Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Shards of panic sliced through Monk, dragging him from sleep and into confusion. His heart raced; a thousand needles pricked his skin as his pores expanded. Sweat coated his body, and his chest jerked as he gulped for air.
“It’s okay,” he heard. Only it wasn’t. It was anything but okay. Roger was back. He was going to drag him down to the dungeon and…and…
“Collin.” A soft voice, a female voice, cut through the panic. A lighthouse he could make out but not see clearly.
“Collin.” A small hand settled over his heart. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
The hand shifted, sliding up over his neck, his jaw, then into his hair. Gentle. Soothing.
“Open your eyes,” she said.
Answering the siren’s call, he did as asked, blinking against a sudden onslaught of light.
A curtain of honey-gold hair brushed against his shoulder. Hazel eyes hovered over him. “Helia?”
His heart tripped again as someone knocked on the door. He jerked his attention to the solid wood, calculating how to get Helia safely away from Roger.
“It’s Dulcie,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
Dulcie.
Helia continued stroking her fingers through his hair as reality reasserted its place in his mind. He wasn’t a thirteen-year-old boy. Roger was dead. Helia was beside him. His brother, his family, was knocking. Not Roger.
Another knock.
“Coming,” Monk said, sitting up. The move dislodged Helia’s hand, but he grabbed it and set a kiss on her palm before sliding off the stupidly tall bed.
“You okay?” Dulcie asked when he cracked the door open.
Monk ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “A bad memory. I’m good.”
Dulcie’s dark eyes studied him, then, either happy with what he saw or willing to let it go, he spoke. “There are two women who came through the gates of Bacco.”
Fog still clouded his mind, and it took him a few seconds to remember that while he’d changed the house security code, he hadn’t changed the one for the gate. Alessio and the field workers needed access, even during the month off, and leaving the gate as-is had seemed easier.
“Any idea who?” Another sign that his mind hadn’t cleared. How the hell would Dulcie know anyone from Napa other than those currently in the castle?
Dulcie shook his head. “One is an older woman, big black-rimmed glasses. Reminds me a little of Edna from The Incredibles but with white-blond hair.”
“That’s Gretchen,” Helia said, coming to stand behind him.
Dulcie’s gaze darted over his shoulder, more curious than surprised at her appearance.
“The business manager?” Monk asked, recalling the name he’d seen in the papers the lawyer had forwarded him.
Helia nodded. “The CEO, really, in all but name.”
Monk nodded. “What about the other?”
Dulcie tipped his head. “Younger woman, maybe early forties. Has hair like Helia’s.” Both men looked at her.
“Was she driving a Lexus SUV? Not the huge one, but the midsize one? Blue?” Dulcie nodded. “That’s Kelly Carter. The social media manager Greg mentioned the other day.”
The last thing he wanted to do after his little trip down PTSD alley was deal with Bacco business. Although maybe the wake-up call would do him good.
“Where’s Kendall?” he asked.
“Staying out of sight. She’s in her room with her headphones on. Said she had some schoolwork to finish. She’ll probably be done with college by New Year’s.”
Monk smiled at that. “Can you hold them off for five minutes?” Dulcie nodded and headed toward the stairs as Monk shut the door.
“Need anything?” Helia asked as he took a deep breath.
“A quick shower, a cup of coffee, and a chance to let my brain catch up?”
Smiling, she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “Can’t help with the first or the last, but I can make you a cup of coffee while you shower?”
An image of them showering together took hold, but he forced it away. “Thank you,” he said, “I’d appreciate it.” Her eyes held his, and he flexed his fingers to keep from reaching for her.
“Thank you,” he said again. Then, giving up the ghost, he slid his hands into her hair and kissed her forehead.
The pull to stay connected to her, touching her, sank deep into his body, but his phone dinged with a security alert from one of the cameras.
Reluctantly, he let her go and strode toward the shower, keeping his steps steady so as not to be tempted to return to her.
Seven minutes later, he stepped onto the porch to find Dulcie chatting with the two women. Two sets of curious eyes landed on him. One, bright blue, rimmed by a pair of thick black glasses, assessed him. The other, a light brown pair, raked over his body with an interest he didn’t welcome.
“You don’t look like your father,” the older woman, Gretchen, said.
“Thank god. I’d hate to wake up every morning and see that face in the mirror.” The words might sound like a jest, but judging by the way Gretchen’s eyes narrowed, she knew it wasn’t. And she agreed. “Collin Wilde,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Gretchen Roan,” she replied, taking his. “Business manager at Bacco. I ran into Clyde at the memorial, and he said you were here. Thought I’d come introduce myself.” Clyde was his father’s lawyer, and Monk suspected she wanted more than to introduce herself.
“Why don’t you head into your office, and I’ll join you in a minute,” he replied.
She gave a curt nod, then passed Dulcie on her way in. With a nod to Monk, he turned and followed her. Keeping both women outside, especially with the temperatures hovering in the high thirties, might seem rude, but he wasn’t ready for people to start thinking they were welcome at the castle.
And he didn’t like the way Kelly eyed him and Dulcie. Especially not during what he assumed was a professional visit.
When the door closed behind his brother and Gretchen, she shifted her attention to him. She didn’t bother hiding her speculation or interest.
“Two of you here. I didn’t know Helia had it in her. Can’t hardly blame her, though,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.
Monk straightened, crossing his arms and fixing Kelly with a hard look at her implication. Neither the content nor the timing even remotely appropriate.
“Can I help you, Ms.…?”
“Call me Kelly,” she said, flashing him a smile he’d seen on dozens of women looking to add a notch to their bedpost. Between that look and her comment about Helia, it cost her a client. The Falcons had plenty of experience with web design and social media; they didn’t need her.
He stared, waiting to see what she’d say.
“I’m the social media manager for Bacco,” she started.
“You’ve probably heard of me.” When he didn’t respond, she continued.
“Anyway, Trish Peterson mentioned you were here. You met her a few nights ago with Helia at that taco place in town.” Again, he didn’t respond.
Her brows dipped, but she carried on. “I thought I’d stop by and see if you were planning to reopen the tasting room for the holidays and discuss what updates we should publish. ”
He shook his head. “No updates. The tasting room will stay closed until mid-January as planned.” He wanted to change the login and passwords to the backend of the site before firing her.
She frowned. “This is a big time of year. You’re losing business.”
It wasn’t, not really. Sure, the valley saw a bump in tourism the few weeks around Christmas and New Year’s when folks took vacations, but it was hardly booming. Clyde had sent him enough of the financials for him to figure that out.
“The winery can afford it,” he replied. Besides, he wasn’t about to call employees back in. By now, several probably had other temp jobs for the month, or had planned vacations, or were simply enjoying the downtime.
“Really, you’re missing out. You could throw an impromptu New Year’s party or celebrate your dad’s life with some big event. He would have liked that. Would have liked people raising a glass or ten in his name.”
If he hadn’t already decided to fire her, the familiar way she spoke about Roger would have made the decision for him.
“Not interested. I’ll let you know if anything comes up that needs your attention,” he said, setting his hand on the door.
“How about a cup of coffee, and we can discuss some spring changes?” She inched closer.
He narrowed his eyes. She stepped back.
“Right,” she said. “Do you mind if I peek into the other office? Not Gretchen’s but the one beside it?
I was here a few days before your dad died, and I think my earbuds fell out of my purse.
Lipstick, or my compact, I wouldn’t care, but they’re the expensive ones.
I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here and had resigned myself to waiting a month, but then I heard about you. ”
“I’ll look and let you know if I find them.” No way in hell was he going to allow her inside.
“They’re small. You might miss them.”
“I’m thorough,” he replied, opening the door.
“I’ll let you know.” He stepped inside, shutting the door with a definitive click.
Turning his back on her, he pulled out his phone as he walked toward Gretchen’s office.
A fish-eye view of Kelly lingering on the porch filled his screen through the security app, her narrowed eyes and tight jaw absent any sort of come-hither look.
He paused at the office door, wanting to make sure she left. Ten seconds passed before she stomped off the porch.
“I’ll make sure she leaves,” Dulcie said, stepping out of the business office. “You should go in and talk to Gretchen. I think you’re going to need her.”
With that cryptic statement, he entered the room to find her sitting behind the desk, computer booted up, her glasses perched on the top of her head, and her body leaning forward.
“What do you know about your father?” she asked, not looking up.
“Nothing in the past seventeen years. More than I ever wanted to in the eighteen prior to that.”
She sat back, assessing him again. “I looked into you when I learned Roger had a son.” He decided it was prudent to stay silent. “You and your friends run quite a few businesses.”
“Seven.” He was proud of what they’d built.
“What’s your employee turnover?”
He blinked. Not a question he expected. “Next to none, considering the business models.”
“And considering you help people escape abusive situations and, if they want, give them jobs until they feel comfortable moving on?”
He sat. “You’ve done your homework.” The work he and his brothers did to help people who needed a hand wasn’t common knowledge.
“Petra Green.”
He cocked his head.
“She’s my niece.”
He sat back. “Lived in Bend, Oregon, and married to a man who used both her and their son as his punching bag.” Gretchen nodded. “That was a bad one.”
“It was. Could have been worse without your help, though,” she said.
“She told me the names of the men who helped her. I remembered yours because of the last name. But as you can imagine, thinking someone like you could come from someone like Roger? It was a stretch, so I let it go until Clyde mentioned you at the service.”
“You seem to hold the same opinion of my father as I do. What’s made you stay?” He didn’t mean to sound suspicious, but hell, he was.
She chuckled and leaned forward again, eyes on her computer.
“Bacco employees. Twenty-two full-time and forty-five part-timers, mostly the field workers. I didn’t know what kind of man he was when I hired on.
By the time I figured it out, those people were family to me.
Your father and I came to an agreement. He’d leave me to run the business as I saw fit so long as his bank account stayed where he expected. ”
Monk doubted she knew the full scope of how depraved Roger Wilde was, but he wasn’t going to ask. “I saw the financials. Even with whatever cash you transferred to my dad, the winery is doing exceptionally well.”
She nodded. “Fair wages, good benefits—they inspire loyalty. In the long run, loyalty is a good investment.”
“I’m surprised Alessio hasn’t gone off and started something of his own. By this point, he must have a following. One unconnected to the Wilde name.”
“With what land? He makes a good salary. One of the best in the valley, but it’s not enough to buy here.”
Monk conceded that point even as an idea started forming. He needed to sort out things with Helia and the murders first, though. “Did you come in today to take my measure?”
She inclined her head. “More to confirm my instinct. So far, you’re not disappointing.”
“But the day is young,” he said with a smile.
She grinned back. She wasn’t old, maybe her mid-sixties, but the smile made her look a decade younger.
“So,” she said, sitting back. “Have you found your father’s drug stash?”