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“Yes, Ace. You and me—we’re a team now. Of course I’m coming.” With that, I tug the stunned, speechless beauty out to our seats and buckle her in.
She grabs her purse and freshens up while I settle in beside her.
Twenty minutes later, we’re touching down. We called ahead and ordered a car, so we head straight to the park behind the restaurant. It’s a little Italian eatery on the outskirts of Denver. Despite the city address, there’s a fair amount of trees in the quaint little park behind it. There’s even a small stream. The water doesn’t appear very deep, but it probably provides a charming aesthetic in the daylight.
Celeste is stuck, face smashed against the restaurant window, hand cupped above her eyes while the other shines a flashlight into the dining area. “Checkered tablecloths,” she mutters.
“What about them, baby?”
She answers, but won’t peel her gaze away from the tables she’s clearly fascinated by. “Ben.” A tear rolls down her cheek as she tries to explain. “He used to take me to this little Italian place after we hiked. My mother knows all the old Italian recipes, but she hates to cook and only frequents more upscale establishments now. When I was little, she’d make these fried dough rolls every Saturday night. Some had cheese inside. Some had peppers. Some were sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar—they were my favorite. But then she stopped and only made them at Christmas. So, Ben would take me to this little mom-and-pop restaurant that served rolls just like my mom made. Marinos—it had red-and-white checkered tablecloths and cheese and pepper flakes shakers on the table.”
She finally pulls herself away from the glass and points, her face soaked with her spilling grief. “Like that.”
Fuck, my girl’s a mess.
She rarely falls apart like this. So freely. Maybe that sedative is still working in her system and has her inhibitions low.
After I validate her observation with a careful once-over, I sweep her into my arms as Gage and Rex look on in concern. “Confirmation we’re in the right place, Ace.” My lips move against her hair, cashmere, wildflowers, and honeysuckle instantly curling around me. “I know this is hard. I’ve got you. But we need to work quickly to get through it before sunup, okay?”
She nods through a muffled sob, and I can feel her chin quivering against my chest. But my strong girl inhales a deep breath of courage and rolls her shoulders back. Ordinarily, I’d be pissed that she’s putting her mask on, but at present, it’s probably the best way to sail through this.
There are a good twenty-five or thirty stepping stones across the narrow stream, and they aren’t exactly in a straight line. Celeste surmised it would be the third, but that’s not an abundantly clear choice.
“Which fucking side do we count from?” Gage barks, scanning the area with his headlamp.
“My thought too—”
“Over there,” Celeste directs, cutting me off. Her face is all game-on now; she’s in the zone.
“How do you know for sure, Cee?” Rex asks, gun out and already crossing the water to get to the area she designated.
“Three reasons,” she says. “We always went to eat afterward, so Ben wouldn’t have had me counting from the restaurant; he would’ve had me counting toward it. The third rock over here is in the water. You can’t bury things in wet ground. The last several stones across the way are on dry ground. And that first big rock over there by the gazebo is spray-painted white.”
I had my concerns about the water when I saw the satellite image but hoped there’d be a clarifying detail when we arrived. Looks like she unveiled it easily. Watching her work through this is fascinating. It makes me wonder what thought process her mind filtered through when she electrocuted the Filmore bastard in the bathroom. She may have been raised to clutch her pearls, but the woman thinks like she’s gripping a knife. So calculated.
“Why the fuck does it matter if it’s white?” Gage asks the question I was wondering with more curiosity than irritation. He’s really gone soft for her.
Ivy worked her magic, and now, the Big Guy is putty in the hands of my three favorite girls—Felicity’s may be tiny, but I think hers are the mightiest.
Celeste hops across the stones, gracefully scaling each one with dainty steps. “White always goes first.” When we don’t respond, she steps onto the mounded ground on the other side and turns to face us. “Chess. Carvers always strategize life like a chess game.”
Interesting. That certainly explains a lot.
I bob my head as I join her on the grassy bank. “You might be a chess pro, but I’m still sticking with Ace for your nickname.”
She smiles at that, although it’s fleeting. Something has her entire body breaking into a shiver, and it doesn’t appear to be the chilly air. “It’s a little like a graveyard out here, don’t you think? The dark. The way the rocks look like gravestones with the moonlight bouncing off them. The eerie sound of the water cutting through the silence. I mean, there are city sounds in the background, but it’s more like an echo.” Her arms cross over her chest. “A haunting. I know we’re about to dig up a book, but it feels like I’m unearthing my brother … and someone doesn’t want us to.”
Her smooth voice throwing that out into the stillness is twisted and creepy as fuck, but I brush it off. We already know several someones don’t want us to unearth this, and we’re on top of it. Her mental state, on the other hand, is a far bigger concern.
My life has been full of eerie moments, so I suppose I take for granted how sheltered she’s been—or was before the last couple of months—even though that was a source of my hang-up for so long. She may have known pain, but until she killed Filmore, she didn’t know that desperate chill that burrows into your bones from never-turning-back moments. The kind of decisions that chip away at your soul. The kind of lies you live simply for self-preservation. She will—far beyond her brief introduction to taking a life. Her connection to Ivy might have been enough to clinch that. But now that she’s mine—and thus KORT’s—that shiver will always be a heartbeat away.
I could hate myself for claiming her and stealing her peace and freedom, but my girl was part of this world whether she realized it or not and facing a far greater prison in the one she was being pushed toward. This night and the life she took are proof of that—all stemming from political bullshit.
At least with me, she’ll be protected. Captive to this life and its risks. But sometimes, boundaries are the reason we’re free. I’ll light a ring of fire around her, let her shine within the flames, and burn any motherfucker who tries to cross it.
Gage drops our duffel of supplies with a thud. “Don’t be scared, Celeste. We’re heavily armed, and I got no qualms about terminating a fucking ghost.” He crouches down, unzips the bag, and tosses the tools we’ll need onto the ground. “And don’t think of it as morbid. Think of it as a gift. You get another moment with your brother. Most people would do anything for that.”
“Wisdom from the Big Guy.” I chuckle, stooping beside him, digging through the bag, and passing Celeste some gloves. “He’s right though, baby girl. Ben could’ve put this book anywhere. A safe-deposit box would’ve been a hell of a lot easier. This is all for you.”
