25. We’ve Been Invaded
25
We’ve Been Invaded
ALICE
“I’m sorry, Alice, that’s everything I had,” Noel lamented, sounding more than a little bit crushed she hadn’t somehow squirreled away more blackmail on the psychotic family her path had crossed with. “I’ve been gone for a few years now, but if you have someone in Florida, I can tell them what I remember, see if they can track anything down. I think they’ve mostly consolidated to Tampa now that they’re ‘retired’ these days.” I could hear the whoosh of her hands as she used literal air quotes. “Max and I didn’t quite take everything —just what we could prove legally.”
Tucked into a reclined armchair in the corner, Max harrumphed but didn’t bother to open his eyes.
“That’s plenty, thank you. Corroborating our theory about the Connely’s association with the Gilberts was the best kernel of information you could’ve had tucked away in there.”
“I hate to think they have anything to do with this. They were always so kind. Then again, so was Eric—at least to everyone else.”
“Just let us know if you remember anything?”
“Of course! The fuckers still star in an occasional nightmare, so I’ll let you know if anything pops up.”
“Well, we don’t want that. You’ve already been a tremendous help, Noel, thank you,” Greyson said, from where he braced his hands on the desk to either side of my cell. Noel laughed in that uninhibited way of hers. It was infectious, my own cheeks lifting.
“ Of course . I had no idea you still consulted for the government. How cool is that?”
I smirked as he did, but without missing a beat, he responded, “Luckily for me, my injuries didn’t render me entirely useless. Happy to be appreciated for my expertise.” I mean. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. This takedown would involve local PD and the feds. Perhaps consulting was exactly what we were doing.
“Happy to help. Sorry I couldn’t give you any more information. We’ll see you guys in a couple of days.”
“Looking forward to meeting in person.” The first wave of Rhodes was due to arrive any minute, intent on an entire week of family time before Paxton’s game. The rest would trickle in throughout the week. I’d offered to make them all postpone, but Grey insisted we get back into a routine. Fear would not be permitted to rule our lives, he promised. I prayed he was right.
“Love you, Noelie bear,” Max said with a yawn. I wasn’t actually certain he’d slept more than a few collective hours this week.
“Yeah, love you guys. I mean, mostly you, but when he gets back, tell Jameson I love him, too,” I added.
She snorted indelicately and then, with a giggle, said, “Love all of you. You be safe now, okay?”
A round of agreement and prolonged farewells followed before we disconnected the call. I watched as Greyson processed our conversation, his breathing disciplined and steady as he walked over to the open window to stare out at the estate. Broad shoulders rose and fell incrementally as he did his best impression of a Greek statue. Slowly, not wanting to disturb his focus, I followed. Our landscapers were busy primping the hedgerow and mowing the grass while groceries were delivered to our iconically grumpy chef. You’d never know a storm was brewing inside these magnificent walls or that two lives had ended in the backyard just over a week ago.
I still couldn’t get myself to go out back and noted Greyson had also abandoned his favorite routines on the terrace.
The low-hanging overcast sky turned that disconcerting reality a bit softer, the air slightly less suffocatingly arid, and Grey’s eyes a bit more green than hazel. I found them mesmerizing, even in their frustrated furrow as he churned over all the information we’d gathered. We’d combed endlessly through the data Max and Luke had presented over the last few days. So many names . Connections. So many wrongs in this world, just begging to be righted.
Still more unanswered questions.
“How are you not overwhelmed right now?” I asked softly.
“What makes you think I’m not?” he countered, a gentle slant to his mouth.
“You’ve got this whole Zen master thing about you. I’ve always respected the way you keep your composure.” A solitary brow arched skeptically. “Okay,” I amended, “not always . Your control used to drive me bananas.”
“Bananas?” he questioned dryly.
“That is the official terminology,” I declared, nodding solemnly.
“It did earn me a rather unflattering assortment of nicknames.”
Scoffing, I said, “That was probably the result of your inability to call me a good girl for working so hard for you.”
“Affirmations belong in the bedroom.”
“I mean,” I shrugged, a smirk competing with a flush to dominate my face. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“But I am,” Max grumbled from where he still sat micro-napping like an angry, oversized cat in the corner. “You two are nauseating.”
“Thank you,” Grey gloated without missing a beat, shifting to scoop me into his arms. A breath after his lips brushed mine, the study door burst open.
Whirling, we came face to face with a fuming Reggie, Preston on his heels. Max slowly straightened in my peripheral.
The poor kid was rambling, his words squished together. “ I’m so sorry, sir, I-couldn’t-stop-him. Security waved him in. Says he has pertinent information regarding?—”
Greyson’s gently raised hand silenced him, his blond hair flopping as he bent over to catch his breath. The ire of Emerald Bay’s titan turned on Reggie. I didn’t miss the way he subtly positioned his body between mine and his uncle’s. “Preston, send security in to speak with me.” Our nineteen-year-old assistant nodded once before sprinting off like he was on a mission. “I do believe I’ve made my sentiments about your presence in our life perfectly clear, but if you can’t comprehend the boundary lines, I’ll dumb it down for you.”
“Hear me out,” Reggie growled, the sound of his voice like nails on a chalkboard. We hadn’t found anything damning. No way to prove he was associated with the monsters in our city, aside from the timing of that conversation and his presence in that hallway.
Nonplussed, Greyson motioned to the chair across the desk, but when Reggie sat, Greyson simply loomed over the desk, staring down his nose at him with all the concern you’d show a slug. Wordlessly, Max rose to take his place, standing between me and them, with just enough room to watch around his slender shoulder.
“I have?—”
“My house,” Greyson spoke over him, leaning forward to brace himself on the desk. “You’re chairman of nothing here. My rules of engagement were made clear.”
What in the hell was he talking about? Perplexed, an ache formed between my brows as I glanced from Greyson’s shoulder to Reggie’s impassive face. Only the reddening of his skin revealed his anger. With a huff, the old man wet his lips before turning to me.
“I apologize for my words before the wedding.” Evidently, that didn’t meet the requirements because Greyson cleared his throat, and Reggie’s eyes flicked to him before returning to my face. I would not squirm. I did, however, accept Max’s strength when he gave my fingers a little squeeze by our sides. “I’m sorry I disrespected your place in my nephew’s life as a future Mrs. Hart. I should have silenced my judgments. Which, as it turns out, were misguided.” Greyson’s huff of annoyance was the only approval he’d grant. As an afterthought, he added, “I’m sorry someone is trying to hurt you to get to my nephew.” Returning his focus to said nephew, Reggie leaned forward to brace his forearms on the desk as he clasped his hands. “You have a hole in your security, son.”
“Not your son,” Greyson stated flatly, mask and tone impervious. It was the one and only time I saw a flicker of emotion in Reggie’s eyes. But the declaration was redundant. Of course, there was a hole. Our head of security, Mike, had been working around the clock to figure out where it came from. Albeit, I certainly hadn’t expected an ounce of concern from the man we suspected fed them the information in the first place. He was either a proficient performer, or we were missing a piece.
“What happened to Alessandra last week should be an impossibility,” Reggie stated equally robotically. “I tried to warn you. Tried to tell you not to trust your circle.” His measured words sent irritation boiling in my veins. What had I missed? “It’s an affront to our very name.”
Ope. There it was. His old faithful—their reputation . That made much more sense. Now, I did smirk. At least the muddy colors of his values were consistent. But I was still curious as to what conversation the two reigning Harts shared that I was clearly not privy to.
“I’m deeply moved by your level of concern.”
I nearly snorted hearing those words drip from Greyson’s lips in a perfectly practiced monotone. Forcing myself to poker up, I watched the exchange with the care of an irritated cat. One does not marry the Titan and not learn to stand like his queen.
“Mike, or Luke, or Mr. Reynolds?—”
“Captain,” Greyson deadpanned, earning a blink of confusion from his rapidly disgruntled uncle.
“Pardon?”
“ Captain Reynolds.”
“Yes, well, captain or not. Someone is leaking information outside these walls. How did they know your vulnerability was the beach?”
“It’s. The beach ,” he said dryly. “The vulnerability is implicit.”
“Stalking through the water like Seals? You don’t find that a rather pointed message?”
“Of course, it was a pointed message.” His tone painted Reggie the town idiot, and I quite enjoyed it. “But my and Captain Reynolds’ roles in the navy are public knowledge. If you have evidence we have a mole, present it quickly.”
Reggie’s gaze flicked to me and Max before back to Greyson, his knee beginning to bounce beneath the desk. Interesting . I dug through my memory but wasn’t sure I’d ever seen the man fidget.
“I trust them both implicitly,” Greyson stated authoritatively before leaving the silence to linger as he turned to sit on the edge of his desk, still staring down at his uncle. The sound of boots filled the hallway, and Greyson looked to his watch with an irritated flick of his head. Countdown was ticking.
“You know,” Reggie breathed. When Greyson arched a brow, Reggie furrowed his. “Someone is gunning for you, Greyson. First the embezzlement allegations, and now this. Are you in trouble?”
“It would appear so.”
“Don’t play with me. We have the resources to help you. What did you get yourself tangled up in?”
“I’ll let you know when my investigators find out.”
“Watch your back, my boy. You never know who you can trust in this life. Your circle should be tight, and should you find your enemy, keep them close until we can decide what to do with them.”
Two armed security guards materialized in the doorway in their slick black-on-black shirts and slacks, and Greyson nodded his acknowledgment. “If that’s all, these gentlemen will escort you to your car, as Alice and I have prior obligations.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said, evidently appalled.
As Greyson gracefully slunk onto his feet, he smiled for the first time in the entire encounter. “Never know who you can trust, and all that.”
With a huff reminiscent of a pissed-off bull, Reggie stood abruptly. More footsteps were audible in the hall beyond as he stared for a long moment, studying his nephew. My palms stung where my nails were biting into the skin to keep myself steady. We didn’t know if he was dirty. Couldn’t prove it. Saying something now would only tip him off. I was determined to have Greyson’s back in this strategy, and speaking up would only undermine him.
“Watch your back. I would hate for a repeat incident to end with a less favorable outcome.” As Reggie turned and walked through the gap between guards, the three of us stood as immobile sentinels, watching him step through the doorway just as Royce and Miranda cautiously edged around the corner, looking a bit ashen. Reggie paused, the security guards mimicking his halted movement. He stared Royce down for a beat before looking back to Greyson and muttering, “So much for a tight circle,” before leading the guards down the hallway.
“Should we come back later?” Miranda hedged, anxiously looking after what I assumed was a spectacularly pissed-off Reggie, then back to the three of us in the study.
“Everything okay?” Royce pressed, a protective hand coming to hover over her belly.
“All is well,” Greyson reassured regally. “You’re the first to arrive, but we’re thrilled to have you.”
“Brought you some brandy,” Royce offered with a sympathetic shrug. “I intended it for coping with the in-laws, but it seems like you need it now.”
With a chuckle, Greyson nodded, his shoulders relaxing as we funneled into the hallway to prepare for the onslaught.
Greyson
Who needs a party when your family is gigantic ?
The Rhodes arrived a chunk at a time, while Ollie, Mattie, and I hovered on the perimeter of my patio, observing the chaos.
Rhyett, Brex, and Quinn—all blond, tall, and blue-eyed like some Scandinavian advertisement—were the first in the door, bearing flowers for the house and a disarmingly thoughtful care package for Captain, for whenever we got to bring him home. Homemade peanut butter dog treats, chew toys and CBD gummies were all pointed out by a very concerned Brexley as she rubbed her hand over her growing belly.
Paxton arrived with both Finnegan—or Finn , as he preferred to be called—and Hadlee, who was a pint-sized duplicate of my wife, save for the golden hair in some fancy, skinny braid hanging around her shoulder. “Looks like a mermaid tail,” Mattie had said before asking Hadlee to teach her how to do it. Much like Elora, Hadlee greeted me with an unnerving spider’s smile and a handshake more intimidating than most men.
Jesus, it was definitely the women to fear in this family.
About two hours later, we all funneled outside to greet Leighton when she pulled in with her identical twin, Kaia. They earned a chorus of laughter as a rather gangly young man spooled himself from the back seat of her single-door Honda with no shortage of muttered epithets. He stood, looking rather pained as he popped his neck, and then his shoulders and hips, like he’d been stuffed in there involuntarily.
“Could be worse,” the first twin quipped with a one-shoulder shrug.
“Could’ve been the trunk,” Leighton— I was about ninety percent positive —finished as the mirror images vanished, arm-in-arm, into the house without further ado.
Clearing his throat, our newcomer gave an embarrassed, not-so-little wave. He had to be at least six-foot-four. As I studied the muscle mass on his lean body, I guessed, “You must be Maverick.”
A goofy grin spread over his face as he sauntered forward to shake my hand. Ollie had been hovering beside me and canted his head, evaluating his lanky frame. “You’re a little tall for a wide receiver.”
Maverick grinned devilishly as he stretched an impressively long arm up vertically. Christ, his hands were nearly twice as wide as mine. “All about that reach, man.”
“Yeah, but can you move that mammoth frame down the field?” my brother challenged. Of course, he was up to speed on what the baby of the family was doing in Washington. Maverick’s stats were more than promising, but especially for a walk-on.
“Ran track from sixth grade through graduation,” he supplied with a nonchalant shrug, as though he wasn’t standing in front of the owners of the Emerald Bay Bombers . I liked him immediately. “Got roped onto the team for my speed and my reach.”
“Players vie for spots on that team for years through high school. They’re champing at the bit for a chance to red-shirt. What do you mean you got roped onto the team?”
Maverick shrugged. “Coaches always notice the giant kids. Back home, everybody wanted me just for my height. Very beginning of the year, I made friends with a cheerleader, and she caught video of me breaking up a fight on campus. Pulled them apart like a couple of chihuahuas,” he explained with a cocky little smile that had me swallowing a laugh. “Apparently, coach liked what he saw and asked me to try out.”
Oliver wrinkled his nose, narrowing his eyes in irritation. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Maverick said, snapping his fingers. Now, his smile looked more than a little smug. I mean, his numbers backed up his ego, so good for him. “Red-shirting just made sense. I only played high school ball in Mistyvale, and it wasn’t a career path or anything.”
“Jesus,” Ollie grumbled, shaking his head. “Well, nice to meet ya’, you lucky son of a bitch.”
“I’m sure the last name helped,” Mav supplied, expression turning sheepish as he jerked his chin toward Paxton, who approached with a megawatt smile.
The afternoon was a blur of greetings and laughter as my house filled with a portion of our new in-laws. If the text thread had been overwhelming, it was nothing to the real-life chatter of this many voices.
“We’ve been invaded,” Mattie noted astutely, while Beau relished in the attention from so many pretty women cooing over his little bow tie. He was particularly smitten with the toddling Quinn, who bore a sparkling black bow in her spring-loaded blonde curls.
Chip, meanwhile, was running in frantic serpentine patterns, unsure of who would provide the best level of affection.
“This is only half of them,” Oliver pointed out, a little bewildered from where we observed their conversations. Alice’s decision to have us ‘elope’ had never felt more valid.
“ Yikes ,” Mattie exhaled, still a little wide-eyed, her shoulders stiff under my hands where she leaned against my stomach. She’d planted herself in front of me well over an hour ago and refused to move since.
I chuckled, squeezing her shoulders and supplying a tentative, “More to love?”
“I guess,” she said, sounding horrified.
“A little less love might’ve benefited their mother,” Oliver muttered, bursting out laughing when I elbowed him in the ribs. Our levity was cut short by something that could only mean trouble, my stomach sinking as my face fell from the humor only a breath before.
Jax, Luke, and Mike were all barreling into the room like hounds on a trail. “Excuse me, sunshine,” I murmured apologetically, guiding my niece to her daddy’s quickly opened arms. Alice somehow picked up on the impending doom because she met me beside them and the group of us wordlessly tucked into the foyer.
“Mrs. and Mr. Hart, we have a situation,” Mike said, looking stone-cold sober. A thin sheen of sweat coated his dark brown skin, eyes hard as stone.
“Things have escalated,” Jax supplied with a growl.
Shaking his head, Luke muttered, “Understatement of the year award.”
“ What ?” Alice demanded, a bit breathlessly as he glanced over her shoulder toward the house full of her siblings.
“The house is secure,” Jax reassured. “But the office has been hit.”
“Hit?” I bit out, my blood pressure making a dangerously abrupt climb.
“Arson, sir. The fire was put out, but the exterior was vandalized before responders got there.”
“Was anyone inside?” I asked mechanically, trying to inventory who could’ve been harmed or targeted on a Saturday.
“Just the cleaning crew and weekend security. That’s who called it in and scared them off.”
“Arson?” Alice’s voice cracked.
“They were just passing by—nothing unusual on the cameras until they lunged, broke the downstairs windows, and tossed in Molotov cocktails,” Mike supplied.
“Was anything taken?” Alice asked, that calculating cunning in the gray-blues I loved so much.
“No, Mrs. Hart. One of them managed to get inside, but security responded too quickly for it to be effective.”
“Too sloppy,” I pointed out as my mind rushed through the meaning of something so abrupt. “Just sending a message.” It was pretty damn clear. Back. Off. I cracked my knuckles, followed by my aching neck.
Jax nodded, but his eyes flicked up as someone approached. I expected one of my in-laws but found Royce’s light blue eyes heavy with concern. “You sure everything’s okay, Greyson?”
“Just an incident at the office,” I said quickly. “Security is just bringing us up to speed.”
He turned over a shoulder toward where Miranda was chatting away with an enthusiastic Hadlee. “You’d tell me, if I needed to be worried, right?” He asked as he came back to face me, tone heavy.
I nodded before reassuring, “All is well, Ashcroft. Enjoy the party.”
“Tell me if you need anything. There’s been a lot going on, and I’m happy to lend a hand or my security if you need reinforcements,” he offered, holding my gaze for a beat before heading back to his wife. Something heavy settled in my gut as I watched him cross the space. But my brain couldn’t put it together before Luke was talking.
“One suspect in custody, and we’re going to question him down at the station. I could bring you in with me.”
Unease settled in my spine. God damn my uncle. Suddenly, my paranoia was flaring, distorting my reality as everyone became suspect. Reggie. Royce. Luke. Even Jax suddenly set my nerves bristling.
I needed air. “Take Jax,” I instructed before stepping between them and outside into the gray of a looming storm. Jax at least could handle himself.
It wasn’t him . If we had a mole, it wasn’t Jackson. We’d survived too much. Been beside each other for too many damn years. What the fuck would he even gain? Thunderstrike was his damn idea.
Resolved that he wouldn’t turn his back on us, I nodded to myself. He’d note all the same information I would if I went in person. It was my old Captain to follow me outside, however.
“They’re coming for us, Grey. Two of our guys were involved in accidents this morning. Brakes went out on one vehicle. The steering on another.”
“Both okay?”
“Yeah, gratefully. But…there’s something else you should know. Mike found this, pinned to the door like last time.”
Turning to see whatever new horror his words promised, ice crept into my veins. The singed paper in his leather-gloved hand was some fucked up movie poster of a woman on her knees in chains. Only…it was Alice’s face hastily taped over the photograph. Judging by the gaping hole through the torso, they’d stuck it to the door with a knife again. When he flipped it over between his fingers, however, it was a very real photo of my wife.
In a gold gown stained red, looking over her shoulder in the Gilbert’s damn hallway outside that office door. Eyes meeting Jax’s fierce navy blue, I nodded before glancing around to ensure we were alone.
“Have you and Max found anything to link my uncle to this?” The grim resignation in Jax’s eyes was emphasized by how hard his jaw flexed before he spoke.
“Nah, man. He looks clean.”
Nodding as I chewed that over, I declared, “I want Neal Gilbert in a grave or a cell by tomorrow morning. Don’t care how it happens. Find me a team that won’t ask questions.”