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“Sweetheart, we don’t take demands from anyone.” He leaned in and softly whispered in my ear, “You don’t want to poke the bear, Goldie Guinevere Winters. You may think you’re strong. But we will always be stronger.”
With one last glance around the store, he joined his brothers and they strolled out the door, leaving nothing behind other than having every sense in my body on alert and wondering how in the hell he knew my full name.
3
Banks Barrett
I knew my sister believed anything anyone said. Sheltered, gentle, and fragile, Kit was my brothers’ and my responsibility. She’d never truly recovered after the boating accident that killed our parents. A shipment from Ireland needed for our poppy crop had kept me and my brothers from joining our family at the lake the weekend after Kit graduated from high school. My father wanted to stay back and help us with the product, but we had assured him we had it under control, and Kit deserved a normal weekend to celebrate. Plus, we had joked with him that our mother would have killed him if he didn’t go along.
Witnesses who’d been interviewed stated my family had been on the lake for several hours, laughing and waving at passing boats, having a wonderful day. When the explosion happened, everyone had been stunned and yet as horrific as it had been to lose my parents, I’d been grateful Kit had been spared.
She’d been waterskiing, crisscrossing the boat’s wake, doing turns and enjoying a beautiful summer day when the force from the explosion had thrown her off her skis, knocking her unconscious. If my father hadn’t been such an overprotective dad and a stickler for safety, and she’d not been wearing a life jacket, Kit would have drowned. As it was, she’d been found floating among the debris and been pulled unconscious from the water. She didn’t wake up for five days and when she did, and learned our parents were gone, she blamed herself. I remember holding her, rocking her as she sobbed, stating if only she’d not begged to go around the lake ‘one last time,’ then our mother and dad would still be with us.
Investigators explained there had been a gas leak in the inboard motor, perhaps caused by an eroded seal or loose connection. Fumes had built inside the casing, unnoticed by my dad who was driving the boat or by Mom who had been standing beside him, watching her daughter. Though declared an accident, we knew differently.
My brothers and I knew the real cause.
We knew who to blame.
We knew who was already bragging and claiming he had finally ended the reign of the mighty Barrett dynasty by taking out the patriarch—our father—the almighty Finnley Barrett.
Cook Blackstone.
My brothers and I found solace in the fact my parents never knew what hit them. Something sparked and caused the fatal blast, the sound echoing over the water, flames shooting into the air. Despite my brothers and me, as well as others, reassuring her she was in no way responsible for the freak accident, that if she’d been in the boat on the way back to the slip, she’d have also died in the explosion, Kit carried a burden of guilt that changed her very existence. Though we were prepared to be patient, to work with her through her depression, my sister had surprised us all.
When she woke the day after learning of the accident, she was a different person. Gone was the look of sadness, her shoulders no longer slumped in defeat. Instead, her eyes shone brightly, her smile coming easily. Grateful though leery of the change, my brothers and I consulted a number of specialists. All had assured us Kit didn’t suffer from any physical ailments. A number of doctors had said the trauma had been too much for her. Her mind had shut down, rewired itself in a way that allowed her to cope. She now lived in a self-created world with no hate, no fear, no sadness, and no harsh reality. Kit laughed, she played, and she lived life as if she were still a child. She hadn’t been able to take advantage of any of the scholarships offered her by various colleges. My brothers and I moved her out of our family cabin and into a safe, secret location no one knew of, determined to make our sister’s life as easy for her as possible until we could finalize our end goal. Facing the world as an adult was too much for her now, so we had no choice but to face it for her.
Kit looked up from the velvet poster she liked to spend hours coloring with her markers as she heard us all walk in. She was so much smaller than any of us. Her body seemed dwarfed by the huge oak table she sat at.
“Hi, Brothers!”
I sat down in the old wooden chair across from her. I couldn’t help but smile at her angelic appearance. Dressed in a pale-blue dress, a cardigan with embroidered flowers running down the front, her blonde hair resting on her shoulders, she seemed so soft. As much as her mental condition frustrated me at times, I almost envied her pure joy in the simple things. She was lost to reality and needed constant direction. But in all actuality, I was the one who truly needed Kit. Without her, I would have fallen into that pit I’d barely avoided. I’d had so much darkness in my life that I needed her light. I’d be lost without her kindness and her unconditional love. We all would.
“What are you doing home so early?” Kit asked as she focused her attention back on her coloring.
When learning Kit had ducked into a tea shop one day when an unexpected rainstorm caught her unaware, I’d been glad my sister hadn’t gotten soaked to the skin. But after she continued to talk about the place for days, making it sound like some sort of mixture of Oz and Narnia, I’d decided to do a bit of investigation. And after watching Goldie spin a bunch of crap about the healing power of some special tea to an unsuspecting elderly woman, I’d known she was a fraud. “We went to thatwitch’s denyou spoke of.”
Kit’s head snapped up. “You did?” She stared at each one of us with shock, but then she smiled. “It’s not a den, it’s a shop. And don’t you think it’s lovely? There are plants and crystals that sparkle.” She paused. “Did you see the…” Kit looked around the room as if expecting to see others in our house, leaned forward on the table, and whispered, “The witch?”
“Yes.” I somehow managed not to roll my eyes.
“She’s really pretty, huh? I thought all witches were ugly.”
The word pretty was an understatement to describe that woman. I might not have been able to truly describe the shop, but I could remember every single detail about Goldie. The ridiculous costume she’d been wearing did nothing to dispel her beauty. Just the memory of her luscious curves had my mouth watering. Her curly hair made her appear sensual and seductive. Her perfect pouty lips just screamed to be kissed. My cock throbbed as I remembered the way her green eyes had darkened with anger. Her temper was undeniably sexy, but her attitude and her false claims—my sister’s fascination with her—those were completely unacceptable.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to get the vision of the most beautiful, annoying as hell woman I’d ever seen out of my mind. I didn’t give a shit how gorgeous she was. I didn’t want her within a thousand miles of my sister.
“Listen, Kit. I don’t want you going back to that store again. Are we clear?” Jay cut in.
Kit lifted her chin and squinted at him. “Why? I like the witch.”
“She’s not a witch,” Jay, always the practical one, said as he sat down beside her.
Kit crossed her arms against her chest and pouted her lips. “Yes, she is. You don’t know everything.”
I took a deep breath. The need to protect my sister, mixed with the growing frustration of Kit’s naiveté was almost too much for me. But I was determined not to lose my temper.
“Kit, we don’t want to argue with you. I may not know everything, but I do know that, witch or not, we want you to stay away from that woman,” Rye said calmly.
