Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Royal let out a long, low whistle. “So, yeah, I knew you were rich.” He did a slow spin in the middle of the cavernous foyer. His feet tapped over the gleaming, white marble floor. His head tipped back as he gazed up at the antique chandelier that hung a good twenty feet above his head. “But then there’s rich and there’s…whatever the hell this is.”
Declan slanted him a glance as he kept a hand on the base of Marley’s spine and led her into the den. He didn’t want to stop touching her. Almost felt like she was the one link that allowed him to hold onto his sanity and keep the rage and enveloping darkness away.
She offered me her body, and I swear, I think I touched a bit of her soul. Marley was good. Bright. She saw the best in people. An admirable, noble trait. But she was delusional when it came to him. The woman had called him a hero.
Hero, my ass. He was a monster. No doubt about it. But sometimes, the monster got to keep the fair maiden. Hadn’t that shit happened in Beauty and the Beast? Once upon a time—a lifetime ago to be precise—his mom had read him fairytales before bedtime. Beauty and the Beast had been a particular favorite of hers.
He’d always roared and pretended to be the beast. While his brother…hell, his two-year-old brother had bounced and clapped and loved every minute of the tale.
Now his brother was all grown. No longer was he called Garrison Flynn. Instead, he was Royal Boudreaux. A new name. A new life. A new family.
And a new pain in the ass.
Because Royal was whistling and acting like he’d stumbled into some alternate universe because the damn house was big. Declan led Marley to the couch. Waited until she was curled up on the cushions, then he turned back to his brother. “Don’t be a dick.”
Garrison— dammit, Royal —had followed them into the den.
At Declan’s growled words, Royal quirked a brow. “Some things are just a natural talent I possess. I don’t have to try. I just am.”
He just was a dick. Uh, huh. “You’re rich as sin in your own right. You own at least half a dozen clubs. You have piles of cash stashed in plenty of offshore accounts. You don’t need to pretend with me. The house doesn’t impress you. I doubt that anything does.”
“You’d be surprised.” Royal shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. His gaze darted around. Skimmed right over the thick, dark curtains that covered the doors leading to the attached terrace. “But like I said, there’s wealthy, then there is whatever the fuck this is.”
Still being a dick. Maybe it was a family trait. Declan knew he could be a dick without trying, too. “You know half the estate is yours.”
“I know that our father barely had anything by the time he was shoved into the ground. You rebuilt from the ashes he left behind. You created your own empire with those scary tech skills of yours.” Royal’s eyes—a shade so similar to Declan’s— had returned to lock on Declan. Their father had possessed those same eyes. “The way I see it,” Royal added, his tone flat, “the money is all yours.”
Half of the money was going to his brother, whether he wanted it or not. “My lawyers are working on reallocating things. You’re getting half. You do whatever the fuck you want with the money. Give it to charity. Spend it on a stripper?—”
“My Violet would be very pissed if I did that. She’s the jealous type. Ferociously so. Just wants to keep me all to herself.” A shrug from Royal. “But I understand. After all, I only have eyes for her. Don’t really care about seeing anyone else dance around a pole. But if Violet feels like doing it for me…” A lazy roll of one shoulder. “I’m all in. She is truly an incredible dancer, FYI.”
“Excuse me.” Marley rose from the couch. Dammit, hadn’t he just put her down there? When he reached for her again, Marley glowered. “Do not make me remind you that I don’t break.”
But she could bruise. She could also bleed. And she’d bled a freaking lot in his limo after she’d been shot.
Royal coughed. “Hate to say it, but you literally did just remind him.”
Marley swung toward him. “You.”
“Me…what?”
“ You. You stop talking about strippers and poles and focus on the fact that someone is after you and Declan! Someone wants you dead! This is not a joking matter.” Her hands rose angrily into the air before falling back to her sides. And fisting.
Royal’s gaze slowly left her and returned to Declan. “He’s the one who brought up strippers.”
How had such a sweet two-year-old turned into such a pain in the ass? “Burn the money if you want. I don’t care,” Declan retorted. “But you’re getting it. Deal with the fact.” Stop being a shit about it.
“You want me to have it because it’s blood money?” Ever so emotionless. Royal began to poke around the den as he strolled around the room. He paused to peek out the curtains and peer at the terrace. “I did some more digging on the family tree. Turns out we’re fucking diabolical. Twisted as hell. And with more than a slight murderous streak.” He let the curtains fall back into place. Royal turned toward Declan. Took a step forward.
Declan didn’t speak.
Marley did. “Declan isn’t diabolical.” She moved in front of him, putting herself between him and Royal.
Oh, sweetheart, I am definitely diabolical.
“He’s not twisted!” she denied. “Why would you say something like that?”
If she only knew the things he wanted to do with her. Absolutely twisted. Having her in his office? Fucking her on the desk and against the wall? That had just been a prologue. He had so much more in store for her. If he had his way, he’d fuck her for hours. Days. Until neither of them could move.
He wanted to be so imprinted on her that she could never, ever be free of him again.
He wanted her to beg. To moan. To scream. To never be satisfied again unless he was the one driving between her legs.
Really, was that too much to ask? Declan thought not.
But…
“And he does not have a murderous streak!” Marley slammed her fisted hands on her hips as she faced off with Royal. “Who the hell goes around saying things like that? What is wrong with you?”
Royal looked at her. He cocked one eyebrow. “Ah, Declan. I see that you went out and found yourself someone just as protective as my Violet. The protective streak is awfully hot in a woman, isn’t it?”
“Who is Violet?’ she demanded. Then caught herself. Her shoulders stiffened. “Wait a minute. Hold up. Are you talking about Violet Murphy, the ballet dancer who was abducted in Savannah a while back?” She glanced over her shoulder at Declan, and he could see the confusion in her eyes. He could also see what appeared to be a few dots connecting in her mind. “I followed the story. The Ice Breakers were involved. I remember—dammit, of course, Royal . You were involved. You—” She swung her attention back to Royal.
“I was the man who originally pulled her out of the trunk of the car before the sadistic freak who’d taken her had the chance to hurt my Violet.” There was nothing flat or unemotional about his voice now. Rage underscored each word. “I’m not really one for heroics, so consider it a very unusual deed for me. But Violet was special. She will always be special.”
“You work with the Ice Breakers, don’t you?” Marley asked.
“I do now,” Royal conceded. “They think I bring a rather…unique…skill set to the crew. I can’t say that they are wrong.”
I should have told her about my link to the Ice Breakers before. I didn’t. What the hell is she thinking now?
“What skill set would that be?” Marley asked in an ever-so-careful voice.
Royal laughed. “Don’t think you want to know.” A careful clearing of his throat. “Don’t think I trust you enough for you to know.” A clarification. “Though a bit of digging has told me that you’re a new Ice Breaker recruit, too. How funny is that? Isn’t life a bitch?”
She drew in a shuddering breath.
“The Ice Breakers are growing by leaps and bounds,” Royal continued. “And we’re all working on different cases. Cases that others in our bloodthirsty group know nothing about.”
Another shuddering breath.
That one eyebrow quirked again. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak privately with my brother. Not that I trust him, either. But I’d really like to get back to the little matter of someone trying to kill us both. And, fuck me, is that a Van Gogh?” His eyes had locked on the wall to the right. A framed painting waited, with a little light underneath it to show the art off to the best degree.
While Royal investigated—and got side-tracked by the painting—Marley spun to confront Declan. “You know the Ice Breakers.”
Guilty as charged. “It’s a small world.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a giant world with well over eight billion people in it.” A long breath. “Is your connection to the Ice Breakers just through your brother? Do you know about them only because of Royal?”
Declan’s lips pressed together.
“No.” Royal’s lazy reply. “I’m helping him with a case.”
Her eyes widened. Her wide eyes did not leave Declan. “You didn’t think that was important to mention? The fact that you’re working with the Ice Breakers on a case? While someone is attempting to kill you?”
He didn’t speak.
“The Ice Breakers are working over thirty cases right now,” Royal announced. “You can’t know every case other operatives are investigating—and is it okay if I call you Marley? That’s a rather interesting name by the way.”
“My parents loved A Christmas Carol. ” She spoke that part as if distracted. “Named me after Jacob Marley. My brothers are Ebenezer—Eb—and Jacob—Jake. Jake was named after Jacob Marley, too. Jacob Marley was always my mom’s favorite character.” Marley fired a suspicious glance Royal’s way. “Why do I get the feeling you already know all that about me? You been digging into my life, Royal?”
I’ve been digging into your life. Declan didn’t speak that truth.
Royal sent her an innocent smile. “Like I was saying, you can’t know every case that the Ice Breakers are working. And this one? It has a particular classified designation. In other words, Declan didn’t want anyone but the select few working it to know the truth.”
Declan saw her delicate jaw harden as her swirling gaze returned to him and seemed to darken even more. “Declan.” His name came out as a sigh. An angry one. “You’re being hunted by someone, and you’ve got the Ice Breakers stirring up a cold case. They’re looking into—what? A disappearance? Murder? ”
“Both,” came the response from Royal. He practically had his nose to the painting now. “I don’t buy that you’d have a fake anything on display in this creepy house of yours?—”
“Haunted castle or Wayne Manor,” Marley said with a fast wave of her hand. “But it is not creepy.”
Soft laughter rumbled from Royal. How could the guy laugh so easily? Declan knew just how bleak and dark Royal’s past was. The man should be just as twisted as he was. And yet…
And yet Royal fell in love with Violet. He has a whole other life down in Savannah. A different brother. A cop friend who’d take a bullet for him. Royal has played in the darkness more times than anyone else I know, yet he still laughs and smiles and loves and…
I’m so fucking jealous of him.
“Hey.” Marley reached out and curled her hands around his arms. Declan hadn’t even realized she’d closed the small distance between them. “I don’t know where you just went, but I don’t like the sadness I saw on your face. You stay here with me, got it? Even if I’m pissed at you, you stay here with me.”
He blinked. No, no, there could not have been sadness on his face. He wasn’t sad. That was ridiculous. He was?—
“He’s sad because the Ice Breakers are looking into our mother’s disappearance-slash-murder.”
Damn but Royal had a big mouth on him. Big and loud and his tendency to overshare was going to get him in serious trouble.
“Our mother is his tie to the Ice Breakers. When I was two years old…” Royal had finally turned away from the painting. “I vanished. Courtesy, we believe, of our dear, dead mom.”
Her lips parted. She didn’t let Declan go. If anything, her hold tightened on him.
“Not sure how much he’s told you about me,” Royal continued.
“Not enough,” she responded. Still, she did not let Declan go.
He realized his jaw had locked. He should explain. But he didn’t typically explain. Didn’t talk about his past with anyone.
She’s not anyone. And she was staring at him with a gaze gone soft with compassion and worry. She didn’t need to feel compassion for him. Not worry, either. He wasn’t worth it. “My mother was afraid. She ran away. Took Garrison—uh, Royal—with her. I believe she was going to come back for me, but she didn’t have the chance.” Did he believe that? Really? Or did he just say that shit when in all honesty…
Maybe she left me behind because she feared I was already too much like our father.
He swallowed.
“Why was she afraid?” Marley asked.
Easy. “Because our father was a sadistic and controlling sonofabitch. I told you before that he was obsessed with her. His version of love. But if she did anything he didn’t like, if she violated any of his strict rules, he’d punish her. He punished us all.” Until I was the one to finally punish him.
“Declan.” A sigh. Then she wasn’t just gripping his arms. She was hugging him. So hard and tight. As if she wouldn’t ever let go.
A lie, of course. Everyone eventually let go.
“Ahem.” From Royal. He’d sauntered closer. “I am certainly no expert on these matters, but I think you’re supposed to raise your arms and hug her back. Sure, hugs probably aren’t exactly typical in a client-PI relationship, but I’m getting that things aren’t typical with you two.”
His hands began to lift. Not that Declan had needed the guy to tell him to hug Marley. He knew how to hug someone, dammit.
Carefully, his arms curled around her. Circled her. He pulled her even closer, though she’d already been close before. Her body crushed against his. Warm and soft, and jasmine and amber filled his nose.
He pulled in a deep breath. Let it out.
“I’m so sorry about your mom.” Her soft words. “And, of course, Declan, of course, she was coming back for you. Never, ever think anything different.”
His chest ached. His head bent, and he brushed his face against the softness of her hair.
“If you two need like…a minute, I can go explore the house. See what other pieces of priceless art you just have hanging around like they’re family photos. Which, by the way, I notice there are none of.”
He’d destroyed all the photos of his father long ago. As for his mother’s photos? His father had ripped them all down and burned them right after Declan’s mother had vanished.
Declan slowly forced his hands and arms to release Marley. He straightened his spine. “Take any art you want. Already told you, half the fortune is yours.”
“Yeah, I don’t want it. I prefer to make my own way in the world. Like I already told you, I also know our father didn’t leave much behind. All of this…” A wave of his hands to indicate the house. “It’s because of you. Otherwise, the creditors would have taken it all when you put our father in the ground.”
“How is Royal alive?” Marley questioned haltingly. “But your mom isn’t? What happened?”
“Thought they were both dead.” Had he told her that part before? Everything seemed to blur, and his chest wouldn’t stop aching. The past wasn’t supposed to hurt, but his felt as if it had just stabbed him in the heart all over again. “I was told they’d died in a fiery car crash. Their vehicle fell into a ravine. Exploded. The bodies—there wasn’t really much left. That’s the story I was given so long ago. We buried two caskets that always remained closed.”
Her breath shuddered out.
“I didn’t give up.” He wanted to hug her again. Instead, Declan clenched his hands into fists. “Hired plenty of PIs over the years.” He’d told her that truth before.
“You mean I’m just the latest in a long line of PIs for you?” A faint, wan smile tilted the corners of her mouth.
Her question gave him pause. “You are nothing like the others.”
A wince as her smile faded in an instant. “I worried you’d say that. It’s because I’m so new to the gig, isn’t it?” She turned away. “Okay, Royal, how did you?—”
Declan’s hand flew out and caught her wrist. He spun her back toward him, and, in the next instant his hand rose and curled under her chin. Gently, he lifted her head toward him. “The others can’t come close to you. You are special, Marley Jones.”
A little smile tilted the corners of her lips. “I think you’re pretty special too, Declan Flynn.”
She did?
“Okay.” A long and loud exhale from Royal. “Before I get nauseous or before you two start ripping off each other’s clothes, let’s get back to business, shall we? Someone is trying to kill Declan. And me. That attempted murder bit pisses me off. When I get pissed off, bad things happen. It’s just the way of my world.”
It was the way of Declan’s world, too.
“To help get back to our focus, how about I sum some things up? That good for everyone in the room?”
Marley moved to Declan’s side. They both watched Royal.
“As a kid—hell, I was barely walking around at two, just a damn toddler—I wound up in New Orleans. On Royal Street.” A mocking smile came and went on his lips. “Thus, the name.”
Marley’s hand reached out. Her fingers pressed against Declan’s fist. Surprised, his hand opened. Then immediately, his fingers locked with hers.
“I thought I’d been abandoned. That no one wanted me. I grew up on the streets of New Orleans. Made my own family with a very protective and annoying brother, Beau LeBlanc. Lived a life that wasn’t typical. Did shit that would give you nightmares. Raised lots of hell. The usual.”
Hardly. Declan knew that Royal’s particular talent—the unique skill set that had landed him a job with the Ice Breakers? It centered around the fact that Royal hunted killers. Hunted them and stopped them, by any means necessary. A very unusual and dangerous side gig. But then again, Declan had discovered that his brother was unusual and dangerous. Far too similar to me.
Royal cleared his throat. “Here I am, living my unconventional life, and then, one day, this billionaire with my face appears in Savannah. Pretty much right in the midst of carnage because some deadly shit is happening. He sees me standing over a dead man, and you know what he says?”
Marley shook her head.
Royal’s gaze was on Declan. “He asks if I need help burying the body.”
Declan waited for Marley to snatch her hand from his. She had to be horrified by his brother’s revelations. After all, Royal wasn’t bullshitting. He was telling the cold, hard truth. I did offer to help him bury the body. And I would have done it in an instant.
Not like it would be the first time that Declan made a body vanish. Not the first, and certainly not the last.
“The dead man was a killer,” Marley said. “I told you, I am familiar with this story. Just didn’t connect the Ice Breakers—and you—to Declan. I should have.”
“I didn’t know the dead man was a killer at the time.” Why had he just pointed out that fact? Declan didn’t know.
“You were being a good brother,” she assured him.
Uh, no. He didn’t think aiding and abetting counted as a brotherly duty. “I don’t think good entered the equation,” he returned.
“I appreciated the offer,” came Royal’s wry voice. “And in return, I wanted to help out the man wearing my face. So when I learned he was looking into our mother’s murder—well, I said I’d be happy to assist. That I could connect some friends to probe into the events of that long ago time. After all, I want the truth, too. I want to know how I got ripped from my brother’s life and how my mom wound up in the ground when, apparently, all she wanted was to protect her sons.” Grief and pain flashed in his eyes only to be quickly masked.
“The Ice Breakers.” Marley nodded. “They are the friends. You’ve been using Ice Breaker resources to help.”
“Yes.” Royal crossed his arms over his chest. “But like I said, this is a very classified case. But the small team I’ve assembled has been digging. Stirring up the past. Trying to figure out just what happened—or rather, who the hell forced our mother’s car off the road and sent her to a fiery death. Declan thinks it was our sadistic freak of a dad. That the man couldn’t handle the fact that his wife was leaving him. And so far, all signs do point to that version of events.”
“So whatever the Ice Breakers are doing,” Declan had to point out, “it’s not related to my abduction. Because my mother’s killer seems to be dead.” I killed him. “And the dead can’t reach out from the grave and kill again.”
“They’d better not,” she muttered. Her shoulders squared. “Okay. Fine. We’ll let that investigation remain separate, for now. But, Royal, I want to know everything about the recent attack on you. Every detail you can remember. Maybe you and Declan just have a family trait of pissing off dangerous people and having them go ballistic. Could be two separate enemies gunning for you.”
“I do have plenty of people who hate me,” Royal confessed, seemingly modest. “But this particular attack…so close in time to what is happening with Declan…hell, I can’t help but be suspicious.”
Declan was plenty suspicious himself.
“Me, too,” Marley revealed. “I’m highly suspicious. And in order to get to the truth, you two…” Her gaze swung between them. “Need to both be completely honest with me. No secrets. No lies.” Her shoulders rolled back. Squared. “Who out there hates you so much that torture and death is the path of vengeance that he’s taking?”
Sometimes, you could kill two birds with one stone. Wasn’t that the old saying? As he waited in the darkness and peered at the distant lights of the mansion that belonged to Declan Flynn, rage twisted and seethed inside of him.
Garrison Flynn had come home. Not that the man called himself Garrison these days. Royal Boudreaux. That was his new name. But names didn’t matter. It was the bodies—the souls that mattered. And Royal would have a soul as twisted and dark as Declan’s.
Just like their father’s soul.
He’d seen Royal outside of Declan’s high-rise. Watched the man slip into Declan’s limo. Watched him be welcomed into that limo when he did not belong in Declan’s world.
He hadn’t followed them right away. What would be the point? He’d known exactly where they were heading. And there had been other business to attend to. Another loose end to cut. With Declan gone from the high-rise, with security lowered for the night, it had been so easy to get inside and leave a few surprises behind.
He did enjoy surprises. Would Declan enjoy the surprises as much? Probably not. But wasn’t that the point?
There are lots of forms of torture in this world. Some were the physical tortures. The ones he’d planned for Declan in that basement. Breaking bones. Ripping skin. Pain that would make you shriek.
But other forms of torture were emotional. Psychological. That’s when you are playing with your prey. Sometimes, those methods of torture were the worst.
So he’d played a bit. He wanted Declan to know there was no one in his life that truly gave allegiance to him. You are surrounded by enemies, Declan. And even the pretty Marley Jones wasn’t safe.
She intrigued him. Fascinated him. But…disappointed him. Because she was supposed to see evil, yet she ran to Declan at her first chance. She should have left. Turned from the monster. Instead, she seemed drawn to the darkness. Such a mistake.
He had planned to be fairly merciful with Royal Boudreaux. A quick end because the man was just in his way. You should have died when you were a child. Then I wouldn’t have to hunt you now. But Royal had seen the SUV coming as it barreled toward him on the Savannah street. He’d escaped the attack so quickly. Only been left a bit bloody and with bruises. The driver he’d hired for the attack had been apologetic. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t fail a second time.
I don’t give second chances. He had given the man two bullets. One to the chest. One to the head.
Royal had left Savannah. Probably hadn’t even learned that a dead man had been found inside an abandoned SUV. And now Royal was here. In a place he should not be. The man should have realized that it wasn’t safe to come home, not ever again.
Maybe I’ll kill two birds with one stone.
Or maybe, maybe if he played things just right, the world would think the two birds had killed each other.
Sometimes, blood was just bad. Evil. Tainted. And the only way to destroy that evil? Kill the whole fucking family line.