Chapter 18
Ipick at my food, but I have absolutely zero appetite this morning. And it has nothing to do with the lingering aches and bruises.
Weston went to great lengths to make me my favorite French toast and fill the cloches with all the other things he’s learned I love for breakfast. Yet I’ve only managed to take a few bites, and each one of those sours in my stomach quickly.
I frown at my plate, trying to will myself to eat more because, God knows, I need it. But there’s something I need more, something he has yet to give me—despite numerous requests throughout the sleepless night—answers.
He placated my requests with gentle brushes of his lips over mine or a murmured promise that we would talk later. Even though I finally managed to get him into the bed with me after our long soak, I couldn’t pry the explanation of what happened from the death grip he kept on it.
I glance up and find him sitting back in his chair across the long table, hands steepled over his mouth as he watches me, concern furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry. I just can’t eat.”
There isn’t any point in making excuses or lying. Weston is more than adept at getting to the truth, something I seem to fail at over and over.
That failure sits in my stomach like a giant boulder.
Weston releases a little sigh and runs a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his head. “I figured.”
And now I’ve gone and insulted his food and the efforts he went through to prepare this all for me this morning.
“It has nothing to do with—”
He holds up a hand to stop me, the large callouses and rough skin visible even from the far end of the table. “No need to explain yourself, Beauty. I get it.”
“Do you?”
Weston is a great many things, but he isn’t a mind reader. And I’ve been doing my best not to push today, to let him pamper me and do what he needs to in order to regain control over the beast inside him that threatened to come to life last night in that room.
I managed to keep him at bay.
To tame him enough that the man could rest—if not sleep—for at least a few hours. But morning came far too soon, and with it, the reality that absolutely nothing has been resolved or explained.
I’m back in limbo.
Waiting.
At the mercy of others to give me tidbits of information that could dramatically change the course of my life.
Weston nods slowly. “I do. You have a lot of questions, and I have tried for far too long to keep the truth from you. But that ends now.”
Hope blooms in my chest, warming what has been cold and dark since the moment I woke in that place. “Really?”
He stands, pushing back his chair and holding out his hand. “Come on.”
I set down my fork next to my plate, shove back my chair, and walk around the long table toward him, sliding my palm against his. He tugs me around the massive fireplace and over to the big leather chair he likes to sit in.
Flames leap up the massive chimney, radiating a warm glow and heat that starts to seep into my bones the moment we move in front of it. Weston lowers himself into the chair and takes me with him, settling me across his lap, where he can keep his arms wrapped around me fully.
I burrow into him and let my eyes drift closed, enjoying the quiet for one brief moment before the shit hits the proverbial fan. Because I know it’s coming—something I won’t want to hear but need to.
There’s no other reason he’s hidden so much from me except if he fears it will change how I feel about him.
He shifts slightly under me, releasing a little sigh. “I don’t even know where to start…”
I lift my head and search his gray eyes. “At the beginning.”
He snorts. “That was a long time ago for me, Beauty.”
Grinning at him, I drag my fingers through his thick, rough, white beard. “Not that long.”
He slowly brushes a strand of hair off my temple behind my ear and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You know I grew up here…”
“Yeah.” I think back to all the stories I read in the journals about how the Barkers chose this mountain for its strategic placement in the range over the valley, its remoteness, and its defensibility. “Your family’s owned the property forever.”
He nods slowly and scans the room. “Not much has changed except me. The Barkers have all lived and died in this house since they built it. My mother giving birth to my sister, so it was just us and my dad all alone up here.” He stares into the flames. “Though, Dad spent most of his time in Helena, and we were taken care of by nannies, which frankly was better than the alternative of him being here all the time.”
Weston doesn’t need to say more. The truth is there between his words. Still, I feel like this may be my only chance to get him to actually open up about the wounds that seem to fester so deeply inside him.
“Was it that bad?”
His eyes darken, a ghostly shadow overtaking them. “He was abusive in ways I’m not going to get into. A carryover from the way his father treated him, no doubt. And his father before him. You’ve read enough about the Barkers from their own hands to know they don’t tolerate weakness or failure. Dad expected us to fall in line and do what we were told. He expected perfection, and that started at a very young age.”
I don’t even want to ask the question because I fear the answer I’ll receive, but I somehow manage to get it out. “What did he make you do?”
His jaw hardens as he continues to stare into the flames, like they’re transporting him directly back to another time. “He turned me into what you thought I was.”
Something lodges in my throat, and I try to swallow past it.
What I thought he was…
The Beast.
The Barker family attack dog.
A reaper who takes out anyone who crosses them or stands in their way.
“You mean…he made you kill for the family?”
He gives me a sharp nod, unwilling to look me in the eye. “We’ve always controlled everything through fear, through manipulation and threats. Once I hit about eighteen, he expected me to take over that portion of the business.”
“And you became The Beast.”
Weston turns his head slowly, and his gaze finally meets mine, so full of regret and sorrow that it makes tears form in my eyes. “I did what I had to do to survive. To survive him. There’s no walking away from being a Barker anymore than there’s escaping our wrath when you find yourself on the wrong side of us. I couldn’t just leave. It wouldn’t have been fair to Wendy. I didn’t want her to be alone with him in this life, in this world. I tried to protect her—”
“You did a great job. Look at everything she’s accomplished. I mean, she escaped! She broke free from all of this, and she’s the goddamn governor.”
He doesn’t respond to my observation; he just returns his focus to the fireplace. “All of this with your father started with Rosewood.”
“I already know they’re a family allied with yours and that they control the port. Dad told me everything.”
His body stiffens, and he shakes his head. “No, he didn’t. It’s more than that. We aren’t just simple allies.” He swallows thickly, his gaze cutting to mine, fear lurking there. “I was engaged to Eliza Rosewood.”
A pang of something that burns hot but flashes green like jealousy strikes me straight in the chest, and I start to pull away from him slightly, but he tugs me closer, pinned me to him with his solid arms.
When I try to turn away, he grabs my face and forces it back.
His gray gaze deadly serious, he stares into my eyes, refusing to let me look away. “It was thirty years ago, Beauty. Our families had continued to stay loyal and work together. Her older brother was my best friend and became my father’s right-hand man as I was away, busy bloodying my own. Raymond was smart, brilliant, actually. My father recognized that, saw him as the next in line for the throne and me as merely an element of brute force. I don’t think he ever truly thought I could take over the family.”
Knowing Weston as well as I do now, I can’t imagine anyone ever doubting his strength—physical or mental. The man is vicious and unyielding when he needs to be, exactly what a father should want in a son who will take over a criminal empire.
There’s a disconnect somewhere.
Something I’m missing.
Because Weston sits at the helm, and I’ve never even heard of Raymond Rosewood.
“What happened?”
He swallows thickly and looks away, this time toward the window. “Ray, my father, and I were here one night discussing business. Dad let us know that his contacts in the FBI told him a RICO investigation was being launched.”
“What’s RICO?”
The term seems familiar, like something I’ve heard or read about, but I can’t access that memory at the moment, too distracted by the information Weston is finally giving me.
“Racketeering and organized crime. It’s what the FBI uses to bring down the mafia and other families like ours.”
I blanch. “Shit.”
“My father accused Ray of being an informant.”
My stomach clenches. I can already see where this is going, and it won’t end well.
“Raymond denied it, of course, and Father offered no proof.” He sucks in a long, slow breath, then lets it out again, like he’s gathering the nerve to finish the story. “But he told me to kill him, anyway. He was my best friend, my fiancée’s brother, and like another son to my father, but none of it mattered. Because of his paranoia, he was willing to make me kill him without any actual evidence, just supposition.”
Pressing my trembling hand over his heart, I watch his face. “What did you do?”
His teeth snap together, and he grits out the words between them. “The only thing I could do…”
The emotions brought up by reliving that day threaten to choke me. They sit in the center of my throat, and each swallow, each breath, gets harder and harder. Only having Callista’s body pressed to mine and my arms around her is keeping me grounded in the here and now instead of lost in the painful memory.
Yet exposing the truth for the first time, giving her what she wanted—answers—might make me lose her.
She rears back slightly, her eyes wide and filled with so much trepidation that I almost release her so she can run if she wants to. “Did you…kill him?”
I take her face in my palm and glide my thumb across her soft cheek as I shake my head. “I couldn’t do it. I had a gun to his head, ready to pull the trigger, and I just…couldn’t. I told him to leave, to run, and he fled into the woods. I thought I had saved his life, but instead, I just created a bigger enemy in my father.”
“What did he do when he found out?”
“Exactly what I expected. He said I was worthless, unreliable, and that I had just doomed the entire Barker family. He told me to go out after him, to find him and fix the problem I had created.”
The uncertainty that plagued me in those moments rushes back.
The turmoil that twisted me up and threatened to tear me apart.
“He almost had me convinced to do it, but then the door opened. Wendy stepped in. We hadn’t even known she was in the house during the meeting, but she must have overheard everything. She told our father that she had taken care of the problem.”
Callista gasps, her hand settling over her mouth. “No.”
“I never thought my sister was capable of it. Her entire life, I had protected her and tried to insulate her from the family business and Father. I kept her out of it. She never showed any signs that she was interested in involvement or that she ever knew what went on behind closed doors here. And I never thought she could pull the trigger on anyone, but especially not Ray. Not when Eliza was her best friend.” Shaking my head, I remember the eerie calm she had that day when she walked in and told us what she had done. “She killed Eliza’s brother as if he were some stranger on the street, and then she told me to go bury the body.”
“But-but…” Callista opens and closes her mouth a few times, her shock rendering her speechless. “She’s the governor…”
I nod, feathering my fingers through her hair, trying to keep our connection strong when I can feel her pulling away. “We’ve spent the last thirty years maintaining the lie that I’m the head of the family controlling everything from up here and that she and our cousins play no role in any illegal doings and are fine, upstanding, patriotic citizens who just want what’s best for Montana. But the truth of it is, she stepped in the day she killed Ray as his second, earned that role in my father’s eyes, and she’s been the one pulling the strings, giving the orders since the old man died, only a few short weeks later.”
Wheels spin behind Callista’s emerald eyes, no doubt running through everything I’ve told her and comparing it to the public story she knows.
“The only reason I’m not dead is because Wendy needed a beard, someone she could hide behind, especially with my father gone. I knew that day that I would never be able to pull the trigger again, never be able to take any life the way my father had demanded I do for him, but I agreed to stay up here and never leave. I agreed to dispose of any bodies they brought to me, and now I’ve lived here alone with the ghosts of the people my family has killed, generations of them. Keeping records for my sister and essentially being a prisoner to her and the guilt and regret I can never shake over what I’ve done.”
Tears stream down Callista’s face, and she runs her fingers through my beard. “I’m so sorry, Weston. That’s”—she releases a tiny breath—“terrible.”
I close my eyes and lean into her touch, needing it more now than ever. “I told you I was a killer, that I was dangerous, but it isn’t just me, Beauty. My sister’s the one who took you, and it had nothing to do with your father messing with her best friend’s business.”
“Why is Eliza still friends with her after she killed her brother?”
Opening my eyes, I meet her questioning gaze. “Because Eliza thinks I did it. When he disappeared, she was frantic, asked me to help look for him, thought that perhaps one of the Barkers’ enemies got to him. But in time, she began to suspect what my father had done and, of course, presumed that I had handled the actual dirty work.”
“So, she doesn’t know any of this?”
I shake my head. “As far as I know, she doesn’t. I can’t imagine she would’ve stayed best friends with Wendy if she knew. But I haven’t spoken to the woman in thirty years, Callista. She said she never wanted to see me again, even fired a damn gun at me to get me off her lawn and back into my car so I’d leave. Even if I told her the truth, she wouldn’t believe me.”
Callista slides off my lap, putting a distance between us that makes me instantly chill. She paces in front of the fireplace, chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes occasionally dart over to me. “Your sister sent the message telling me to come up here?”
I nod, and she stops pacing.
“That’s why you were so confused when I arrived. You never sent the message at all?”
“I haven’t left the mountain, certainly not to put any sort of message like that on your father’s door. I would never invite anyone up here. It’s literally where all the bodies are buried, not to mention the records in the library that document everything the Barkers have done basically since forever.”
“Shit.” Her brow furrows. “But why? Why would she…” She trails off as she stares at me like she’s seen something there she never did before. “She was trying to get to you.”
Clever Beauty.
It took me far too long to figure out what she was doing, what her goal might have been in sending Callista up here when keeping Barker Mountain has always been a top priority and the situation with her father could have easily been resolved with a single bullet to his head.
But Callista caught on quickly.
I nod slowly. “My sister has always wanted me to come back to help her run the business. She doesn’t trust anyone, and it’s getting difficult for her to maintain a reliable hitman when she keeps having the new ones kill the old ones. I’ve staunchly refused for three decades, only agreeing to help with the disposal process so I’m not forced to leave the mountain. But lately, she’s been getting pushier. I believe she saw your father’s issue with the Rosewoods as a way to try to lure me back, thinking I would want to come to Eliza’s defense.”
“But why involve me at all?” She turns and resumes her pacing. “Why not just have you go after my father?”
So fucking brilliant.
I offer her a sad smile. “Because if I killed your father, I would have just come back to the mountain. She hoped I’d fall in love with you. She was trying to give me something to live for because it’s the easiest way to control someone. And now she knows because”—I wave my hand around the room—“she’s been watching…”
Callista blanches. “The cameras. Oh, my God. She’s seen everything.”
“Almost. There aren’t any in the library, and I turned off the one in the bedroom after you discovered the surveillance room. Like I said, it didn’t feel right watching you, but she saw that morning in the dining room. You on my lap…”
The phone conversation she overheard must be playing through her head right now.
“She’s seen and heard all of it until I disconnected the server when you went to see your father.”
She runs her hands through her hair, tugging on it with wide eyes, her growing panic infusing the air. “You seem far too calm for this, for what’s happening.” Her entire body trembles as she says the words. “Is she going to try to leverage me again to get you to do whatever it is she wants?”
I wish I could tell her no. I wish there were any way to keep her from being caught in the middle of this, but the day Callista knocked on my door, it started something that can’t be stopped now.
Not without more bloodshed.
“That would be a pretty good assumption.”
“Shit.” Callista turns away to stare at the fire. “What are we going to do?”
Pray to the God I don’t believe in.
He allowed me to find her, to get her out of that place without too much injury, but that may have just been luck, too.
The safe house was an old property we used to utilize back when I was still involved with the business. I took a shot in the dark that they might be using it and could find one of Wendy’s minions who could lead me to where they were holding Callista.
I hadn’t expected to find the house updated…or Callista in the basement.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth sooner, but she was watching and knowing it would’ve only put you in more danger.”
Anyone who uncovers Wendy’s true nature pays the ultimate price.
She can’t risk discovery when her political aspirations extend much farther than Montana.
Callista’s shoulders rise and fall on a heavy sigh. “So, what do we do?”
I push up from my chair and make my way over to her, slowly stepping up behind her and wrapping my arms around her, tugging her back against my chest.
She tips her head to look up at me out of the corner of her eye expectantly, like I have all the answers when I feel like I’ve already given her everything I can offer.
“I am going to have to deal with my sister sooner rather than later.”
“And she will come.” Her brow rises. “You’re sure?”
Unfortunately, it’s the one thing I’m confident about.
Wendy will come after I destroyed her safe house and took out six of her men getting to Callista.
“Yes, but I’m ready for her, Beauty. I’m not going to let her hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”