It was a picture of her mother holding a tiny little baby girl in her arms. The baby had a delicate little ribbon tied around her head, sleeping peacefully in her mother’s arms. The baby was her. Scarlet…Blanchette.
“Turn it around.”
Scarlet glanced up at James before turning the picture in her hand. On the back was a message in a handwriting Scarlet would recognize anywhere.
My beloved J,
She’s perfect.
A beautiful reminder of our love.
I only wish I could share her with you.
All my love, always.
K.
P.S., I named her after your mother.
“Blanchette was your mother’s name?” Scarlet kept staring at the note on the back of the picture.
“It was, yes.”
She closed her eyes, trying hard to push back the ache that was slowly making its way up inside her chest. The kind of ache only a daughter could feel over losing a mother. The day her mother died so unexpectedly broke the young girl inside her. She could remember that day like it was yesterday. Denial was her friend then—and for three days after that. It was only at the funeral, when Scarlet saw Willow bent down over their mother’s casket, that reality hit her right in the gut.
She never made it to the casket that day. Her legs were unable to carry her all the way down the aisle. Uncontrollable sobs wracked her body as she fell to her knees, crying like she had never cried before. There was so much pain inside her, and all she could think about was how badly she wanted to claw through her own skin, to reach deep into her soul and rip out the pain just so that she could breathe. All she wanted was to breathe…but she couldn’t. That day was one of the worst days of her life.
Feeling dangerously close to crying as that familiar pain of loss started to consume her, Scarlet tossed the picture on the desk.
“This doesn’t prove anything.”
James walked to the other side of his office, and carefully removed a painting of a lake with birds flying above it from the wall, revealing a hidden vault.
“I had a feeling you would say that.”
He turned the lock and the vault opened.
From the corner of her eye she saw Hunter move closer to her. She’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a part of her that was glad he was there. His presence somehow comforted her—calmed her.
James handed Scarlet a brown envelope. “All the proof you need is in there.”
“What is this?”
“Every letter, every photo, every movie ticket we ever bought while we were together is in that envelope.”
“You kept it?”
“I kept everything.”
Scarlet and James stared at each other, and something told her that he wasn’t lying. She could see it on his face. The way his eyes seemed like they were on the brink of bleeding with unshed heartache, and the way he stared at her with so much regret plastered all over his face—all of that told her the man in front of her was telling the truth.
Desperately trying to keep her composure, to not show any weakness, Scarlet turned around and walked to the other side of the couch, still clutching the brown envelope in her hands.
“What kind of business are you in that is so dangerous it would make you break my mother’s heart and keep you from being a father to me?”
James took a deep breath while rubbing his hand over his bald head before walking over to his desk and taking a seat behind it. “I guess I have to start at the beginning, then.”
“That would be a good place to start, yes,” she said with sarcasm.
James glanced at Riggs and they nodded at each other.
“Okay.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “We run a secret operation where we infiltrate the underground sex market, posing as buyers or agents.”
Scarlet shook her head slightly. “What does that even mean?”
“We buy girls on the black market, take them to various safe houses, rehabilitate them, and then give them a life free of slavery.”
Hunter stepped closer to James. “So let me get this straight. You’re sex slave dealers?”
“Yes. But our only goal is to save as many girls as possible.”
“How?”
James looked in Scarlet’s direction. “Your grandmother has been funding this operation for the last thirty years. And I’ve been head of this operation since the beginning.”
And then it dawned on her. “That’s how you met my mother, isn’t it?”
James nodded. “Yes. I was at Bella Vista one day for a meeting with your grandmother when I met your mother for the first time. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life.”
Scarlet gave a tiny step closer. “That’s why you couldn’t be with her.”
“I’ve been head of this operation ever since your grandmother and my uncle started it. I’ve successfully infiltrated this sick world of sex and slaves. I live by a completely different identity. To most, I’m a notorious slave dealer who finds clients and make the deals.”
“And this is why the girls in this safe house can’t see your face. They can’t know that you actually saved them.”
“Exactly.” James nodded.
Hunter jerked his head toward Riggs. “And him, where does he fit into all of this?”
James looked in Colton’s direction. “Riggs is my, how shall I put it, apprentice. I’m not getting any younger, and the day will come when I will no longer be able to head this operation. The sooner I get someone else in on this, introduce someone new into this world, someone all the bad guys will trust by the time I’m gone, the better. But right now, he’s still a card I’m keeping close to my chest. Once he’s learned all there is, he’ll start dealing with me.”
Scarlet glanced at Riggs. Funny, she never figured this tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed guy was into shit like this. Sure, he looked badass with his gun and his soldier attitude, but she never figured him as a slave dealer impersonator.
Riggs caught her staring at him, and she quickly looked away.
“I wanted to be with your mother, Scarlet. I really did,” James continued. “Not a day went by that I didn’t wish there was some way I could be with her—with you.”
“Then what stopped you? You could have walked away from this. You could have chosen us.” With every word, she felt anger filling her insides little by little. “Nothing was forcing you to keep doing this, to stay away from us.”
“One hundred and thirteen.”
Scarlet cocked a brow. “What?”
James met her eyes. “We have saved one hundred and thirteen girls, out of which eleven committed suicide, but the rest we were able to be rehabilitated. One hundred and two girls are out there living normal lives because of what we do here.”
Scarlet swallowed, and Hunter turned to look at her. The expression on his face told her exactly what he was thinking. Poor woman. What is life planning on tossing at her next? How will she deal with all this shit?
Fuck. She would not wither like a damn flower in front of everyone just because life saw her as its goddamn punching bag.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, so let’s talk about Brent. What do you know about him?”
Hunter straightened, and when he rolled his shoulders, balling his fists at his side, she knew he was fighting to keep control over his rage.
“We know that Brent is looking for you,” James answered.
She scoffed. “No shit.”
“We know that he wants you dead.”
“And he’s been wanting me dead for the last seven years.”
James got up from his chair. “Because of your grandmother’s inheritance.”
“Well, see. That’s what I thought all these years too. Until Sherlock Holmes here,” she pointed to Hunter, “discovered Brent actually inherited everything six months ago. Yet the SOB still wants me dead. Evidently.”
James crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Brent didn’t inherit everything.”
Hunter jerked his head toward James. “Say what?”
“Brent only has power of attorney over your grandmother’s estate. He didn’t inherit it.”
Scarlet glanced from Hunter to James. “What are you saying?”
“Scarlet,” James started. “Brent didn’t inherit everything. You did.”
“Jesus.” Hunter pulled his hands through his hair. But Scarlet was unable to react. She was frozen to the spot.
James walked closer. “Because no one has heard from you for the last seven years, not knowing where you are, Brent was given power of attorney. That’s why he wants to find you. The only way he gets it all is if you’re…dead.”
Just like that day at her mother’s funeral, her legs gave way beneath her. Before she collapsed, two arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from falling like a pathetic piece of weakness.
“Scar, baby,” Hunter whispered as he pulled her tighter against him. “I’ve got you.”
Her head was spinning. This was just way too much information to process all at once—even for her.
“Okay, I think this is enough for now,” Hunter said. “I’m going to get her cleaned up. Give her some time.”
“Of course.” James walked to the door. “Riggs will take you to a bedroom, and I’ll arrange for some food to be sent to you.”
Scarlet was way too confused to say or do anything. She just let Hunter guide her out of James’s office without even protesting even a little. It felt like every ounce of strength had drained out of her within a nanosecond, leaving her empty and frail.
Before they could leave, James took her hand. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
Scarlet locked her eyes on his. “You should have been here twenty-four years ago.”