Chapter 10
Lillian
It takes a minute to absorb Sean’s reveal. Dante’s intelligence network is no doubt larger, more experienced, and better funded than the U.S. government’s. Unpacking while starting dinner, I discuss our current case with Sean until footsteps sound in the hallway outside our door.
“Hey, lovebirds, it’s me. You decent?” My sister taps on the door.
“At least she asked,” Sean mutters from behind his laptop.
After sharing a quick hug, I point Becks at the steaming pot. “Wanna stay for chili?”
Looking like a model, even in jeans and a T-shirt, she shakes her head. “Ruthie wants you downstairs. She’s doing another reading. You’re supposed to bring something small and personal.”
“Not interested.” Sitting at the kitchen table, Sean doesn’t glance up from his screen.
Rebecca slips behind him, waving her fingers in front of his face. “Okay, but when her tallow candle sets off the alarm, don’t blame me.”
He slaps the table. “Unfucking believable.”
The chair scrapes the floor as he eases to his feet. Favoring one leg, he races to the door. “Let’s go.”
“We’ll be right behind you.” My sister shoves me down the hall, past the bathroom, into the bedroom. “Find something… anything will do.”
I dig through my jewelry until I find a tarnished silver tennis bracelet that belonged to my mom.
On the way out, I switch off the burner, pat Buddy on the head, then follow my sister down three flights of stairs.
Inside Gram’s apartment, a stinky candle flickers on the kitchen table. Even though the shades are drawn, a faint breeze stirs the flame, casting eerie shadows across her wrinkled face.
I jump when her orange tabby, TJ, hisses before zooming from the room.
Wishing I could do the same, I nod at Sean as I bend to kiss Ruthie’s weathered cheek. “Hey, Whassup?”
“Sit.” She uses a faraway, melodramatic voice. “And hold hands.”
Her grandson plants his feet, arms crossed over his chest. “No, this is bullshit, total bullshit.”
“Quiet! I can’t hear the spirits.” Her wooden spoon appears from under the table to point at him. “Now, be seated, Sean James. You too, girls.”
Coughing, I pull out a chair for him, plop into the one next to it, and place my mother’s bracelet in front of the candle. “We’re here. What’s the harm?”
“Fine.” Sean opens the window, turns on the overhead fan, and grimaces as he sits. “But make it fast.”
“Join hands.” Spoon on the table, Grams adjusts her purple turban before picking up my tarnished keepsake.
When no one moves, she gives us the stink eye, singing, “I’m waiting.”
My eyes burn, and my nose runs from the fumes. Sneezing twice, I grab the hand to my right and the left. “Okay. We’re ready.”
Ruthie waves the silver circle over the flames. The flowing sleeves of her robe come so close to the fire, I almost bolt for water. Thankfully, she jerks them back before peering toward the foul-scented, smoldering wax.
“Oh spirits, tell me what you see.”
While the rest of us hold our breath, she pauses as if hearing voices from beyond, then fixates on her grandson. “Outside forces will test your love. Greed. Jealousy. Evil.”
Not yet finished, she turns to me. “Trust is the only way forward.”
Eyes closed, she sighs, flouncing back into her chair. “There is no more.”
“Thank fuck.” Sean blows out the candle. As it smokes, smelling even worse than before, he places it on the windowsill.
Leaning at the waist, he kisses his grandmother on the forehead. “Don’t worry. We’re solid.”
“It’s not me.” She removes her hat and fluffs out her purple curls. “It’s the spirits. Promise me you’ll heed their warning.”
“Yup. We promise.” Ready to go home, I stand, grab the bracelet, rip off a paper towel, and wipe away the black soot.
Grams, thinking I’m not watching, winks at my sister.
Seriously? My gaze narrows. “Exactly how much are you charging for these readings?”
Ruthie smiles as she gathers up her props, stuffing them in a violet canvas bag. “Half an hour for a hundred bucks. I’ve already booked a month at the senior center. Check out my website. I also do a short bit for free at the end of Woo Woo ghost tours. Afterward, I hand out my cards.”
I glare at Becca, who has a BS in marketing. “This is your doing?”
She bursts out laughing. “You should’ve seen your faces.”
Hand on the doorknob, my fiancé glares at me. “You created this monster. Fix it.”
Like I have any control over my sister… or his grandmother?
The older of the two shysters opens the refrigerator and sets a plate on the table. “Brownie, anyone?”
Good God. The last time I had one of her edibles, I was loopy for hours. “No thanks. I left dinner on the stove.”
Ruthie bites into one. “Okay. Toodles. Don’t forget the art show.”
“Mega Dicks?” I groan. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Shutting the door tight, I snicker. By the time we reach the elevator, Sean’s laughing, too.
When the door opens on our floor, he stiffens before shoving me behind him. “Fuck. Stay here. I’ll handle him.”
His whole demeanor changes as he strides down the corridor to confront a man who looks so similar, it must be his father.
Graying at the temples, the billionaire keeps the sides of his hair shaved, with the top longer—manicured nails. Designer wool suit. Plucked brows. Expensive gold watch. And attitude. Lots of attitude.
Picking up my phone, I text my sister.
Me: 911. Roger at our front door.
Becks: K. Coming.
I take a deep breath as I approach the two alpha males, about ready to fight. Emotional? Physical? I can’t be sure.
“What do you want?” As Sean crosses his arms, I slide behind him.
Reeking of pine-scented cologne, his asshole father glares at me, then motions to my apartment. “We need to talk. In private.”
Sean tucks me to his side. “Sorry. Busy. Family time. Besides, it’s her place.”
I want Roger gone, too, but not until we question him. An insider, he might have intel we can use.
“Babe?” I wait for his eyes to shift to mine before continuing. “Maybe we should hear him out? Parkhaven? Pearson?”
Mouth grim, Sean frowns for a couple of seconds. “Fine. But not inside.”
His gaze narrows at his red-faced father. “What do you want?”
“Simple. You need to step away from your investigation.”
The younger of the two lowers his voice to a menacing whisper. “I don’t need to do anything.”
“You’re using my name!” Roger shouts. “My business as a cover. If I say it’s over, it’s over.”
“Not happening.” Sean meets his adversary’s steely stare, jaw ticking. “One phone call and your house of cards comes crashing down.”
Roger pauses, pulls out a pressed handkerchief, then wipes his sweaty brow. “Tell you what, kid. You can use my name if you let me in on the scam.”
Jesus, what a douchebag.
“No. The deal stands.”
Oh. Oh. Sean’s fists clench at his sides.
Thank God, before the two can exchange punches, the elevator pings.
The three of us turn as Ruthie waddles toward us, waving her wooden spoon. “What the hell is going on?”
Sean softens his tone, uncurling his fingers. “Nothing. Dad was just leaving.”
Beady eyes narrowing, Roger scowls. “I will, as soon as you tell me who is funding your investigation. I’ll even let you continue to use my name.”
“No problem. The firm’s called Nunya,” His son smirks.
Biting back a smile, I roll my eyes at Becks, but she’s no help. I know that look. Her eyes water as she tries to hold back giggles.
The urge to laugh grows worse when Roger says, “Never heard of them. Who’s Nunya?”
“Nunya fucking business.” Sean’s chuckle is all that’s needed for me and my sister to let loose.
The joke is stupid. It’s inane. And yet, it’s perfect. As Grams adds her cackles, her grandson points to the stairs. “Leave, Dad. This time, I’m not asking.”
The idiot who can’t follow directions has the nerve to undress my sister with his gaze. “What’s this?” His eyes focus on my breasts. “You fucking twins now?”
Break his nose or kick him in the balls? Before I can decide, Sean tucks me under his arm, whispering, “Down, sweetheart. He’s not worth it.”
Louder, he says to his father, “I want you to meet my fiancée, Lillian Fisher Boyle, MMA champion.”
He scoffs, staring at my left hand. “What? He too cheap to buy you a ring?”
This time, my knee will crunch nuts.
Sensing my intent, Sean grabs Roger by the tie, drags him in front of the elevator, then presses the down button. When the doors open, he shoves him inside.
The jerk thrusts out his arm, stopping the doors from closing. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot. I’ve already called a lawyer. Your crazy grandmother is going to an old age home.”
Sean shoots him the finger. “Go ahead and try.”
Limping back to us, he kisses his grandmother’s violet head. “Don’t worry. The bastard’s all bark.”
Biting her lower lip, she pales. “No, dear. He bites.”
“What do you mean?” Pulse racing, I hold her hand as her eyes brim with tears.
“Last time we spoke, he claimed power of attorney. I thought he was bluffing.” She swallows hard. “Clearly, he was not.”