Red After Dark: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 13) Page 27

  “Back into his arms?” Oh, for crying out loud. “Is that what you think happened?”

  “Didn’t it?”

  “For fuck’s sake, you’ve got to stop thinking that way. Alaric saw a distressed woman and helped her because that’s the kind of man he is. We went out for dinner. We talked. Alaric told me he was in love with Bethany, and I told him he should be having that conversation with her and not me. He told me I should talk things through with you instead of running away from my problems again, so here I am. Happy?”

  “He brought you home. Stayed the night.”

  “What did you do? Spy on me? Can’t you just let this go? He brought me home because I drank so much I couldn’t walk. Ana was there too, last night and this morning. I have no idea if she stayed over as well because I was unconscious. If this is how you’re gonna react every time I spend five minutes with Alaric, then we’ve got even bigger problems than I thought. And let me tell you, Chuck, we’ve got some pretty big problems.”

  “I know.” He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “I can’t believe the way I treated you last night. The way I grabbed you. You’re right—I am a monster.”

  “Look, you have a jealousy problem, I get it, and I’ll take some of the responsibility for how far things went.” My knuckles were a tiny bit bruised too. “You’re not a monster. A fool, maybe, but not a monster. I’m more concerned with the past. Why did you do it? Why did you ruin Alaric’s whole life? Did you plan it? Did you sit down and map the entire fucking path of his destruction?”

  Black had always been a planner. A plotter. A schemer. But the thought of him jotting notes and calculating probabilities and working out timings made me sick to my stomach.

  “I didn’t plan it at all. I just…snapped.”

  “You snapped? And somehow happened to pull off the perfect fucking crime? Oh, and nearly got us both killed in the process?”

  Black’s worried expression turned to absolute horror. “I swear I didn’t know you were going with him to the drop! If I had, I’d never have done it.”

  “So it was okay for Alaric to get killed? Just not me?”

  “I didn’t think he’d get on the damn boat. I figured he’d open up the case to check everything before he left here.”

  Because Black would have done exactly that. Check, check, and check again. He was meticulous whereas Alaric was more of a one-and-done guy. He did things once, and he did them carefully.

  “So he’d only have lost his job, lost the painting, and possibly gone to jail?”

  “I fucked up. Like yesterday, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I panicked. I was…scared.”

  He whispered the word as if it were an intruder. A trespasser that had no place in his psyche.

  “Scared of what?”

  “That you’d leave me.”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  “You were looking at houses. He bought you a ring.”

  The first part I was well aware of, but the second part? That was news.

  “A ring?”

  “A fifteen-thousand-dollar white gold and purple sapphire solitaire ring. There’s only one reason a man buys a woman jewellery like that.”

  “Shit.”

  The word slipped out, much the same way as it would have if Alaric had asked me to marry him all those years ago. Then the rest of my brain caught up.

  “What were you doing? Monitoring his credit card statements? His email?”

  Black’s silence told me that was precisely what he’d been doing.

  “For the love of fuck! Why didn’t you just talk to me? Ask me how I felt? Yes, I liked Alaric a lot, but I didn’t want to marry him.” I closed my eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. “Not when it would have meant divorcing you. I couldn’t have done it. Even after you coldly informed me our one and only kiss was a mistake, I still wanted you. If you felt the same, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I came home that evening to do exactly that. The job finished early, and I got a ride back—”

  “With Pale?”

  Black nodded.

  “That lying cretin.”

  “I asked him to lie. He told me I was an idiot.”

  “He was right.”

  “I know.”

  “So, you came home…”

  “I jumped out of the plane. I hadn’t skydived for a while, so I figured it was a good opportunity to fit in some practice. Originally, I planned to land on the lawn, but a gust of wind blew me towards the guest house. I was going to correct, but then I recalled the security system had been partially deactivated and thought why not surprise you? So I landed on the roof and nearly broke my tibia.”

  Quinn wasn’t alone, then.

  “And you came through the tunnel?”

  Another nod. “I saw the briefcase first. In the living room. And then I went upstairs and I heard you in the bedroom, both of you, and something in me broke.”

  “You switched the pay-off.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you open the briefcase?”

  “Trial and error. There were a thousand possible combinations, and Alaric picked five-one-five so I only had to go halfway.”

  Five-fifteen. May fifteenth. My pretend birthday, the one the whole world knew. The significance wasn’t lost on me, and it probably hadn’t been lost on Black either.

  “Where did you get the counterfeit money? The fake diamonds?”

  “I’d confiscated the money from a forger years before. Didn’t quite know what to do with it at the time, so I kept it around for a rainy day. The cubic zirconias came from Bradley’s craft room. I think he was using them to decorate lampshades or something.”

  “And the next day? You snuck away and got Pale to bring you back again?”

  “Nothing that complicated. I hid in the woods next to the airstrip and just got him to land the plane. When I walked back to the house, everyone assumed I’d arrived that afternoon. Diamond, I’m sorry. If I could turn back time, I’d do things differently.”

  Of course he would, now that he knew actions had consequences.

  “We’d all do things differently. But I can’t just forgive and forget this, Black. The initial fuck-up in the heat of the moment, perhaps, but not the lies afterwards. All this time, we’ve worked as a team because our trust was absolute. But now? You’ve shattered it. How can I put my life in your hands when I no longer have that belief in you?”

  He didn’t have an answer to that, but I had another question.

  “How many more times have you lied to me? Skated around the truth? Thrown a few fibs my way?”

  The silence stretched along with my nerves. How bad would this be?

  “Once or twice, I told you a dress didn’t suit you when in reality, it looked too good. And I might have thrown away a couple of gifts Gideon sent you from Paris. And I used to take the Christmas cards you wrote for James out of the mail every year and replace them with something more…corporate. I think that’s it. And I had Gideon relocated to Paris, but you already guessed about that.”

  “You think that’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he said with a little more finality. “What can I do, Emmy? The thought of losing you…”

  He turned away, and for a moment, it was me who felt guilty. Then my resolve hardened again. The other stuff Black had done was petty, but the level of maliciousness levelled at Alaric had been something else.

  “I can deal with most of the stupid shit you do. The control freakery. The jealousy. Even you drugging me before our second wedding. But not the lies, Black.”

  “So where does this leave us?” His voice softened to a whisper. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

  Good questions, both of them. My heart would always love Black. Alaric was right—we were destined to be together. He completed me. But I couldn’t just carry on as if nothing had happened.

  “I love you, but right now, I don’t like you very much.”

  “That’s still more
than I deserve.”

  “Probably. I wish I had more control over my feelings when it comes to you, but sadly I don’t.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I think you cracked a rib last night.”

  “Good. And if you want my trust again, you’ll have to earn it back. Do you realise what a horrible position you’ve put me in? I’ll either have to cover for you and lie to Alaric or shop my own husband.”

  “I’ll never be able to apologise enough.”

  “No, you won’t. Words won’t cut it.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Fix it. Fix the mess you created.”

  “You mean get Alaric his old job back? I could try to pull some strings… And I can give him the money he lost out on.”

  “Oh, no. No way. This is one problem you can’t throw cash at, Chuck. It’s not about Alaric’s job, and it’s not about his inheritance. I mean fix his reputation.”

  “How can I do that?”

  I stepped forward and patted Black on the arm, the first time I’d touched him since the argument.

  “It’s for you to find a way.”

  A single nod.

  “You’ll also have to change. You want me to trust you? Then you’ll have to trust me too. Slay that green-eyed fucking monster.”

  Another nod.

  “And call Sloane. You owe her more than an email.”

  “Okay.”

  “Plus I’ll be away with Alaric the week after next. We’re going to Penngrove because someone has to look for that bloody painting.”

  Black took a deep breath. “And in the meantime?”

  “I’ll be at my house. Feel free to call if you need anything work-related.”

  I tore myself away before I got tempted to stay. Black needed to know I was serious. He couldn’t crap all over people I cared about and expect there to be no repercussions.

  Yes, I’d survive alone.

  CHAPTER 41 - BETHANY

  WHAT A ROLLER coaster of a month, and we were barely halfway through. I still had to endure the wedding of the decade, as my sister’s matron of honour had billed it. And no, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t even a bridesmaid. Priscilla had, and I quote, “saved those spots for my friends.” I didn’t mind in the slightest—my sister made Bridezilla look positively charming—but I was getting a bit sick of all the “Ooh, Bethie, why aren’t you in the wedding party?” nosiness as we waited outside the church. I hated being the centre of attention, and people kept staring at me when they thought I wasn’t looking.

  At least I had Alaric by my side. I’d missed him more than I had a right to after he left Kentucky. But he’d had to go to Boston, and by coming through with the reward money for Red After Dark, he’d staved off Lone Oak Farm’s creditors for the immediate future. Harriet was still hurting, but the day before I left, I’d accidentally walked in on her in Stéphane’s arms. Cue red faces all around. But I was happy for them, and I knew then that she’d be okay.

  Gemma seemed to have come through her ordeal remarkably well too, even if she hadn’t slept at my flat once. I very much suspected she hadn’t been at home either. Last night, Alaric and I had gone to Curzon Place for dinner with her, Judd, and Nada, and the three of them seemed quite at ease in the kitchen together. Enough that I’d had a whispered “What the heck?” conversation with Alaric and he’d taken Judd aside to ask what he was playing at. Judd swore nothing was going on. That he wouldn’t dare to touch either of the girls, not in that way, but they seemed happy and he had spare rooms, so why not let them stay for a while? I had to admit he did seem to walk on eggshells around Nada. And Gemma was smiling a lot, which was certainly better than crying. Even baby Indy seemed to like him. Alaric had done a double take when Judd sat her on his lap.

  “I’ve heard of the bride being fashionably late, but half an hour?” Alaric whispered.

  “Par for the course.”

  This was Priscilla. She’d been late for her own birth, and things had only gotten worse since then. She was probably berating her hairdresser or something.

  Alaric’s arm tightened around my waist as Piers approached with Andromeda in tow. She must have misread the invitation—this was the wedding, not the hen party. Her hot-pink dress was at least six inches shorter than anyone else’s, and her make-up was so overdone I had to squint to check she hadn’t glued leopard moth caterpillars to her eyelids. I’d gone for pastel florals in an attempt to fade into the background, but Alaric had scuppered that plan slightly by gifting me a beautiful pair of shoes. Cream patent stilettos with pale pink ribbon woven around the top—far too expensive, but he said I deserved them after the trip to Kentucky.

  “Surprised to see you here, Bethie,” Piers said.

  “Why? Priscilla’s my sister.”

  “But you don’t have much in common, do you?”

  “I’m still expected to be here. I’m surprised you showed your face after the way you acted towards me.”

  “Now now, Bethie, no need to be hostile. You know Priscilla and Andromeda are friends. And I’m going into business with your father. We’re going to open a new dental clinic. He’s providing the property, and I’ll manage the place.”

  “Good for you.”

  Piers looked Alaric up and down. “So, this is the boyfriend?”

  “I thought we made that quite obvious when we saw you at Daddy’s birthday party.”

  He leaned in closer, and yes, he’d been drinking already. “After the performance you put on, we all assumed you’d hired the man. I mean, who would do that sort of thing without being paid? And everyone knows he’s fallen on hard times.”

  We assumed? Had Piers spread a rumour that I’d hired a freaking escort? Was that why people kept staring at me? The pig!

  “No, Piers, hiring people for services is your bag, not mine.”

  Alaric pulled me closer to his side. “Buddy, if anyone’s paying, it should be me.”

  He meant it as a joke, but his words left me cold as bad memories came bubbling to the surface. I backed away, trying to block out Piers’s chortling. How had I ever married that man?

  “Can we just go somewhere else?” I muttered. Like, say, the Scottish Highlands or the wilds of Mongolia.

  “Beth, are you—”

  Murmurs spread through the crowd as a Rolls-Royce drew up. Oh, perfect timing for once. Priscilla was here.

  The ceremony was predictably over the top. A classically trained choir, half an orchestra, plus it turned out Krys Baxter-Ragsdale was allergic to the five thousand roses Priscilla had stuffed into the church, and she couldn’t stop sneezing. Mother had given Krys dirty looks the whole way through, and I had a feeling the Baxter-Ragsdales would find themselves disinvited from any future gatherings.

  “Thank heavens that’s over,” I muttered to Alaric as we exited the church. One advantage of sitting at the back was that we could get out first.

  “You’re not the only one who thinks so. Did you see the outline of a hip flask in the vicar’s pocket?”

  “No, really?”

  “I almost asked if I could take a swig. Do women honestly like this stuff?”

  “My wedding was awful. I wanted a small affair with close friends and family, but Piers insisted bigger was better, and by the time our mothers got involved, we had six hundred guests, photos in Hello! magazine, and a reception sponsored by Taittinger.”

  “There are some situations where bigger is better, but I’d agree that a wedding isn’t one of them. What time does Priscilla’s reception start?”

  “Four o’clock. She wanted time to take photos and change her outfit and get her hair and make-up redone first.”

  “Are you okay to walk there in those shoes? Or do you want me to call a cab?”

  “It’s only five minutes away, and I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  Alaric offered me his arm, and we joined the throng trekking along the lane to my parents’ estate. Sadly, there wasn’t a handy pub we could nip into, and with the amount of rain we�
��d had yesterday, I couldn’t hide along a footpath either, not unless I wanted to ruin my new shoes. And I loved those shoes.

  A friend of my mother’s fell into step beside us as we walked, and I was forced to explain my absence from the country club. From her incredulous harrumph, it seemed that having to travel for work didn’t pass muster as an excuse for missing the charity golf tournament. Did I mention how much I hated golf?

  When we got to the house, the first thing I did was grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. The second thing I did was remember I wasn’t meant to be drinking and toss it into one of the many, many floral displays. Had Krys Baxter-Ragsdale gone home? I couldn’t hear sneezing.

  “Why did you ditch the fizz?” Alaric asked. “Neither of us is driving.”

  “You heard Piers earlier. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

  “Shame.”

  “Everyone thinks you’re moonlighting as a gigolo. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Alaric snagged two more drinks and passed one to me. “A glass won’t hurt. It might even take the edge off. Come on…” He steered me towards the open French windows. “Let’s go outside. Most of the vultures are hanging out by the snacks.”

  He was right—the terrace was quieter, even if it brought back memories of our previous shenanigans out there. My thighs clenched just from thinking about that evening.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I muttered.

  “Do I care what people think of me? No, I only worry about the things that matter. And what matters is that I’ve got the prettiest girl at the party on my arm.”

  Heat rose up my cheeks.

  “But I need to apologise,” he continued. “My comment earlier was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

  “What comment?”

  “The one where I suggested paying for your services. I felt the way you stiffened.”

  “Oh, no, no, it wasn’t because of you.”

  “Then it was Piers? That jab you made about hookers being his bag? You caught him?”

  I quickly shook my head. “Can we not discuss this? It’s mortifying, and you’re my boss.”

  “We’re not at work today. This afternoon, I’m your friend above all else. If you want to vent, feel free.”