Page 48 of Diamond in the Rough (The Diamond Trilogy 1)
“The past doesn’t matter,” I say, more firmly this time.
“I read the coroner’s report, you know.”
“A heart attack.” That was the official cause of death for our father. The coroner was too busy fucking his secretary to notice the petechial bleeding. Or maybe he was distracted by the way my father’s mangled body had become bloated in the lake.
“Convenient,” my brother says.
“Convenient?”
“That it happened right before you left for basic training.”
“Right. So I could attend the funeral.”
“Of course, that’s what I meant.”
In this conversation my brother accuses me of killing our father. And he forgives me for it. If anyone would understand the causes, it’s him. Even so, he would think I was fighting back after my father was in one of his rages. The truth is my father was stone-cold calm when I approached him. I wanted him fully sober and aware when I beat the life from him. I wanted him to know I was doing it for my mother. Something happens when you kill a man in cold blood, even a murderer, even someone who deserves it. You lose a little piece of your soul.
My brother’s green eyes are knowing. And hell, he would know. Rumor has it the man was an assassin for the US government. He knows all about killing people in cold blood.
“A nice family reunion,” I say, my voice dry.
“Very nice. You’re probably going to get dishonorably discharged.”
“If I’m lucky. They might send one of you after me.”
“Anyone touches you, they answer to me.” My brother claps me on the back. “Once the military kicks you out on your ass, you should come join the family business.”
“That a job offer?”
“We have safe houses in every major country. With locks on the outside. Consider them a perk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Holly
Liam didn’t come alone. There’s a driver wearing a black T-shirt and cargo pants, who I suspect is as dangerous as either brother. I take a deep breath in the backseat, finally feeling safe from the kidnapping. It’s only been a few days, a week, of captivity, but I feel fundamentally changed. I’m some other being now. Not fully human. More animal.
I don’t admire the sweeping hills of lavender. I’m too grateful for the comfort of leather seats and air-conditioning. How quickly I learned not to take them for granted.
Elijah and I are both sitting in the back seat, but there’s a new distance between us. Even in the farmhouse, with the strangers who owned it, we felt close.
Now the real world has intruded.
“You must be eager to get back to the church,” I say, hoping he’ll open up to me. Maybe it doesn’t matter to him, what we shared. Maybe he has sex with a woman on every mission, but it matters to me. It feels like we’re going to say goodbye.
“Yes,” he says.
“And report to your lieutenant corporal.”
“Lieutenant colonel,” he corrects, almost absently.
“I hope he’s not really angry with you. Maybe if I talked to him—”
“Absolutely not.”
“I could explain that you had no choice.”
“But I did,” he says, gently now. He reaches over and squeezes my thigh, a touch that’s both comforting and intimate. “I made my choice, and I have no regrets.”
I want to ask what that means, but I’m aware that we have company only a few feet away. “We’re going to Paris, right? I have to go to the embassy.”
“We’re going to Paris, and I’ll find your sister.”
Something about his word choice makes my eyes narrow. “By that you mean, you’re dropping me off at the embassy when we get there, right?”
He sighs. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but you can’t go to the embassy. There’s a red notice circulating that you’re wanted for questioning by Interpol. My brother has connections into the agencies through his security firm, and he found it.”
“What?”
“It means that Adam Bisset made it out of that basement. I’ll handle him.”
“I don’t understand what that means. How are you going to handle him? Am I going to be arrested? I’m just a children’s book author, and now I’m wanted by Interpol. Why do you look so calm?”
He doesn’t look calm. He actually looks faintly amused, the bastard. “Do you know that your voice is going supersonic right now?”
“I thought this was over.”
His expression softens. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll keep you safe.”
That certainty warms me, and I relax into the plush seats of the SUV.
The small plane is just as comfortable, with low lighting and deep leather benches.
A steward brings champagne, which makes me think of Reims. Elijah’s green-gold eyes meet mine, and I know he’s thinking of the same thing. I probably tasted like champagne at the cathedral when we kissed.
At the small airport where we land, another black SUV picks us up. Night falls without a single star this close to Paris. We take fast roads through shadowy streets. Finally we pull in front of a building with marble pillars and stone steps. The men get out first and do something with hand signals that mean I’m allowed to get out next.
