Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Imogen couldn’t get over how charming and fun Nic was. Their dinner conversation was lively and flowed with ease.
“You’ve really never been scuba diving?”
“I don’t have gills. I’ve never really thought about sinking underwater for hours on end.”
“More like an hour at most. Although, sometimes, I wish I could stay down there forever.”
“Have you ever been down in a shipwreck?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re fascinating.”
“I have an ancestor who was a pirate. Jean-Luc St. Clair. He sailed with the Baratarians.”
“No way.” Imogen’s imagination was fully engaged. “Did his ship go down?”
“Ahhh … no one knows what became of La Courage. They say he sailed off into the sunset with his lady love and was never seen or heard from again.”
“How romantic,” Imogen whispered.
“I like to think so. He wasn’t hanged for piracy like so many others, so I think he ended up all right, especially since my great-great-great-grandfather showed up back in New Orleans with a chest of gold and made his home in the French Quarter.”
“That’s incredible.”
“If you want to see it, my grandfather left a collection of gold doubloons, said to have come off a Spanish ship Captain Jean-Luc had supposedly raided.”
Imogen inhaled. “Really? I’d love to. What a fascinating family history.”
“What about yours? I understand you come from an Irish whiskey-making family.”
“Well, we were, until recently. But, yes, my father’s family started Seven Sinners after they despaired of the quality of whiskey in America after they came over from Ireland. It offended their sensitive Irish taste buds, I guess.”
“I love that.”
“Are you a whiskey drinker?” she asked him.
“Not since I was a stupid young kid making bad decisions—no offense to the whiskey. That was all me.”
Imogen had noticed he’d stuck only to water during their three-course meal.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
He smiled, and she loved the way it came so easily to his handsome face. “Of course.”
“I don’t like whiskey. I never have. You can’t dive safely or enjoyably while hungover. Which was just one more reason I had no interest in the family business. Alcohol held no allure for me, especially when compared to the wonders of the sea.”
“Understandable. I love that you love it. How long are you staying in town? I’m sure you’re eager to get back to the Gulf.”
Imogen paused. “Honestly, I don’t know. I had planned to leave in a few days … but that was before …” She trailed off.
“Before what?” he asked.
“Before all these questions I have. Something doesn’t feel right.
” Imogen glanced over her shoulder in the empty dining room before finishing.
“I don’t feel like Keira’s dead.” She met Nic’s thoughtful hazel gaze and continued, “Look, I know, it sounds insane. But … it’s not just the denial that comes with grief.
There’s some part of me that says she’s still alive.
I don’t feel like I can go back to normal life and ignore that. ”
His thick fingers stroked the rim of his water glass.
“Look, I don’t know what the truth is, but I do trust my gut, so I’m not going to say your intuition is wrong. But have you considered that even if you are right, it might be something you need to leave alone?”
Imogen scrunched her brows together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
He glanced at the door, too, before he continued quietly, “You couldn’t have missed the news of the massive federal manhunt before the distillery exploded.”
“I don’t pay attention to that stuff, but, yeah, Jury and my parents definitely filled me in.”
“You don’t think maybe … the distillery was a convenient way to put an end to their searching for him?”
Imogen sucked in a breath. “No … oh my God. You’re right. I didn’t even think of that.” She covered her mouth with her hand as her mind went wild with the possibilities his words had just unleashed.
“Look, Imogen. I get it. If your sister is out there, you want to know. But do you really think her husband would go through all that if not to protect them so they could safely disappear?” He paused and took a sip of water.
“Or it could all be exactly as it appears, and we’re both crazy and wrong. ”
Imogen placed both hands on the table. “They didn’t find her little girl, Aurora. No remains. We buried an empty casket.”
He winced. “God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s part of what makes me think … maybe you’re right.” Imogen paused. “The investigators were so sure she was there and just unrecoverable. They closed the case so fast.”
“That happens when you grease palms well.”
“Exactly. And Jury said there was all sorts of weirdness at the federal level too.” She bit her lip. “I think you might be right. And I don’t know what to do.”
His big, tattooed hand covered one of hers on the table. “Sometimes, it’s wise to let sleeping dogs lie. If she’s out there and wants you to know and he thinks it’s safe … maybe it’ll happen someday.”
“And if not?”
“Only you can decide if you can live with that.”
Imogen blew out a breath as she considered it. If leaving it alone meant Keira and her family stayed safe and happy, Imogen could live with never knowing. But … could Jury? She didn’t know the answer to that question.
“I can. I just don’t know if my sister can.”
He squeezed her hand. “You can’t control other people. So, don’t worry about trying. What will be, will be.”
She met his hazel gaze. “How’d you get so wise?”
“Fuck up a lot, and you learn a lot—at least, if you’re smart.”
She smiled. “I like you. You’re different.”
“I like you too, Imogen. Now, about that memorial tattoo …”