Chapter 13
Dixie
Sleep didn’t love me anymore. Maybe I’d had too much rest over the past few days, as all I could do was lie awake and think.
Thinking was a terrible hobby.
Mila’s questions haunted my mind, or perhaps it was all the answers I had.
On my phone, I searched for the latest articles about the Marchants. Almost immediately, I wished I hadn’t.
The top one in my search was a hate piece.
A comparison between Mila and the four dead women who’d been found on the Eden.
They painted her as a socialite in diamonds, her lifestyle supported by trafficking women her age or younger to be raped and murdered.
Pictures showed my sister at corporate parties and smiling with our grandfather.
They made her look complicit.
The gross article gave the names of the four women. One was twenty-seven. My age. I wondered if the older woman comforted the younger ones, telling them it would all be okay. That hope had been destroyed by an explosion and rushing water.
Sickened, I swiped out of it, my chest aching for them. And for my sister who was being used by armchair journalists who didn’t give a damn about the loss of life or the damage caused. They only wanted clicks and clout.
Mila’s one wish filled my head. For information.
A thought rose inside me, and I gripped the phone.
How could I be so selfish when women had died?
When my sister was hurting? I could be brave enough to talk to her, but it had to be face to face.
Anything else wouldn’t be fair. Which meant returning to the place I’d once loved.
It would be scary but nothing to what others had suffered.
Another article popped up at the top of my search.
A repeat of the one identifying the heirs. Except now, they had a picture of Kane to go with that of Mila. Brand-new and just updated. Only mine remained a silhouette.
I stared and scanned the words.
Kane’s write-up, unlike Mila’s, focused on him potentially being active in the secret side of the business. Not the glossy, pretty figurehead like our sister, but the muscle. A women-hating thug.
Sickness curled through me.
I climbed from the bed and padded into the hall. Through the open entrance to the living room, Tyler sat up from the sofa, the low firelight outlining him.
“What’s wrong?”
I knelt on the sofa arm, the leather cool under my bare legs, and held out my phone with the picture of Kane. “I’m outta touch with my family, but how will my brother feel about this? I don’t think it’ll be good.”
“That the first time you’ve called him that?”
I waggled the phone.
Tyler took in the screen. His expression dropped. “When?”
“A minute ago.”
“I need to talk to him. Is that okay?”
At my nod, he found his phone and stabbed the screen.
A call blipped over the loudspeaker, then a gruff voice answered. Kane. “Yes?”
“Where are ye?” Tyler asked.
“Holed up in Edinburgh.”
“Get to the warehouse before daybreak. Convict and Mila are already there.” Tyler took a breath. “Your face just appeared on an article. It’ll be everywhere by morning.”
A pause came. Then a low curse. “We’re leaving.”
A few words more, and they disconnected.
Tyler sighed. “Thanks for bringing that to me.”
I shoved my hands under my thighs. “The warehouse will be safe for them, won’t it?”
“Even if they eventually track him down, no journalist can get above stairs. We have resources, a reputation. It’s the best place to ride out a media storm. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again.”
Except I was miles away.
I hovered over a chasm of where I wanted to be. Where I should be. I’d craved the city and the skeleton crew’s headquarters. Thought about talking to Mila over and over. All of those I’d skipped out on.
I swallowed hard.
“I used to be called Darcy. Never Marchant, but that was my name for the first fourteen years of my life.”
He settled back onto an elbow, but his sharp focus didn’t shift. “What was your surname? Same as your ma?”
“Dixon.”
“That’s where Dixie came from.”
I inclined my head. “If my picture gets out there—”
“You’re safe.”
“I know that. But if I stay shut away, I lose my choices.”
His gaze gentled. “I meant you’re safe wherever ye are. Here with me, or in the warehouse.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Also with you.”
His smile softened him, just for a second, and as much as a huge bear of a man could be. I loved seeing that side of him. In our work environment, I’d rarely glimpsed it. Only in tiny amounts when he left his gaze on me too long, like when I told him not to die.
Tyler took a steadying breath. “There’s something else ye need to know. Shade caught me in the heist earlier. He guessed.”
“About me?”
His nod socked me in the belly. “You didn’t tell me.”
“My mistakes shouldn’t dictate your actions.”
“Will he blab?”
“He won’t lie to Everly, and he gave me two days to explain myself.”
I traced the thought through, along the chain of people. Shade to Everly to Genevieve to Arran. Arran who had this address.
“Then I don’t have a choice in hiding anymore.”
“Course ye do. I have other places we can go.”
“And an apartment in the warehouse.”
Something flashed in his eyes.
A tremble started in my limbs. I lifted my chin, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Go back to bed, Dixie.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
I searched his face, seeking heat.
I found fear in his answer.
“Go anyway. For both our sakes.”