by Maya Banks
Beau nodded, wondering why Caleb was stating the obvious. Why else would Ari’s father instruct her to seek out Caleb or Beau when neither man had ever laid eyes on Gavin Rochester, much less made his acquaintance?
“He was also the last person to see our parents alive,” Caleb said in an icy tone. “After his marriage and Ari’s birth when Gavin made the move to Houston, effectively wiping all traces of his past from record.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed as he grappled with the possible ramifications. It was no secret between the three Devereaux brothers, although they’d always shielded Tori from the truth, that their parents, or at least their father, hadn’t been clean. They weren’t sure of all he was involved in, but he hadn’t made his fortune entirely by inheriting old “oil” money.
Their parents had lived large and in the fast lane, openly flaunting their wealth and influence. Their children were little more than nuisances and a hindrance to the kind of lifestyle their parents—their mother—wanted to live.
Though a nanny had been hired, for all practical purposes Caleb had been the one to foster and raise his siblings. As a child he’d been solemn and serious, bearing the weight of so much responsibility on his young shoulders. But he’d never complained. And he’d damn well ensured that his siblings were kept as far away from the people their parents regularly mingled with as possible. As a result, he’d been forced to grow up way before his time, his childhood taken away by selfish, thoughtless parents.
Though young, both Caleb and Beau had been old enough to take their parents’ indifference in stride, but Quinn and especially Tori, just a toddler, had been bewildered by the fact that they went largely unnoticed by their mother and father. It had infuriated Beau and he’d spent many a night consoling a crying Tori, or reading her bedtime stories because the nanny, while competent enough, wasn’t a nurturer and she’d quickly learned that she didn’t need to do much in order to satisfy her employer’s “demands.”
The only rules seemed to be to keep them out of the way and make sure they were never underfoot. The brothers had often remarked that they simply didn’t understand why their parents had bothered to have children at all unless it was to cement the image of a wholesome family not involved in whatever his father’s shady dealings had been. It was a well-known fact that being a family man was good for business.
Beau had never admitted it, even to Caleb, but it had been a relief when his parents had died. Or rather murdered. Their deaths had been ruled a murder/suicide, precipitated by his father, but Beau—and Caleb—knew better. Their parents enjoyed the trappings of their wealth and lifestyle far too much to ever willingly give it up. But the case had quickly been closed, never reopened and never questioned. Which added to Beau’s suspicion of a cover-up even more.
“Just what was Gavin Rochester’s relationship with our father?” Beau asked in a deadly quiet voice.
It ate at him that he’d been hired by an innocent-eyed temptress to find and rescue a man who could very well have had a hand in his father’s death. Even if there was no love lost between him and his parents. And then he mentally castigated himself for making such a huge leap. He was naturally cynical—growing up as he did, he’d had no other choice but inherent cynicism—but to automatically make an assumption based on one event was not an inherent quality he possessed.
“That’s the unknown factor at this point,” Caleb admitted. “But certainly something to delve into. Do you not agree?”
“I can answer at least some of the questions regarding Gavin’s relationship with your father,” Zack said, pointedly excluding their mother from the equation.
Both Caleb and Beau glanced Zack’s way in silent inquiry.
“They were business associates of sorts.”
“Of sorts?” Caleb interrupted before Zack could continue. “How is one an ‘associate of sorts’?”
A look of impatience simmered briefly in Zack’s eyes, evidence of his displeasure over being cut short.
“Of sorts meaning there is—or if there is I have yet to find it—a clear-cut association between the two. But Gavin’s name popped up frequently in regard to your father’s various business enterprises.”
The way Zack said “enterprises” immediately raised Beau’s hackles, because it sounded very much like Zack knew or at least suspected what Beau knew to be true. It was one thing for Beau to know—to acknowledge—the truth about what and who his father was. It was quite another for someone not in the Devereaux family to think. Or speculate about.
It was evident that Caleb reacted to the way Zack had worded his statement as well, because his eyes grew cold and Ramie slid her hand from Caleb’s, the overflow of his emotions likely unpleasant for her to bear. It was a testament to just how intently Caleb was focused on Zack’s report that he didn’t seem to notice the loss of Ramie’s touch.
“What kind of enterprises?” Beau asked, his stare piercing as he gazed at Zack, trying to ascertain just how much the other man now knew about Franklin Devereaux.
“Most, from what I’ve been able to discern at first glance, were fictitious dummy corporations that were virtually untraceable, a veritable maze for anyone investigating him or his businesses. It’s going to take some time for me to navigate through the mire to see where it all leads back to. It was very carefully—and thoughtfully—arranged. He covered his tracks very well.”
There was no judgment, no condemnation in Zack’s words or manner. He related the information in a matter-of-fact tone, as though he were discussing any DSS client.
His tone seemed to ease the tension radiating from Caleb. Caleb’s expression softened, the lines disappearing from his forehead, and he automatically reached for Ramie, glancing down at her, his eyes faintly puzzled as if he’d only just now realized that her hand had escaped his grasp.
There was instant apology in his eyes and he tucked Ramie gently against him, anchoring her slim figure to his side. Then he turned his gaze back to Zack.
“Unless there is a direct correlation to Gavin Rochester then leave it alone,” Caleb said flatly.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Beau said, directing a terse look in his brother’s direction. “Back off, Caleb. This is mine and Zack’s. If you don’t want to hear the information, fine. But I need to know everything I can about Gavin Rochester if I’m going to find him and his wife before their time runs out. And Ari’s as well.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened and Ramie stirred beside him, instantly warding off any potential argument Caleb posed. His lips twisted into a grimace and then he sighed.
“Okay, it’s yours. I get it. But I do want to know if he had anything to do with our father’s death.”
Beau nodded his agreement. “Now what about information Eliza uncovered?”
Zack looked pointedly at Caleb, a faint flicker of irritation in his eyes, as though he was pissed that Caleb encroached on a mission Beau had specifically said belonged to him and Zack. But it was gone so fast, he wondered if he’d only imagined it. It was unusual for Zack to express much emotion at all. He was curiously dispassionate, and until Ari, Beau would have said he himself was very similar to Zack, thus why he’d felt an instant kinship with his employee. But Ari seemed to have changed all the rules, effectively throwing them out the proverbial window for Beau.
He’d definitely lost objectivity, rare. He was invested on a personal—not completely professional—level, even more rare. And the hell of it was, he couldn’t summon the will to remove himself from the case, which was what he should do. If anything he was adamant that he, and only he, would head up Ari’s personal protection and he’d deliver on his promise to her, no matter what it took. He was willing to use the entirety of the DSS resources, and for that matter any other available means if it enabled him to achieve his primary objective, to track and recover Ari’s parents and most important keep Ari out of harm’s way. Even if her father did have a hand—directly or indirectly—in Beau’s father’s murder.
“She’s working sev
eral angles,” Caleb answered. “But the simple truth is, Gavin Rochester is—or was—mired in gray, never caught engaged in illegal activities, yet clearly working outside of the law. He had numerous connections and was untouchable. Friends in high places. Powerful and influential. Those who openly opposed him or challenged him suffered sudden and mysterious financial setbacks.”
So far it sounded eerily similar to the way their own father operated. Beau could remember his father flying into a rage over some perceived or actual slight, insult or challenge from a competitor or simply an acquaintance. He knew for a fact his father retaliated but was careful to be as far removed from the fallout as possible. Beau had overheard him gloating to Beau’s mother over his “victory” and how whoever the unfortunate victim was surely regretted ever crossing Franklin Devereaux.
“Now when it gets interesting is three years after his marriage to Ginger Crofton—now Rochester—who was a waitress working her way through college when she and Gavin met. He subsequently swept her off her feet and they were married within a year.”
“Get to the interesting part,” Beau said impatiently, because so far all Caleb was giving was a sterile recitation of facts that were likely public record, available to anyone with access to decent search tools.
“His wife suffered multiple miscarriages in a relatively short amount of time. Then suddenly they simply disappeared. Gavin liquidated most of his assets. Sold off his businesses—legitimate and not so legitimate—and they left the country. When they came back, they had a baby daughter. Ari.”
“So? Maybe he took her away so she could recover, she got pregnant again and he made sure she was constantly monitored. I can well imagine if she suffered so many miscarriages that he would be extremely protective as well as determined that she would carry to term that time.”
“The timeline doesn’t add up,” Caleb said impatiently, obviously annoyed with Beau’s incessant interruptions. “Hear me out and just listen for a minute. They were only gone for five months and even before they returned, he sold off everything in New York and the East Coast and set up his base in Houston. His only connection to Houston was one legitimate business. And our father. To me that seems extremely presumptive and overconfident when I can’t imagine, after so many failed attempts to have a child, he’d suddenly know that she would deliver this time.”
Beau bit his lips, forcing himself to remain silent and wait for his brother to make his point. Whatever the hell point he was getting around to making.
“They came back with Ari, which means she would have to have been four months along, possibly three if she delivered prematurely. And according to classified records, she miscarried at five months during the time she would have been pregnant with Ari.”
Beau frowned, mulling over the implications of his brother’s findings.
“Is it possible he falsified records to make it appear she miscarried so they could drop out of sight for her to carry to full term with absolutely no stress in a place where perhaps she felt more at ease?”
Caleb shrugged, blatant skepticism written all over his face. “Possible but highly improbable. This is just a guess, but I think they may have adopted Ari and the fact that they left the country and he completely pulled out of everything connected to their lives pre-Ari makes me suspicious of the way in which they acquired a child.”
Zack frowned, reacting for the first time to the report being given by Caleb. Beau was having his own bout of WTF as he grappled with why, how and . . . well, again why?
“She looks nothing like her mother or father. Eliza was able to pull photos of Gavin’s deceased parents as well as Ginger’s and there is no resemblance there either and both were only children. How do two people with dark hair and dark eyes and darker-toned skin produce offspring with at least ten different shades of blond, silver and gold, eyes that defy description and very fair complexion?”
A chill skittered up Beau’s spine and on its heels, worry for Ari. She’d said nothing about adoption. She’d even spoken of having traits of her mother. And the fact that her powers had been revealed as a baby.
If Gavin and Ginger Rochester weren’t her biological parents then who were? Had Ari’s entire life been a lie?
Once again he was jumping the gun, but his gut was starting to churn and the discrepancies and coincidences were starting to pile up. He rubbed absently at his temple, his gaze drifting away from his brother for a moment. When he once again met Caleb’s stare, he saw concern in his eyes.
“I’ll have Eliza email you the full report so you can read the detailed information and draw your own conclusions,” Caleb said quietly. “Ramie and I should go. We’ve been away from Tori too long as it is.”
“He needs to know about Tori’s dream,” Ramie softly interjected, speaking for the first time.
Her expression was solemn and her smoky gray eyes were troubled as she glanced between the two brothers.
Caleb ran a hand through his hair, a sign of agitation. “I got so caught up in everything else, I momentarily forgot. And yeah, you need to hear about it.”
Zack crossed his arms, his gaze piercing as he stared at Caleb with an air of expectancy. Beau too looked at Caleb, silently prompting him to get on with it.
“She dreamed about you,” Caleb said in a low voice. “You were covered in blood. It scared her to death because the last time she dreamed about one of her brothers drenched in blood I damn near killed my wife. So she’s understandably traumatized and scared as hell.”
Beau blew out his breath. “That’s easily explainable. I’ve already been covered in blood. Ari’s blood. At the accident scene, she had a bad bleed. There was blood everywhere. So Tori was right—she usually is—but you can tell her there’s nothing to worry about now. It’s done with and I’m fine.”
Ramie’s troubled gaze settled on Beau, her features drawn in concern. “She didn’t see Ari in her dream. Only you. And you were lying down. On your back, blood spreading over you. I think you need to take this more seriously, Beau. Please be careful.”
Beau’s tone softened, not wanting to take out his frustration and impatience on a woman who deserved neither.
“You weren’t in the dream she had where Caleb was covered in blood. Your blood,” he pointed out.
Caleb visibly flinched and Ramie paled, the color fleeing her cheeks.
“So it’s probable that her dream was about the sequence of events that transpired after Ari and I left the DSS offices,” Beau pressed, guilt nipping his heels for reminding his brother and sister-in-law of the darkest day of their life.
Ramie’s eyes were cloudy with doubt, but she didn’t argue further. She slid her hand into Caleb’s almost as if she were trying to judge his innermost emotions. When she didn’t withdraw her touch, Beau assumed that Caleb mustn’t be too fierce with his thoughts.
Movement on the video monitor drew his attention and he honed in, watching as Ari stirred restlessly. He started to surge to his feet and leave the room to go to where she lay, but as quickly as she’d exhibited signs of stress, she quieted and went still once more.
Beau let his muscles relax and then turned his attention back to Caleb and Zack, who were both studying him intently. He shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny and suddenly wanted to be away from all of it.
“Zack, get the report from Eliza,” Beau directed crisply, ignoring their intent expressions. “See what pops up and what you can piece together between what you’ve found and what Eliza’s found. Caleb, you and Ramie go back to Tori. I’ve got things under control here. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
He’d effectively dismissed them both. Zack had no issue and turned to walk out of the room, no doubt already focusing on his objective. Caleb, however, looked poised to argue. Beau held up a hand.
“Save it, Caleb,” Beau said quietly. “I need you to back off on this.”
It was the closest he’d come to asking his brother for what essentially amounted to him turning a blind eye to activities
the brothers usually shared, worked on together, decided on. Caleb studied him in silence a moment and then seemed to reach a decision or at least heed Beau’s request, which was issued more as a directive when Caleb was unused to answering or deferring to anyone.
Ramie let go of Caleb and crossed the short distance between them and bent slightly to kiss Beau on the cheek.
“Promise you’ll be careful,” she said in a low voice.
He offered her a reassuring smile. “Always.”
SIXTEEN
BEAU roused instantly from sleep, his neck protesting as he straightened from his awkward position in the recliner where he’d drifted off keeping silent vigil over Ari. He blinked rapidly to bring the room into focus, adjusting quickly to the dim light radiating from the slightly ajar door of the bathroom.
Then he blinked again, unsure if he was seeing correctly or if he was having some bizarre hallucination.
Random objects floated haphazardly around the room. The lamp, which was turned off, bumped the wall and suddenly flickered on. The television remote hovered a foot off the floor beside his recliner. Novels that lined one of the shelves of his bookcase thumped and banged against one another before popping out from the shelf and then dropping suddenly to the floor in a cascade of motion.
Things he couldn’t see, but could hear, rattled, knocked and clicked. It seemed the entire room was in motion. He automatically thumped his hands down on the arms of the recliner just to ensure that it wasn’t moving, shaking or floating. Then he planted his feet solidly on the floor to regain his sense of equilibrium.
Suddenly realizing just what was going on, he yanked his gaze from the jittering objects to where Ari still lay curled up on his bed. Her brow was creased, deep furrows appearing in her forehead. Her mouth pursed and then opened, a whimper escaping. One arm flailed outward as if warding off an unseen attacker.
Realization was swift that she was in the throes of a nightmare and her power, now unchecked, was like an electric current in the room, zapping and moving objects with no rhyme or reason, reacting to the utter chaos of her current thought pattern.
