Chapter 18 #2
I pointed to the space way down at the end of the hall. “The boarded-up room.”
Blake’s eyes went wide, but only for a moment. He remembered the story.
“Stay here.” He made like he was going to investigate on his own.
“No way!” I whispered. “This is my hotel.”
Blake frowned, but grabbed my hand, locking his fingers with mine. “Then stay with me.”
Those were the words I’d wanted to say earlier. I would have laughed if I wasn’t nearly shaking with concern about the sound we’d heard.
“It was nothing, right?” I squeezed Blake’s hand, grateful for its broad, warm grasp, and not caring in the least about being tough.
“I’m sure it was no—”
But another bang came now, louder than before. I startled, letting out a little yip. Then, embarrassed at my reaction, I reached down and picked up a short stub of 2x4, grasping it in one hand like a bat.
Blake, though alert, raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“It’s something! What are you going to do, punch them out?”
Blake looked at me with an expression that said duh.
A moment later, we were at the space where Room 114 would have been. It was then I noticed a hole in the wall, about as big as a football.
“That wasn’t there the last time I was in here,” I whispered.
We tiptoed toward it. My heart was ramming against my ribcage so hard I was sure I was going to alert whoever—whatever—was inside.
“I’m going to look inside,” Blake said.
His temple was beaded with sweat—the only tell that he had any nerves about this. That and the tenseness of his body.
I flattened myself against the wall a few feet before the hole and lifted the 2x4 up like a bat. My breathing came short and shallow.
Blake released my hand and kept going. He was just squatting down when a hand flew out of the hole, grasping Blake’s shirt.
He yelped. I shrieked. Then I brought the 2x4 down as hard as I could, which, as it turned out, wasn’t very hard, because of the way my body was angled. The wood hit the wall on the way down, slowing its momentum, and when it landed on the arm, was more like a heavy slap than a bone-crushing blow.
But it was enough that the person on the other end yowled, releasing Blake.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then awareness hit. I knew that yowl. It was the same sound that had come out of my brother Jude's mouth when I smacked him across the face with my purse a few months ago after he’d snuck up on me and Chelsea in the dim hallway of our apartments late at night.
“Jude!?” I exclaimed. I was going to kill him.
Heat was just riding up my throat when another voice sounded.
“Back up, give us eight feet.”
“Who the hell is that?” Blake was still tense, his face awash with confusion.
I had no trouble recognizing Griff’s low grumble. “Griffin, and when he says watch out, watch out!”
I pulled Blake’s hand, and we jumped back in just enough time for a sledgehammer to go through the wall. I clung onto Blake’s arm for no reason other than because the sound of the hammer made me jump each time it landed.
After a few hits, there was a big enough hole that Griff popped his torso out. Dust plumed around him; his dark auburn hair was gray with it.
“Hey there,” he said, “Only a few more hits and I’ll have a door for you.”
Then Griffin froze. He was wearing goggles, which made it difficult to see his eyes, but it only took me a minute to realize what he was looking at.
I had wrapped myself around Blake Harrington’s arm so tightly, his bicep was nestled between my breasts. I swallowed, pulling myself away.
Blake had seen too; I could tell because his neck went a shade of pink.
But Griffin said nothing, just pulled himself back inside and hit the wall down low again, and again and again.
The hits may have been harder that time.
A few minutes later, after allowing time for the dust to settle at least a little, Blake and I were standing in an empty room alongside my brothers.
After I inspected Jude’s forearm, which was bright red but didn’t look like it was permanently damaged, I gave him a shove. “I can’t believe you pulled that!”
I shoved him once more for good measure.
“Ow,” Jude laughed, though my pushing didn’t do much.
“And you!” I said to Griff. I tried to shove him, but of course it was like pushing on a tree trunk.
“He made me do it,” Griff grunted.
But Griff’s voice was even rougher than usual, and he gave me a look that said he wanted to talk to me, pronto.
“Hey, I’m sorry about grabbing you, man,” Jude said to Blake. “It was just too perfect—you were walking by…”
While Jude and Blake talked, I met Griff’s eyes and pointed my chin toward the hallway. I had to deal with this before I could even think about what was in here.
Griffin was good with secrets. Secrets were his MO. But he was also deeply, almost religiously loyal. He would not abide by anything like his sister getting close to a married man.
Before I could speak, Griff said, “Gus sent me an email while I was away.” His voice was tight with anger.
“You were checking your email?” Griff was not known for responding to any form of communication, especially when he went off on his mysterious jaunts. Still, I’d sent him a couple, asking where he was, which he’d ignored.
He ignored me this time, too. “You know what was in the email?”
Gus was the facilities manager, but he was also in charge of security across the whole property. What could he…
No. Oh my God, no. I felt the blood drain from my face. “Griff—”
“It was a video clip. He caught a couple of people in business attire making out outside the shed on the south side of the golf course.”
I was going to be sick. I glanced over at Blake. He was watching us but listening to whatever Jude was telling him. I angled Griff so our backs were to them, worried Griff might actually murder him if Blake appeared in his line of sight.
“The footage wasn’t that clear,” Griff went on. “There was some kind of smudge on the lens. But I know my sister when I see her. And I know her married fucking consultant.”
“Griff, I can explain—”
“I tried to convince myself it was someone else, that there was just a striking fucking resemblance. But now I see you holding his fucking hand!?”
“Griffin,” I said, my voice as loud as I could make it while still whispering, placing a hand on his arm. “Calm down, okay?”
He looked down as if I’d lain a waiter’s cloth over his forearm.
“What about this is okay?”
I took my hand away, my heart hammering in my chest. I hadn’t thought this part through. What was I going to say? My brother could sniff out a lie a mile away.
“It’s not real.”
Both of us whirled around. Blake.
For a moment, panic ballooned in my chest as Griff took a step toward him.
“Griff, wait,” I said.
But Blake was calm, and held his ground with Griffin. While Griffin was thicker around the chest and shoulders, Blake was not insubstantially sized. He also had an inch or two of height on my brother.
For a moment, tension crackled in the air. I was going to have to step in between them.
“Guys, this is—” I began, but Griff spoke up.
“What do you mean, it’s not real?”
“My marriage. To Lila. It’s part of the business.”
Griffin eyed me, checking for my response. Even after this, he trusted me. My heart swelled. “It’s true,” I said.
“I knew it!” Jude exclaimed from behind. “Lila’s into women, isn’t she?” Jude said.
Blake’s jaw clenched.
“Jude!” I glared at my other brother. “Keep your trap shut!”
But Jude never kept his trap shut. “I saw her checking out the women’s group tennis lesson,” he said, all innocence. Then he waggled a brow. “It didn’t look like she was admiring their outfits.”
I nearly slapped my own forehead.
But Griffin had visibly relaxed—at least a little. He was still giving Blake a mild stink eye.
“For obvious reasons, I ask that you not tell anyone outside this room about our arrangement,” Blake said. “Though… I won’t force anyone to keep my secret.”
He looked at me when he said that. Something squeezed in me.
No, this was only a tactic—a way to make my brothers think it was their idea to keep the knowledge in confidence.
Jude held up three fingers. “Your secret’s safe with me, man.”
“It doesn’t sound like it, but Jude’s actually good at keeping secrets,” I said. “Even if it’s just because he forgets them five minutes after you tell them.”
Jude shrugged.
“Griff?” I asked.
He was still eyeing Blake, but after a moment, grunted. “For you.”
“Great,” I said. “That’s great.”
“Okay, so now that we got that out of the way,” Jude said, “Come check out what we found!”
Blake gave Griffin a nod, and briefly met my eyes before heading back to Jude, who was kneeling by the wall under the window.
“It’s a long story,” I said to Griff once the other two were out of earshot. “But I can explain it. And anyway… Blake is leaving tomorrow.”
“I thought things weren’t finished until next week?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
Griff raised his eyebrow and folded his arms. “I got time.”
“You going to tell me where you were the past month?”
Griff grimaced. “Fine.” Then he gave me what passed for a Griff smile—it wasn’t far from the grimace. “I found Dad.”
My heart lifted. “Oh my god, where was he?”
“Indonesia.”
My jaw fell open.
But then Jude was calling us over, his voice excited.
“I’ll tell you more later.” Griff wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we headed to the others.
“Ugh, you’re covered in dust! And you stink!”
“That’s just the old familiar Eau du Griff.”
I laughed. Then I held my breath as I wrapped my arms around his torso to give him a squeeze before freeing myself, coughing exaggeratedly. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “For finding Dad. And for understanding the thing between me and Blake.”
“I’m glad things are on the level, Cass,” he said before we reached them, his voice serious.
I smiled, though I imagined it was as sad a smile as there ever was. “As level as they can be.”
“You’re right, Jude,” Blake said, his voice awed. “There’s something in there.”
Okay, now I was interested. I squatted down between Blake and Jude. There was a heat vent here; the old kind that sat on the wall, its cover an ornate design of flowers and vines. But inside, it was too dark to see anything.
“Where?” I asked.
Blake pointed with one hand, his other slipping over the small of my back. It was a subtle, barely-there move, but the rush of tingling it sent through me distracted me enough that I looked at him instead of the vent.
His mouth turned up in the slightest smile. My chest clenched.
Stay. I want you to stay.
“What is it?” Griff asked from behind us. “A box?”
I dragged my attention from Blake back to the vent. He couldn’t stay. And I didn’t want to insist he did. I wouldn’t do that.
Jude looked over his shoulder at Griff. “Seriously, man? A box?”
“I don’t have my glasses on,” Griff grunted.
“Since when do you wear glasses?” I asked him, incredulous.
Griff kneeled down between me and Jude, squinting inside as if he hadn’t heard me.
Even with me this close, it was shadowy in there, with little light hitting it as the window was on the same wall. I pulled out my phone, flipping on the flashlight and shone it in. It was a small rectangle.
“Looks like a book,” Blake said.
Griff pulled something out of his pocket—a utility knife, I saw now—and in a few quick moves, he’d popped the grill off the wall.
Jude reached in and pulled the thing out. It was small, about 4x6 inches, and thick with dust.
My stomach flittered with excitement. “Is that a—”
“Holy shit, it’s Eleanor’s diary!” Jude exclaimed.
“You haven’t even opened it,” Griff said.
Jude blew hard on the cover. Dust exploded in a plume around us and the three of us leaned back, cursing and waving at the air in front of our faces.
“Jesus, Jude,” Griff coughed. He went to grab the book, but Jude was quick and held it away.
I rolled my eyes, then sneezed. I would have stood up, but I wanted to see what was inside as badly as Jude did.
When Jude opened the cover, the first thing we saw was an inscription on the inside of the front cover.
Property of J.E.Q.
“Who’s J.E.Q.?” Jude asked, his voice strung with disappointment.
“Who knows?” I said.
Blake tipped his head at Jude. “Keep going. Let’s see what else is inside.”
Jude turned the page. There was writing inside, but it was illegible. Not because it was blurred or faded, but because the writing wasn’t in English. It wasn’t in any language I recognized.
“What the hell?” Jude said.
“Let me see,” Griffin said.
But just then, a soft creak sounded.
Not in this room. We all looked at each other.
“Did you hear that?” Jude whispered.
Suddenly, I remembered Dad’s words from that call. Anyone who spends time in that room… something always goes terribly wrong.
It was ridiculous, but Dad said it was why the last owners had plastered over the door.
How long had we been in here?
“It sounded like it came from over there,” Blake said, his voice soft. He was looking at the hole in the wall that led to the adjoining room.
Blood rushed in my ears, my heartbeat so loud I could feel it shaking me. I gripped Blake’s hand, not caring what my brothers might think.
We held our breath as another creak sounded.
Then a face appeared.
We all jumped, hollering.
Except for Griff, who looked unphased.
But the face had jumped too—that’s when I saw it was Seamus, his eyes round, dark hair mussed as if it had gotten scared too.
My heart was still skipping at an elevated speed. “Holy hell, Seamus!” I exclaimed, my voice shrill. “What are you doing here?”
“You scared the shit out of us!” Jude said, his eyes wild.
“You guys scared the shit out of me!” Seamus said.
I let go of Blake’s hand, conscious I was probably crushing his knuckles.
Griff waved him in. “I asked Seamus to come do a walk-through with me. To see if Reilly and Sons might be up for the reno.”
“Griff,” I whispered. We hadn’t even finalized the plans for the wing, let alone started soliciting bids from interested contractors.
“Relax,” Griff said. “It’s just preliminary.”
I gaped, but Seamus was already crawling through the hole and thumping across the floor in his work boots, looking around at the space.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“It’s Eleanor Cleary’s room,” Jude said.
Seamus bunched his brows, then angled his head sideways to look at the book in Jude’s hand. “Why did Eleanor have a cipher?”