison’s amber-colored hair. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but someone’s been arrested.”
Madison jerks up. The look of desperation on her face as her gaze bounces from Madrigal to me is heartbreaking. “Who?”
“Uncle Mitch.”
“Noooooo!” She jumps up, points at me. “Is that what he came here to tell you?”
“Yes.”
She rushes at me, fists flying, and pounds on my chest. “Take it back. You take it back!”
Madrigal rises from the settee and embraces her sister from behind. “Maddy, please.”
I gently clasp Madison’s wrists to stop her from hurting herself. She struggles in my hold, pushing and pulling, until she realizes I’m too strong for her. “Let me go.”
I instantly free her. “I’m so sorry, Madison.”
The look of hate she shoots at me would put a lesser man in the ground.
“He didn’t do it. I don’t care what they say. He didn’t do it.”
“I know,” I say as kindly as I can. “And I’m going to do my very best to prove just that.”
Chapter 4
Madrigal
In tears, Madison races for the door, but before she gets there, I step in front of her. “Where are you going?”
“Riding.” A hiccup escapes her, a clear sign of her distress.
“You’re upset. You shouldn’t be on a horse right now. You could get hurt or injure Marigold. I’d prefer it if you went up to your room.”
Madison tosses her head. “You’re just like Gramps. I won’t be kept a prisoner. I won’t.”
“Maddy, please.” I place my hand on her arm. She’s vibrating from the emotion coursing through her. “It’s just until you calm down.”
“I hate you.” She flounces out. But instead of heading for the stables, she stomps up the stairs, making enough racket to wake the dead.
After Maddy’s outburst, I drop my face in my hands. When Steele puts his arms around me, I bury my head in his chest. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“She’s a teenager. The drama comes with the territory.” He drops a kiss on my head before he stands back to study me. “So what do you need to do next?”
I laugh bitterly. “I don’t know. There’s so much to take in. So much to do.”
“Let me help. Please. I can move in temporarily. As long as you need me to stay.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you have enough to handle with Mitch’s defense?” Clamping my hands together, I turn away from him. “I know we talked about moving in together, but now I don’t know if that’s the right thing.”
His breath stutters before it takes on a hurried rhythm. I’ve upset him. That much is clear. “Why?” he bites out.
“Because of Madison. You see how she is. She has a hard time controlling her emotions. Either she acts like she doesn’t care or she goes off like a rocket. There’s no in between. I’m taking her to see a doctor. Someone different than the one she’s been seeing. I want to know what’s going on with her.”
“Is she on any medication?”
Flabbergasted by the question, I can only stare at him. “I don’t know. God. How could I not know that?”
“Olivia would know. Find out from her.”
“Of course.” I breathe easier once more. He’s good for me, and not just because I crave him with every bit of my soul. He centers me, helps me think logically. I should be processing things for myself, I know. But with so much being thrown at me in such a short span, I’m having a hard time keeping my head above water.
Stepping up to me, he rests his hands on my shoulders. “Madrigal, I want you to listen to me. Very carefully.”
“Okay.”
“You have more than enough on your plate. Madison, your grandfather’s murder, Mitch’s arrest, the investigation into your parents’ murders, the estate, plus studying for the bar. You are still planning on taking it?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Let me help. You will make all the decisions and delegate whatever you want to me. I’ll be your consigliere.”
“What’s that?”
“Didn’t you ever see The Godfather?”
“No.”
The corners of his lips hitch up. “One of the best movies ever
made. We’ll have to watch it someday. A consigliere is an adviser, usually to a mafia crime boss. In our situation, I can advise you as to the best course of action, be your sounding board. You’re the boss. I’ll just provide you with my best counsel.”
“And how would that work? Would I hire you?”
“No. I’d do it free of charge. It’s what I’ve been doing with the investigation into your parents’ murders, after all. I suggest we extend my counsel to other parts of your life.”
I tense for a moment. “I wouldn’t want you to call the shots.”
“I won’t. But I can’t say I won’t argue my point of view. If I think you’re making a mistake, I’ll call you on it.”
I rub my chin. “I don’t know, Steele.”
“You can’t do this all alone, Madrigal. It’s too much.”
I let out a sad laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“I’d been planning on asking Mitch to advise me. After all, he’s the co-trustee of Madison’s and my trusts. But now that can’t happen.”
I pace around the room thinking about the ramifications of such an arrangement. I would have preferred to keep my personal relationship with Steele separate from the issues sure to arise in the handling of Gramps’s estate. But I do need help. And since I can’t very well ask Mitch, Steele is the logical choice. “All right, consigliere, let’s give it a whirl.” In the time-honored tradition of a business transaction, I walk up to him and extend my hand.
Recognizing the gesture for what it is, a meeting of two minds, he shakes it. “Along those lines, as my first bit of advice—”
“I already know. Charlie called.”
“Oh?”
“He asked me if I had a preference for female or male bodyguards. Apparently, I’ve hired the services of one . . . or two.”
“In my defense, I did bring it up last night.”
“And requested him to obtain a bodyguard without my consent.”
“That’s why I just brought it up.”
“And what would you have done if I’d said no?” Tilting my head, I wait for his answer.
“Tried my darndest to talk you into it. Seriously, Madrigal, you need one. We don’t know who killed your grandfather, and the night of his death the alarm system did not go off. Somebody needs to look into that and find out what’s going on here.”
“You’re right. I thought about it last night and came to the same conclusion.”
“So what was the verdict? Man or woman?”
“I told him to hire the best person for the job.”
“Wise as well as beautiful.” He cups my chin and strokes the edge of my jaw, and I shiver in response.
Unable to think when he’s touching me, I pry myself free and step away.
With a small smile, he tucks his hands into his pockets. I’m not hiding a thing from him. He knows what he does to me.
“One more thing, if I may,” he says.
“Yes?”
“Once the media get wind of the change in circumstances surrounding your grandfather’s death, they’re bound to storm the estate. I suggest you leave them to me. If somebody calls or tries to intrude into your world, give them my name and phone number. I’ll talk to them.”
“You don’t think—”
He strolls to my side and grasps my shoulders. “Yes, I do. At the very least, they’ll harass you on the phone. At the very worst, they’ll start climbing fences, which is one more reason why you need security. So leave them to me.”
“Ugh.” That’s one task I’ll be glad to delegate to him. Last thing I want is to deal with the press. “All right.”
He squeezes my arms, which tells me he’s pleased with my decision.
“When are you going to let the staff know?” he asks.
“No time like the present.” I find Olivia and ask her to gather everyone in the living room. Fifteen minutes later, when all are present, I open my mouth to speak. But nothing comes out.
It’s only when Steele rests his hand on the small of my back that I gather the courage to tell them what I have to say. I clear my throat and square my shoulders. “Good morning.”
A chorus of “Good morning, Miss Berkeley” echoes through the room.
“I’m afraid I have some distressing news.” The wariness and fear in the eyes of some of them warn me that the faster I get the words out, the faster they’ll get over the upset. I take a deep breath. “The police have determined my grandfather’s death was not a suicide.”
Olivia clutches her throat. Even from where I’m standing several feet away, I can see her trembling.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” Hartley asks, “but if it’s not suicide, what is it?”
“Murder. Cold-blooded murder.” Technically that’s not correct. But right now I want to make them realize the seriousness of the matter.
“Oh, my!” one of the maids cries out while another collapses into a chair. Without making a sound, Olivia folds into herself. Steele rushes over and leads her to one of the couches. Helga, our cook, wrings her hands while her husband, Hans, comforts her. Hartley, who had to have some sort of inkling after last night, stands with his cap in his hand worrying his lip.
“I know how upsetting this must be to you. It certainly was to me. We have some difficult times ahead. So I ask that you support each other as well as my sister and me.”
“Who could have done it, miss?” Helga asks.
Now comes the second most difficult part of my announcement. “I don’t know. But the police have arrested Mitchell Brooks.”
“No,” Olivia exclaims. “He couldn’t have done it.”
“I agree. Uncle Mitch could never have done such a thing. But given the circumstances, we’ll need to bolster our safety. Mr. Steele suggested we hire a security firm to watch over us. All of us. They will be here hopefully today.”
“One more thing before you go,” Steele says. He cautions them against talking to the media and requests that they refer any inquiries from the press to him. With a word of encouragement, he hands out his business card. All of them nod and grin back. Even in this tense situation, he can make people feel at ease.
Before they leave, each and every one of them pledges their support. I’m grateful, I truly am, but a part of me wonders if there is one among them I cannot trust.
When I dismiss them, I ask Olivia to stay back. I’m worried about her.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yes, of course.” No of course about it. She’s trembling, and her face is deathly white.
“Would you like something to drink?” Steele asks.
She looks at him with a lost expression on her face. “Perhaps a glass of sherry.”
“Of course,” Steele says and heads for the liquor cart in the corner of the room. He returns with a glass, and after Olivia sips at it, her color returns.
Sitting next to her on the couch, I rub her hand to get some blood flowing into it. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I should have told you first. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours.” I should have pulled her aside and told her privately. I don’t think of her as just a member of the staff. She helped raise Madison from the time she was four years old. After my parents’ deaths and my release from the Meadowlark, when all I wanted to do was cry, she dragged me out of bed, made me study, and forced me to rejoin the living. I owe her a lot.
“No. It’s fine, Madrigal. It was just the shock.” She takes another sip. “So Mr. Brooks is in jail?”
“For the time being,” Steele says. “I’ll try to get him out on bail.”
“He didn’t do it,” she says.
“Of course not. The police got it wrong. I’ll straighten it out,” Steele says.
“Good. Good.” A swift bob of the chin accompanies each word.
“Olivia. I want to ask you something about Madison.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs in her room.” After I’m done here, I’ll go check on her.
&nb
sp; “You need to watch over her now.”
“Are you afraid something will happen to her?”
Gone is the lost look as her gaze snaps to me. “Aren’t you? There’s a mad killer on the loose. She could get hurt.”
“We don’t know what happened, Olivia. As I mentioned, we’re taking steps to protect ourselves. A bodyguard will arrive either today or tomorrow. He—”
“Or she,” Steele interrupts.
“Or she will make sure all of us are safe, especially Madison.”
Finished with the sherry, Olivia rests the glass on the coffee table in front of her. “Very well. Can I go? I think I’d like to lie down and rest.”
I can’t let her go. Not just yet. “Can you tell me first what medications Madison’s taking?”
Olivia clamps her hands on her lap. She’s not trembling as much, although there’s still a slight tremor. “Oh, there’s quite a list, dear.”
When she rattles them off, I’m appalled. “Why so many?”
Olivia’s wide-eyed gaze finds me. “I don’t know. They’re the ones the doctor prescribed.”
“What doctor?”
“Dr. Holcomb.”
I get a sinking sensation in my stomach. Dr. Holcomb was the doctor Gramps called the day Madison ran away. And he’s the one who admitted Madison to the Meadowlark facility. I’d thought his involvement in Madison’s life was a onetime thing. But it seems to have gone on for years.
“He was your mother’s physician as well. She suffered from quite a nervous disposition. Madison must have inherited it from her.”
“But my mother didn’t—”
Steele interrupts. “Thank you, Olivia. That will be all.”
Olivia struggles to stand, but after coming to her feet, she takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and marches out like a soldier.
“My mother didn’t take any pills,” I say once she’s gone.
“As far as you knew. Maybe she hid them from you,” Steele says, ever the voice of reason. “So, should I stay or should I go?” Even though he throws out the question with a casual air, I know how much the answer means to him. Truth is I want him around. Not because he’s my consigliere, but because I need him from the bottom of my soul.
Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) Page 3
