Eyes Wide Open: The Blackstone Affair, Book 3 (3 page)

“Yeah, well, it’s good that someone is,” she grumbled. I decided right then that I wouldn’t share Ethan’s “proposal” of the previous night. I needed some coffee before I tackled anything of that magnitude. Better wait about telling her of Ethan’s ultimatum to move in with him too. Gaby had no trouble giving her opinion on things. And at the moment I didn’t need to hear the resulting noise it would bring.

“Hey,” I asked her, “you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay? Last night was so messed up. I know we exchanged texts and no damage done, but still . . .”

Silence.

“Gabrielle?” I asked again, notching up the intensity by using her full name.

“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded flat and I knew she was holding back.

“Where did you go? I wanted to introduce you to Ethan’s cousin, but that obviously never happened.”

“I got distracted . . . and then that alarm went off and I had to get out just like everyone else. I waited outside on the street for a while until I got your text. Once I knew you were safe, I found a cab and went home. I just wanted a shower and a bed. It was a weird night.” She sounded more like herself, but I had to wonder if she was feeding me a line. “Benny called too. He saw it on the news and was worried about us. I talked to him for a long time.”

“Okay . . . if you say so.” Gaby was stubborn and if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about stuff, then over the phone would not cut it. I’d have to get her in person.

“I do want to meet Ethan’s cousin with the houseful of Mallertons someday, though. Maybe you can arrange it,” she said in what seemed like a peace offering.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll work on that with Ethan.”

As soon as I said the words, I sensed I was not alone anymore. I turned and met the solemn face of the most beautiful little girl, her blue eyes reminding me so very much of another pair I knew well. “I gotta go, Gab. I’ll talk to you later and I’ll see what I can do about sending a pic of the painting. Love ya.”

I hung up and slipped my phone back in my pocket. My serious companion just kept staring. I smiled at her. She smiled back, her long dark curls framing a face that I predicted would someday evolve into a great beauty. I couldn’t wait to see Ethan with her.

“I’m Brynne.” I stuck out my hand. “What’s your name?” I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

“Zara.” She took my hand with hers and tugged. “I know who you are. Uncle Ethan loves you and drinks Mexican beers now because of you. I heard Mummy tell Daddy that.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “I know about you too, Zara. Ethan told me how much he admires your smarts in handling your brothers.”

“He did?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded as she looked up in wonder. “Where are we going?”

Zara did not share that information, but I let her pull me along anyway, weaving through rooms and corridors until the lights of a warm kitchen became clear and what was most certainly the smell of heavenly coffee found my nose.

“Mummy, I have her,” Zara announced as she pulled me into the room.

“Ahh, I see that, love,” said the dark beauty who could only be Ethan’s sister, Hannah. She smiled at me as she answered her daughter, and I got an impression of Ethan for just a moment in her expression. There was a resemblance for sure, but she favored their father more, I thought, than Ethan did. Hannah had the same dark hair and coloring, but her eyes weren’t blue like Ethan’s eyes. Her eyes were gray. And she was petite, whereas Ethan was muscular and tall. Genetics were interesting in the way that they managed to mix the genes of male and female to create combinations that made perfect sense.

“Welcome, Brynne. It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, moving forward, her eyes making a swift assessment. “Hannah Greymont, mum of your small captor there, and big sis of a man I never imagined would put me in this situation. There are plenty of surprises from him yet, I have realized.”

I laughed at what she said, liking her honesty immediately as we shook hands warmly. “Same to you, Hannah. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Ethan speaks so affectionately of you. I met your father. He’s quite the charmer, as I am sure you know.”

“Yes indeed. That would be my dad.” She handed me a mug of coffee and pointed toward the table where the cream and sugar were sitting. “E told me about your coffee habit.” She grinned and winked at Zara.

“Thank you.” I breathed in a lungful of the delicious smell and gave my own wink to Zara. “Your daughter informed me that Ethan drinks Mexican beer now, and it’s entirely all my fault.”

She opened her mouth in mock horror at Zara. “She did not!”

Zara giggled.

“My brother is nearly unrecognizable, Brynne. How on earth did you do it, and where is he, by the way?”

I started doctoring my coffee with sugar and cream. “Well, I can say in all honesty that I have absolutely no idea. Ethan is quite . . . ah . . . single minded much of the time. Except for right now.” I laughed. “He’s pretty out of it, and I left him sleeping. Long drive last night and the evening ended . . . weirdly.” I looked over at Zara, who was soaking up every word of our conversation, and figured less said was better. Little ears can be very big, and I really did not know these people, despite how charming they were being toward me right now.

“Yeah, I heard about that when he rang me.” She shrugged and shook her head. “Crazy people out there for sure. As for E’s single-mindedness, that’s nothing new. He’s always been that way. Bossy, stubborn—very annoying as a boy.”

I just smiled and leaned against the counter opposite from where she appeared to be making bread. So, Hannah was a cook.

“The house—it’s amazing. I was just on the phone to my roommate gushing about the Mallerton that’s hanging on your stairs.”

“You found Sir Jeremy Greymont and his Georgina. Freddy’s ancestors . . . and you’re correct, Mallerton was the artist.”

I nodded at her and took a sip of coffee. “I study art conservancy at University of London.”

“I know. Ethan’s told us all about you,” Hannah paused before adding, “much to our surprise.”

I tilted my head in question and accepted the challenge head-on. “Surprised that he told you about me?”

She nodded slowly with a slight smirk. “Oh, yes. My brother has never talked about a girl, or ever brought anyone to my house for the weekend. This is all,” she gestured with her hands, “very
different
for Ethan.”

“Hmmm, well it’s pretty
different
for me too. From the first time I met him, he was very difficult to turn down.” I took another sip. “Impossible, really.”

She grinned at me. “Well, I’m glad for him, and glad to finally meet you, Brynne. I’m sensing there is more to come for you two?”

Hannah worded it as a question, and I had to give her props for being so intuitive, but I absolutely was not going to share the crazy lunatic proposal of marriage Ethan had dropped on me during the night. No way. We still needed a good long discussion about that little suggestion. I shrugged instead. “Ethan is very . . . confident about what he wants. He’s never had any trouble telling me. I think I have more trouble hearing stuff than he has with saying it. Your brother can be as blunt as a wooden plank.”

She laughed at my assessment. “I know that too. ‘Subtlety’ is not in his lexicon.”

“You can say that again—” My eyes caught a picture on a cabinet shelf. A mother with two children—a girl and a boy.
I wonder . . .
I stepped closer and got a good long look at what I was sure was Ethan and Hannah with their young and beautiful mother, sitting on a stone wall looking almost posed, but possibly just serendipity in capturing a perfect moment. “This is the two of you with your mother?”

“It is,” Hannah said softly. “Taken shortly before she was gone.”

The moment felt odd to me. I was so curious as I soaked up the image of a four-year-old Ethan and the woman who had given him life, but I didn’t want to be rude and bring up sad memories. Still, my curiosity kept me from looking away. Mrs. Blackstone was unbelievably beautiful in an aristocratic way, elegant yet with warmth in her smile. Her hair was up and she had on a very fitted burgundy coat dress and tall black boots. She had amazing style for the period. I didn’t want to stop looking. In the photograph Ethan was leaning back against her body, snuggled into her arm, his hand on her lap. Hannah sat beside her on the other side, her head tilted in toward her mom’s shoulder. It was a sweet, loving moment captured in time. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare. To do so felt gauche and intrusive. “She was lovely. I can see a close resemblance between the two of you.” And Hannah did indeed look like the woman in the picture, but it was baby Ethan I wanted to stare at for a long, long time. His rounded, innocent face and little body in short pants and a white sweater made me want to wrap my arms around him.

“Thank you. I love to hear people say that to me. I never get tired of hearing it.”

“You both look like her,” I said, still staring at the photograph, wishing I could hold it in my hand but I was far too unsure to risk asking.

“Our dad gave us each a copy of that picture.” Hannah looked at me questioningly. “You’ve never seen it before?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not out on display at his flat. I never saw it when I went to his office either time.”

I got a pang when I mentioned his office; the last time I’d set foot in the place had not ended well for us. I’d gotten angry and left him, unwilling to listen to anything he had to say to me.
Including “I love you.”
I could remember the look on his stricken face from just outside the elevator as the doors closed between us.
Painful, unpleasant memories
. Ethan had not asked me to stop in since we’d gotten back together and I’d not offered to come by either. It was weird. Like the two of us being in his office was something a little too raw to sift through at the moment. Ah, well, maybe in time we’d get back to finding a comfort zone with the offices of Blackstone Security International, Ltd.

“Hmmm . . . interesting . . . I wonder where it is.” Hannah turned back to her breadmaking project and lifted a cloth from a bowl.

I sipped my coffee and continued to study the photograph.

“Ethan didn’t speak for almost a year after her death. He just stopped talking one day. I think he was in shock when she didn’t come back . . . and it took him some time to accept it, even in his four-year-old mind,” Hannah said softly as she worked her dough.

Wow. My poor Ethan. It hurt me just to hear this story. The sadness in Hannah’s words was pretty intense and I struggled with any kind of response that didn’t sound ignorant. I wish I knew how their mother had died.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for everyone. Ethan speaks so kindly of you and his father, though. He told me you all got closer and hung together once your mother passed.”

Hannah nodded as she worked. “We did, it’s true.” She punched the ball of dough and covered the bowl with the cloth again to allow a second rising. “I think the suddenness was a good thing in the end. There was no long illness or sad dwellings on what could not be changed, and in time Ethan adjusted and began talking again. Our grandmother was wonderful.” She smiled sadly over at Zara. “She’s been gone about six years now.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and sipped my coffee, and hoped she would share more of the family history.

“Car crash. Late at night. Mum and my aunt Rebecca were headed home from their grandfather’s funeral.” Hannah turned to Zara, who had gotten down from her chair and was heading out of the kitchen. “Don’t wake up Uncle Ethan, my love. He’s very tired.”

“I won’t.” Zara answered her mother but looked at me and gave a little wave.

My heart melted as I waved back and gave her a wink.

“That is one adorable child you have. So independent. I love it.”

“Thank you. She is a handful sometimes, and more curious than is good for her. I know she’ll be trying to get Ethan up out of bed and getting her sweets.”

I laughed at the image of that scene. I hoped I got to witness it. “And you have two other children too—both boys, I heard. I don’t know how you manage everything.”

She smiled as if the thought of her kids gave her a good feeling inside. I could tell Hannah was a great mom and I admired her for it.

“I’m pretty lucky with my man and I enjoy having guests here. We meet a great deal of interesting people. Some we’d like to never meet again, but on the whole, it’s good,” she said jokingly. “And some days I don’t know how I’d manage without Freddy. He took the boys to volunteer at a charity breakfast for the Boy Scouts. They’ll be home in a bit, and you can meet the rest of the clan.”

“You don’t have other guests staying here?”

“Not this weekend. You and my brother are it. By the way, what can I get you for breakfast?”

I came closer and peered at her breadmaking mission. “Oh, I’m fine with the coffee for now. I’ll wait for Ethan. In the meantime, could you use some help with the bread? I love to bake. It would be therapy for me after the insanity of last night.”

She grinned and pushed a lock of hair away from her face with a bent wrist. “You’re hired, Brynne. Aprons are on the back of the pantry door and I want to hear all about the insanity of last night.”

“That was easy,” I said as I went for the apron.

“I’m not stupid. I’ve learned over the years that help is a good thing.” She pegged me with warm gray eyes. “And you never have to ask me twice.”

3

♠
I
don’t know what compelled me to open my eyes. Probably the breathing on my face smelling faintly of jam, but regardless, I now understand why horror movies with children in them are, without a doubt, the most terrifying films of all. There is nothing quite like a silent child staring at you while you’re sleeping, or even worse, to wake up to.

Some questions come to mind pretty fuckin’ quick. Like how long have you been standing there watching over me like one of the ill-fated Grady sisters in
The Shining
?

Scared the ever-living shit out of me for about two seconds.

And then she smiled.

“Uncle Ethan is awake!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she ran to the door, flinging it wide open.

“Zara! Shut the door behind you, please.” I sat up carefully, well aware I was nude and taking care to keep the blankets arranged. I was also alone in the bed, so I leaned around and looked toward the bathroom to try and catch sight of Brynne.

No Brynne.

“She’s downstairs talking to Mummy. They’re having coffees.” Zara poked her head back in.

“Is that so?” I said, wondering why on earth I sleep like the dead now and how long my niece had been hovering over me. Creep factor? About a twelve.

Zara nodded solemnly. “She came down ages ago.”

“What do you think of her?”

She ignored my question and tilted her head at me. “Did you get married, Uncle Ethan?”

I am sure my eyes bulged out, because Zara gave me a thorough looking over as she waited for a response. “Um . . . no. Brynne is my girlfriend.”

“Mummy and Daddy are married.”

“Yes they are. I was at the wedding.” I smiled and wished I could get out of bed and into some clothes, but she had me good and truly trapped.

“Why do you sleep naked?”

“Excuse me? Zara, I need to get dressed—”

“Daddy doesn’t sleep naked like you do. Brynne is nice. Will you take me to get an ice cream with Rags? He loves ice cream and I let him lick it and Mummy says that’s dirty but I let him anyway. Mummy said not to come in here, but I got tired of waiting for you to wake up. You’re the only person that’s still sleeping.”

Unbelievable. A five-year-old held me captive in a bed where I could do nothing but listen, mesmerized by her litany of observations, opinions and requests, and praying for some way to escape. She gave me quite the disgusted look too with that last bit. Sort of along the lines of, “
What in the hell is wrong with you, Uncle Ethan?”
And really, I had to agree with her five-year-old logic too. A hell of a lot was wrong with me.

“Okay. I’ll tell you what, Miss Zara. I’ll see what I can do about the ice cream with Rags if you go on out so I can get up and get dressed.” I gave her my best eyebrow quirk. “Deal?”

“What about Mummy?” she fired off with absolutely no change of expression. This one could play poker with the big shots some day, no doubt about it. My niece was magnificent.

“What Mummy doesn’t know about ice creams won’t hurt her, I always say.” I wondered how long it would be before that declaration came back to haunt me. Probably about as long as it took for her to make her way downstairs, but hell, if it worked to get some immediate privacy . . .

“Deal.” She gave me a thorough perusal before going to the door and backing out, her blue eyes tracking me with a certain message.
You better get your arse downstairs in the allotted time or I’ll be back in here.

“I’ll be down straight away,” I insisted with a wink.

I waited a good long minute after she left before getting up. I used a pillow to cover my front and made a dash, clicking the bathroom lock before I hit the shower. The last thing I needed was to get caught by a child with everything hanging out. So Brynne was down talking to Hannah . . . I wondered what they were saying about me and hurried to finish.

The shower felt good. The hot water helped clear the cobwebs out of my head.
Fuck that dream last night, though.
The fact that I’d had another nightmare with Brynne right there to witness it really pissed me off. And while I was relieved it wasn’t as bad as the last time, I still hated the resurfacing of shit I so did not need to be dealing with at the moment. She would want to talk about it again. . . .
I’m not ready
.

My hand brushed over my cock as I washed, reminding me what I’d done to her after that nightmare. She took everything I wanted to give her when it came to the sex, with no protest, no complaint, just willing and generous every time with her body, helping me to come down from the terror.
She does it because she loves you.
I had to wonder if her reaction had something to do with her past—the things she’d told me about her assault and how she had felt about herself when she was younger. Brynne seemed so confident to me most of the time, it was hard to imagine her feeling broken and vulnerable. My position was simple, really. I didn’t care about her past. It changed nothing in my feelings for her. She was the one—the one person I needed to be with. Now it was just a matter of convincing her of this fact.
And I will . . . because I love her.
I snapped down a plush towel for drying off as I stepped out of the shower.

I grinned into the mirror as I trimmed up my beard. The look on her face when I told her we should get married. Priceless. I should have used my mobile and taken a video. My smirk turned into a frown at the thought of the video sent to her last night. It reminded me I should touch base with Neil sometime today. I wanted details on the motherfucker toying with her. He wouldn’t be doing it for long, I vowed.

It nearly hurt to put myself back in the moment of last night. So many images flashed through my head—Brynne’s periwinkle dress, the pendant I’d given her around her neck, the disturbing text messages and video, the bomb threat, searching for her in a panic, and then her being ill on the side of the road. Christ! The whole thing was absolute madness. We needed a little peace and some rest. I was determined to get that for us this weekend if it killed me.

I immediately felt guilty for being so demanding with her in bed last night. Not a lot of peace and rest for my girl in there with me. I remembered the desperation to be inside her again . . . after that dream.
Fuck!
I was thankful I’d been less strung out than the last time, but still worried it was just too much. That
I
was too much.

On second thought, Brynne didn’t give off that vibe even after I’d told her about my plan for us to announce our engagement. She told me I was insane, true, but she wasn’t upset with me in any way as far as I could tell. In fact, she still took care of me
after
that—when I was wrecked from another twisted dream mixing all the bad from Afghanistan with worry about her.
Totally. Fucked. Up. Shit.
She’d said she woke me up because she didn’t want my nightmare to escalate. And what did I do for my sweet girl in thanks?

I fucked her again.

I’d taken her hard and yet she accepted what I did to her, and accepted me. She said it was okay.
Yeah, she loves me, all right.

I was well aware of how Brynne’s touch soothed me like nothing else had before. She was the only lifeline that I wanted to grab on to when I found myself in that state.

Just remembering how our session ended got my blood humming and my mind taking off. I went to find clothes and realized I thought about sex way too much now. A diversion was definitely a good idea. For now. When I got her alone again, well, then all bets were off that I could keep my hands off her. Highly doubtful. It was just another testament of how well we worked together and why I was going in all the way with my American girl. I’d never needed anyone like I needed her.

A long workout was definitely on the menu for me today, I decided. Some time just doing normal things with Brynne and my family away from jobs and other problems would be a nice change. I also wanted Brynne to have a good visit here. Maybe she would be up for a run along the sea path. I hoped she felt well this morning. I slipped into joggers and trainers and grabbed my mobile.

I decided to check in with Neil before I went down. It would ease my mind to ring him. Sometimes talking through a case was cathartic.

“You’re up late today, boss,” Neil announced after the first ring.

I grunted at him. “Maybe I’ve been up for hours, how would you know?”

“Doubtful, that. I’m surprised you didn’t call as soon as you got in last night.”

“I might have . . . if I wasn’t so exhausted from a long drive and less-than-restful sleep,” I retorted. “Oh, and Brynne was ill and had to be let out on the side of the road to be sick.”

“Christ, that’s unpleasant.”

“Agreed. The whole night was pretty unpleasant.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Don’t know. Stomach bug or something? She was sick at the gallery too.”

“You don’t suppose somebody tainted her food or drink, do you?”

I pondered the idea, even though it made me see red. “I can’t rule it out completely. Paul Langley needs a checking into. He does have her old mobile number and he was there at the gala, but he uses her new number now. You know, on second thought, he handed her a glass of water.” I wanted to get that prick in a room alone. I could find out all kinds of things, I’m sure. I tried to focus on my conversation with Neil. “The thing is, whoever sent the text message was there. Maybe not inside at the event, but he was watching me have a smoke. And that alarm was set off just a moment or two after the music video was sent.”

“Langley checked out when you looked into him before.”

“Don’t remind me, please.” If that motherfucker was involved, I swear he was a dead man. Brynne and I needed to talk about her history with Langley, a prospect that felt even more unpleasant than last night’s fiasco. “Just see what you can find out. Any luck on the caller location to Brynne’s mobile?” I’d left it for Neil to investigate, determined to have a weekend without focus on her situation or my job.

“Some. The call was made from inside the UK. Whoever called her mobile was most likely watching you in real time and not on web cam from the States. I’m guessing you were thinking that was a possibility?”

“Fuck.” A smoke was sounding very appealing right about now. “A long shot, but I hoped. Well, it’s not Oakley then, he’s active duty in Iraq. Lurking around London would be a stretch when he’s dodging missiles in the desert. It’s not Montrose either, because he’s taking a well-deserved dirt nap. So that leaves the third in the video. That cocksucker is next on my list. We’ve got nothing on him yet. The file is accessible on the Q drive. His vitals are all there. Can you do a bit of digging on him? Find out what he’s been up to lately? Make sure he’s not been using his passport. Um . . . name is Fielding. Justin Fielding, twenty-seven, living in Los Angeles, if memory serves. I want to know if he went to the funeral for Montrose too. I’m betting he made scarce—”

“I got this, E,” Neil interrupted. “Have your weekend and try to let all this shit lie for a bit. I’ll get into it for you. Right now you have her safe and out of the loop. Nothing’s going to happen from Somerset.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Oh, yeah, can you toss some feed in for Simba?”

“He doesn’t like me,” Neil said dryly.

“He doesn’t like me either, but he does like being fed. And if you don’t he’ll start eating his tankmates.”

“All right. I’ll feed your surly and poisonous fish.”

“You don’t have to cuddle him, just throw in some krill.”

“Easier said than done. That creature is part piranha, I am sure.”

I laughed at that image. “Thank you, brave soldier, for going into battle for me by feeding my fish.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hold down the fort for us, and you know how to reach me. We’ll be back in town Monday evening.”

I ended the call and headed out of the bedroom, eager to find Brynne. Time to face my girl and see what trouble I was in this morning from all of my bad behavior last night. I wasn’t really worried, though.
My baby loves me, and I know how to give her what she needs . . .

I smirked to myself at my smug thoughts, opened the bedroom door and nearly stepped on my niece.

Zara was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, waiting for me apparently. I caught my balance and crouched down to meet her at face level.

“Finally, you’ve come out,” she said disgustedly.

“Sorry. I had to make a telephone call, but I’m done now.”

She looked up at me hopefully. “Can we go get ice creams now? You said you would.”

“It’s morning still. Ice cream is for the afternoons, I’m sure.”

She wrinkled her cute little nose at me in response. I guess she didn’t share that pragmatic view.

I pointed to my cheek. “I did not get a nice welcome yet from my favorite princess.”

She reached up, put her little arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

“That’s better,” I said. “Would you like a ride?” I gestured to my back.

“Yes!” She brightened her expression.