Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Rumor has it that indie goddess Erzulie—a.k.a. Kylie Miles—doesn’t have to work another day in her life based on the amount she inherited from her sister, Leanne. That amount was made public with the final filing of the stock transfer on behalf of the Castor Trust. However, Erzulie continues to dedicate herself to her music.
The real question is which Erzulie will be showing up at the Grammys? Will it be the seasoned performer or the woman rightfully still in the throes of grief?
—StellaNova
I fall face first on my bed and groan, grateful to be back home and in the comfort of my own apartment. When I agreed to return the favor for the Agency running the tests on behalf of Austyn and Fallon—setting up a shitstorm of an investigation at their old college—who fucking knew the favor I’d be asked to assist with would take so fucking long? Especially when I had limited access to every person I knew—including my family—as I lived under an assumed name while I was spending the better part of a month in the picturesque town of Silverthorn, New Hampshire, trying to fly beneath the radar of the paparazzi as they descended like vultures after the death of CEO and world-renowned white hat, Leanne Miles.
Having met Leanne professionally and collaborated with her company, Castor, on a few contracts for the Department of Defense since I left the navy, I’m one of the many members of the tech community collectively reeling at the implications of her murder.
Even before that, my father’s massive coronary directly as a result of my sister confronting him as a result of a lifetime of lies he subjected her to, a holiday where my sister rekindled her relationship with her daughter’s father, and my niece grew closer to her father every second she spent with him, I was grateful to put Texas behind me for a few weeks.
The second I received the call from my former boss just after the first of the year, I knew why I was sent to hunt any and all information I could in Leanne’s hometown as there are any number of national agencies and international enemies eager to determine not only the cause of her death but also unearth what secrets would be available to the highest bidder. And they all wanted to cast the blame on each other as quickly as possible.
But things never stayed clean when the Agency was involved. I practically snarled over the phone at the big man behind the desk when he admitted, “I need you to do more than just your normal sweep.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of my agents went missing the day of Leanne Miles’ funeral.”
“What the fuck were they even doing there?” I scrubbed my hand over my face as I sat in the small, nondescript motel room in Silverthorn. “You’re determined to give me a damn coronary, just like my father, aren’t you?”
“Hopefully you’re in better shape than that bastard.”
“Fuck you. Now, why was your agent here?”
“Watching what went down in Silverthorn at Leanne Miles’ funeral.”
“And?” Knowing there was more to follow.
“Someone tried to run them off the road.” In response, a deep snarl of disgust erupted from my chest, something the man on the other end of the line approved of.
“How many did they get?”
“Cleanup crew found three. I need to know if there were more.”
“Do you think there are?”
“Does it matter what I think? I need to know.”
“You always do.”
“Dig down. Use whatever resources you have access to, and I don’t care if they’re legal to do it,” the man snapped before disconnecting the secure call.
My thoughts flashed briefly to my family and…her.
Fallon.
For the first time ever, she wasn’t at my family’s annual Christmas Eve party. I didn’t get to see her shaking her amazing body to whatever song Austyn was singing. I didn’t get an opportunity to try to maneuver her beneath the mistletoe. Instead, I propped myself up against a wall, nursing a single whiskey while keeping a sharp eye on the door, willing her to come through it.
She never did, and neither did her mother, which caused its own spurt of surprise. Helen Brookes has been my sister’s neighbor for as long as I can recall. A quick peek out the front window showed they were home as a tree was prominent in the front window, though there appeared to be new sheers across the windows.
Still, neither woman showed.
Damn, I’m thinking about her more and more despite the fact she likely found some college guy at UT closer to her age and is living it up—like she should be, I remind myself. Just because I’d sell my left nut to have her in my bed doesn’t mean she’d want me to be there.
Shrugging the disturbing thought of some guy touching her perfect skin when the truth is I’d give anything if I could find someone to wipe the fantasies of her from my mind, I figured this might be a good break. Satisfied at my silence, I was told, “Then keep your ass there and do what you do best.”
“What’s that?” I asked, curious.
“Clean up other people’s shitstorms.” His words remind me of how we met. Back when I was just an ensign—a hacker to be sure, but nothing in comparison to the men and women from the contracting team who stormed aboard the bridge of the USS Lassen —an Arleigh Burke missile destroyer I was serving on. The Alliance crew immediately drew notice from every man and woman serving on deck, in particular from the SEAL team, as they took over our consoles. Back then, the man was the hardened SEAL team leader—a lieutenant who had survived more combat action than I could fathom at the time. And when it was over, the two of us and a shit load of others working to keep hostages alive—not to mention the world at large—came off that particular cruise changed after we witnessed the desecration of human life for the madness of greed. My life mission drastically changed and I never questioned it.
Not once.
Not until I saw Fallon standing in my father’s backyard.
Now I wonder what the fuck is wrong because this is the longest we’ve gone without contact since we met. I don’t miss the opportunity to give the man on the other end of the line a raft of shit because I know I’m one of the few who can. “I gave you puke to test. You sent me as part of a clandestine, off-books, HUMANIT fact-finding fuckup.” The truth is, the human intelligence gathering mission yielded little, but it did give us a few leads, all of which I already passed along. What I’m pointing out is what he asked for wasn’t balanced in the slightest.
His, “You’re good at it,” made me bark out a laugh. The problem was, what should have been a seven-day job took weeks longer than expected. The agent I was supposed to be locating was never once found on camera. She was smoke. All I found once I hacked every security camera I could from street cameras to personal doorbells, was blond hair caught in a glimpse out a car window as she drove away from the fatal shooting sight. It demonstrated the agent in question is a fucking bad ass who managed to survive by the skin of her teeth. Not to mention, we share a mutual mentor if her driving skills are anything to go by.
Which also means she’s lethal.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I ring my sister to let her know I’m back in town from the computer system consultation she believes I’ve been working at, only to find out she’s in the process of packing up and heading back to New York soon to be with my niece and her man. I groan before rolling over to my back. Despite my exhaustion, I offer, “Need any help?”
“You sound exhausted, Ethan,” she scolds.
“Yeah. This contract was a bitch,” I admit, without elaborating. My family has no clue about the work I did for the Agency. They think I own a lucrative consulting business with a storefront open for local computer repairs in our hometown of Kensington, Texas. I snort. As if that would be enough to occupy my time.
They have no idea what happens in the back room.
They have no clue about the jobs behind the secure doors.
No one does but the man who sends me orders from safely behind his desk in northern Virginia.
If they did, I wonder if they’d hate me as much as I do myself, I think despairingly. When I think of all the pain I could have saved my sister if I verified the source of the information that guided all of our lives…
I broach the topic of my father’s deceit with my sister carefully. “Have you talked to him?”
I hear her murmur to someone she’ll be right back before she replies, “If you’re referring to our father, then no. Not since before you left. I’m arranging for his home health care for when I’m gone.”
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving.”
She’s silent for a long while. “It feels right to be with him, Ethan. How many years have Beckett and I lost?”
“Because of lies and deceit perpetrated by our father?” I was on a tour of duty when my father lied to my sister about not being able to find the father of her child. In the years in between, we all accepted his word only to find out he lied about so much.
Too much to forgive.
Paige breaks into my thoughts. “Yes.”
“Too many.” The answer comes easily.
She sighs. “I just wish you could find your happy.”
Immediately, Fallon’s face flashes into my mind. I’m about to reply back when she says to someone helping her pack—most likely our brother, “Put that one in the pile for Fallon so I can mail it to her.”
My brows snap together when I realize I haven’t received a single message from the little witch. Casually, I ask, “How is she doing?”
“I assume fine. Why?”
“Just curious,” I try to fob off the question.
Paige unknowingly becoming a fountain of information. “Helen didn’t say anything before she moved and Austyn hasn’t said anything about her being unhappy since Fallon transferred schools.”
What? Moved? New school? Instead of verbally vomiting those questions and being subject to an interrogation, I manage, “That’s good to hear.”
“It really is. Listen, I have to go. Jess and I have plans in a couple of hours. Why don’t you join us?” Her excitement is practically palpable and I want to bask in her happiness—after I find out what the fuck happened to Fallon.
“Sounds good. Text me where to meet you.”
“Talk soon.” My sister disconnects the call.
Immediately after ending the call, I open my text string with Fallon. My heart drops when I realize I haven’t texted her in close to two months. The last thing she sent me was a text:
Fallon : I have some pretty big news to share. You around?
My stomach churns when I realize I didn’t respond. Not only that, but I know I deliberately ignored her incoming message because I was on a date with another woman in another futile attempt to forget what Fallon made me feel. It went nowhere—none of them ever do. It’s a self-flagellation, a torture I submit to because I can’t have what I want—a woman I friend zoned because of her age.
Even then, I’ve been a shitty one at best. I have no idea what’s going on in Fallon’s life and it’s my own fucking fault. My fingers text before my brain can catch up.
Ethan:
Are you there?
Ethan:
Where are you?
Ethan:
I heard you left school? What the fuck happened?
Ethan:
Fallon?
Ethan:
Is everything okay with your Mom? With you?
Ethan:
I know I owe you a huge apology for ghosting you.
Ethan:
Are you ignoring me, witch?
An hour later and there’s still no response. Frustrated, I yank my laptop from my bag and start hunting her without a single qualm about invading her privacy. Most people would be scared if they knew how easy it is to be traced online using simple technology—let alone the shit I know how to do. With a few simple keystrokes, I get my answers, but I’m dumbfounded by what’s on my screen.
“Fallon’s in Seven Virtues, North Carolina? Where the fuck is that?” A simple Google search tells me the university town is located right outside Asheville, not far from the Biltmore Estate.
She left.
She’s gone.
My phone is lying next to me on the bed when it vibrates. Snatching it up immediately, I read her response.
Fallon:
I had something to say a few months ago.
Ethan:
Like your whole family moving?
Fallon:
Obviously it wasn’t that important to you. No big.
Ethan:
Fallon…
Fallon:
Don’t worry about losing my digits.
Fallon:
I can take care of myself, Uncle E.
Ethan:
I’m not your damn uncle.
Fallon:
Already figured out you’re not anyone to me, are you?
Shit. What did I do to break even the tentative bond between us?