I picked up the Los Angeles Times as Frances left and looked up the article from the senator. I wanted to be sick. The slippery serpent failed to mention how his precious son was stop-lossed just recently, but that was no surprise. I wondered what the son really thought of the father. I could only imagine the dysfunction in that family, and it wasn’t a bit nice.
I set the paper back on the stack and as I did, the movement caused something to peek out below it. An envelope. The thing had been set between the stack of papers. That in itself was odd, but the words on the envelope…FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION…and that it had my name underneath, got my heart pounding.
“Frances, who handed you the US papers this morning?” I bellowed on intercom.
“Muriel has them ready every morning. She sets them aside just like she’s been doing for the last month. They were just there waiting for me.” She hesitated. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
My heart was still pounding as I stared at the envelope on my desk. Did I want to look? I reached for the flap and unwound the red string tie. I stuck my hand in and pulled out photos. Eight by ten black and white photographs of Ivan and Brynne chatting at Gladstone’s. Him kissing her on the cheeks as I waited for her to get in the car. Ivan leaning in to speak to me and waving us off. Ivan on the street after we’d pulled away. Ivan waiting on the street for his own car to come round.
That photographer I’d seen outside the restaurant was there specifically for Ivan? He’d gotten death threats before…and now we had pictures of him and Brynne and me together? Not a good connection for her. Ivan had his own shit storm of troubles, and I sure as hell didn’t need the added complication of whoever was harassing Ivan to drag my Brynne into his whole mess. Fuck!
I flipped over the pictures one by one. Nothing. Until the last one. Never attempt to murder a man who is committing suicide.
I’d seen this kind of thing throughout my career. It had to be taken seriously of course, but more often than not, it was some lunatic fringe who had an axe to grind on the back of someone notable they perceived to have caused offense to them personally and with cruel intent. Sports figures especially suffered this kind of crap. Ivan had offended a ton of people in his time and had the gold medals to prove it. A former Olympic archer now retired from the sport, he was still Britain’s lauded golden boy hounded by the media. The fact he was my blood family would have earned him the protection regardless, but he certainly kept me busy.
These photos had been taken two weeks ago. Was that photographer there for Ivan specifically, or did he just sell the pictures he’d taken of Ivan Everley, Olympic archer, because he’d been lucky to snap them and could get a few pounds for selling? Paparazzi hung around places that got a lot of celebrity traffic by habit, so it was hard to tell if the pictures had been prearranged or mere chance.
And if you were a lunatic intent upon killing somebody famous, why in the hell would you bother to inform his private security detail that you were planning to do it? Made no sense at all. Why send them to me? Whoever had got the pictures obviously wanted me to see them. They’d gone to the trouble to plant them in a stack of newspapers I regularly ordered from the street cart.
Muriel.
I made a mental note to speak to Muriel on my way out. I’d be leaving early anyway because of the Mallerton thing tonight so I should be able to catch her before she closed up shop for the night.
I opened my desk drawer and pulled out cigarettes and my lighter. I saw Brynne’s old mobile in there and pulled it out too. Not much traffic on it for the past two weeks as all her contacts were onto her new number now. The bloke from The Washington Review had never rang back, most likely he figured her a bum lead, which worked perfectly in Brynne’s favour. I set it up to charge so it would be ready to take with me tonight and into the weekend.
I lit up my first Djarum of the day. The inhale was perfect. I felt like I was doing fairly well with the cutting back. Brynne helped motivate me, but when things were rocky with us, it was chain-smoking central. Maybe I should try the nicotine patch thing.
I resolved to enjoy my one smoke and thought about the upcoming weekend. Our first trip together. I’d managed to scrape out three days of time so I could take my girl up to the Somerset coast to stay at my sister’s country home. The place also operated as a high-end bed-and-breakfast and I was well aware of the fact I’d never asked my sister if I could bring a guest along with me on any other occasion that I’d ever gone there before.
Brynne was different for so many reasons and if I wasn’t quite ready to own up to those feelings publically, I did recognize them for what they were. I wanted to talk to her about where we were heading, and ask her what she wanted. The only reason I hadn’t already was because her potential answer made me really fucking nervous. What if she didn’t want what I wanted? What if I was just her first real relationship that she could test the waters with? What if she met somebody else down the line?
My list could go on and on. I just had to keep reminding myself that Brynne was a very honest person and when she told me how she felt about me, then well, it was the truth. My girl was no liar. She told you she loves you.
The plan was to leave early in the morning after the gala tonight to avoid traffic, and I couldn’t wait to get Brynne up there. I wanted some romantic time away with my girl, and also just needed to get out of the city and into the fresh air of the country. I loved London, but even so, the desire to have time away from the urban crush in order to keep my sanity, played out regularly.
A call came through just then, pulling me out of my wool gathering moment and back into the very demanding and very urgent present situation of my job responsibilities. The day flew and before I knew, it was time to get moving.
I called Brynne as I was leaving the office to tell her I was on my way and expected to get a breathless rundown of everything that needed to be done before the thing tonight and our impending trip. I got voice mail instead. So I sent her a short text: I’m on my way home. Need anything? And got no response.
I didn’t like it and realized right then and there, I would always worry about her. The worry would never go away. I’d heard people say such things about their children. That they didn’t know what real worry was until they had someone important enough in their lives that measured the true essence of what it meant to love another person. With that love came the burden of potential loss—a prospect too uncomfortable for me to think much about.
Remembering about the envelope from the stack of newspapers, I headed over to Muriel’s newsstand on my way out to my car. She saw me approaching and tracked me with her soulful eyes. She might have had a hard life and rough existence, but those truths didn’t alter the fact she was very intelligent. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.
“Hello, Muriel.”
“’Ello, guv. What canna do for ye? I’ve every American rag just like you want, eh?”
“Yes. Very good.” I smiled at her. “Question though, Muriel.” I observed her body language as I spoke, searching for clues to see if she knew what I was asking or not. I pulled out the envelope with the photos of Ivan and held it up. “What do you know about this being placed inside the stack of papers from today?”
“Nothin.” She didn’t look to the left. She didn’t lose eye contact either. Those two things were supportive of her giving me the truth. I could only guess and use my intuition, and remember who I was dealing with.
I set a tenner on the counter. “I need your help, Muriel. If you see anyone or anything suspicious I want you to tell me about it. It’s important. A person’s life could be at stake.” I gave her a nod. “Will you keep an eye out?”
She looked down at the ten pound note and then back up to me. She flashed those horrific teeth in a genuine smile and said, “For ye, handsome, I will.” Muriel snatched up the ten pounds and put it in her pocket.
“Ethan Blackstone, forty-fourth floor,” I said, pointing to my building.
“I
know ye name and I’ll not forget.”
I guessed we had as good a deal as was possible considering who I was making it with. I headed to my car, eager to get home and see my girl.
I dialed Brynne a second time and once again got voicemail, so I left a message saying I was on my way. I wondered what she was doing not to answer and tried to imagine something like taking a bath, working out with headphones in, or having her phone set to silent.
I struggled with my worries. Foremost, the emotion was still unfamiliar, but at the same time not something I could set aside either. I worried about Brynne constantly. And just because this was all new to me sure as hell didn’t make it any easier to understand. I was a total novice learning my way.
The flat was silent as the grave when I stepped in. I felt my anxiety spike to very unpleasant levels and started searching. “Brynne?”
Only more silence. She wasn’t working out and she definitely wasn’t in my office. Not outside on the balcony. The bathroom was my last hope. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened the door. And crashed when she wasn’t in there either.
Fuck! Brynne, where are you?
Her beautiful dress was hanging on a hook though. The periwinkle one she’d bought in the vintage shop with Gabrielle on the day we met for lunch at Gladstone’s. There was evidence of packing too—cosmetics out and a small bag halfway done. So she had been here getting ready for tonight and our weekend away.
I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’d gone off alone before and what if she had again? After those lunatic photos from today, my stomach was in knots and I just needed to know where in the fuck she was!
I went in through to the bedroom, connecting a call to Neil in my half-panicked state when I saw. The most wonderful vision in the world. Amid all the scattering of clothes and half packed bags was Brynne, curled up in the bed…asleep.
“Yeah?” Neil answered. I was so frozen, I still had the mobile up at my ear.
“Umm…false alarm. Sorry. We’ll see you at the National in a few hours.” I hung up before he could respond. Poor mate must think I’ve lost it.
You have utterly lost it!
Moving very quietly, I shrugged out of my jacket, ditched my shoes, and crawled carefully onto the bed and curled around her sleeping form. I breathed in her lovely fragrance and let my heart rate slow down. The urge to light up a cig was intense but I focused on her warmth against me instead and figured my addiction to the smokes would have to lessen eventually.
Brynne was out cold—sleeping very deeply, and I wondered why so tired but didn’t want to disturb her either. I could do the watch and wait just fine with her next to me and thought about the lesson I’d just learned. Brynne wasn’t the only one with trust issues apparently. I needed to work on mine a bit more. When she said she wouldn’t take off alone on me, then I had to trust she’d keep her word.
I opened my eyes to find hers studying me. She smiled, looking happy and gorgeous and a tad smug. “I like watching you sleep.”
“What time is it?” I looked up at the skylight to see that daylight was still clinging. “I slept? I came home and found you in bed and couldn’t resist joining you. I guess I drifted off as well, sleepyhead.”
“It’s about five-thirty and time to get moving.” She stretched like a cat, gloriously sensual and erotic as she uncurled. “I don’t know why I was so tired. I just laid down for a minute and when I opened my eyes…you were here.” She started to roll off the bed.
I latched onto her shoulder and rolled her back, pinning her underneath me and settling between her legs. “Not so fast, my beauty. I need a little alone time first. It’s going to be a long night and I’ll have to share you with myriads of idiots.”
She reached up and held my face and grinned. “What kind of alone time were you envisioning?”
I kissed her slowly and thoroughly, roaming my tongue over every inch of her mouth before I answered. “The kind where you are naked and shouting my name.” I thrust my hips slowly into her soft body. “This kind.”
“Mmmmm, you are convincing, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, still holding my face, “but we do need to start getting ready for this thing tonight. How good are you at multi-tasking?”
“I am good at many things,” I responded before I kissed her again. “Give me a hint.”
“Well I do love your grotto shower almost as much as your bathtub,” she said coyly.
“Ahhh, so you’re just using me for my excellent bathroom amenities then?”
She giggled and moved her hand down between us to grip over my hardening cock. “Excellent amenities all the way around as I see it.”
I laughed and groaned at the same time, sweeping off her and into the bathroom. “I’ll get the hot water started…and I’ll be waiting for you in there.”
I didn’t have long to wait before she joined me naked and mind-bendingly sexy as usual; rendering me utterly captive and raging to claim her body with the dominating sex I couldn’t seem to control when we were together. My ultimate reward and my greatest fear all rolled into one. I’d joked about the gala tonight and sharing her with others, but the statement held far more truth than I wanted to admit. I loathed sharing her with other men who admired her—far too much in my opinion.
But, it was the reality of Brynne, and if she was my girl then I’d have to learn to take it like a man.
We made very good use of the time in that hot soapy water though. Yes…multi-tasking is one of my strong points and I won’t blow any opportunities I’m offered.
“You look beyond gorgeous you know.”
She blushed into the mirror, the darkening flush moving down her neck and even over the swell of her breasts in the dip of that decadent dress she’d found. It was lace and very fitted to her shape, the short skirt rather frothy of some other material I didn’t know the name of. Didn’t matter what the hell it was, that dress was going to be the death of me tonight. I was so fucked.
“You look pretty gorgeous yourself, Ethan. We match too. Did you pick that tie just because of my dress?”
“Of course. I have heaps of ties.” I watched her doing her makeup and finishing the last bits and pieces, grateful that she didn’t mind me lurking, and getting nervous for what I was about to do.
“Will you wear that vintage silver tie clip? The one I like so much?”
Perfect lead in. “Sure.” I went to my case atop the dresser to get it.
“Was it a family piece?” she asked as I pinned it onto my tie.
“Actually it was. My mother’s family. My grandparents were old English money and had only the two daughters—my mum and Ivan’s mum. When they passed, the goods went between the grandkids, Hannah, me, and Ivan.”
“Well, it’s incredible and I love antique pieces like that. Vintage things are so well crafted and if it has some sentimental meaning, then all the better, right?”
“I don’t have but a few memories of my mum, I was so young when she died. I remember my grandmother though. She had us stay for holidays, told us lots of stories and showed us photographs; she tried to help us know our mother as best she could because she always said it’s what my mum would have wanted.”
Brynne put down her makeup brush and came over to me. She drew her hand up my sleeve and then adjusted my tie a bit, and finally smoothed down over the silver clip reverently. “Your grandmother sounds like a lovely woman and so does your mother.”
“Both would have loved meeting you.” I kissed her carefully so as not to smudge her lipstick and pulled the box from my pocket. “I have something for you. It’s special…meant for you.” I held it out to her.
Her eyes widened at the black velvet box and then looked up a little startled. “What is it?”
“Just a gift for my girl. I want you to have it.”
Her hand shook as she opened the case and then one came up to her mouth in a soft gasp. “Oh, Ethan…it’s—it’s so beautiful—”
“It’s a small vintage piece from my mother a
nd it’s perfect for you…and how I feel about you.”
“But you shouldn’t give this family piece to me.” She shook her head. “It’s not right for—for you to give that away—”
“I should give it to you and I am giving it,” I spoke over her firmly. “May I put it on you?”
She looked back at the pendant and then back at me, and repeated her actions.
“I want you to wear it tonight and accept the gift.”
“Oh, Ethan…” Her bottom lip quivered. “Why this?”
Honestly? The amethyst heart pendant with diamonds and pearls was a very pretty little thing, but more than that, it screamed Brynne’s name. When I’d remembered it was in the collection of my portion of the lot from my mother’s estate, I’d gone down to the vault and opened it up. There were other things in there as well, but maybe some more time was needed first before we delved any deeper with additional jewelry gifts.
“It’s just a necklace, Brynne. Something very fine that reminds me of you. It’s vintage and it’s your favourite color and it’s a heart.” I took the box from her hand and removed the pendant. “I hope you’ll accept it and wear it and know that I love you. That’s all.” I tilted my head and held the two ends in my fingers, waiting for her to agree.
She pursed her lips together, took a deep breath and got that sparkly look in her eyes as she looked up at me. “You’re going to make me cry, Ethan. That’s so—so beautiful and I love it—and—and I love that you want me to have it—and I love you too.” She turned back toward the mirror and lifted her hair off her neck.
Victory felt so fucking fabulous! I am sure I was beaming, knowing more happiness in this moment than I’d felt in ages when clasping that chain around her beautiful neck, watching the bejeweled heart settle onto her skin, finding a home at last, after decades in the dark.
A lot like my heart.
12
The National Portrait Gallery is a magnificent venue for events and one I am well familiar with, having been there many times before working security, sometimes as a guest and once or twice with a date.