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“What are you doing?”
My gaze shoots to the doorway where my brother is now standing, his dark good looks spoiled by the glower on his handsome face.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “We aren’t supposed to go near that world.”
“Said our mother, who was afraid for her children. We’re not children anymore.”
“We’re alive because we listened to her.”
“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of not being able to use the expertise that makes us money.”
“What are you saying?”
“If I can hunt a great violin and get us a payday, I will. If I can claim our family legacy again, then I will. If we have the formula, if we use it and trademark it, then this is over. We’re safe. It’s safe. We can be who we were born to be.”
I round the desk and stand in front of him, chin tilting up to look at him. “Or we can be dead. You can’t hunt the formula. Promise me. I have to go finish up with Ed. Please promise me.”
“I promise you that right now, I’m just doing research, sis.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“And we will, but it’s time to stop hiding in the shadows. It’s time to take what’s ours. It’s time for us to talk about justice for dad. He deserves justice. He deserves more than our fear. Dad wouldn’t want us to hide. That was all mom. I loved her. I miss her, but that’s no way to live.” He pushes off the door and exits back into the hallway.
I gasp and sit up, my fingers curling around my blankets. He didn’t promise anything. His words were a word circle, one I let myself get lost in, one I might have let him get lost in. That was six weeks ago. He’d traveled often in those six weeks and every time I’d tried to talk to him again, he’d cut me off. But he got what he wanted. I’m not hiding. I’m all over Riptide, asking questions about that violin, pretending I have a bidder, one that I don’t have. He’s right, though. Damn it, I’m tired of hiding. I want a way out of this. I want our lives back. And I want him back. If he’s not at the VIP auction, I need to hire help, which means I need money.
Motivated now, I throw away the blankets, blinking into the sunlight of a new day that I’m only just now recognizing, the sound of Kace’s music still playing on my phone. I crank up the volume. That music is my heritage. I want to be able to crank it up any time I like, which means I do have to fight.
I head to the shower, and I hum that music under a hot stream of water. Later, when my hair is a silky brown and my makeup is done in pale pinks, I dress for a Monday with the hope that Crystal will call—a black skirt, Coach boots, and a black V-neck sweater.
When Nancy arrives at ten, I’m already downstairs in my office making calls, trying to find a new bottle of wine for Ed. She pokes her head in the door. “I’m so sorry. My little one is sick. He apparently started throwing up the minute I left him this morning.”
“No problem. Take off.” And then because I’m worried about her safety, I say. “Take off the rest of the week with pay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Her brows pucker. “But—why?”
“Because family matters. Go. Head out. Lock up behind you.”
“Thank you. I—just thank you, Aria, for always being so kind.” She disappears and I hang onto those words “so kind.” I want to be seen as kind, but what else am I? What have I let myself become beyond a shadow of all my hopes and dreams? Hopes and dreams I don’t even remember now.
Shaking off those thoughts, I focus on my goal: money to hire a PI.
I get to work.
Hours later, I have a few leads on bottles Ed might want, but nothing high-dollar enough to achieve the financial support I need. I’m about to start working on another project for a different client when Crystal calls. “Hey, you. I got your security reports back. You are officially all clear. Want to stop by right after closing and pick up your action package?”
“Yes, I’m eager, What time?”
“Six-thirty?” she suggests. “Is that too late?”
“No. Perfect. See you then.”
We disconnect and hope fills me. Riptide is where I need to be, it’s where I’ll find my answers and my brother. I feel it in my bones.
***
It’s a chilly evening with temperatures in the forties when I arrive at Riptide’s door. On this evening, I’m bundled up in a black thrift store Coach trench coat. Apparently, someone had decided Coach was beneath them and thank God for it because this coat was a steal and it’s darn sure not beneath me.
