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Slapping my back, he halts my protests. “I assured him she’s safe. Didn’t divulge what she’s safe from or the specifications of what happened to Keith and Arnold. But he appreciated the personal visit, and it gave us an easy entrance to get the books.”
I eye the bag slung over his shoulder. “Got ’em in there?”
“Yep. And another gift for you and our girl, but I’ll give you these first.” He rummages through it, producing the five books Ben gave Celeste—The Da Vinci Code, 1984, The Illuminatus! Trilogy, The Camel Club, and The Rise of the Fourth Reich. “Does she have any idea what he was trying to tell her with these?”
“No fucking clue,” I answer.
It’s been almost eight years. Whatever she knows is buried with her brother. But finding this black ledger of corruption is essential to keeping her safe. So, one way or another, we’re digging it all up. I don’t say any of that though. Opting to keep it on how brilliant my girl is.
“Doesn’t matter. Ace is strategic. Calculated enough to get into the head of other players. All she has to do is think like Ben.”
CELESTE
The air was thick last night when Rex and Gage arrived—the way it always is when the heavy blanket of death cloaks everything.
More choking than smoke and dust storms.
The way it was after Ben was murdered. And after Ivy’s dad passed away—more for her, of course, but the suffocating loss enwrapped me too. And it was there again when my eyes met Rex’s at the door. The two men I’d cherished as guards and family emerged as haunting apparitions, cutting through the blissful haze that Liam and I had been in the past several days.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t felt it; I definitely had. But it was distant. Until I saw the pain marring Rex’s features. He’s carrying the weight of the responsibility on top of the loss. As close as those men were to me, they were like brothers to him. I’m all too aware of the agony such devastation inflicts.
After Rex and I fell apart, mourning Keith and Arnold, the rest of the night somehow managed to be lighter with laughter and drinking and dismissing the elephant in the room—the message from beyond the grave.
The books from Ben sat on the sideboard table like a taunt, but I ignored them. I wanted one more night. I already feel tugged between two worlds—a love I never imagined having and a grief that once nearly swallowed me. I’m not ready to go back there. To envision those last few days with Ben. To wonder if his fate would’ve been different if I had just understood what he was trying to tell me.
If Ben went to these lengths to get me a message, whatever it is might be life-altering—if not to me, then to someone I love. Thinking about that black book—the fear he must have felt in knowing about it, the terror of watching his friends and colleagues die because of it, and the fact that I’ve been sitting on this piece of him all these years—has me sick to my stomach.
So, I’m choosing the rays of the sunrise instead.
Liam has delivered more than my wildest dreams, and that’s saying something. I’ve felt the depths of his love during this getaway. It’s like a whole new understanding has blossomed between us. One that makes me feel safe and cherished and confident in who we are.
The books feel like a threat to that. I’m sure it’s simply paranoia, but Liam and I have had very little normalcy—a week of kicking his ass at cards and him teaching me how to cook and shoot isn’t enough. I want to submerge myself inside the mundane with him. Maybe these are the little pieces most would brush aside, but I want to drown in them, to become the essence of tiny moments lived in the raw and real. The idea of diving into something that could shake everything up again is nauseating.
I much prefer to block that all out and anchor myself to my strong, dimpled golden god.
It’s early morning. The tangerine light of dawn is stretching through the clouds and mountain crevices to illuminate the room. Liam got up about twenty minutes ago and went to shower. I considered joining him but decided to soak in a few more minutes of rest. The bed is too comfortable to leave.
The click of the bathroom door alerts me that he’s sauntering out of the bathroom. He swaggers to the dresser, a towel wrapped around his waist and speckles of water glistening over his tattoos. And I finally summon my courage.
“Tell me about your tattoo—the ace.”
He sifts through the top drawer, not turning around. “I wondered when you’d ask about that. Took you long enough.”
That’s true. I noticed it our first night together and every time after that. But I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t want him more than I did. And believing he wasn’t mine to keep was excruciating. But now that we’re us, I need to hear what it means.
I roll onto my side, bending my arm and propping my head up with my fist. “Yeah. I was a little overwhelmed by it the first time I saw it.”
He glances over his shoulder at me, his dimple making an appearance. “Nicely done, being honest, Ace. And you’re not overwhelmed now?”
“I’ll have to get back to you after I hear the explanation,” I confess. I’ve built it up in my head, hoping it’s good and my nickname correlates somehow, but I’m not going to share that.
After he snatches the clothes he needs from the dresser, he struts over to the bed, sitting beside me in his towel. That will make it hard to concentrate. The beaded droplets dot his eight-pack abs.
Shiny and appetizing.
He brushes my messy hair off my forehead. “You want to hear the explanation or lick my abs, Carver?”
My eyes shoot up to his. Caught. “Get over yourself, Graves. I was just noticing that you’re getting the bed wet.”
