Chapter 38 Mallory Plantation—Clay
Mallory Plantation—Clay
A crushing sense of impending doom sank its claws into Clay’s gut.
Three Scotsmen, their faces flushed, tempers simmering just below boiling, loomed before him.
How, in the name of all that was sane, was he meant to handle this?
Every de-escalation strategy in his playbook vanished—none would work here.
Elliott’s stare burned into him, a silent command to defuse the palpable tension now, before the room exploded into chaos. A shaky breath tore from Clay’s lungs.
Elliott marched—an unstoppable force—toward the sputtering engine and the smell of leaking oil.
Tiny glass daggers from the smashed windshield shattered beneath his boot heels.
The metal cabinet that once held the diving equipment was open on the concrete floor, spilling its guts—masks, weights, snorkels, fins, and regulators—out over the glass.
Making the destruction even worse, the car’s front fender hit the large monitor on the wall, and it now hung precariously by a single bolt—smashed.
The Chevrolet hadn’t just landed in the clean room. It looked like it had dropped from space without a parachute.
The rhythm of Elliott’s steps was a relentless drumbeat against the high-stakes confrontation about to take place. “Why the fuck did ye bring it in here?” he yelled.
Clay shrugged and tried a nonchalant approach to defuse Elliott’s outrage over the mess Clay had created. “We told the brooch to take us to Mallory Plantation. There are over two thousand acres here. It could’ve taken us anywhere, but it thought this was the best location.”
“Bullshit!” Braham’s unusual profanity was an indicator of the depth of his anger. He’d dedicated significant time and attention to every detail in the room, and it reflected his personality and work ethic. Clay had violated Braham’s deep personal connection to the room—probably beyond forgiveness.
“Ye left from here, damn it,” Braham continued. “Unless ye told it to go somewhere else, where’d ye think it was going to bring ye?”
Telling Braham that they left using the diamond brooch, and that Clay returned using the amethyst wouldn’t make the situation any better.
Smoke started rising from under the hood. Clay grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and sprayed a foam agent over the car’s smoking engine. Braham hit the control button for the exhaust fan to pull the smoke, fumes, and harmful pollutants out of the air.
Clay stood there, his knuckles white around the handle of the red canister, and visually surveyed the damage to the smoldering Chevrolet. “It’s not so bad. It needs a new windshield, a few repairs to the engine, and a plunger will take care of the dents.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the car,” Braham fumed.
If Clay had planned a disaster, it couldn’t be any worse than this. At least nobody got hurt. He yanked open the car’s back door.
“Is it safe to come out?” Tony asked.
Clay tried to chuckle, but it came out as a grunt. “You’re safe. Me, not so much.”
Tony hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Just ignore the angry looks.”
Bastien wrestled himself free of the twisted metal and slid out. He navigated the debris field, rounding the car to extend his hand to Elliott. “Thanks for sending the troops to bring us home, Dr. Fraser. I’m sorry about this mess. Clay and I will clean it up.”
“Ye’re damn right ye will,” Braham said.
Elliott gave Bastien’s hand a hearty shake while evaluating him with a critical eye. “Ye look like ye came home without too much wear and tear.”
“Not too much, sir.”
Bastien then shook hands with Braham and David. “Sorry about this.” Then he turned toward Marcelle, who had followed him out. “This is my sister. Marcelle, meet Dr. Fraser, Braham McCabe, and David McBain.”
Elliott extended his hand again. “Did ye have a rough time, lass?”
“No, sir. I met Skye right after I landed in 1928 Chicago, and we connected with Clay and Remy a few hours later.”
David popped open the car’s hood while Braham took the fire extinguisher from Clay and sprayed a couple of places that were still smoking.
Elliott glanced at Skye, sitting on the stool, watching Remy work. “I sense there’s a longer story. I want a play-by-play.”
Skye saluted him. “Yes, sir.”
Elliott eyed Tony and Kaitlyn. “Where’d they pick ye two up?”
Bastien lightly backhanded Tony in the gut. “This guy came to my rescue.”
Elliott looked back and forth between Tony and Bastien. “So ye kidnapped him to show yer appreciation?”
“That wasn’t necessary. I wanted to come,” Tony said. “And it’s good to see you again, Elliott.”
“Again?” Elliott hesitated. “We’ve met before?”
“I’m Tony McSorley. Roisin’s son. I haven’t seen you for thirty-two years. You haven’t changed, but I know I have.”
“My God, lad. It’s only been a few months for us. Roisin and Phin will be thrilled. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard her say she regretted leaving ye behind.”
“She did the right thing,” Tony said.
David stepped away from the car and reached for his phone. “I’ll send Roisin a message and ask her to come down.”
“Tell her to wear combat boots and a flak jacket,” Elliott said. “Clay might have another disaster planned for his homecoming.”
Clay clamped his jaw shut. He never would have imagined that the most dangerous part of this adventure would be the homecoming.
But here he was, so neck-deep in shit he’d never get another invitation to play chess.
Even though he complained about his matches with Elliott, he savored every challenging minute across that chessboard.
“Limit the notifications to Roisin,” Elliott continued. “Let her have a few minutes alone with Tony before he’s reunited with Phin and Gabe.” Then Elliott turned back to the one person he hadn’t met. “And who are ye?”
“Kaitlyn Kenzie McSorley, sir. I’m Tony’s daughter.”
“And a lawyer,” Tony added proudly.
“Daughter? Lawyer? Hell, we’ve got some catching up to do. Roisin will be beside herself. Welcome, lass.”
“I’ve heard stories my entire life about you, Remy, Patrick, Gabe, David, and the others. I hoped one day I’d meet you, and here I am, and here you are.” Kaitlyn’s eyes shimmered with a glassy sheen. “This is a dream come true.”
“I hope we can live up to a lifetime of stories,” Elliott said. “Did I hear correctly that yer middle name is Kenzie?”
“You did. Is she here?”
David put away his phone and crossed over to Kaitlyn to shake hands. “I’m David, by the way, and Kenzie and Meredith are on their way back from Texas.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Kaitlyn said.
“We serve dinner at eight,” Charlotte said from her operating suite. “I’ll make an exception for tonight and relax the dress code. Casual wear is acceptable, but only for tonight.”
“What do you usually wear?” Marcelle asked.
“Dressier than business but not as dressy as cocktail attire,” David said. “Kilts are always acceptable.”
“My aunt in South Carolina would call that your Sunday best,” Clay said.
“And your aunt would be correct.” Charlotte defused the remaining tension in the room with a well-timed observation that made everyone chuckle.
Clay finally relaxed, happy that his head wasn’t on today’s chopping block.
“How long have ye been gone, and do ye still plan to go to New Orleans?” David asked.
“Five nights, four days,” Clay said. “And I think the plan is to go as soon as possible.”
“I’d still like to go,” Bastien said.
“But not tonight,” Remy said over the intercom. “We all need long showers, a workout, and comfort food. As soon as I finish here, I’ll call the band and let them know we’ll be there about noon tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Bastien asked. “We’ve already pissed Lamar off. If we’re not there tonight, won’t he try to cancel the gig?”
“I’ll tell him you both got food poisoning, had to go to the hospital to get IVs to rehydrate, but that you’ll be ready to play tomorrow night. That’s all he really wants to know.”
The door swished open. Roisin waltzed in but halted abruptly a few feet from the door, her jaw dropping, eyes widening in sheer astonishment. “I was just in here. Was there a fire? And where’d that car and all these people come from?”
Elliott beckoned to her with a sweep of his arm. “Come meet our new arrivals.”
Tony stepped toward her, and Roisin froze. Their gazes locked, the air between them suddenly charged with heavy silence. Her voice, when it finally emerged, was a fragile, barely audible whisper that seemed to shatter the room’s stillness.
“Ryan?”
“No, Ma. It’s me, Tony.” He turned, revealing a plum-colored birthmark that spread across the nape of his neck like a shadow. “Do you recognize my stork bite?”
“Of course I do.” With a choked cry, Roisin pulled her son into a fierce, shuddering embrace. Her tears dampened the fabric of his jacket. The weight of the moment settled over everyone in the room. “I never thought I’d see you again. It was a mistake to leave you behind.”
Tony spontaneously lifted her and swung her around. The glass crunched under his turning feet, grounding the moment in sharp, undeniable reality.
When he put her down, she cupped the sides of his face. “How’d you get here? I thought Remy and Clay were going to Chicago? Did you move there?”
“The short story, Roisin,” Clay interjected, “is that Remy and I arrived in Chicago. We found Marcelle within a few hours. But we couldn’t find Bastien.
Marcelle and I used the brooch to take us to him, and we landed in New York City.
” He nodded to Bastien. “Why don’t you pick up the story from here? ”
“When I came out of the fog, and Marcelle wasn’t there, I played my saxophone, and the street filled with people. Then a man told me I was taking all his customers, and that if I played in his saloon, he’d pay me. That sounded like a good deal since I didn’t have any money.”
“You should’ve seen the crowds that came to hear him,” Tony said.
“I remember all the customers who came to hear David and Remy,” Roisin said.
“Then what happened?” Elliott asked.