Chapter Thirty-Two
In which there is nothing like getting charged for one crime when you’re busy committing another.
Wallace…
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest in the United States.”
My brow raises, “For the Banner building? It took them long enough.”
Uncle Alec stopped by the house this morning with flowers for Scarlett and plenty of bad news.
“No, there’s nothing to tie you to that,” Uncle Alec says, uncharacteristically grave. “The arrest is for arson and the murder of Marlena, Kyle, and Steven Banner.”
Scarlett sways slightly, she’s gone sheet white and I slide my arm around her waist. “Let’s sit down.”
“They’re- they’re dead?” she croaks. “Arson? Who’s trying to pin this on Wallace?”
“I’m sorry, darling,” he says gently. “You’re named in the warrant as well. The prosecutor is claiming you conspired with Wallace to kill your step-family and take over the family’s business.”
“When were they killed?” I ask. Murder Mittens must sense she’s needed, because she strolls through the door and leaps onto Scarlett’s lap.
“Twenty-four hours ago. Some asshole prosecutor who is new to the Boston DA’s office. He’s clearly on someone’s payroll. No one puts together an arrest warrant with that kind of speed. My sources say he’s already working on an extradition request.”
“We have half a dozen witnesses to prove we were here,” I say dismissively. “This has to be Kholodov’s game.”
Uncle Alec looks at the paperwork again.
“The Banner company’s being managed by a law firm who claims to be the executors of the estate.
There is supposedly documentation that Marlena and Kyle created a trust that would give the Brookline Legal Firm full rights for management of the company and its assets.
Brookline has offices in Moscow as well; it's clearly a legal vehicle for Kholodov to gain control.
“They’ve already filed a motion to halt the release of Scarlett’s trust to her on her twenty-third birthday on the grounds that she’s ineligible after facing three first degree murder charges and arson.”
“Kholodov’s trying to keep us busy while he strips the company down to nothing,” I scoff. “These charges won’t stick.”
“I’ve already got our legal team on it,” he says.
“Wait- hold on,” Scarlett says. “I hated those people. But they were burned to death?” She’s shaking, Murder Mittens is soothingly kneading her lap with her paws. “Where did this happen?” Tears spill out of her shocked eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Was it at the house?”
“No. Their bodies were found in one of the smaller cannabis warehouses by Revere. They were shot point-blank before the fire was set, so they were dead before the fire was set.” Uncle Alec’s lips tighten. “Kholodov selected the building with the least amount of loss to the company’s bottom line.”
“That is terrible,” she sobs. Murder Mittens gives a distressed yowl, trying to lick the tears off Scarlett’s cheeks. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."
"Because as reprehensible as they were," Alec says kindly, "they were your last link to your life before you lost your father, were they not?"
"Alec, can you give us a moment?"
“Of course,” he says, giving Scarlett a small smile before he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
“Scarlett, why are you so upset? Have you forgotten that they sold you to Khokolov? Marlena hired mercenaries and tried to kidnap you.” She looks up at me with her watery, bay blue eyes and for the first time, all I feel is impatience.
“I know,” she nods, “I know that."
“This is yet another roadblock in our way. One more thing my legal team must deal with.” My tone is sharper than I mean it, but as I check my watch, I curse.
“Fuck. I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes.
Don’t leave the house today. I want to make sure you’re safe in case Kholodov tries something else. ”
“Wallace, wait-”
“I have to go.” I walk out of the room, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face.
Nor do I want her to see the irritation on mine.
Two days later…
“Do you have to do this yourself?”
Scarlett’s standing in the doorway of our dressing room, watching me get dressed in my black tactical suit.
“Good management leads by example,” I say, lacing up my boots. “I want it to be very clear to the Albanians who is destroying them.”
A strange smile flits over her lips. “I’m pretty sure it’s clear, sweetheart. Your calling card is always big. And destructive. Often explosive.” She starts laughing helplessly, one hand over her mouth.
“What’s so funny?” I pull on my gun holster, checking to make sure the clip is full on my Glock.
“Well, they’re trying to pin the arson and murder on you in Boston, but your real alibi is that you were setting half of the Docklands in East London on fire.” She sits down, still laughing.
“Is this hysterical laughter, Scarlett?”
“No.” She manages to calm down a bit. “Morgan and I both have deeply dark senses of humor. It’s been very helpful in recent years.”
“I can imagine.” After briefly kissing her cheek, I get up, checking the rest of my gear. “Walk me to the door?”
She’s so bonnie, this lass, even with red-rimmed eyes, they’re still the vivid blue of the ocean and her hair is like living fire, tumbling down her back. When she straightens her back and says, “Of course,” I realize something terrible.
I’ve gone past obsession. Past devotion to this woman. I love her.
I don’t know what to do with that, and right now, I don’t have time to figure it out.
Scarlett…
In the weirdest housewife way, I walk Wallace to the door and say, “Have a good day at work, dear.” He doesn't seem to get the joke, giving me another dry peck on the cheek as James the butler steadfastly looks the other way.
“Why don’t you have Gio take you over to Mom’s place?” Wallace asks.
“Not tonight,” I say. “Your mom is so sweet and she’ll worry about me, and you, if she knows what you’re doing.
Worrying about your dad’s recovery is enough.
” He kisses me one last time on my forehead, like he’s a kindly uncle and I’m an impetuous niece, not like husband and wife, and disappears into the night.
***
The days blur together. Wallace leaves before I wake up in the morning in a suit, and comes back in the evening to change again. I get a few minutes in between when he slips into bed, still smelling faintly of smoke.
After a week of this, I’m frayed down to the last nerve.
“This is ridiculous! You can’t keep this up, Wallace. I doubt your father and Alec want you to die, trying to be Super CEO by day and arsonist by night.”
He looks at me, and all I can see is indifference. I’ve seen impatience on his face several times over the last few days, irritation, too, which cuts deep. Now, he’s eyeing me like he can’t understand why I’m talking and wasting his time.
“You don’t know what they want, because you don’t really know them, do you?” He steps closer and I bump into the door. “You don’t know anything about what is happening here.”
Wallace isn’t yelling, he doesn’t even look particularly angry. More like I’m a nuisance, which is somehow so much worse.
“I could help if you’d let me-”
“Your job, Scarlett, is to stay here, look pretty and keep quiet. Hearing you whine every time I come home is making you yet one more problem I have to deal with.”
It would have hurt less if he’d slapped me.