Lose You Not: (A Havenwood Falls Novel)

by Kristie Cook

“Like a pocket watch or timepiece. She has a crazy idea it might have been buried out there, and since you were in there with a shovel . . .” I let my sentence trail off.

  She hadn’t told me much about it, except that she’d learned about a family heirloom that might have been hidden in the inn somewhere. She was concerned that someone might have found it and sold it—that someone being Tase.

  Tase shook his head. “Nope. She should ask that little brother of hers, though. Didn’t you say he’d found all kinds of things?”

  “She already did. He had no idea what she was talking about.”

  He stared, his nostrils flaring, his jaw muscle ticking, and a green glow flickering in his eyes before he forced a smile. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Liar. I lifted my chin. “Another question. Have you been to the Petran estate in the last month or so?”

  “Why the twenty fucking questions, man?”

  “Have something to hide?”

  “Always.” He gave his famous wicked grin. “But why would I have any reason to go there?”

  “You tell me. I could smell you there.”

  “Don’t know what to tell ya. I haven’t been there in years. I think you’re letting that woman get a little too deep into your head, little brother.”

  I had no proof it had been him I smelled that day in Michaela’s family home. The scent was old, barely noticeable, so I had no real argument. But it had definitely been a moroi and of my family, so if not Tase, then one of my other brothers. None of whom belonged in that house.

  Heading to my room to dress for the day, I paused when I heard Tase across the hall, speaking quietly. I moved into my room and stood at the cracked door to listen.

  “The little shit says he doesn’t know anything.” Pause. “Yeah, he’s gotta be lying about it.” Another pause. “I’ll see if I can, but we could be back at square one. Mihail wasn’t an idiot . . . Yep, still got it . . . All right, meet you there.”

  I ran my hand over my face, thinking. Tase had lied right to my face. No surprise there. I was surprised, though, that he’d barely tried to hide the phone call. Either he wanted me to hear, or the strigoi within was strengthening, making him more arrogant than ever, and more careless. Which was not fucking cool.

  Mihail Petran had hidden the timepiece, according to Michaela’s findings, and considering we’d just been talking about it, I was sure that was the subject of Tase’s phone call. Which only confirmed he’d been at the estate, looking for it. Did he find it and was he trying to sell it? Michaela said it was possibly valuable. Had Tase been speaking to a potential buyer?

  Only one way to find out. When Tase left, I followed. He went to the ski resort, which was closed, so I slowed down, watching to make sure he parked and exited the car before I pulled into the Dirty Knuckle and parked. Rather than going into the bar, though, I stood out of sight and watched a sleek BMW sports car pull into the ski resort—Ronan Bishop. The mage remained in his car, and he must have used a silencing charm, because I couldn’t hear them with my vampire senses. They talked for a few minutes before he took off, but Tase stayed. Just as I was pondering leaving, an unfamiliar, older sedan rolled into the ski resort’s parking lot.

  That driver stayed in the car, as well, as Tase walked up to it and spoke through the window. I could hear him say something about money, but the other person’s voice was too soft for me to hear. A moment after I shifted, trying to gain a better perspective of the driver, Tase looked up and right in my direction. I ducked around the corner of the bar, but a second later, my phone rang.

  “I see you, motherfucker.”

  “Want to join me for a beer?” I asked casually.

  “Nah, come on over. There’s someone I want you to meet.” A sharp edge laced his tone. He didn’t sound like he really wanted me to meet this person—more like he was cornered into it.

  The feeling running through me as I walked over to the resort was similar to when we were younger, and I’d busted him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Except this wasn’t as fun, probably because I knew the stakes were higher. Whatever trouble Tase got into now could be deadly.

  So I strode over to the car on guard, not expecting to see the young blond woman sitting in the front seat and a dark-haired kid in the back.

  Tase leaned sideways against the door as I walked up. “You remember Shelly Martin, Xandru? She worked at the Haven Saloon for a year or so, about five years ago.”

  I peered at the woman, probably in her late twenties, not bad looking at all. She smelled human. A vague memory danced at the back of my mind, but the time right after Michaela had left was somewhat lost in a drunken and drugged-up haze. I knew we’d spent a lot of time and money at the Haven Saloon, drinking and smoking with the owner, Bent Brent, before Rhys took over the Dirty Knuckle. I was about to apologize for not remembering her, when I looked in the backseat again at the kid, who was about four or five years old. Dark hair, eyes like . . . My head snapped up, and I glared at Tase.

  “That’s Carter.” He loosely crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t remember him. He was born about eight months after Shelly took off. She didn’t know she was pregnant, and then forgot about Havenwood Falls after she left. Bent Brent called her up a few months ago, and as soon as she returned, she remembered . . .”

  I cocked my head, my heart stuttering. What the hell was he trying to say? Had I fucked up? Or had he?

  He smirked. “Don’t worry, bro, he’s not yours.”

  Shelly made an annoyed sound.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to her, “but I need to talk to my brother for a minute.”

  “I need to go anyway. Tase?” She looked at him with wide, expectant blue eyes.

  He dug in his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to her. “I’ll take care of the rest. Don’t worry, okay?”

  “Thank you,” she said with sincere appreciation, before shifting the car into gear.

  Tase gave the kid a wave as she drove off.

  “What. The. Fuck. Tase?” I shouted.

  “Calm down,” he growled.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He grabbed his head and paced in front of me. “No. He’s definitely mine. Eloise Sinclair did a reading, and Dr. Underwood confirmed it. You can’t deny those two. But it was just a fling.”

  “Does Addie know?”

  “Why would she need to?”

  “Maybe because she’s your friend.”

  He shook his head. “She doesn’t need to know. Neither does Michaela.”

  “Tase—”

  “You can’t tell her!” he roared, his eyes glinting green and his fangs letting out. He immediately stepped back and drew in several long, calming breaths. “Addie and I aren’t together. Not then, not now. It has nothing to do with her.”

  “She’ll find out eventually. How do you want that to happen?”

  He jabbed a finger at me. “Better not be you. Or Michaela.”

  “It needs to be you.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, then groaned. “Fuck! I know. But I’ve already screwed up in so many ways. I don’t know how to tell her.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “A while. A month or so.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets, exhaling a sharp breath. “Fine. It’s not my secret to tell. But you need to.”

  “All right.”

  “Soon.”

  “When the time is right.” I lifted a brow, and he sighed. “Look, this is one of the reasons I’m still working with the Bishops. Ronan and I have this thing going, and I can’t pull out yet, but I will soon. The money is insane, and I’m just trying to get everyone financially set up as best as possible for when . . . I’m gone. All of you guys, as well as Shelly and Carter.”

  “Stop talking like you’re dying.”

  “Come on, Xan. You know as well as I do that I will be soon. It’s just a matter of time until the Court has to put me dow
n.”

  “We’ll find a way to break the curse. Addie will.”

  “Like I deserve that,” he muttered. “Look, I need to be prepared. We need to be prepared. That’s why I thought you should know about this. Just in case something happens, and they take me down sooner rather than later. I wanted you to know that I want Carter taken care of. I can’t be much of a dad to him, but I can at least take care of him financially.”

  I nodded. “He’s family. But you need to tell everyone.”

  “I will. I will.”

  “And tell me what’s going on with the Bishops. What kind of shit are you into?”

  His eyes tightened, and I could practically see within them his internal debate whether to answer. “To be honest, I don’t know everything about it. Ronan sends me shipments or has me meet with contacts, and I bring the shit into town. I leave it at a warehouse, and it gets picked up. Money’s left for me.”

  “By who?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I was only mildly surprised.

  “It’s the kind of business where you don’t ask questions.” That’s why I was only mildly surprised. It was one of Dad’s business lessons. “Sometimes it’s the other way around—I take the money or the package out of town, leave it somewhere, and pick up something later in return.”

  “So you’ve never looked at these shipments? Never even peeked to have an idea what you might be risking your life for?” I knew my brother better than that.

  He made a face. “Of course I have. Sometimes I already know because Ronan and I plan it all out.”

  “And?” I asked, when he didn’t continue.

  He hesitated. “They’re mostly collectibles.”

  “Like art?”

  “Art. Jewelry. Weapons. It varies.”

  “You mean the artifacts.”

  He cocked his head. “You know about them?”

  “I was in the Order, too, dipshit.” I rubbed my jaw. “And you don’t know who’s picking these shipments up?”

  “I leave that up to Ronan and Roman.”

  I turned and leaned against his car. “So Roman’s involved, too?”

  “I’m assuming so, but I don’t know for sure. Why all the questions?”

  “Well, like you said, you could be taken down at any time. We have to be prepared, and that means someone should know what pies you have your fingers in.”

  “Ronan and I have already discussed it. That’s why he’s back in town more, to protect the business in case I lose it. One reason, anyway. The gargoyles’ presence is another, especially now that Graysin came back. They can cause us problems.”

  “Ah. Now I know why you and Everett aren’t buddy-buddy.”

  “Exactly. So . . . now you know. Between us only. None of this goes anywhere else.”

  I hesitated, thinking of the promise I’d made Michaela. But this really wasn’t my secret to share. “If this blows up in my face, I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Yeah, you keep threatening that.” He walked over to the driver’s side of his car. “Wanna grab a beer?”

  I jumped in the Camaro for the short ride back to the bar. “I can’t believe you’re a fucking dad.”

  He grunted. “I’m not. I’m a sperm donor.” He paused as we pulled up next to my car, and he cut the engine. “I wish I could be a dad, though, Xandru. I honestly do.”

  Chapter 13

  Michaela

  Graysin, Callie, Addie, and Sindi followed me as we toured the first floor of the inn the night before we fully reopened to guests—just in time as the weather was calling for a good snowstorm next week, and Tase would be opening the ski lifts soon. The girls oohed and aahed as we entered each room, although they’d all seen the place at one stage or another since they’d each helped it come together in their own way.

  “Thanks to Addie and a little touch of magic—and the crew, of course—the hard stuff was finished quickly,” I said, as we returned to the lobby with its newly redone wood floors that shone beautifully. “And thanks to Graysin, the décor is simply perfect.”

  “Don’t forget my nineteen percent friends’ discount,” Callie added.

  “Yes! Thank you so much for that,” I gushed.

  “And my excellent crew management skills,” Sindi said.

  I laughed. “If you call watching their asses management.”

  “Hey.” She pouted. “I made sure those asses were constantly moving.”

  “By grabbing them,” Addie teased.

  Sindi smirked. “I couldn’t let Madame Luiza have all the fun.”

  “Speaking of, where is Mammie?” Addie asked.

  “I don’t know. She said she didn’t want to miss girls’ night. She must be in the ghost world.” I laughed at how bizarre yet normal for us that sounded as I walked over to the front desk, where a tray of champagne flutes waited. I handed a glass to each of the girls. “All of you deserve so much more than a toast. You went above and beyond to return this inn to its former beauty, but with enough modern touches to make it perfectly nostalgic and luxuriously comfortable at the same time—and in record time. I wish I could give you more than this simple toast or even this night, but I raise my glass and say cheers to you. I’m so happy to call you my friends!”

  I beamed at the girls who stood in front of me with blank stares. Addie raised a brow. Graysin and Callie exchanged a look. Sindi burst out laughing.

  My shoulders sank. “Too much?”

  “Uh . . . well . . . sweet. It was sweet,” Graysin attempted. Sindi laughed even harder.

  Callie rolled her eyes. “It definitely conveyed your luuurve for everybody, if that’s what you were going for.”

  Addie joined Sindi in more fits of laughter.

  “Oh my god, you just brought back memories of when you accepted the homecoming crown,” Addie gasped out between giggles. She removed her glasses to wipe her eyes as she mimicked my voice. “Thank you all so very much. I am so honored that you think so much of me, and I promise not to let you down . . .” She trailed off, tilting her head. “Oh, wait. No, I think that speech was when you were elected student council vice president.”

  Sindi’s laughter halted as she peered at me. “It’s like I don’t even know you!”

  I rolled my eyes, then blew out a breath of relief. “Thank god you were all honest, because I kind of made myself gag with that speech. I mean, I am grateful, but no need to embarrass us all.”

  “Thank you,” they said in unison.

  “So no Grand Reopening?” Callie asked, her bracelets clinking together as she lifted her flute to her mouth. One drunken night at the bar, she and Addie had a competition about who was wearing the most. They were too drunk to count correctly, so they decided it was a draw.

  I shook my head. “Nah. We were really only fully closed for a few days at a time, so it seems kind of weird to have a big party. It’s just the Thanksgiving feast for all of you next week. Besides, with all the events around town during the holidays, I didn’t see a need to add another. We’re participating in pretty much everything, so there will be lots of opportunity for people to check out the inn.”

  “And it’ll be all decked out for the holidays,” Graysin said, her dark eyes lit up with excitement.

  “We start tomorrow, right?” I verified with her, and she gave me a nod.

  “Thank fuck you didn’t add another event,” Callie blurted. “I don’t know what’s worse—the holidays or summer around here. There’s always something obnoxious going on in this town. At least Music on the Square is over for a while.”

  “I kind of like Music on the Square,” I said.

  She grimaced. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t every freaking Thursday.”

  Addie gave her a funny look. “It’s not.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Callie argued.

  “It’s called Third Thursdays Music on the Square,” Addie said. “Because it’s the third Thursday of the month.”

  Callie’s brow
s scrunched together. “Really?”

  Addie and I both nodded.

  “Wow.” She shrugged. “It certainly feels like it’s every week. Probably because there are never decent bands.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I said.

  “Can’t the Cult, er, I mean the Court do something about that?” Sindi asked, looking at me pointedly. “Now that you’re on it, maybe you can bring change. Like some kickass bands.”

  She loved goading me about the Court, but I had to keep warning her about calling it the Cult. She was going to get her ass banished if she wasn’t careful.

  “Events like that are for the fake council,” Callie said flippantly.

  Sindi’s auburn brows rose. “There’s a fake council?”

  “It’s not fake,” Addie said.

  “May as well be,” Callie scoffed.

  “What the hell is the fake council?” Sindi demanded.

  “It’s the City Council,” I explained. “The mainly human one that does all the normal city stuff, like making decisions on building codes and garbage collection. They oversee the parks and the community events.”

  “They think they’re in charge,” Callie said, “but it’s a ruse. Even Mayor Barbie knows it is.”

  “So, uh, let’s check out the conservatory,” Addie quickly said, before the conversation veered off in a direction that put us in a precarious position with Court secrets and other taboo subjects.

  I led the girls past the front desk to our left and the dark wooden grand staircase to our right, with the piano sitting under it. Mike McCabe and his men, with Everett’s help, were able to restore the wall of stained glass images that rose behind the stairs from the bottom of the ground floor all the way to the ceiling of the third floor. When the sun was in the western sky and shone through, the colors that played on the stairs and the bench seats on each landing whisked you away to another realm. Well, not literally—which, in Havenwood Falls, could be possible. I would have said the staircase was one of my favorite places in the inn, but there were too many to name a true favorite.

  “So, what’s the Court like?” Graysin asked, rather innocently, as we passed through the library, another room I adored, with its floor-to-ceiling wooden bookcases and fat-cushioned chairs. When nobody answered, her steps faltered. “Oh, is that something we’re not supposed to talk about?”