Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
FORREST
S he was at my door not long after the sun crested the mountains, this time looking far more like herself in skinny jeans and a fitted T-shirt, her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, a travel mug of coffee in her hand.
We were on the road minutes later. “Did you bring the cipher wheel?” I asked as we passed through town.
“Yep. And this time, I remembered a notebook and a pen.”
If I’d hoped the car ride would give us a chance to talk, those hopes were dashed. Sterling sipped her coffee and stared out the window. At first, the silence between us felt odd, like a sweater that was too tight. Finding things to talk about had never been a problem when we’d been together. We could talk all night about everything and nothing. I’d told her more about myself than I’d ever told anyone.
We were past that now. I’d killed the ease between us with my lies, and I couldn’t bring it back with force. I couldn’t make Sterling talk to me. The only way I could rebuild trust was to show her she could trust me, and badgering her into conversation wouldn’t get us there. Patience had never been a problem for me until Sterling. And where she was concerned, patience was all I had. Patience and hope.
A few hours later, we pulled into a space beside the park in Willow Springs, the town bustling on this sunny summer morning. The park itself wasn’t deserted, but there were a few people lingering, everyone on their way somewhere, at least for the moment.
Sterling got out of the car ahead of me, following the sidewalk to the brick pathway that crisscrossed the park. In the center was a statue of the town’s founder. We went there first, Sterling examining every inch of the concrete base and the brass plaque affixed to the front.
“Nothing,” she said in disgust.
“It’s not here,” I said with absolute assurance, feeling off-balance but knowing I was right. Sterling was the expert in code-breaking. I was just along for the ride. But though the statue dominated the center of the park, it wasn’t what we were looking for. I must have walked by it a hundred times with my mom or dad when I was a kid, and I couldn’t remember either of them ever mentioning it. “It’s not here,” I repeated and walked around the statue to the brick path on the other side, following it to stop in front of a bench beneath an oak tree.
I stared down at the painted wooden slats, falling back in time to when I sat here and my feet swung, toes barely scraping the brick as I licked a strawberry ice cream cone. I could still hear my dad’s voice in my ear. “ You’ve got a runner on the side, Buck ,” and I’d turn the cone to lick up the drip of ice cream before it could hit my fingers.
“Why the bench?” Sterling asked.
I cleared my throat, my words coming out rough and low. “My dad used to take me to the library on Fridays after school. After, we’d get ice cream over there.” I pointed across the park to the ice cream shop that had been beside the library as long as I’d been alive. “We’d bring our cones over here and eat them on this bench. He always made me promise to eat every bite of my dinner so my mom wouldn’t know we’d had dessert first. I always thought she knew, though.”
I swallowed hard. It was so easy to remember the times they fought and how hard things were after he left us. Maybe easier than remembering the softness in her eyes when we’d come home, ice cream all over my shirt and a canvas bag stuffed with books. She’d smile at him and rest her head on his shoulder. There had been love, too. So much love. And then he’d been gone, and everything had fallen apart.
Sterling’s hand closed around mine in a tight squeeze that was over almost before I registered her touch. “This has to be it, then,” she said, dropping to a crouch in front of the bench and studying it. Shaking her head, she stood and walked around to the other side. “Hey, there’s a plaque. Holy shit! Forrest!”
I joined her on the other side of the bench and saw it immediately. A small rectangular plaque.
This bench was donated by Alan Buckley in honor of his son, Buck.
Beneath those words was another code. This one read, KVOZAVREV.
My heart pounding against my ribs, I asked, “What does it say?”
Sterling already had the cipher wheel in her hands. “Give me a sec,” she muttered, squinting down at the small letters on the wooden discs, turning them one by one until she had them all, then scanning the cipher wheel for a line that was more than random letters and numbers.
With a gasp, she surged to her feet, holding the cipher wheel above her head. “Boathouse!” she shouted in triumph, throwing her arms around me.
Her mouth landed on mine, and all thoughts of the clue evaporated. I wound my arms around Sterling, pulling her in tight, the feel of her spiking joy through my heart. I forgot all about my father, the money, the code, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and just kissed her. Her mouth moved under mine, open and eager, as if she’d forgotten how much she hated me, as if we’d never been apart.
“You two done yet?” The man’s voice came from behind me, gruffly amused.
My head spinning, I pulled my mouth from Sterling’s. The second I caught sight of him, I shoved her behind me. He was a few inches shorter than me, with dark hair and steely gray eyes, wearing a well-tailored black suit that didn’t hide the muscled bulk of his frame. Another man stood beside him wearing an identical suit, his eyes just as hard.
I didn’t know either of them. Shielding Sterling had been instinct, but I knew I’d been right. The one who’d interrupted our kiss lifted his chin at Sterling and said, “You cracked it?”
Sterling stepped out from behind me, her eyes impenetrable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just here to get some ice cream with my boyfriend, and we were looking at the bench.”
“Don’t bullshit me, girl.” The faint northeastern cadence of his voice hit me, and I had a sinking feeling in my gut that I knew exactly who we were dealing with.
“Don’t talk to her,” I said, mind racing, trying to figure out how to get Sterling out of here. We were in a public park in broad daylight, but if these men were who I thought they were, that didn’t make us safe.
His eyes never shifted to me, all his focus on Sterling. “You cracked the code on the statue,” he said. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”
Sterling didn’t respond.
“It wasn’t an account number, was it? It was a code. And you cracked it.”
Sterling’s eyes burned, but she kept her mouth shut.
The man didn’t seem bothered by her silence. He tipped his head to the side, studying her. “I have to ask myself, what are you doing with this guy?” His eyes landed on me for a long second before shifting back to Sterling. “He used you. He lied to you. What did he promise you to get your help? A cut of the money?”
Something must have shown in Sterling’s face because the man leaned in like a hound on the scent of his prey. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.
Sterling gave an abrupt shake of her head.
“Callum Leary.”
Fuck. That was all he needed to say. I’d been right. Being in the middle of the town square in broad daylight couldn’t keep us safe from these men.
Callum Leary finally acknowledged me with a point of his finger. “We’ve been waiting for this one to make a move. I was starting to think maybe the whole account number on the statue thing was bullshit. Especially since we heard about it from Elliott Hall.”
Elliott Hall was Scarlett Sawyer’s ex-husband, a low-grade fuckup of a criminal who’d stolen the statue from me after I bought it at auction. Before it made its way from Elliott to the Learys, Sterling’s cousin Bryce had stolen it from Elliott. The Learys knew about the money. Hawk had been keeping an eye on them, and since no one made a move to come for it, I’d forgotten about them. Apparently, the Learys hadn’t forgotten about the Vitellius.
Sterling nodded in recognition. “I know who you are.”
“Good,” Callum Leary said. “Saves me time. I have to ask you again—what are you doing with this guy? It’s been a year, so I figure Powell can’t solve it himself. What did he offer you?”
“Twenty-five percent,” Sterling said, taking a step away from me.
I had to resist the urge to yank her behind me. Every cell in my body told me to drag her to the car, to get her away from Callum Leary and his partner by any means necessary. But I stayed put. Better to find out exactly what their plan was. I didn’t like where this was going. I hated hearing him lay it out like that, reducing what I was to Sterling to percentages and all the reasons I didn’t deserve her.
“You don’t need the statue anymore, do you?” Callum asked.
Slowly, Sterling shook her head. Fear spiked down my spine, turning to ice in my gut. “Sterling,” I said under my breath. She ignored me.
“So, you don’t need him either,” Callum said, nodding at me. “You’re the code breaker. He’s just dead weight. And we’ll cut you in for a hell of a lot more than twenty-five percent. I like to have smart people on my team.”
“That’s why you hired Elliott Hall?” I asked, staring down into Callum’s sharp gray eyes. I wanted to keep him talking so I could figure out an angle to get him away from Sterling.
He shook his head. “Elliott Hall was a mistake. I don’t know who he’s working for now, but it sure as hell isn’t us. But you?” He nodded approvingly at Sterling. “You, we could make use of.”
Sterling didn’t say a word.
“Think about it,” Callum Leary said. “We could make you a rich woman.” He held out a black business card with silver print. I reached for it, and he jerked it away. “This conversation isn’t about you, friend.”
This time, I kept my hand at my side, the ice in my gut spreading as Sterling took the card, looked it over, and shoved it in her back pocket.
“We’ll be in touch,” Leary said.
Sterling’s eyes were serious as they met Callum’s, and she gave a slow nod. It seemed to be enough for him. He turned and strode out of the park, his partner beside him.
Sterling and I watched them go, their dark figures shrinking as they crossed the street and disappeared from view. I heard her draw in a long breath and hold it. She let it out in a rush and gave me a tight smile.
“I think I’m in the mood for ice cream.”
I stared down at her, frozen in indecision. I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, to demand she give me that business card so I could tear it into tiny pieces and light them on fire.
And she wanted ice cream?
“Fine,” I muttered. Yelling at her wasn’t the answer. Sterling wasn’t going to give me that business card unless I wrestled her for it.
I followed her across the street, my eyes scanning everywhere for a glimpse of the Learys. Nothing. They were gone as abruptly as they’d appeared.
As much as I hated the idea, my first instinct was to head straight to Heartstone Manor. Between Griffen and Hawk—both former Rangers who used to be in elite security—and the crew they’d assembled for the Heartstone security team, we had ample resources to keep Sterling safe. And Hawk knew all about the Learys.
But I also wanted to follow my father’s scavenger hunt. And Sterling wanted her cut of the money. The problem was, things had changed. The business card in her pocket meant the stakes had just gone up. Way up. We were in over our heads.
I ordered my strawberry ice cream and followed Sterling back to the park, my eyes still scanning every inch of the square and coming up with nothing but a normal weekday morning in Willow Springs, Georgia. She led me to the bench and sat on the side I’d always sat on.
I took my place where my father used to sit, and we ate our ice cream in silence until I finally broke. “Are you going to use that card in your pocket?” I demanded.
Sterling looked up at me, her eyes narrowed with scorn. “Do I look like an idiot? I know about the Learys. They almost shot my brother and kidnapped Scarlett and Thatcher. They threatened to torture them. If Griffen hadn’t sent someone after them, God only knows what would have happened. I don’t care how much money they promised me.” She shook her head and snorted in disgust. “I can’t believe you think I’d be that stupid.”
“Oh, come on, I know you’re not stupid, but I also know you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Sterling gave another snort. “I’m thinking you’re the only idiot here,” she said. “First of all, yes, I’m pissed at you. You’re a liar and a user, and you broke my heart. But that doesn’t put you in the same category as the fucking Learys. I’m fairly certain you’re not going to shoot me, for one thing.”
“That’s a good bet,” I agreed, relieved that she saw Callum Leary for what he was. I knew she wasn’t close to ready to forgive me, but at least she didn’t hate me enough to hook up with a criminal just to get back at me.
“Second,” she said, giving me an appraising look, “I think it’s pretty clear I need you to solve this. Boathouse isn’t exactly a street address. But you know what it means, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I took a lick of the strawberry ice cream, letting it melt across my tongue, bringing me back to the past. To sitting under this very tree, on this exact bench, with my dad.
I knew exactly what boathouse meant. And I knew that whatever my father had in mind all those years ago, getting to the next clue wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d planned.