Chapter Sixteen
The turnoff to the Paris Inn is in my rearview mirror as I climb up the Blue Ridge Mountains to Stoke Castle. Some people call this particular stretch Weather Mountain, as the government has various installations cut into the mountain. It houses an emergency hideaway for the president and essential members of the government. I’m sure it’s why people see strange things up here, with all the secret government buildings and agencies housed in them.
I have a persistent, nagging sensation I should remember something, or maybe it’s the guilt at not pressing charges against Jason. Or maybe all of it together melds in such a way to impress upon me a sense of being watched and probably judged and found woefully wanting.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement, but when I slow, thinking it could be an animal ready to dart out in the road, there is nothing. It’s like the forest up here casts shadows that move of their own accord, not dominated by anything but their own caprice.
I’m waved through when I pull up to the guard station. I entertain the idea of stopping and asking to drop the items here, but I don’t want Mr. Barnes to complain to my aunts. Aunt Mae says he was one of the first customers from way back when her father started the business in the nineteen-twenties. Back then there was segregation, and many of the big estates wouldn’t take their laundry to a black-owned business. But slowly, because the quality of Mangler service was superior, that changed.
Don’t know why I’ve never thought of it before, but wouldn’t Mr. Barnes be dead by now? Yes, ’cause they tell stories about how Daddy—that’s what my aunts call their father—dropped off linens at the castle and didn’t come home for two days, saying he had no idea what had happened, only he distinctly remembered meeting Mr. Barnes. And when pressed about Mr. Barnes, all he could recall was a gentleman of middle age.
I probably shouldn’t even be driving, the way my mind is wandering off from lack of sleep. The van struggles up the too-steep drive, and I have to downshift to make it to the top. How do they plow snow in the winter?
At the top, Stoke Castle looms over the mountain like a large bird of prey waiting to sink its talons into an unsuspecting victim. The structure was taken apart piece-by-piece, shipped from England, and resurrected here in the States. To me, it looks like a dinosaur displaced and relocated at the wrong time. I shiver, hating the way the windows watch me like they’re waiting for a show of weakness.
These random thoughts are how I almost roll into a mountain of a man standing in front of the van. I slam on the brakes and give my heart a moment to return to its regular rhythm. I assume he’s here for the delivery and rush to find the invoice so I can leave. He seems familiar, but with the baseball-style cap pulled low over his face and his shoulders hunched and me being anxious to go, I don’t give him more than a quick glance.
I roll down the window. “I’m here with the delivery from Mangler Laundry.”
Keeping his head lowered, the man walks around to the driver’s side while I reach across the bench seat to find the invoice that has managed to slide onto the floor of the passenger side. When he coughs, I call out, “A minute.”
He opens the door; I hear the door hinge squeak in protest.
“Hey!”
“Has it been so long you don’t recognize me?”
I almost tumble out of the van when I hear Roy’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” He lifts me up into his arms.
“But how did you—”
His lips are soft. His hands press me against him. Mind, body, and soul, I’m enveloped by him. When he slides me down his body to place my feet on the ground, I rest my head against his warm chest as my head swirls. “I’ve missed you.”
“A week away from you is an eternity.” He runs his hand around to the back of my neck, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
I tilt back my head to meet his green eyes and remember how I once thought they were cold and aloof but now only see the warmth of his heart. I can’t help but remember what Gavin told me about his childhood. How alone and afraid he must have felt.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I stopped by the shop.” He runs his hand over my arm, stops at the band around my wrist and lifts it to his lips, placing light kisses on the bruises. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” I press my nose against his chest, inhaling his scent.
“Tell me the truth.” He lifts my chin.
“You heard about the thing with Jason.”
“Come on; let’s get you out of here, and we can talk about it.”
I have no desire to speak of unpleasant things. I remain fixed as Roy tries to walk away with my hand still in his. “I have to make the delivery.”
“Nae, girl.” Gavin’s gruff tone is almost playful.
I whirl around to see him walking up behind us.
“I’ll make sure Merlin gets his capes and drive your old jalopy back to Mangler.”
“Merlin?” I turn my head to the side and catch a glimpse of someone watching us from a second-story window of the castle. Can this place get any stranger?
“Come on.” Roy laughs and pulls me along toward his black Rover.
How could I have missed his car? Because I’m creeped out by the castle.
“So you know Mr. Barnes?” I ask, buckling up as the Rover purrs to life and descends the steep lane. The guard tips his head to Roy as we drive by.
“I don’t think anyone truly knows the man.” Roy stops to check both ways before turning onto Blue Ridge Mountain Road. “But I have worked with him.”
“How old is he?” Knowing the answer he’ll give.
Roy gives me a quick glance. “Thirties, probably. Why?”
Does the man not age? Or—my rational mind joins in the conversation—he’s probably the son of the man my aunts’ father met.
“Is that why you were here five years ago?” His hand, resting on my thigh, tenses, and his smile fades into a clenched jaw. My chest tightens in fear, of what I don’t know. I hate how he’s become aloof and place my hand on his, hoping my warmth will transmit into him. “How you fell in love with the area?”
“You’re cold.” He moves his hand away to increase the heat and doesn’t rest it back on my leg; instead, he grips the steering wheel.
I lean against the door like a trespasser. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s not you.” He places his hand back on my thigh. “It’s something I should have told you the first day we went out for breakfast.”
My heart rate skyrockets, and I wrap my arms around me like armor.
I blurt out, “I don’t want to know.” I have the absurd desire to open the door and run and run until my legs can take me no farther and I have no energy left in my body to be apprehensive of what he should have told me.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
The hard place in my chest eases a bit. “A piece of toast.”
“Ah, Daisy, not nearly enough.”
There’s too much sadness in his voice, and I drop my head, unsure and afraid to see his expression.
“I have a plane waiting to take us to St. John. I won’t lie to you, what I have to tell you might change your mind about me.”
“I’m sure it won’t.”
“Said like only an innocent can.”
“Look.” I turn in my seat to face him. “I might not be what you’re used to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know my own mind.”
“We can talk now or talk on the island. It’s your choice.”
I wish he’d look at me instead of straight ahead, with a profile that looks chipped from stone.
“Do you really have a plane?”
“Fueled, staffed, and ready to take off.”
“If I have to hear bad news I want to do it someplace beautiful and far away.”
His hand covers my knee and squeezes. “Are you sure? You don’t even know what I’m going to tell you. We could go to your home or the Red Fox Inn; I still have a room there.”
“You know what he’s going to tell you, don’t you? You’ve always been a special kind of stupid.”
Charlie’s voice has a knack for kicking me when I’m down. “I don’t.” Shit, I said that out loud.
“What?”
“Nothing. How long will it take to get there?”
“It’s a four-hour flight.” Finally, he gives me a quick glance. “You look tired, baby.”
“I didn’t sleep last night, what with…you know.”
“Gavin filled me in. I should have taken care of him myself before I left.”
“He’s a killer, but you’ve always known, haven’t you? What did you call him?” Charlie laughs. “Mr. Lethal.”
I close my eyes and try to force Charlie from my thoughts.
“Lean back, baby. Rest your eyes; we’ll be there soon.”
I watch the landscape as my mind ricochets around in my memories. I’m surprised when we pass the Aldie Store and know it won’t be long before we reach Dulles Airport.
“We’re still going to…?” My face instantly turns red. “You know.”
“After we talk and if you still want me.”
“Why are you trying to scare me? I don’t want to discuss this now. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been horrible without you, and I don’t want anything to ruin how happy I am.”
“Only if you let it.” Again, his tone is sad. “I’ve thought of nothing but you and us and our future. We have to get this out in the open or…” He shakes his head and leans back in the driver’s seat. “You have to know.”
Can it be so bad, what he has to tell me, so horrible I wouldn’t care for him or want him in my life anymore? No, not this man who’s protected me and cared for me and awakened my body in ways I never thought possible.
He parks inside what looks like an empty warehouse except for the plane, black and sleek, parked a few feet away. “Miss Aldridge.” Roy opens my door and takes my hand.
“What about my aunts?”
“I told them you’d call once we arrived.”
I roll my lips together to keep from smiling. “Always so sure of yourself.”
“Never with you. Let’s get aboard this tin can so I can see you in a bikini.”
I slap his back and follow him up the stairs and into the ultra-modern-looking interior of the plane. “I’ve never flown before.”
His hand slides like silk to the nape of my neck, and he whispers in my ear. “Back there is a bathroom with a shower.” He gently propels me. “And through those doors is a bedroom.”
“Is this yours?” I try to turn, but he urges me forward.
“It’s a corporate jet. Technically, my company owns it.”
“Sir, are you ready to proceed to the runway?”
I look around, realizing there must be a speaker system or something.
In the doorway to the bedroom, Roy punches a button. “Yes. Get us out of here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cokes are in the fridge.” He points to the corner. “If you want to shower and change, I’ve brought some clothes for you over there.”
“Always so prepared,” I mutter.
“Hmm.”
I expected a snappy retort, not for him to slip out of his shoes and kick back on the king-sized bed.
He pats the bed. “I need you next to me. We’ve both had a hard go of it apart.”
What happened, wherever he was? How many nightmare memories of war plague him in his quiet moments? Or is he hardened to the grim reality he finds in such places?
The jet is moving, and I steady myself by placing my hand on the bed and crawl in to sit next to him.
“We’ll be taking off in a second or two.”
“Should we buckle up or something?”
“My plane, my rules.” His arm slides around me. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh.” I grab hold of his arm as the force of takeoff presses our backs to the headboard.
“Jacob will steady us out.”
When the plane levels, I turn to face him while still in his arms. It’s obvious to me now he’s bone-tired. He has dark circles and creases around his eyes. Wanting to provide comfort, I run my hand up his chest and neck and let my fingers run through his beard. It’s quite impressive how much it’s grown in only a week. I blush, thinking of how the soft bristles will feel against my inner thighs.
“I can see what you’re thinking.” His thumb glides across my traitorous cheeks. “Make the most of it tonight. In the morning I’ll be shaving it off.”
“Why?” My voice is breathy.
“Because, my little aphrodisiac, we’ll be out on the boat tomorrow and I want my whole face to tan.”
I smile as he gives me a playful wink. “Sun…tan…I don’t tan.”
He looks at my neck and lets out a long breath. “I’ve never seen anyone with such beautiful skin. Like a Botticelli’s Venus come to life.”
I don’t know the painter, but I can tell by his expression he likes what he sees. I shiver when he lightly runs his fingertips over my arm.
“There’s plenty of sunscreen at the house.”
“Is it your house?” Who has a house on a tropical island?
“Could be, if you like it.”
“Stop teasing me.”
“I’m not. A client owns it. She’s offered to sell it to me. Now.” He unhooks his arm from behind my back and lays flat on the bed. “Baby, as much as I’d like to talk and…” His eyes flick down to my breasts. “It’s been over forty hours since I’ve had any rest.”
As tempted as I am to fall asleep in his arms, I know I’m too wired to do so.
He searches my face and finds his answer without me having to say a word. “Alright, go on into the cabin and Donna will get you whatever you need.”
I pout, knowing he’s right.
“A couple hours sleep.” He lifts his eyebrow conspiratorially. “I promise to be fully functional by the time we land.”
I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, trying to think of something witty. Nothing comes to mind, so I give him a chaste kiss and slide out of bed. Before I shut the door behind me, his eyelids close.
I leave Sleeping Beauty to his dreams—please let them be peaceful—and make my way to the cabin, where there are four leather seats, all facing forward. It reminds me of the pictures I’ve seen of home theaters. I slip into the soft leather and look out the window, watching the ocean playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds.
“Miss, may I get you something?”
This must be Donna. I expected a clone of the real estate agent. Another California woman of tall, thin perfection with well-behaved hair and gleaming, white teeth. Instead, Donna is an attractive fifty-something. Her shape is roundish, though not fat. Her hair is sprinkled with gray and her eyes sparkle like she knows what I’m getting for Christmas and is about to share it with me.
“Are you Donna?”
“I am. And you must be Miss Aldridge. Mr. Blackwood gave me specific instructions regarding refreshments for you.”
He did, did he? “A Coke would be perfect.”
“Of course. Would you like it served over ice?” Donna rests her hand on the seat in front of me as we hit turbulence. “I also have ice cream, chocolate fudge, and cinnamon rolls.”
Oh, Roy, you know the way to a girl’s heart is through her sweet tooth. I probably should be worried as the plane buffets, but having someone who looks like they could be my grandmother listing all my favorite desserts makes it seem unthreatening.
“I’ve kind of overdone the sugar for today. Could I get a sandwich and maybe some pretzels or something?”
“Turkey with cheddar cheese on French bread?”
Maybe there’s a fully stocked kitchen somewhere back there. “Perfect.”
She turns and walks toward the pilot area and disappears behind a door.
What does Roy want to tell me? Maybe it’s the identity of the gift-giver? About what Proctor thinks I shouldn’t pursue? I have the band pulled tight as a bowstring and look at my wrist. It’s speckled with bruises in various stages of yellow and purple and red.
Donna pushes a cart down the aisle and parks it beside me. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
It smells lovely, and the bread has been toasted with the cheese melted on top. “Do you know how much longer till we land in St. John?”
A furrow forms on her brow. “St. John doesn’t have an airport. We fly into St. Thomas, where a helicopter is on standby to take you to Seclusion.”
“Where?”
“Sorry.” She smiles. “Seclusion is name of the villa.” Donna presses a button on the wall, and a screen illuminates our flight path. “We’re about sixty-five minutes out. If you need me, you can press this button.” She points to a green button. “I’ll come back for the tray prior to landing.”
“Can I text?”
“Yes, the plane has wi-fi connectivity for all your devices.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all.” And she disappears again behind the door.
I quickly text Vincent. How are you?
He responds immediately. Where are you?
So like him to answer a question with a question. On a plane to St. John with Roy.
You don’t know.
Honestly, what is with him? Know what?
Jason’s dead. His lawyer got him out of jail and flew him back to L.A. The tattooed man…was disemboweled and left in the middle of Route 50 at the turnoff to Weather Mountain.
Holy Fuck! We drove right by there on the way to the airport. My mind spirals. Is this what Roy wants to talk about? Did he have them killed? Did he take care of it himself?
I read Vincent’s next text. Jason overdosed. Guess he couldn’t deal with losing his career and going to jail.
Or someone did it for him. Any idea about the tattooed man?
Gang activity. What the news says.
I grab hold of the text like it’s a gift from God. It’s plausible, and it makes more sense than Roy masterminding it.
So, Roy’s whisking you away to break that cherry?
Only Vincent would include murder and sex in the same text conversation. None of your business.
Quit crushing the man’s balls and give it up, Baby Girl.
Not going there. Would you check in on the aunts while I’m gone?
Of course. Got a hot date myself. I might even tell you about it. Bye, love.
Doesn’t he always have a hot date? XOXO.
I’m sure the Internet is going crazy over Jason’s death. He was a huge star. I can’t bring myself to read any of it now. I place my phone next to the plate. The once-tempting sandwich makes me want to barf. The Coke is left untouched. I sit in my seat, staring out the plane window.