Tin Queen

by Devney Perry

  It was unforgivable.

  Shelby hauled me inside, where we spent an hour in the living room, me sitting on the floor playing with Christian while she told me about everything that she’d been baking lately. The wedding cakes and the birthday party cupcakes and the cake pops she’d tested just yesterday morning that she’d be doing for real on Halloween.

  “You’ve been busy,” I said before blowing a raspberry on Christian’s tummy.

  He giggled and squirmed out of my hold, then ran off to the couch, his arms raised. “Mama.”

  “Hi, baby.” She picked him up and kissed his cheek.

  “Where my snack?”

  “Are you hungry? Here.” She reached for a lidded cup on the end table, handing it over.

  Christian dove inside the top, fitting his chubby fist between the plastic slots to yank out a few Cheerios and shove them in his mouth.

  “I have news.” Shelby ran a hand through her son’s hair. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” I shot off the floor and went to the couch, wrapping my arms around her. “Congratulations. That’s so exciting.”

  “We’re pretty excited. It’s really early, I just took the test a few days ago. I was going to call you but now that you’re home, it’s even better to tell you in person.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Exhausted.” She collapsed into the back of the couch. “Like I could sleep for hours.”

  “What can I do? Want me to take Christian for the night so you can rest? Or I can come to babysit all weekend. Or I can make dinner.”

  “Dinner.” She closed her eyes. “I would love you forever and ever if you made dinner. You can even call for pizza. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to stand in the kitchen.”

  “No pizza.” I stood and picked up Christian, then whisked him away with me to the kitchen. As he sat on the floor, munching his cereal, I raided the fridge.

  Cooking dinner took me longer than it normally would because I didn’t know where everything was kept and Christian was my sous chef, but by the time Jack made it home at five thirty, the table was set and ready.

  “This is amazing, June,” he said after the first bite of a taco.

  June. I was June here. Shelby hadn’t called me by my name. Christian called me Auntie. But I was June again.

  Besides missing Emmett, I was going to miss being Nova.

  Even though my coworkers and clients called me June at work, over the past two months, on my own time in the bubble at Emmett’s house, I’d been Nova.

  Hearing my name, my real name, made him that much farther away. Even eating the same kind of tacos he’d made me, I was losing him, minute by minute.

  One day, he’d be a dream I struggled to remember.

  I got through the meal by entertaining Christian and conversing with Jack and my sister. Jack asked questions about the work trip I’d been on for months. I answered—lied—while dodging knowing looks from Shelby.

  Either Mom had told her more about where I was going or she’d put it together before I’d even left. Both were probably true.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” I said after we were all finished eating.

  “No, you cooked.” Shelby moved to clear, but I beat her to it, snatching her plate and taking it to the sink.

  “Sit down and relax.”

  “Agreed.” Jack stood and brought over his own plate. “I’ll take care of Christian’s bath.”

  He winked at me, then kissed his wife’s cheek before taking their son out of his high chair and disappearing upstairs.

  “Jack seems excited about the baby,” I said, loading the dishwasher. Above us, rushing water rumbled into the bathtub.

  “He is.” Shelby smiled. “We both are.”

  “I’m happy for you guys.”

  Her smile faded, her eyes cast to the table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She blew out a long breath. “What are you up to, Nova?”

  Now I was Nova. When things were serious, I was Nova.

  I returned to the table, putting everything else away. Only when it was empty did I take the seat across from her. Shelby would only ask me if she knew Jack wasn’t around, which meant we didn’t have long.

  Rather than avoid her questions and drag this out, I told her everything. I told her about my plan. About visiting Dad in prison. About Emmett. About how I’d gone to Clifton Forge for revenge and left in a mess of confusion.

  “Shit.” She closed her eyes. “What a cluster.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “I don’t know what is true and what’s a lie. Everything Dad told me . . .”

  “That’s where the lies start.”

  I shot her a scowl. “He didn’t lie to me.”

  “Everything about him is a lie, June. Nova. Our names should be enough of a clue. But you’ve always trusted him. You’re like Mom.”

  “He’s our father, Shelby.”

  “May,” she corrected. “He’s a criminal. And he’s exactly where he needs to be.”

  My temper began to rise, my hands balling beneath the table. Shelby never gave Dad any credit and I probably gave him too much.

  I uncurled my fingers, splaying my palms on my thighs. “I don’t want to fight about Dad.”

  “Me neither.” She sighed. “I just . . . I hate how he dictates your life.”

  So do I. Now, more than ever. “I don’t know what to do about Emmett. I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  Shelby gave me a sad smile. “You don’t really have a choice. You lied to him. He doesn’t know you. And when he finds out . . .”

  “He’ll despise me.”

  Shelby nodded.

  I hated that she was right. I hated that this had gone too far.

  There was no future with Emmett. And whether I liked it or not, I had to let him go.

  “I fell for him,” I whispered.

  She reached over and put her hand on my shoulder. “I know you did.”

  “This is so fucked up.”

  “Completely fucked up.” She huffed. “And it started the day we were born. The day Dad convinced Mom it would be safer for us to live his lies.”

  “It’s who we are.”

  “No,” she said quietly. “It was never who we were.”

  Maybe she was right. Maybe I should have listened to her from the start. “What about TJ?”

  “He’s gone. He died too young, but he’s gone.”

  “I miss him,” I whispered. “I miss how he’d always tease us. I miss that he’d come over and raid my pantry for chocolate. No matter where I put it, he found it. Even that time I stuffed a box of Dove bars into an empty cereal box.”

  My sister laughed. “Do you remember that time he told Mom she was going to be a grandmother?”

  “How could I forget? Poor Mom.” TJ had purposefully let us all believe that he’d gotten a girl pregnant. He’d been fourteen. Mom had launched into a string of questions about the girl and her name.

  Beta. He’d told us her name was Beta.

  And after an hour of stringing us along, of giving Mom gray hairs, he’d excused himself from the conversation only to come back a minute later with a betta fish.

  “He was such a shit.” I smiled. “But no one could make us laugh like he could.”

  It was like he’d seen how much of a burden Mom carried, always keeping our secrets and managing everything on her own, and he’d challenged himself to provide the levity. Even though Dad paid for our lives, he’d never been there to help with the cleaning or cooking or laundry. He hadn’t been there to watch my track meets or high school graduation.

  He hadn’t been there.

  It had always been Mom. And no person had made her smile like TJ. Even now, years after he’d passed, I hadn’t seen that sort of joy on Mom’s face.

  It had been stolen with his life.

  “It’s not fair,” I said.

  “No, it’s not. But this is how you honor him,” she said. “Not by getting revenge. But by rememb
ering him. Remembering how we loved him and how he loved us.”

  She was right. God, she was right.

  And now that I realized it, it was too late.

  There was giggling upstairs. Jack’s laughter mixed with Christian’s precious squeal. My sister looked to the ceiling and love shined in her brown eyes.

  The ache of jealousy slashed deep. The only man I’d want this with, a simple life full of love, was one I’d never have. Those tears that had been plaguing me all day flooded my eyes. I ducked my chin, blinking them away, so that Shelby wouldn’t see when she faced me again.

  “What was on the flash drive?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you going to look?”

  I shrugged. “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Footsteps on the stairs meant our conversation was over for tonight. I had no doubt she’d want to talk more, to get the specifics I hadn’t had the time to give. But as Jack and Christian returned to the dining room, we visited for a little while longer before I excused myself to go home.

  My condo was dark and the air stale. I moved from the garage to the kitchen, flicking on lights as I walked. My heels were discarded by the fridge. Mom had neatly stacked all of my mail on the island.

  I needed to unload my suitcases from the car. I needed to check my emails for what I’d missed today and call my mother to tell her I was home. Maybe she’d want to meet me for lunch tomorrow. But when I dug my phone from my purse, I hit a different name in the contacts.

  Ace.

  “Hey,” he answered. The loud music in the background could only mean he was at The Betsy.

  “Partying without me already?”

  He chuckled. “It’s too quiet at my place.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  “Hold on. Let me go outside where I can hear you.”

  “Okay.” I glanced around the condo.

  I’d bought this place for its clean lines and modern vibe. The white cabinets were faced with frosted glass. Their slim, silver handles matched the smooth stainless appliances. The floors were a white-washed oak done in a herringbone pattern. The living room couch was the color of oatmeal splashed with too much milk. In my bedroom, it was more of the same scheme.

  It suddenly seemed so cold. Outside it was dark, but in the morning the perfectly manicured lawn would glow neon green, and a few young trees would wave in the breeze, none taller than the roofs in this new development.

  I missed Emmett’s colorful, rustic home. I missed his spicy scent lingering in the air and the vibrant forest out every window.

  The noise on the phone faded and Emmett blew out a long breath. “You still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “How was your drive? Roads okay?” His voice was like a smooth caress down my spine. How was I supposed to sleep tonight? It would be too cold without his body to keep me warm.

  “They were fine.” I pulled out a stool from the island and slid onto the seat.

  “Hey.” Emmett’s voice was muffled as he greeted whoever was there with him. “Yeah. Be in after a sec.”

  He was busy. He was at the bar, having fun. I was at home with nothing to keep me company but a flash drive that I was leaving in the car tonight.

  Maybe I should have been jealous that he was out, worried that he’d find someone else to warm his bed tonight. But I trusted him.

  How had that happened? How had he gone from the enemy to the one man I trusted?

  “Sorry, baby.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say hi. Hear your voice.”

  “Talk soon?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. Maybe. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I set my phone on the white marble counter, staring at its dark face.

  Two months and everything was different. Whatever plan I’d concocted in an effort to avenge my father had disintegrated like wet toilet paper.

  Would I find answers on that flash drive? Maybe. If I could bring myself to open it.

  There was no way I’d take that step tonight. It was a step in the wrong direction.

  I needed to turn, to back up. To put everything in reverse. To unwind what I’d started.

  “How . . .” I tapped my fingers on the counter. Thinking. Calculating. Planning.

  The only way to end this would be to protect Emmett from my father. That was the answer.

  Somehow, I had to make this stop.

  Knowledge was key and at the moment, I was behind. Were the Warriors already regrouping, Dad having anticipated my failure? There was one person who would likely know. Or at least, he had information that might point me in the right direction.

  It was time for an overdue date.

  I picked up the phone and called a man who knew Dad arguably better than I did.

  “Hello, stranger,” Ira answered.

  “Hello yourself,” I purred, nearly making myself gag. “I was hoping to catch up. What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emmett

  “Hey, man,” Leo said after I answered his call. “Cass wants to know if you can come over for dinner tonight.”

  “Sure.” I flipped on the light in my office. “What time?”

  “Whenever. Might as well come early enough for a beer or two before we eat.”

  “Will do. Need me to bring anything?” I unplugged my laptop and carried it downstairs, planning on watching a game or something while I worked.

  “Cass,” Leo hollered, his mouth away from the phone. “What should Emmett bring?”

  “Nothing,” she called back.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  I’d pick up some beers anyway. “’Kay. See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  I settled on the downstairs couch, putting my phone on the coffee table. Then hit the power button on my Mac, scrubbing a hand over my face as it loaded up. Staying up late at The Betsy wasn’t nearly as fun as staying up with Nova in bed. I’d slept like shit after I’d come home from the bar, my bed too empty. The house this morning had been too quiet.

  Goddamn, I’d missed her. Enough that I feared I’d do something stupid, like drive to Missoula and haul my woman home.

  The temptation to do just that had been constant yesterday, since the moment she’d pulled out of the driveway. But I’d gone to work, pretended everything was fine, and immersed myself in a remodel project. I’d barely checked my phone, and after I’d left the shop for the night, I’d gone straight to The Betsy.

  I’d stayed until they’d closed at two, then come home and crashed, burying my face in a pillow that still smelled like Nova. I’d tossed and turned until finally drifting off as the sun had come up.

  Two hours in my home gym had burned through the rest of my morning. After a shower and a late lunch, I was here, ready to clear out my inbox and do some checking on the Warriors.

  There’d been no trouble for months. There’d been no sign of them and according to the latest update Luke had received from the FBI, the trials were progressing—slowly, but progress was progress.

  Two more of the senior members had been sentenced. One of them had been a Tin Gypsy who’d joined the Warriors and moved to Ashton not a week after we’d voted to shut down our club. He’d worked his way up the ranks with the Warriors. His fifty-year sentence was indication of his status.

  If he made it out of prison at all, he’d be released as an old man.

  Poor bastard.

  My laptop dinged as the emails loaded. I flipped on the TV and let ESPN run in the background as I scanned my inbox. I sent a reply to my accountant, then paid my internet bill.

  With my emails cleared, it was time to filter through my alerts, checking through a list of logs for anything that might show Tucker Talbot’s known associates or estranged family members were coming to Clifton Forge. There was nothing to make me worry.

  I was just about to shut down when a notification popped
up on my screen.

  “What the hell?” I muttered.

  Last year, I’d added a program to all of my machines to monitor for abnormal battery usage. It was unlikely that anyone could get past my firewall, but if they did and managed to install malware, it would drain the battery faster than normal and throw up a red flag.

  This red flag.

  My heart raced as my fingers flew across the screen, checking my firewall and encryption. Nothing was out of place. And besides the programs I’d opened, there was no malware.

  So why the flag?

  I shut off the TV and took the laptop upstairs to the office, wanting more space to work. Was it the fan? This Mac wasn’t that old, but sometimes the fans were faulty and ran too much.

  Closing the lid, I ran my hands around the edges, turning the machine upside down and examining the screws. They all seemed fine—except one that looked to have been stripped. Turned too hard and too fast.

  My stomach dropped. Mechanics were careful not to strip screws because then you’d never get them loose again. Dad had taught me that years ago.

  Taking out a small screwdriver from my desk, I opened the casing and spotted the foreign device immediately.

  “Oh, fuck.” Someone had put a tap on my webcam.

  Some motherfucker had messed with my machine.

  No. No fucking way.

  I’d spent years developing my security protocols. My firewall was impenetrable. The hard drive was encrypted. There was little to no chance of an online hack. How many years had I spent putting in those safeguards?

  My protocols had been necessary because I couldn’t exactly carry my laptops around with me. For years and years, I’d kept one locked up at the clubhouse. We’d boarded up the windows from the inside. The doors had been padlocked and only a few of us had the keys.

  Except part of how Draven had been framed for murder was because the police had found his hunting knife at the scene of the crime. The bastard who’d framed him had broken into the clubhouse and stolen that very knife with Draven’s fingerprints on it.

  After that, we’d taken everything out of the clubhouse, anything that might be used against us, including my laptops.

  They were currently in a waterproof container locked and sealed and buried five feet beneath a birch tree behind the clubhouse. With them were five guns, weapons that had killed men. Weapons that could be traced to unsolved murders and used to send Dash, Leo and me to prison for life.