Chapter Heirloom
HEIRLOOM
Harper
“SO . . . HAVE YOU TALKED TO MAX since the other day . . . ?” I ask as I slide a price label on the shelf of a Lancaster Distillery whiskey display.
The tasting room still smells of fresh paint and lumber, a fine coating of plaster dust stubbornly adhering to the floor.
But there are also lingering notes of disinfectant that waft through the open door.
Since the on-site investigation had concluded last night, Lukas has been allowed back into the building, and this morning, it’s all-hands-on-deck to get back on track with the soft-launch reopening in a few weeks.
It’s almost noon, and a specialized cleaning crew is still scrubbing the bloodstains off the concrete floor by the copper stills.
“It kind of seemed like she wanted to talk.”
I don’t look over to see the glare I know Lukas is drilling into the side of my face. “No,” he says, “I have not.”
“Shame. I thought I was a very effective wingman. But you were a totally shit solo pilot.” I peek over at him as he unloads a box of bottles next to me.
His brow is furrowed, a muscle in his jaw feathering.
When he doesn’t respond to my jab, I turn to face him.
“You know, it’s not entirely unexpected that she’d show up in Cape Carnage again.
Her family lives here, after all. You didn’t seriously think you’d never run into her, did you? ”
When he looks up at me, his eyes are haunted, and whatever irritation he tries to portray is entirely forced.
“She hasn’t been back for like . . . five years.
And she only used to come for Christmas before that.
Why the fuck do you think I spend all day in the manor house for the week between Christmas and New Year’s? ”
“I thought you just really really liked Hallmark movies.”
“What’s not to like?” he grumbles as he refocuses on the box. An adorable blush creeps into his cheeks, shifting the scales of my internal “Is Lukas a virgin?” debate to a resounding “yes.”
“Look,” I say, laying a palm on his arm to quiet the work of his hands, “whatever happened with you two, it was a long time ago. You’re different people now.
She seems really nice, and you’re really nice—usually, except for the other day when you were kind of a dick—and you’re both living in Cape Carnage now.
Plus, you know how it gets here when tourist season is over.
You’ll see each other around all the time, like it or not.
So why don’t you just talk? Go for coffee at the Bean.
Craft a corpse together. Put water under the bridge so you can coexist.”
Lukas blows out a long breath through pursed lips and hangs his head. “Ugh. You’re probably right.”
“I usually am,” I say as I dust off my shoulders.
“And I hate when you’re right—you’re smug as shit.”
“Thank you.” I give him a little curtsy. “That’s what I was aiming for. You should text her right now.”
“You should get fucked.”
“That’s the spirit.” I grin and give his arm a gentle punch, then return to my work on the display.
“Speaking of getting fucked,” Lukas says, “I hear that Nolan guy is spending a lot of time at your place.”
It’s my turn to blush. I resist the desire to check my phone for a message from Nolan.
I try to give Lukas a nonchalant shrug, but I’m sure he sees right through it.
“Yeah. For now. But he’s got a whole other life in Tennessee, so .
. . I dunno.” Even though I deliver those words with casual notes in my voice, I still feel their deep currents in the chambers of my heart.
I can’t say I haven’t imagined both lives—the one waiting for him in Tennessee, and the one we could have together here.
The teasing light in Lukas’s eyes brightens when he straightens to his full height and says, “Airplanes exist.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Is it serious?”
“Why do you need to know?”
Lukas grins, relishing every moment of my discomfort. “I dunno. You’ve just been single for so long.”
I hold my hand out between us. “Hello, Black Pot. My name is Black Kettle.”
Lukas smacks my hand away and I laugh. “Fine,” he says, “don’t tell me all your relationship updates.
I’ll get them from Irene. Just . . . ” Lukas captures my hand before it can fall back to my side.
A car door closes in the distance, but my eyes don’t stray from the earnest expression Lukas levels at me.
“I hope he’s good to you, that’s all. You’re the sister I never had.
Dude is intense. He seems like the kind with a high body count or something. And by that I mean actual bodies.”
I guffaw a laugh. Lukas is so incredibly oblivious that I’m confident he doesn’t know just how accurate that really is, but it still sends a burst of adrenaline through my veins nonetheless. “Okay, sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll take that under advisement, Lancaster.”
Three loud knocks come from the locked steel door of the reception hall, startling us both. Lukas lets go of my hand and we both head toward the lobby, where he opens the door to the brooding intensity of Nolan Rhodes.
“Hi” is all he says as Lukas whispers “intense” next to me so only I can hear.
“Hey,” I reply, pulling my phone from my pocket to check for a missed call or message from him, but there’s nothing. When I meet his eyes again, that wedge of walnut brown buried in the green of his left iris seems darker somehow. “Everything okay?”
Nolan gives Lukas a brief nod before focusing all his predatory attention on me.
“I’ll keep unloading the bottles. Take your time,” Lukas says before he heads back through the lobby and into the tasting room.
“What’s going on?” I ask, facing Nolan once more. “Did something come up with the search?”
Nolan barks a laugh, but there’s a crazed edge to it. When he runs a hand through his hair, I catch the subtle scent of the sea in the air. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately . . . ? Like, very privately.”
“Umm, sure. I know a place.” With a final glance over my shoulder, I take his hand and let the door close quietly behind me.
I start leading him outside, heading toward the grain shed.
The search team is here for another day of scouring the grounds, and though they’ve already moved deeper into the woods that surround the property, I’ve decided to make an effort to avoid them for the next few days—even with my shorter hair, I’m not keen to test whether it makes me less recognizable to any Sleuthseekers who might show up.
And I don’t want to take any chances out in the open when Nolan is so clearly not himself. “Is something wrong?”
His eyes slide toward the forest where searchers occasionally call out the names of the missing. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“My phone is fucked,” he says. When I give Nolan a questioning look, his expression darkens.
“Right. You’ll tell me in a minute, I assume,” I reply, which earns me a single nod. We both glance at our surroundings as we near the grain shed door, Nolan keeping a lookout as I unlock the padlock. “How did you find me?”
“I have my ways.” My sidelong glance calls his bluff, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. I checked the cottage first and then snuck into the manor house—”
“Nolan,” I hiss, pushing the door open to lead the way inside.
It’s just as I left it the other day—discarded grain sacks on the floor, the desk with yellowing papers, the film of dust on the single-pane windows.
“Arthur has two security cameras that he rarely checks. But if he thinks you stole his fucking Christina Riccis and sees you breaking in, he’ll cut your fingers off and feed them to you. ”
“Nice. We’ll come back to that. Anyway, when I didn’t find you there, I thought I’d check with Lukas. And voilà.”
Nolan closes the door behind him, sealing us inside the shed.
Dust motes swirl in the morning sun that filters into the room, the scent of the stale air bringing with it another whisper of the sea when he takes a step closer.
The intensity radiating from him seems to vibrate along the invisible thread that ties us together.
He looks like he wants to fuck me. Or kill me.
And I’m not sure which one turns me on more.
“So,” I say, squaring my shoulders in an attempt to regain some control over the sudden swell of desire that spirals deep in my belly, “what the hell is going on—”
“I killed a Sleuthseeker,” he blurts out, his eyes glittering with a burst of excitement that he can’t hide.
I blink. Open my mouth. Close it again. Take a breath and try again. “You . . . what? Have you lost your mind?”
“No one saw me. And they already think it’s an accident.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s what Yates said when he radioed that he’d be late to the search. ‘Some dumbass tourist got too close to the cliff edge and fell into the sea.’”
“Convenient,” I say, crossing my arms, my eyes narrowing. “And I’m guessing you’re the one who pushed him and made sure he didn’t come back up for air.” Nolan shrugs, and I’m not sure if I’m furious or insanely fucking envious. Or both. “You’re the one who said, ‘no more murder.’”
Nolan scratches at his stubble, and I’m 99 percent sure it’s a thinly veiled attempt to hide the dimple threatening to betray his excitement.
And if I’m being honest with myself, that scares me.
I’m suddenly worried the pressure of the search and the constant presence of Yates has eroded Nolan’s restraint.
But Nolan? He doesn’t seem too concerned about that.
Not with the way a lopsided smile escapes his control.
“Yeah, well. It was the perfect opportunity to make it look like an accident. Couldn’t let it pass me by.
” He takes a step closer, a hunter closing in on wounded prey.
“Besides, I didn’t think you’d mourn the loss of another Sleuthseeker from this fucked-up world.
And I’m sure it’ll keep the others occupied. ”