Sneak Peek
Alec (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran Book 2)
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
“The client is meeting me at the property,” Olivia Gibson said, and glanced at her desk clock to check the time as she put what she needed in her messenger bag. “It’s only a forty-minute drive from here.”
“I don’t want you going there by yourself, Gibs,” Jack Riley said, his usually genial voice stern.
She eyed her employer, who was three times her size and wore a loud burgundy silk shirt and purple chinos. The first time she’d met him when interviewing for her job he’d joked that he was not a retired professional wrestler but had only played at being one in college, unaware that she’d had no idea what he meant. Still, no one looking at Jack would guess that he was an expert on the restoration and preservation of historically significant structures.
The kindest man Olivia had ever known, Jack had also taught her so much about life as well as business over the last six years that she had grown fiercely devoted to him.
After hurting his leg while jumping out of the way of a speeding car last week, Jack had been using a cane to walk. He hadn’t gotten a license plate or make of the car, so he hadn’t bothered to report the hit-and run to the police. Since then, Olivia had noticed that his limp was only getting worse. It was time for an intervention, as her therapist would have said, so she’d revealed his condition earlier that morning to the one person who could effectively deal with the issue.
Since that would be happening any minute, Olivia only had to stall him a bit longer. “I won’t be alone. Mr. Beaumont will be there, sir.”
“Yeah, I checked him out. Just because he’s a rich investment banker doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy,” Jack said. “Reschedule the meet for Monday so I can go with you.”
“It’s a castle, Boss, not a single-family ranch house.” She eyed his injured foot. “Should I rent a wheelchair for you and push you through it?”
“Don’t be a smartass, kid.” He eased down in the chair by her desk and released a sigh of relief.
The penthouse offices of Riley Corp. overlooked the city center of Salinas, California. Several years of intense urban development had changed the appearance and atmosphere of the old town, about which Olivia had mixed emotions. She loved seeing the new businesses opening, which in turn attracted more visitors. After living in a small town in Utah she still found the bustle of the city enchanting. Yet to make way for the changes, much of the city’s history and old charm was being lost, like the seventy trees that had been cut down during the face-lift construction. Affordable housing also remained a huge issue as well; Salinas had just made the top ten list of the most expensive U.S. cities in which to live. With median home prices creeping up to one million, only couples that both made six figures could really afford to live downtown.
Unlike her coworkers Olivia didn’t mind renting a studio in Boronda and having to commute to Salinas. After ten years the novelty of having her own place still thrilled her.
Olivia was determined to land this restoration job for the firm, which had been the result of a terrible storm that had struck nearby Monterey last month. Roads had been washed out, homes flooded, and businesses ruined. Early estimates on the costs of the damage had already reached hundreds of millions. The town was so historically important that several groups had already set up initiatives to cover the cost of recovery, which meant plenty of work for Riley Corp. in the immediate future.
“Boss, you’re really not in any shape to walk through a medieval castle,” Olivia said as she switched off her computer. “It’s one of the largest in the country, too.”
Jack swatted the air. “I’ll manage with the cane.”
“A broken ankle won’t heal until it’s in a cast,” Olivia corrected as she picked up the file with her notes on the new project, and then regarded him. “Please don’t glare at me like that. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t keep this a secret anymore.”
“Don’t fuss over me. I’m going tomorrow to see my regular guy. He’ll put me in one of those walking–” His head snapped up. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you called the harpy from hell and told her about it.”
“The harpy called her , dear.” Rebecca Riley marched into Olivia’s office, bringing with her a light waft of Santal 33, and let the door slam shut behind her. “Did you think you could keep conning me with that nonsense about a strained tendon?”
“Hey, Mrs. Riley.” Olivia smiled uneasily.
“I should have married you, Gibs. You never lie to me.” A tall, slender fashionista who wore a white and navy linen suit she’d designed herself, Rebecca was so different from her oversized husband they might have come from different planets. “Sit your butt down, Jack,” she added as her husband started to rise. “At this point I have no problem breaking your other ankle.”
“Why the hell did I marry you?” He tried to glower at his wife, but his mouth curved too much and spoiled the pretense.
Rebecca folded her arms. “Because I am beautiful, thoughtful and much, much too good for you.”
“Modest, too,” Jack grumbled. “Fine, I’ll let you baby me. Olivia, see if Clay can go with you.”
“Mr. Sanders left on a buying trip yesterday,” she reminded him. “Because of the tight deadline for the general store rebuild, he’ll be in San Carlos for the next week. Phillip and Kate have to stay on site at the Palisades project for the remainder of the month, or the owner will have another meltdown. I’m the only surveyor you have available, Boss.”
Jack met her gaze. “A lady fed just died while investigating that place.”
“That FBI agent had a car accident near the property,” Olivia said, glancing at his wife. “I read about it on Monterey Today’s web site. The police believe she went off the cliff while trying to avoid hitting an animal in the road.” As her boss started blustering again she added, “I will carry my phone with me and call you after I complete the site survey.” When he started to shake his head again she said, “Beaumont is offering us carte blanche to repair and restore the castle, and he has the wealth to back it up.”
That reminder made Jack fall silent. With the economy entering a rocky stage, the firm had been competing with too many others for the most profitable jobs.
“Gibs is always careful, honey.” Rebecca stroked her husband’s sleek lion’s mane of silver hair. “You taught her how to handle any trouble, too.”
Olivia smiled at him and nodded.
“Fine. You’ll call me to check in when you get there, and when you leave,” Jack said. “I want a text as soon as you get home, too.”
“You’ve got it, Boss.” Olivia pulled on her cardigan and then eyed his wife. “He skipped lunch again, Mrs. Riley, so he should have dinner early today.”
“You’re fired,” Jack called after her as she walked out to the elevators.
Olivia was still grinning as she drove her little compact west from the city on Highway One to Monterey. She had been careful not to get too excited about the chance to survey an authentic medieval castle. As the surveyor with the least seniority on the staff, she usually went as an assistant to one of the others. Yet twelfth-century architecture was her specialty as well as her obsession, and she was thrilled to have the chance to finally see McKeran’s Castle in person.
This could do remarkable things for her future, too.
Since Olivia had finished her master’s degree Jack Riley had been hinting about letting her solo as site manager on a project. If she was able to successfully supervise the work to repair the storm damage to the ancient Scottish stronghold, then she’d prove to her boss that she could handle taking lead from now on. The more experience she acquired, the better her chances became for someday taking on the restoration of a medieval European castle. That had been her dream since spending three amazing summers interning at Guédelon, an experimental version of the same in France.
All I have to do is convince Renard Beaumont to let us fix his castle.
Working and living on her own for ten years had built up Olivia’s confidence as well as her self-esteem. Since moving from Utah to California she had devoted all her energy to reinventing herself. It hadn’t been easy, either. Before she’d even started in the restoration architecture program at USC, she’d had to see a nutritionist, take driving lessons, a money management class, and watch hundreds of how-to videos. She had also gone to a therapist to learn how to cope with her new life.
Olivia didn’t have impossibly long hair like Rapunzel, but otherwise her life had been eerily similar to that of the fairytale princess.
Mae Gibson would have been furious with her for leaving Utah, going to college and working in California. Since Olivia’s birth she had kept her isolated and entirely dependent on her. Obeying her aunt and taking care of her in her old age was supposed to have been Olivia’s only purpose in life, at least according to the grim, controlling woman who had raised her.
You don’t need to work or go to college, Mae had told her when she was fifteen and had timidly asked about the future . I will provide for us. When I’m older, you’ll repay my kindness by looking after me.
Mae never spoke of the past or any family members. She’d only claimed that Olivia was her orphaned niece whenever anyone asked about her, not that many had. They had lived like hermits, so very few people even got the chance to speak to her aunt. While being home-schooled, the only time Olivia had been allowed to leave their house had been once a week on Sunday for church services. There had been no babysitters; when her aunt went to her job managing a local grocery store, Olivia stayed behind alone studying her lessons, practicing her embroidery, cleaning their tiny house, or whatever else Mae expected her to do. Failing to satisfy her aunt meant punishment that lasted for days, sometimes even weeks.
You may have been born in sin, her aunt had often said, but you will live a good and righteous life.
Reaching the front gates of Renard Beaumont’s property, which had an ornate letter B welded to the iron bars, Olivia pulled over and parked. All thoughts of her unfortunate childhood dwindled as she beheld McKeran’s Castle. It had to be one of the largest stone structures she had ever seen on American soil, a small mountain of red granite that seemed to go on forever. As she got out of her car a wintry breeze sifted icy fingers through her long, straight hair and chilled her face, but she hardly noticed.
McKeran’s was easily ten times the size of Guédelon.
At first glance the Scottish castle appeared in such excellent condition it looked as if it had been constructed last year rather than the twelfth century. Yet as Olivia studied the massive structure she noted the obvious signs of damage inflicted by the storms: multiple trees that had fallen onto the walls and roofs, a pile of stone rubble beside a partially collapsed tower, and what appeared to be a portion of a wrecked and twisted shed sitting in the middle of the spiraling drive.
Slowly she took out her cell phone and hit one on speed dial. When her boss answered, she said, “I’m at the property, sir. At first glance it looks like some structural repairs and possibly a tower rebuild. Am I still fired?”
“No. Take plenty of pictures,” Jack said, and then mumbled a mild curse under his breath. “I told you I don’t need–”
“My husband needs to go to x-ray now, Gibs,” Rebecca said suddenly over the line. “Once we have his foot cast I’m taking him home to rest, where he will stay until his blood pressure falls out of the stroke range. I left the phones on the answering service.”
“I understand, Mrs. Riley. I’ll check messages when I get back to the office,” Olivia assured her.
As soon as she ended the call her phone rang again, and a glance at the display showed the number of a very wealthy widow who ran most of the upper-crust social events in Salinas.
Olivia had no obligation to answer the call, but she knew if she didn’t that the woman calling her would be waiting to do this in person when she got back to the office.
She swiped the green button and said, “This is Olivia Gibson.”
“Why didn’t you return the ring Charles gave you?” Elizabeth Kingston demanded. “He told me you insisted on ending your engagement last night. That ring belongs with our family, not my son’s greatest misstep to date. I would never allow you to marry him anyway, you nasty little runt. As if I’d let someone like you be the mother of my grandchildren.”
Don’t react, Olivia thought, and pressed her fingers against her temple. The few times she had met Charles’s mother she had tried to be polite, but the older woman reminded her too much of her Aunt Mae.
“Mrs. Kingston, Charles and I were never engaged,” she said, opting for the truth. “I actually stopped dating him last October. If the ring is missing, that means he’s gambling again. You should check that place over on East Market Street. I believe that’s where he sold the Rolex that he told you he lost.”
A hiss came over the phone. “This is your fault, you spiteful midget. You should never have broken his heart so callously. The stress was too much for my poor boy. I knew how it would be from the first time I met you...”
As the older woman continued to rant, Olivia wondered why she didn’t just hang up on her. Being able to talk to other people, even when they were vicious and called her names, still felt like a huge privilege.
“I have been trying to help him, ma’am,” Olivia said when Charles’s mother paused for a breath. “When we met for coffee last night he tried to take my wallet out of my purse.” As the other woman made a contemptuous sound she added, “He needs to get into a program, Mrs. Kingston. I can recommend a good therapist–”
The call abruptly ended with a sharp click.
Olivia slowly tucked away her phone. Her ex-boyfriend had already gambled away his trust fund, which she suspected his mother didn’t yet know. When Elizabeth found out he would make excuses, blame everyone but himself, and promise to stop gambling yet again. Charles knew that his mother’s love for him outweighed anything he did. He’d act like a devoted son, and for a time she’d be happy, until she found out he was stealing and pawning her jewelry again. Since Olivia had broken up with Charles six months ago she no longer had any responsibility to him or his mother, but somehow she kept getting dragged back into their drama.
“Are you from Riley’s?” a smooth voice asked from behind her.
Olivia turned around to face a tall, handsome man. He looked very well put together in his tailored navy suit and dark Italian shoes, and carried a leather portfolio case she recognized as costing more than she made in three months. In any other situation she would have responded favorably, except for one off-putting thing. A faint but quite unpleasant smell came from the man, as if he were a brightly polished apple with a wormy, rotten core.
“Yes, I’m Olivia Gibson,” she said, trying not to grimace. “Are you Mr. Beaumont?”
“Renard, please.” The man held out his hand, his elevator eyes shifting from her face down the length of her body to her slightly bowed calves and back up again. “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice.”
Great, he thought joking about her height was fine. If she’d made a pun about his nasty body odor, he’d probably tell Jack to really fire her—but such was the world.
“Not a problem.” She briefly pressed her hand to his, concealing a shudder over the clamminess of his skin and his body odor, which seemed to grow thicker.
Man, he really reeks. I might be short, but at least I bathe every day.
When he turned to unlock and open the gates Olivia wiped her palm against her trousers. “Have you contacted your insurance adjustor to make a claim yet, sir?”
Maybe she could use that as an excuse to leave. The way he looked at her wasn’t unusual, but it gave her more reasons to worry about being alone with him. She was no beauty, but her size sometimes attracted men with unsavory or illegal predilections. At four foot-ten and seventy-one pounds she had little hope of fighting off an attacker of his size. Belatedly she wished she had let her boss come with her; Jack could have stayed in the car.
“I’m self-insured,” he said as he came back to her. “Given its age and lurid history, the castle seems too risky for insurers.”
That puzzled Olivia, as the practice of setting aside enough money to pay for a property-related loss was more common for well-to-do homeowners. “As long as you’re in agreement with the work estimates, Mr. Beaumont, then that should speed up the process.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Why don’t you call me Renard, little girl? Riley never has to know you did.”
A voice from the past echoed, You can let me in, little girl. She never has to know.
Olivia grew instantly, thoroughly nauseated. “Thank you, sir, but that’s not appropriate.” She forced herself to walk through the gates beside the banker, keeping a wide gap between them.
As they walked up to the center of the drive Beaumont described what damage he had seen, and how he planned to have the fallen trees removed prior to the beginning of repairs on the castle. He sounded remarkably bland, as if everything he’d said before had been only a product of Olivia’s imagination. Yet every few steps he would glance at her, as if gauging her reactions.
She took out her tablet and made notes of everything he mentioned. “I’d like to take some photographs of the exterior damages, and then we can perform a walk-through of the interior.” If she hurried, she could be away from him and out of here in less than an hour.
“Sorry, but I can’t stay,” Beaumont said, startling her again. “I’m flying down to L.A. in a few hours and have to finish packing for my trip.”
Relief over the chance to escape the man kept her from becoming annoyed. “You can call the office to reschedule the estimate survey.” Which she would hand off to one of the male staff members, along with a warning about this guy, she thought.
“Oh, I trust you, Ms. Gibson. Even if I didn’t, there’s nothing you can steal inside.” He extracted from the case he carried a set of keys, a folded piece of paper, and a small flashlight. “Here’s a map of where you can find the damage to the interior. It’s limited to one passage on the east side of the first floor. When you’re finished, please lock any doors you open and of course the front gates once you leave. I’ll come by your office on Monday to look over the estimate and pick up the keys.”
Olivia knew she should refuse. She’d have to film her survey with her digital camera to prove where she had gone on the property.
She took the keys, map and flashlight from him. “I’m fine with that, as long as you are, sir.”
“You’re such a polite little thing. Of course, I am.” Beaumont winked. “Have fun.”