Chapter Fourteen
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Zane
I ’m quiet on the way to the governor’s mansion. Mel keeps flicking glances at me as the city melts into trees and open spaces. She doesn’t have to worry. There’s nothing I want more than to humiliate Ash and his father and expose them as the frauds and murderers they are.
Ash’s betrayal confuses me, and I’m still struggling to accept the loss of my childhood friend. What in the hell did I do that he’d hate me to the point he would murder all the people I love? In some strange way, I understand Clayton. He was trying to cover up illegal activities. He would have gotten away with it, too, if Ash wouldn’t have kidnapped Stella, if she wouldn’t have had the courage and fiery passion to escape.
But Ash, he has no reason to hate me. No reason to do what he did.
Some would say evil people don’t need a reason, but I truly believe that at one point we had been friends. I just don’t know when we stopped. People might call me a sentimental fool, but even after all he’s done, I’ll always think of the little boy I used to play with, the young men we grew into, and the experiences we shared in college.
Until the story Lucille told me of watching Ash pull a spider’s legs off one by one slams into my head.
Never mind.
Maybe there was never any good in Ashton Black.
“You okay?” Mel asks.
The limo driver turns onto a long driveway of crushed rock and slowly rolls through an enormous wrought iron gate. The trees flanking the drive are starting to change colors as autumn approaches.
“Yeah. Thinking about Ash and why he is the way he is.”
Mel smiles ruefully. “There doesn’t have to be a deep reason. It could be that his parents spanked him one too many times, or maybe his nanny liked to slap him around. Maybe Willow didn’t love him enough, or maybe she loved him too much, or Clayton taught him to value money over human life. Maybe he was born that way. It’s not such a foreign concept.”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
In front of the mansion, the limo eases to a stop, and the driver opens the door for us. Mel slips out first.
The sun is setting, and a cool breeze dissipates some of the lingering heat of the day.
Stone steps lead up to the glass doors positioned between two white columns, and a security guard wearing a tux, earpiece, and sunglasses is checking invitations like we knew he would. Mel pulls my invitation out of a small purse hanging from the crook of her arm.
The security guard’s sunglasses are so dark I can’t see his expression. He pauses, his eyes on the bulge under Mel’s blazer. It’s obvious she’s armed, but he doesn’t stop us. All he does is skim the invitation, hand it back to Mel, and says, “Enjoy your evening.” He turns to the couple waiting behind us, and we’re in.
I blow out a breath of relief. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but that’s one hurdle down.
Mel elbows me. “Relax.”
I nod, but I won’t be able to. There’s too much riding on tonight.
Pretending as if nothing is out of the ordinary, we mingle with the other guests. I see what Stella saw when she first started hanging out with Zarah and me. Jewels, gowns, expensive bags. So much waste trying to outdo each other and pretending to be better than everyone else. Talking tee times and country clubs, mergers and acquisitions. The meaningless words flow over me like a cold shower.
It’s a wonder Stella loves me at all.
My tux is too tight, and I pull at my tie. Despite the open patio doors, the room is stuffy, and I can’t breathe.
“Drink this, and calm down ,” Mel orders, pushing a lowball glass of something into my hand.
I need to get a grip. Now isn’t the time to have an anxiety attack. I look for Stella, Denton, Quinn, and Max, but if they’ve made it onto the property, they haven’t joined the party yet.
Mel tugs on my arm, and we step into Governor Guthrie’s backyard. Spotless white linen covers the tables and they dot the bright green grass. A five-piece band is playing light jazz. White fairy lights are strung in some of the trees closer to the house, but they fight for attention against the remnants of the setting sun.
Ash and Nora are holding court in the yard near a table laden with appetizers, candles, and bottles of champagne.
Servers clear tables of empty plates and refresh drinks.
I gulp the one Mel gave me, and the alcohol loosens my shoulders.
Clayton and the governor of Minnesota stand off to the side, laughing. I wonder if Nora’s father is mixed up in any of the Blacks’ business. I feel sorry for him if he is.
I look beyond the party and in the distance spot members of a security team. I don’t know if they work for Banks or the governor. I hope Stella and the others don’t have a difficult time sneaking into the party. There really is no reason they need to be here other than if it weren’t for Stella, none of this would be possible. Quinn would never let Stella go alone, Max said he wanted an in-person account for the paper, and Denton, well. I think Denton wants to keep an eye on me whether he wants to admit it or not.
I don’t know which direction they’ll come from, and Mel drifts away, presumably to watch for them and let them inside.
Ash sees me alone sipping a flute of champagne a passing waitress offered me, and gently holding Nora’s hand, he ambles toward me, stopping occasionally to speak to a guest.
He assesses me as he approaches, and his face evens out when he sees that I’m calm. I’m not going to cause a scene. Yet.
“Zane, glad you could make it. You remember Nora?” he asks, leading her up the three steps to the patio.
“I do. It’s nice to see you again.” You lying bitch. She’s supposed to be an advocate for the women Ash uses and abuses, instead she assists him, showing him the best ways to avoid detection. Because, of course, she would know all about that.
I wonder how much Ash pays her, or if when she spreads her legs, she accepts that as payment enough.
“I’m sorry about Nathalie. I saw on the news they found her body in the Renegade? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?”
The games. Jesus Christ, the games.
I swallow and pretend. “She went to your club to party, didn’t you hear? She said she wanted to see her friends. Douglas dropped her off, and that was the last time I saw her.” I pause. “I think she missed the way she lived before we got engaged. The attention, you know, from other men. Maybe she got mixed up in something that night. I appreciate your condolences. Douglas feels guilty he left her there even though that’s what she wanted. Her death will always be on his conscience.”
“I told you nothing good would come out of your engagement. You need to find a woman more within your league. It’s a nasty business,” Ash says, and I don’t know if he means Nathalie’s duplicity, her death, his connection to it, or what he thinks we need to do to stay on top.
“Yes. I believe you now. No one understands what it’s like to live the kind of life we’re expected to live having the wealth we do.”
“Did you bring someone more...suitable, I hope,” he says, sliding an arm around Nora’s shoulders.
“She’s around here somewhere,” I say vaguely. He won’t know Mel, and I want to keep it that way. I turn to Nora. “Please tell your father it was very generous of him to let Ash host his gala here.”
“I will.” She beams. “He’s very passionate about this kind of thing. Keeping Minnesota safe. When I broached the subject to him, he was enthusiastic.”
“It looks like it turned out well.”
“We’ve raised millions of dollars. It will be well spent.”
I’m sure it will .
“Thanks for coming,” Ash says, holding out his hand, and I shake it, burying over fifty years of history between our families.
They drift off to mingle, and I lean against the patio’s railing and watch the party. Nothing seems amiss or out of place.
After another half an hour, I glance over my shoulder, concerned. Stella, Max, Quinn, and Denton should have arrived by now. The presentation will start soon, and I want them to see the fireworks.
The sudden thought Ash has found us out again tightens my throat. Because of Nathalie, he was always two steps ahead. Were Max and the others intercepted before they arrived at the mansion? No doubt Nathalie told Ash our plans, but how much did she know? Ash and Nora didn’t say one thing about the cargo ship or the women the FBI freed. Not one word about Stella or Quinn, though Ash knows that I know Stella is still alive. I thought we finally had the upper hand, but Ash might have kept it all along. What does he have planned for tonight?
My skin turns clammy and the champagne roils in my stomach, but then Mel appears in my peripheral vision and she nods slightly.
I sink onto a patio loveseat like a limp noodle, my adrenaline crashing. I let my fear and paranoia get out of control. I want to see Stella, see for myself she’s okay, but Mel lowers next to me holding a flute of champagne. “They spared no expense,” she says.
Anxious to hear news, I tamp down my impatience. They’re all right. That’s all that matters. “Ash never does.”
“They’re okay,” Mel murmurs. “They got held up by a couple of German shepherds, but Stella had calmed them down by the time one of the FBI agents caught them. This place is huge.”
“Was she bitten?” I grit my teeth. That’s all Stella needs, though a dog bite at this point would be a cake walk.
Mel rolls her eyes. “Are you serious? They’re putty in her hands. She’s like a goddamned Disney princess. They followed her into the house and she’s feeding them canapés.”
I think she’s joking, a sarcastic story to loosen me up, and I stare, but her face doesn’t break. “You’re not kidding.”
“Go look for yourself.”
I want to, but I stay seated. It will be hard enough for her to blend in with a pink cast, red hair, and two German shepherds at her feet without me rushing in and ogling her. Enough people will be staring.
She’ll never cease to amaze me.
Another thirty minutes of mind-numbing conversation go by. The mood relaxes, the drinks flow, and the sun fully sets, leaving a pink stain to the sky.
Several people have offered their condolences concerning Nathalie’s death, and I accept them as graciously as I can. It’s difficult to pretend to be sorry when all she did was cause trouble and almost get Stella and Quinn killed. They ask how the investigation into her murder is going, but there is no investigation. There are too many witnesses and Ash won’t avoid prosecution. It’s a courtesy to me he’s not already behind bars.
Guests start to drift inside, and Mel says, “They’re going to start soon.”
I grip the flash drive in my pocket.
Mayor Huxley’s mingling, enjoying the praise and credit of keeping King’s Crossing crime free. Of course, no one brings up the gangs’ turf war that happened not long ago. That’s only riffraff sorting itself out. No one at this party would care about that as long as the violence didn’t affect them.
Instead of taking umbrage, I swallow my own shame. If I hadn’t met Stella, I wouldn’t have cared, either, and maybe that’s what my father wanted to do with the nonprofit he was trying to organize. Open my eyes to the world around me. A five foot, blue-eyed blonde did that, serving me coffee in chipped mugs and buying me pellets to feed goats.
Huxley struts the manicured yard like a proud peacock holding a lowball glass of scotch, and my skin crawls. I’ll never understand how someone could be so despicable. It’s disgusting, and Mel feels the same way, swearing under her breath.
“Let’s go,” she says, standing.
I follow.
It’s time.
A woman wearing a black pantsuit flutters around the library moving chairs and directing waitstaff. A small dais is set up at the front of the room, and a podium decorated with the Minnesota state flag sits in front of an enormous flat screen TV.
“Where is the audio-visual equipment for Mr. Black and Miss Guthrie’s presentation?” I ask her. “I have additional slides to add to their PowerPoint.”
Frowning, she gestures to the back wall, but she doesn’t stop me. In the corner of the room, a woman I recognize is sitting behind a small desk tapping on a laptop.
“She works in Ash’s office,” I say to Mel, tilting my head toward the girl and laptop and handing her the flash drive. “When the presentation starts, you’ll have to find a way to access her computer. Give me the signal, and I’ll interrupt them at the podium.”
“I got it. Leave it to me.”
I lean against a wooden column and survey the guests.
We decided I wouldn’t cut in until Nora and Ash were ten to fifteen minutes into their presentation. Enough time to let them think the evening is going to go off without a problem.
Banks steps into the room. We make a few seconds’ worth of eye contact and he moves on.
Max stands in the middle of the room sipping a drink, a hand shoved into a pocket, looking at ease, as if he attended something like this every day.
Willow flits around the room, her head down, only pausing to speak if spoken to. Out of anyone in this situation, I feel sorry for her the most. Even if she’s not associated with her husband’s and son’s business dealings, the citizens of King’s Crossing will label her a pariah and they’ll drive her out of the city. If she stays out of spite, she’ll turn into a recluse, guilty through blood.
The mayor’s wife might leave by choice. After the humiliation her husband will experience tonight, she may not want to stay and live through the fallout. I don’t blame her. I know how difficult it is when the residents of King’s Crossing decide to convict you on their terms.
Governor Guthrie jumps up onto the dais, stands behind the podium, and taps the microphone to claim everyone’s attention. The room quiets immediately, and besides the waiters and waitresses working the room, everyone is focused on him.
“Thank you. For those who don’t know, I’m Alan Guthrie,” he pauses to let everyone lightly laugh, “Minnesota’s proud governor. I appreciate you coming tonight and donating to such a worthy cause. When you think about human trafficking, you don’t think it’s something that can happen here. It’s something that happens somewhere else. To someone else. Something you read about in the paper then throw into recycling and forget. But the fact is, thousands of women, children, and yes, even men, are either sold into the sex trade or are exploited every year. The Renegade River is often used for transport of these victims. Unfortunately, that’s only the beginning, and that’s where my daughter, Eleanor, and Ashton Black come in. I’ll let them have the room in a moment, but I want to say I’m honored to be the governor of such a fine state. King’s Crossing is a metropolis of art and commerce. There’s opportunity in this city. We make that happen. We make that work. Every year, the population in King’s Crossing grows by five percent, and that brings challenges. Challenges that Mayor Huxley confronts head-on because he loves this city, this state, just as much as we do.”
Governor Guthrie pauses and Mayor Huxley raises his glass in a toast.
The audience claps.
Max looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes. I know exactly what he’s thinking, and I agree. If we could harness all the hypocrisy in this room, we could power King’s Crossing for the next ten years.
Toward the rear of the library, Stella and Quinn stand in the entryway, and two huge German shepherds sit between them. I don’t know who they belong to, but I already know we’re bringing them home. Once you develop a bond with Stella Mayfair, it’s hard to break, and I can tell in their deep brown eyes they are totally devoted to her.
Governor Guthrie continues, “Black Enterprises has been a cornerstone in this community for decades. They bolster the economy and create new jobs. Through their various foundations, they’ve given back to the community a hundred-fold.”
Huxley slaps Clayton on the back. I don’t miss the grimace he tries to hide.
I stifle a laugh.
“So, it was, as the young kids say, a ‘no-brainer’ when my daughter said she wanted to team up with Ashton Black to create a foundation that would give victims the resources they need to find their footing. I’ll stop blabbing and give Nora and Ash the floor. I thank you all for coming tonight and deeply appreciate your generosity. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
The room erupts into applause, and Governor Guthrie kisses his daughter’s cheek as she steps onto the dais, Ash’s hand to her elbow. The governor shakes Ash’s hand and pulls him into a one-armed embrace.
Surveying the floor, Ash beams. His gaze lands on me and pauses briefly. He looks at ease, and Nora sparkles in a little black dress, her dark hair pulled back and a diamond choker at her throat. She resembles Nathalie, and I wonder if it’s because her rotten core shines through to the outside. No number of diamonds can replace a heart made of coal.
Ash is in his element, and he gestures grandly, stepping aside and waving a hand to the microphone. “Ladies first.”
Everyone in the room titters, and I use every ounce of willpower I have not to scoff out loud.
Nathalie’s murder hasn’t affected him. Locking Stella away hasn’t changed him. Robbing my sister of some of her prime years hasn’t evoked even a little regret.
He’s invincible.
Untouchable.
“Isn’t he a gentleman, ladies?” Nora asks. She’s charismatic, charming. People eat out of her hand, and the women agree, laughing and clapping.
Nora pauses a beat and then continues, “Thank you, Dad, for the kind introduction, and thanks to you, our wonderful guests, for carving time into your busy lives to support such a worthy cause.” She inhales and her gaze connects with what seems like every single person listening to her speak. Everyone feels like they’re alone with her.
I look toward the corner of the room, and Mel has yet to take position. Nora and Ash’s assistant must have practiced her speech because the flat screen flashes to life, and a slide full of numbers fills the black space.
The audience focuses on it, and Nora says in a strong, sure voice, “As you can see by the statistics behind me, King’s Crossing is not immune to the atrocities that plague other cities, states, and countries. Every year, thousands of women are sold for their bodies. These numbers do not include missing persons who may have had a connection to the sex trade. It’s a problem in this city, in this state, and Ash, my father and I, along with Mayor Huxley and the assistance of you fine people, are going to end it once and for all.”
She pauses and lets everyone clap, her cheeks pink in victory.
Ash kisses her temple, and people applaud louder and longer in anticipation of Ash and Nora’s love story than them helping women who are struggling to simply survive.
I hate everyone in this room.
Mel and the woman controlling the presentation are chatting, and suddenly, her mouth falls open. She scoots out of the chair and scurries away. Mel slips into her seat, and she inserts the flash drive into the laptop.
She nods at me, but she won’t start our slideshow until I stand behind the podium to add my contribution.
I brush by Max, and he straightens.
Perspiration slides down my back and pools under my arms. My hands tremble as I approach the dais. Ash spots me moving through the crowd and pales, but he’s trapped. I step onto the small platform and put on a show worthy of every acting award in the world.
“Thank you, Nora! You are such a treasure , and the state of Minnesota is so lucky to have you. Don’t you all agree?”
I’m met with silence. Everyone knows this isn’t how the evening is supposed to go.
Stella smiles and gives me a thumbs up. She’s all I need. Nothing besides her and my sister’s safety matters anymore.
“You may not know me, but I’m Zane Maddox, CEO and president of Maddox Industries. I suppose I should start at the beginning and explain why I wanted to speak to you tonight. Five years ago, my mother and father, Lark and Kagan Maddox, attended a wedding in Paris and were killed when their plane crashed during their return flight to the States. My sister, Zarah, and I were stunned with grief. I had no choice but to take control of my father’s company, and six months after their deaths, at a party held at the Lyndhurst—a party many of you attended—I announced I would finally step into my father’s place. If you recall, that was also the night Ash and Zarah announced their engagement. When Zarah had her breakdown, never once did Ash leave her side, and the touching way he took care of her humbled me.” I flick him a glance. “I thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart.”
Ash swallows. He knows I know about the “care” my sister received under his supervision.
I nod at Mel, and she flashes the first slide. It’s a list of Zarah’s meds.
“This is the medication list he bribed her psychiatrist to prescribe and administer every day. She may never recover.”
Ash steps forward, but I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I’m boring you. Perhaps this is more interesting...you may remember Stella Mayfair, my girlfriend around that time. You had a lot of fun calling her a gold-digging whore, and worse. Especially when manipulated pictures of her and Sergio Cardello surfaced online. Truth or Dare couldn’t get enough. Then she came back to King’s Crossing and told me she hadn’t been in Italy after all. Where had she been, you ask. Locked away at Black Enterprises for the last five years. Ash needed both Stella and Zarah silenced to keep his secrets.”
“That’s a lie,” Clayton bursts out, his face red. “Governor, we need security—”
“Clayton, I’m glad you spoke up,” I say smoothly over him. “Stella didn’t like being a prisoner, and she worked hard to gather information. She searched for anything that would explain why my parents died and a way to escape. Luckily for me, she did both.”
Mel changes the picture to the screenshot of Clayton’s email. She magnified the text allowing the audience to read the illegal arms deal between Clayton and the Middle Eastern recipient.
The crowd starts to murmur, and Clayton shouts, “That’s fake.”
“It could be, but it’s not. Clayton, you didn’t want anyone to find out you sold weapons on the black market. You sent my mom correspondence by mistake, and you had to fix it. There’s a paper trail connecting you to the pilot who crashed that plane. You murdered my parents.”
“Don’t believe anything he says,” Clayton demands, his voice carrying across the spacious room. “He hasn’t been the same since Kagan and Lark passed away. Kagan was my best friend, and I loved Lark like a sister. There’s no way in hell I would have been involved in their deaths.” He turns to me. “Ash was in love with Zarah for years, and after she broke down, he did right by her. You’re delusional, Zane. Let me find you help.”
He sounds sincere, his hand out as he steps toward me, as if to offer assistance.
“The only thing I need is to make sure you and Ash pay for what you’ve done to my family.”
Mel brings up the photos of the cargo ship. Crates of guns and the women Ash and Nora were going to sell flash on the screen. The party guests give Clayton a wide berth, backing slowly away as they watch our collage.
“I find it interesting,” I pretend to muse, “that this gala is to fund a foundation to end sex trafficking and to assist victims of such activity. The problem, Ash, is that because you’re an active part of the problem in King’s Crossing, and have been for years, it’s a huge conflict of interest. You partnered with Miss Guthrie because who else would know the ins and outs of the industry? How long have you been working together?”
“I would never—” Nora starts at the same time Governor Guthrie pleads, “Nora! Tell me that’s not true.”
I speak to the governor. “I have more than one witness placing her at a cargo ship—the same one the authorities seized yesterday. She’s also a possible accomplice. Ash killed my fiancée, Nathalie Barton, and she was there.”
“This is an outrage,” Mayor Huxley yells, his face a dangerous shade of purple, his jowls quivering. “I had no idea this was happening in my city. I’m going to prosecute the Blacks and Nora Guthrie to the fullest extent of the law!”
“That may be difficult to do from inside your own prison cell,” I say, my lips quirking.
Huxley sputters. “What do you mean?”
Mel plays the video Stella took of Nathalie and Huxley at the Black Cat Motel. We decided since Nathalie is no longer with us, her memory can’t be tarnished any more than it already is.
“I don’t think this is how our distinguished mayor should be acting. As we speak, the FBI is investigating Ash’s escort service, and you, Mayor Huxley, are not the only one to satisfy your sexual appetite using his girls.”
“You have no evidence. Everything I do is perfectly legal,” Ash says, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“We’ll let the FBI draw their own conclusions.”
Banks steps near Clayton, handcuffs dangling from his fingers. The other FBI agents and the detectives from the KCPD swarm the library.
“Stop!” Ash shrieks. He yanks a black handgun out of the waistband of his dress slacks and fires several shots into the crowd.
“Get down!” Banks yells over the guests’ frightened screams.
Governor Guthrie surges toward Nora. Ash swings in his direction and fires, and the governor drops to the floor.
Denton rushes past me and tackles Ash off his feet. The gun flies out of his hand and skitters across the library floor where it slides under a leather loveseat. Governor Guthrie’s security team closes around the dais, and I push through them into the crowd.
Nora tries to flee into the yard and she’s able to step onto the grass, but one of Banks’ men stops her, his weapon drawn and his finger curled around the trigger.
Two detectives approach Clayton, but either he’s smart enough not to resist arrest or he’s too stunned to think of it, watching an FBI agent cuff his son and shove him off the dais.
I search the room for Stella, but the space where she and Quinn were standing is full of screaming guests looking for the fastest way out of the library.
There’s not a thought in my head except needing to find Stella, but Max stops me. He’s lying on the floor, a wound near his heart and blood pooling under his body.
Mel didn’t ask us to wear bulletproof vests.
Panting, I kneel next to him, pull off my jacket, and ball it under his head.
His lips work, but nothing comes out.
I press both hands against the gunshot wound. “You’re going to be okay,” I say, my voice steady. “You’ll be fine. Help’s coming. Hang in there.”
He tries to speak, and I lower my head hoping to hear what he’s saying.
The noise everyone is making, the sobbing, the wailing and keening, fade, and the only thing I hear is Max. “Tell Zarah I love her.”
He shudders his last breath, and his body goes lax.
Max isn’t the first person Ash has taken from me, and he won’t be the last.
Ash killed three other people besides Max that night. One died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, and two hung on in the emergency room before succumbing to their wounds. He injured countless others, including Governor Guthrie.
In all the commotion, Mayor Huxley managed to breach the tree line that borders the governor’s mansion. An FBI agent stopped him, but it wasn’t much of a chase. Huxley had been too winded to keep running.
When Ash started shooting, Mel took cover under the desk, and after Denton disarmed him, she assisted the detectives and wrote down statements, offered blankets and coffee to the guests in shock, and helped any others who needed it.
I didn’t let go of Max’s body until a paramedic forced me to release him.
Quinn, Stella, and her two dogs were close enough to the library’s entrance they were able to run to safety, and I found them hiding in a small bathroom, the door locked. Stella was paralyzed with fear, pushing her face into the fur of one of the dogs.
She went crazy when she saw Max’s blood staining my shirt. She couldn’t stop sobbing, babbling as she patted me down searching for injuries. I asked Quinn to find Mel, and Mel asked a paramedic to examine her. He gave Stella a sedative, and I had to relive my sister’s breakdown all over again.
I ask Mel for some time, and she ushers Stella and Quinn into a sitting room the FBI turned into a refuge for guests too shaky to leave. Stella gives me only a few minutes of peace, and she finds me in the same bathroom where she and Quinn hid.
“Are you okay?” she asks, leaning against the doorjamb. Her pupils are dilated. Fear, maybe, or the sedative doing its job. Tears streak across her pale cheeks.
I don’t feel like talking, and her presence after I said I needed time alone irritates me. I should be leaning into her, accepting the support she wants to give me, always, but out of guilt, I push her away.
“His death is my fault.” I tamp down the grief. How in the hell am I supposed to tell Zarah?
“How can you say that?” she whispers. Exhaustion and the sedative slur her voice. She rests a hand on my arm, and her skin is warm through the thin cotton of my shirt.
“All of this is because of me. Five years of this bullshit because I wouldn’t listen, because I wouldn’t believe you.”
“It went deeper than that. You know it. I know it, now. It goes so much deeper than Ash disliking me.”
“Nothing you say will absolve me of the blame.” I dry my hands. They’re clean, but I can still feel Max’s warm blood as it pumped out of him, sticky on my skin.
“Zane—” Stella tries one more time, and I can’t handle it.
“Fuck off, Stella.”
She blanches, but despite her own pain, she holds her ground.
“Fuck. Off.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she whirls away.
It’s better this way. I blacken everything I touch.
Banks drives Mel and me to the Crowne, rehashing the evening and failing to stifle a grin. So many people lost their lives and it’s in poor taste to be so smug, but there’s no doubt that working with me, exposing his superior for burying the black box’s existence, will earn him major professional points. Even if I had to coerce him to do it.
Ash’s and Clayton’s arrests will cause a ripple effect for years to come.
The FBI hasn’t given her permission to go back to California, and Mel asks if she can stay at the Crowne while they sort through paperwork and statements. I don’t care who does what, and I tell her that.
“Everyone?” she asks.
“Everyone.”
“Okay,” she says and stares out the window.
Banks and the agent who drove Quinn, Stella, and Denton back into the city drop us off in the staff parking lot, and everyone goes upstairs but me.
Stella wants to stay, pausing in the dim hallway, but Quinn urges her into the elevator. She won’t need long to convince Stella to go to New York.
The DA’s office will need months to gather the evidence in order to charge Clayton and Ash for everything they’ve done. Stella and Quinn could live in New York for quite some time before the district attorney summons them back to King’s Crossing to testify.
By then, she will surely have moved on.
Waiting for Douglas to pick me up, I sit outside on a bench the staff uses to smoke during their breaks. I tip my head back and pray for the strength I need to tell Zarah that Max Cook is dead.