Whiskey & Honey: Crimes of Crimson Valley: Book One

by A. Mae. Cooper

  “Regardless of my feelings towards the matter, Rebecca King isn’t going to be thrilled to still see you in town. I’m just trying to look out for you, Finley.” It was mostly the truth. I also didn’t want to deal with the petty jealousy I knew I was bound to endure when Silas sees him at my side. Not that it should matter. Silas shouldn’t be able to get under my skin, but somehow he does anyway. Apparently, I am a glutton for punishment.

  “You just focus on you and your parents today, babe. I can take care of myself.” I snort at this, but he ignores me. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine and I wish I could say I feel the spark there, but I don’t. How was I even supposed to deal with that? Finley cared so deeply for me and I wasn’t the type of woman that took joy out of breaking hearts and taking names. Finley wasn’t just another notch on my bedpost in my quest to rid Silas from my mind. He deserved someone that could be all in for him.

  It just wasn’t me.

  A knock sounds on my bedroom door before I can reply to Finley and I turn to see Sam hovering in the doorway, dressed for the funeral. I had insisted all the staff be present at the cemetery. They had once been crucial parts of my parents' daily lives and I wasn’t the type of heiress that didn’t care for her staff, so they needed to be there to pay their respects and grieve.

  “You asked me to fetch you when your car was ready to go, Miss Locke. Everything is settled at the cemetery; you only need to arrive for the proceedings.” Sam says and I nod, going to my dresser and grabbing the black sequined clutch I chose to go with my dress and I leave my room, Finley in tow.

  Crimson Valley only had one cemetery and it lay just behind the town hall we had been to the other night for that party. Most families were permitted to have burial plots inside it, but those who weren’t, were given the option to either cremate or be transferred to a cemetery out of town limits. We even had archaic traditions on how we buried our dead. It was sickening.

  If it weren’t for the stupid laws of the Order, I would have cremated my parents so I could keep their urns close to me and eventually take them with me with I left, but that would never have been an option. So, when I left here after I finished bringing down the Order, I would be forced to leave my parents behind. It broke something inside of me at the mere thought of it.

  Finley and I ride to the cemetery in silence and I am thankful for it. The less I had to interact with people today, the better. The peace wouldn’t last long, I knew that. As soon as the funeral was over and the party moved to my manor for their wake, I would undoubtedly be forced to interact with a few of the Order members and other families in Crimson Valley.

  We arrive all too soon and I make sure my blank mask is in place when the back door to the Bentley is open for Finley and I am forced to get out and face the already growing crowd of people permitted to attend my parent’s funeral. Keeping my head high, I allow myself to slip my arm into the bent elbow Finley offers me and we make our way slowly up the cobblestone walkway, past rows upon rows of deceased members of Crimson Valley that span back to the beginning of the town being built.

  Reaching the small white tent set up over the two holes in the ground that my parents' closed caskets hover over, I notice I appear to be the last seating Order member to arrive. Small mercies that my parents' caskets were closed. I wasn’t sure I could hold myself together if I had to look upon their faces the whole time the ceremony went on. I wondered if they looked peaceful in death. If their pain was etched across their faces permanently. It twisted something inside of me to think about it. So, I push that out of my mind, too.

  I’m sure it displeased Rebecca that I had requested the caskets be closed, but I could care less what the vile woman thought. This whole thing was for show really. To anyone privy to the ongoings of the Order and their influence, this was what happened when you stepped out of line. Even being a seated member didn’t grant you immunity.

  Somehow, my eyes found Silas’ across the caskets on the other side of the tent when Finley and I took the seats with our names on them. The moment our eyes connected, I felt my soul leave my body, figuratively speaking of course. It was like he could see past the facade I had put on before exiting the car, and that shook me on a deep level I wasn’t sure I was ready to delve into just yet. He had always been able to do that to me. Flay my soul bear with just one, piercing sweep of his imperial blue gaze.

  Memory of his gentle attentiveness to my wound the other night surfaced for some ungodly reason and I grit my teeth against it. Over the past week, Silas has shown me on multiple occasions how deep his feelings truly ran for me, but I couldn’t allow myself to acknowledge any of it. If I did, I would have to acknowledge the true reasons I was holding myself so far back from him. I was stubborn, anyone who truly knew me knew that, and I just didn’t want to admit that, deep down, I was desperate to forgive Silas.

  I wanted a connection again. I think I need it now more than ever with my parents gone from my life. I may have never put in a lot of effort to stay in touch with them after I left, but I missed them deeply. Finley had been a help these last few days keeping my mind off the loneliness, but I knew that it would eventually come to an end. He couldn’t stay here and I shouldn’t keep him here if I no longer felt for him what I used to.

  Tearing my eyes away from him was becoming harder and harder to do each time we made that connection. Whether he realized it or not, he was getting to me. Like a poison slowly spreading throughout my body. I could blame it on my highly emotional state today, but I knew the truth. I just desperately didn’t want him clued into my weakening resolve. If he sensed a crack in my shields, he would undoubtedly go at it with everything he had. Silas had always been good at emotional warfare.

  I do my best to focus on the preacher when he steps up to the podium in front of my parents final resting place. Finley keeps his hand clasped in mine and I can feel a lot of eyes on me from all directions. I had always been good at ignoring it for the most part, but today is already taking its toll on me and I just hope I didn’t crack until well after the wake was finished and I was curled up in bed finally able to let my tears fall.

  The usual proceedings went on as all funerals do, and it doesn’t take long for the part where I am expected to go up there and speak a few words on my parent’s behalf to arrive. Sucking in a short breath as quietly as I can, I give Finley’s hand a squeeze for good measure before I rise to my feet. Proud of myself for staying steady, especially with my injury, I move to stand behind the podium.

  Raising my head up, I allow myself to scan both sides of the tent and take in all the spectators. I had prepared a whole speech for this. A proper Order approved speech but looking out at the dull unimpressed faces of the gathered crowd, I decided to throw that right out the window. Rebecca King was about to get a kick out of this.

  “I just wanted to start this off by saying that what was done to my parents was utter bullshit.” My voice rings out loud and proud, not a hint of regret in my words as I make direct eye contact with Silas’ viper of a mother. Her cold eyes narrow on me, but she says nothing so I continue. “That being said, I just want to remind the Order of Red about some very old, very much still in place laws that have been around since the beginning of Crimson Valley.”

  Now, before you go and gasp and hardcore judge me for this bold attempt to get underneath the Order’s skin, allow me to remind you that I am a changed woman. The Order took the last two living people that ever gave a damn about me, and I wasn’t afraid of them. Let them come at me for this. In fact, I hope they do. I would gladly give my life taking the very last breath from every single one of these miserable motherfuckers if it meant avenging my parents. Call me suicidal, it is what it is.

  “It’s fairly simple for those of you that didn’t pay attention in Order laws 101 when you ascended your thrones passed down to you by your parents before you. Punishable by the fullest extent of the law, no one is allowed to raise a hand or play any part in the harming of a fellow seating Order member.”
I had a feeling I was going to get pulled aside later by Mrs. King for my gross misconduct during this rather public affair for my murdered parents funeral, but I could care less. As it was, I could feel at least one if not all of the Red boys glaring daggers into me, but I refuse to look at any of them.

  “Now, back to my parents.” I begin, looking down at my hands which I clasp on top of the podium so I could keep them from fidgeting as I get on with the emotional speech of the day. “Whether any of you deign to acknowledge it or not, my parents were the best human beings who ever lived. Far better than half of you have ever been in your entire lives.” I raise my eyes then and deliberately make eye contact with Silas.

  My look and words have the desired effect I was aiming for. I watch as the glare he had been leveling on me slips from his gloriously handsome face and grief and guilt shudder in his soulful eyes. Part of me believed my words. Silas had never been a good man. However, I just couldn’t ignore all the genuine feelings and memories we once shared with each other before shit had hit the fan back when we had been too young and foolish to know any better.

  People change. It was still debatable if Silas had changed for the better or if any of them had, but a part of me wanted to believe he had been capable of change. That he no longer wanted to be the pawn his parents made him into. After all, he has the arrogance of a king, not a knight on the board.

  “The truth is, I never got to be the daughter they deserved to have. Instead of facing my demons and owning up to the wrongs done to me, I ran. I ran like a coward and never looked back, never put in the effort to rebuild on the relationship I had once had with my parents.” I wasn’t sure why I was saying this. These people didn’t deserve this confession from me, but I felt like it needed to be said regardless of how my words would inevitably be used against me. “I didn’t have to ignore their calls and never return their letters, but I did. The fact of the matter is my parents didn’t deserve the guilt they felt. They weren’t the ones who ruined my entire life in one night. They should not have had to pay the price for what happened to me that night. But they did, they were the best kinds of parents. The kind that takes the pain of their child and harbors it for life. They were the kinds of parents that would have put themselves in my position and taken that “punishment” for me, their thirteen-year-old daughter. Instead, they found me later, battered and bruised and broken. Something can be said for physical pain, you feel it and understand exactly why you hurt. Emotional pain is far worse. You don’t feel it. You absorb it, wholly. My parents blamed themselves for what happened to me when they should have never even have had to. They carried that pain with them for the rest of their too short lives and they deserved better, from everyone.”

  I find myself looking boldly at Rebecca again and what I found in her gaze should make me cower, but I was well beyond the feelings of fear and regret. My parents had been silenced for trying to stand up to her, to them. I wouldn’t allow that to hold me back. Whether these people were on the side of the Order or not, they needed to hear the truth. The truth started with me.

  “They deserved better than this. Better than this life they had been granted. I wish more than anything I could take back the past, but I can’t. All I can do is move forward with my life and make them proud of me. Bring justice to them for all the many injustices brought against them.” Emotion clogs my throat and I don’t get to stop my words from choking off at the end or the small sob that hiccups out of me.

  I bend my head, willing the tears to disappear, but a few fall anyway. Perhaps that will add to the effect or my speech, perhaps not. I didn’t want to care. I shouldn’t show emotion like this in front of these people, but my parents deserved it and so much more. If this happened to be the last thing I could give them, so be it. Taking a deep breath, I step out from behind the podium and move stiffly to stand on the small sliver of dirt and grass in between the two coffins.

  I bend first to my papa’s casket. Laying my left palm against the top where his heart should be, I lean forward and press a kiss to the back of my hand as it rests against the dark mahogany surface. A few silent tears fall on the wood, and I let that be enough. “I love you, papa.” I whisper when I straighten back up and turn to my momma’s casket. In a mirror to what I had done for my papa, I placed my hand on the top right where her heart should be and bent. Pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, my tears come faster now and I am beyond caring. “I love you, momma.”

  A sorrow unlike anything I have ever felt, even deeper than when it had run when Silas and the boys had betrayed me, ripped through my chest and another sob hiccupped out of me as I rested my forehead against my momma’s casket.

  Never again would I see their beautiful smiling faces again. Never again would my momma wrap me up in her arms and place me on the kitchen island as she secretly handed me a freshly baked cookie before supper and tell me not to tell papa. Never again would my papa sit me on his knee and watch old western movies with me.

  The Order stole this from me, once again, and I would never be able to get it back. I am not sure how long I stand there, probably not long at all, before a hand lands on my shoulder. Slowly, I straighten and expect to turn and see Finley. However, it is not Finley’s eyes I end up looking into when I look over my shoulder.

  Silas King has his hand on my shoulder and I have to blink away shock and tears as I try to make sense of it. He shouldn’t be the one approaching me right now, not when his diabolical parents are watching. This could probably be ammunition for them to use against me. Their son showing me any kind of kindness was nothing but bad news for him and me. I open my mouth, not sure what I am even going to say, but he just shakes his head at me and drops his hand from my shoulder down to my hand and lifts it gently and gives it a light squeeze before speaking.

  “I will not let you grieve alone with this today. You should not have to go through all of this on your own, Honey. Let me be here for you, as a start to help right so many years’ worth of wrongs. Let me be your anchor today.” His deep, baritone of a voice is low, but it’s like a blast straight to my heart. I think I would have staggered back from the force of it if it weren’t for his hand still holding mine, which I hadn’t even realized that he still had on me. My skin felt like it was on fire where he touched me while simultaneously feeling like ice was kissing it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it all and my scrambled brain was on the ground with the rest of my common sense and I found myself just nodding. When he raises his other hand and brushes at the tears falling from my eyes, electricity tingles along the path his fingers make and I barely stop myself from leaning into him.

  I’m not sure how I am supposed to react to the fact that he is purposefully standing up for, and with, me in front of his parents right now. It’s almost resembles an official act of rebellion on his part and I don’t know if I want to even go into how that makes me feel. Grief is beating at me from all sides and Silas taking a stand to be here for me like this isn’t what I need right now, not when I am trying to keep my distance from him, not when I’m trying to ignore and shelve all of the feelings I have for him.

  My heart aches. Not only for the loss I haven’t quite allowed myself to feel until today for my parents, but for the fact that I don’t think I can keep denying how much I am still utterly and irrevocably in love with Silas Ezra King. I didn’t want to feel this way. I have spent so long hating his very existence and even going as far as plotting his death. How could I go from that to wanting him wedged back into my life in barely a week of being back into town.

  Stupid girly emotions. That’s what it had to be, right?

  Instead of slipping my hand out of his like I probably should have, I allow him to lead me out from between my parents' caskets. He doesn’t let me return to my seat beside Finley. Instead, he led me over to the side the rest of the Red boys had been sitting in the second row towards the front. He sits me in his seat on the very end of the row right beside Hawk and he just stands like a sentry at my shoulder, my hand still
held in his large warm one.

  I have no idea why I am letting this all happen. I’m sure it’s the overwhelming grief and exhaustion slowly beginning to plague me from that short little speech up front of all the people responsible for my momma and papa’s deaths, but I can’t find myself time to care. Nor do I care what it must look like to any bystanders watching this exchange between Silas and I play out. I knew what it must look like.

  He deliberately sat me where a Red is supposed to sit. Hawks’ words from the other day in the courtyard at CVU ring in my head. We are a family. Family. We had once been as close as any family could be that didn’t share blood. Before all the lies and the betrayal. The connection was still there, whether I wanted it to be true or not. A bond like we all had once shared wasn’t something that could just be broken, despite the tragic past we all shared.

  When Hawk takes my other hand, a strange feeling settles over me for the first time in a long time and it helps push some of the loneliness I have been feeling for the past week out of my chest. In its place, a glimmer of hope takes root. Like some pieces are beginning to fall back into their rightful places. It feels like... Peace.

  And dare I say, happiness?

  Somewhat reluctantly after the funeral, I end up moving away from the Reds and back to Finley. He thankfully doesn’t say anything as the proceedings finish up and I stay to watch the cemetery staff lower my parents into the ground and fill the holes with dirt. I should have done more today. I should have hunted through their room and buried something precious with them, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do that.

  Going into their room would have felt like invading their space, even if they were gone. Eventually, I was sure Sam was going to ask me what I wanted to do with their belongings, but I doubt I would ever be able to clean out their room. I planned on selling Locke manor anyway once I was done with my vendetta here. I suppose I would just pack up their belongings and move them back to the small condo I had in Tampa.