Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Iona
No sooner have we reached the kitchen than Galiene shoves her phone in front of me. “Watch this, Iona. It concerns you.”
A grainy video plays of me sitting on a park bench and a dark-haired man seated at the other end. The man says, “I’ll expose you for bearing false witness against my friend Aaron.” When I say nothing in the video, he goes on. “His cellmate hates his guts. You’re putting Aaron’s life in danger.”
At that, in a voice eerily like mine the other Iona says, “Who’s his cellmate?”
“A guy by the name of Kirkaldy. But that’s beside the point.
I have a recording of you telling your friend to select Aaron from the line-up, even though he didn’t fit the description of the man who assaulted her.
” In the video the man shows me something, and the other Iona leans in to listen to it.
After a minute, the man warns, “If you pay me a hundred grand, I’ll remain silent. ”
The video ends, leaving my jaw at my feet.
Outraged, I turn on Galiene. “That never happened!”
“Really? Then how do you explain this?” She pulls up a picture of me talking to a bald guy in a prison visitors’ room. “This is Kirkaldy, a day after you met up with your blackmailer, Boyde Latta.”
“That’s not me!” I splutter.
Galiene scrolls to a screenshot of what looks like Kirkaldy’s bank account, where a deposit has been made in the amount of twenty-five thousand pounds from an account number I recognize as mine.
“This was the day Aaron was stabbed by Kirkaldy. The transfer occurred two hours after Aaron was declared dead.” She puts down her phone.
“That was fast, clever work, Iona. You saved seventy-five thousand and a lifetime of blackmail by having Aaron offed.”
I feel as if I’m viewing a bad reality show titled The Fake Life of Iona Cargill.
I clench my teeth. “Where did you get all this false evidence against me?”
She cocks her head, skirting my question.
“It would all hold up in court. Especially with the testimonies of Kirkaldy and Latta. And it doesn’t paint a pretty picture of you.
You’d be tried for conspiracy to commit murder, which can carry a life sentence.
Leith would loathe you, the world would revile you, and you’d be a social pariah. ”
I feel all the blood drain from my head as the room sways, and I hold onto the nearest bunker for support.
She’s right. No one in Leith’s camp—especially not Leith—would believe me because they think the worst of people.
And Leith and his friends are the only ones who count now that I’m under house arrest for the foreseeable.
I don’t even know if Leith will let me use my phone or laptop.
There’s no way I could build a defense for myself, however innocent I am.
“What do you want?” I croak.
She hands me a burner phone, which I reluctantly take. “You’re going to follow the instructions I send on this phone each time I send them.”
My heart sinks. “Each time?”
Her lips quirk. “This is the first of a number of times you’re going to obey my orders as communicated through this phone.” She taps it with her long sea-green nails. “Even if you question them, you will do as commanded.”
“Why? Whom do you work for?”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Nevermind. Check the phone now for your first text.”
With blurred vision I open the phone and find a text from an unknown number: “Tomorrow get Leith to take you to Banyan, where he’ll meet with Diran.
Find a way to talk to Diran alone. Tell him one of the names on the Lowing list is Arthur Vox, the shipping magnate.
Vox committed to rescue animals being held in inhumane captivity or being experimented on and ship them to wilderness areas where they could live freely.
Casually suggest to Diran that Leith considers Vox’s name safer in the COPFS’ possession than with the Syndicate because the Syndicate would insist Vox not invest in animals, as they’re a losing proposition.
Tell Diran Leith considers this an insurmountable conflict in policy, so he’s withholding Vox’s name from the list being assembled by the Syndicate. ”
I gape at the text. “But this is horrible. Does Leith trust the COPFS more than the Syndicate with Vox’s name?”
She tapers her eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter whether he does or not. You’re going to suggest to Diran he does. When Leith isn’t around.”
She’s up to something nefarious.
“Why are you doing this?” I hiss.
“Because you’re Leith’s new confidante.” She gives the word arch emphasis as though questioning it. “You’re as good a source as any for his intentions. Oh, and Iona. If you breathe a word of this to Leith, you’ll find yourself behind bars in a heartbeat.”
I don’t have time to process her words before Leith saunters into the kitchen, splitting a perceptive glance between us. “How are you two getting on?”
He must sense the tension crackling in the air, like an incipient thunderstorm. I surreptitiously pocket the burner phone Galiene gave me as she steps forward and lays a hand on his arm. “I must be going. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“Aye.”
When she’s gone, the wheels in my brain spin over what I’ve just tacitly agreed to.
Galiene and whoever she’s working with could have me thrown in prison for life, nevermind that it’s for a crime I didn’t commit.
If I were to describe her evidence to Leith, he’d believe it before believing me.
And though she won’t tell me her ultimate purpose, I have the feeling Leith figures into it.
I’m going to have to represent him as saying those things Galiene fed me when I speak on the sly to Diran tomorrow—on an expedition I haven’t been invited to.
All this to save my own skin. I detest having to lie to Leith, having to betray him the way he said I betrayed him with Stennis earlier. But now I’ve been given no choice.
What is Galiene’s ultimate purpose? Is she being paid by someone? Does she want Leith for herself? Is she furthering Leith’s enemies’ interests because they align with hers?
I can only hope something else is going on that isn’t detrimental to Leith and his role in the Syndicate. After all, Galiene undermining Leith when she wants him is akin to cutting off her nose to spite her face.
The idea of her pursuing Leith makes my stomach churn and acid rise in my throat. They work together, have known each other for years. She’s flawless, clever, and determined. Next to all that, what kind of chance do I stand?
Elsa has set out chicken pie for us on the hob. My belly growls, for I haven’t eaten since breakfast and a lot has happened in the interim. Leith puts on a Miles Davis song and opens a bottle of white wine.
As we sit at the table, I open casually with “What are you doing tomorrow?”
He carves up a bite of pie. “Work, then a meeting over lunch, then more work.”
“Can I come to lunch with you?”
If they are indeed meeting at Banyan, I expect Leith won’t fear that the outside world will interfere with his plans to keep me in confinement.
He tilts his head, considering this. “Why?”
I tip my head down, looking at him through my lashes. “I’m your wife. I hope to spend a bit of time with you outside the bedroom.”
“We’re eating together,” he points out.
“Then let’s eat together at lunch.”
He runs a long middle finger over his lips, his eyes skipping between mine. “Alright. But if you try anything, expect to be punished. And know that you won’t get away with it.”
Suddenly I long to kiss those lips. Setting down my utensils, I push my plate aside, dipping my eyes to his mouth. “Please, Leith.”
His smoking-hot gaze sends lighter fluid through me to my core. Crooking two fingers under my chin, he edges me closer while leaning in. “I never can get enow of your tender lips.”
Pressing his lips to mine, he gently nudges my tongue. Stars explode before me, and electricity zips through my bloodstream. I hum and cup his sculpted cheek, drowning in his taste of wine and earthen masculinity.
Too soon he parts our lips, giving mine a languid swipe that says I belong to him.
As if I didn’t know.
* * *
Leith steps out of the car and waits for me to climb out.
Wrapping his fingers around my nape, he shepherds me toward the restaurant.
I wonder what would happen if I screamed right now.
Would Leith, Draven, and their colleagues explain it away, and would the public chalk it up to another Syndicate job?
I look right and left, noting the pedestrians crowding the pavement.
How would Leith punish me? Catching his eye, I see a warning glint.
Draven walks to my left and slightly behind.
Is he carrying? Something tells me he is.
My pulse picks up, and I stumble slightly.
Leith dressed me in low-rise boot-cut white slacks, a black silk top, and black heels. I feel like a million bucks, but my nerves are shot.
If I ran, I wouldn’t stand a chance in these shoes, and I’m pretty sure Leith planned it that way.
When we step over the threshold of Banyan, he leans in, his lips grazing my ear. “Why so nervous?”
“I-I’m just feart of this place,” I fib.
He leads me down and through the restaurant to where Diran waits at a table. “You mean feart of the people here. You’re with me, Iona. No one will hurt you.”
A pang of guilt pricks me. I hope what I’m about to do won’t hurt Leith.
Diran rises from his chair, rounds the table, and holds his hand out. I place mine in his, and he lifts it to his lips, kissing the back. “What a charming wife you have, Leith.”
I take it he’s not surprised I came.
We sit, and an ingratiating waitress appears at Diran’s elbow. “Will you be having the usual, sir?”
“No, what’s your catch of the day?”
“Turbot.”
“I’ll have that.” He takes a sip of his whisky.
“And you, sir?” she simpers to Leith, as if I’m not here.
“Ladies first,” he defers to me.
“Och, I’ll take whatever salad you have.” I fiddle with my earring.