The Darkest Link (Second Circle Tattoos) (17 page)

A white shirt was hanging by the mirror, and while he was certain that Lia would look great in just about anything, it reminded him too much of something his mom would wear.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, although he was pretty certain he already knew.

“I need to do this. I need to go and at least see for myself whether this is just another ploy by my father to bring me to heel or if my mother actually needs me. I can’t bear the fact that something could happen to Mom.” She bit her pink-stained lip, eyes softening as they met his. “I won’t let my father win. This is something I can do, Reid.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His heart hurt for her. “Don’t you see? He’s already winning. Just by you turning up. By the way you went easy on the eyeliner. And seriously, babe, while the pink looks cute on you, those lips of yours aren’t siren red.”

“I most definitely am not conceding, or agreeing, or letting him control me. I think I’m strong enough. It is a small event, private, and it will enable me to help my mom if she struggles. Plus, it will hopefully give me another opportunity to talk to her while Dad is busy, see if I can’t convince her that she doesn’t need to stay and support him if it makes her miserable. This is me choosing to go and fight for her, not give in to him.”

“You ever mind the speed limits, babe?” Reid asked, a pinched look on his face.

“This coming from the man who drives a racing bike like the hounds of hell are on his heels,” Lia answered, but took a look at the speedometer anyway.
Whoops.
Somehow speed always crept up on her.

They were both on edge as Lia veered off the bridge and took the exit to Star Island. All the moment needed was the gunfight music from that movie starring Clint Eastwood as a cowboy that she could never remember. It’d already felt like a battle of wills between her and her father, but as soon as Reid had insisted on coming with her it became a showdown.

She looked out over the bay and focused on the water. The sky was gray and the water choppy. A storm was brewing, which seemed incredibly prophetic.

As she pulled onto the road that ran down the center of the island, Lia killed her speed a touch.

“Exactly how much influence does your dad have when it comes to the courts and stuff?” Reid asked, his elbow propped on the open window. “I’m curious whether your dad and Winston being friends could have any real implications on Nathan’s trial, especially since we might see him there today.”

Lia had given it considerable thought. “It’s not just how good he is at what he does in the courtroom, it’s all the other stuff he does to make sure he wins. Like, he schmoozes all the influential judges. They’re part of the same golf club. He even went to law school with some of them.”

“But wouldn’t the judge have to recuse himself if he and your father were friends?”

“The problem is that my father isn’t actually Nathan’s lawyer. And my father knows how to plant seeds without crossing lines. He would never do anything quite as flagrant as telling a judge which way to rule or which day-to-day decisions to make in the courtroom about what to allow or overrule, but he has this uncanny knack of making you doubt yourself until your opinion lines up with his.”

“I can see that, babe. It’s the reason we’re on our way to his house. And it really bothers me.” Reid tapped on the outside of the car door, a steady drumming. “You honestly believe your father could have that much influence on the case?” he asked. He looked over at her, tilting his chin so he could look her in the eye over the tops of his aviator sunglasses. He looked so damn handsome in the dark shirt he’d decided to wear. When he’d said he was coming with her, she’d imagined he was going to make some kind of stand in one of his T-shirts with his tattoos on display. So she’d been surprised when he emerged after his shower in jeans and a black long-sleeve button-down despite the warm temperatures.

“I do. And while there’s every chance I’m overthinking it, I don’t want to leave Harper out to dry. Perhaps being here, being around him, I can find out more about what they have been discussing.”

“Do you really think Winston’ll be here today?” Reid asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Possibly . . . But I don’t think it will help Harper at all if you confront him.”

He reached across and gripped her thigh, rubbing his hand up and down slowly. “I can’t make any promises there, babe.”

Cars started to line the road as she got closer to the house. A valet was standing at the top of the driveway. She pulled alongside and explained that this was her father’s home. She had to wait a moment while he checked the list before being granted permission to drive inside.

“Holy shit, Lia. It’s probably really uncouth of me to mention this, but your family is honestly worth a shitload of money.”

Distracted, she looked up at the house, but then pulled the car to a sudden stop, narrowly avoiding an elderly couple walking up the drive, the last-minute maneuver making her laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Reid asked.

“Well, I’m here because my father is concerned that I may damage part of his campaign, but I think he’d be really pissed if I ran over one of the couples likely to fund it. That’s Hildie and Eddie. More money than the Rockefellers, but way more private. And to address your
uncouth
statement, my father could probably fund his entire campaign personally, but being the great salesman he is, why should he when he can persuade other people to pay for it for him?”

Lia pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed the small purse she’d slid down by Reid’s feet. Dropping the keys inside the purse, she turned to Reid. “Are you ready to do this?”

Reid placed a hand over hers and stopped her from leaving the car. “Last chance, babe. You walk through your parents’ front door, and I’ve got your back. But I won’t think any less of you if you just want to put those keys back in the ignition, reverse out of the driveway, and head home. Your mom is making her own choices here. Anything that happens as a result of them is not your fault.”

“You know what, I actually think I’ve got this. Maybe it’s because you came with me, but I still feel like me, even if I’m wearing a different costume.” She raised her hand to the long ponytail tied back with black ribbon.

“Well, for what it’s worth, while you look cute and all, I much prefer your hair the way it was when you woke up this morning. Wild and all over me.”

Reid grinned as he reached for her hair and gently pulled her toward him over the stick shift. He placed his lips on hers, a chaste yet reassuring kiss that told her they were in it together.

They stepped out of the car and headed hand-in-hand to the front door, where they were greeted by a man she’d never met before. He was wearing a formal suit.

“Good afternoon, sir. Madam,” he said as they approached. “Could I take your names please?”

“I’m Julianna Carlisle. This is my father’s house.”

“Ah, Miss Carlisle. Your father is expecting you. And you, sir, what is your name?”

“That’s okay. He’s with me,” Julianna replied.

“I’m sorry, Miss Carlisle, but nobody is allowed to enter unless they are on this list of invitees.”

“Well, I’m sorry, too, because this is my home, and I will not be told by you who I can and cannot bring into it.”

Lia, holding fast to Reid’s hand, tried to step over the threshold, but the doorman grabbed her shoulder, bringing her to a halt.

“I suggest you take your hands off of her right now,” Reid growled.

“When my father hears—”

“Julianna,” her father’s voice boomed down the hallway. “What is going on?”

Lia felt a little ill as her father looked her up and down as he approached them. She could see the cogs turning inside his head, his eyes checking her over, running down the little checklist of things she needed to do to comply.

Resisting the urge to actively agitate her father, but also embracing Reid’s encouragement to stay true to herself, she’d dressed to the conservative end of her own wardrobe. Technically the tattoos on her arms were covered, but the fitted white shirt
à la
Kathryn Hepburn had more buttons left open than her father would be comfortable with. And the fitted cream capris showed off her figure, but left a single tattoo on her calf exposed, a classic Sailor Jerry–style shark representing courage and will. She’d stuck with simple makeup, but had added layers of pearls, and worn leopard-print platform pumps.

From the look in her father’s eyes, she hadn’t met his expectations, and yet ironically, in trying to compromise, she still didn’t fully feel like herself, either.

“There seems to be some confusion,” she said diplomatically. “I was just explaining that regardless of what the list says, my guest is allowed to come into my own family home with me.”

“Of course she may bring a guest,” her father said to the doorman. “Please let us take the introductions to my office.”

Despite the fact it was her home, Reid took
her
hand and led her down the hallway in her father’s wake. It felt reassuring and gave her the strength she needed for the conversation she was certain would follow.

“Is this some kind of game, Julianna?” he asked as they walked into his office.

“Reid Kennedy, sir. I’m a friend of Lia’s.” Reid held out his hand, but her father ignored it and him.

“I asked you a question, Julianna,” he repeated.

“Reid, I’d like you to meet my father, Franklin Carlisle. Daddy, I would like you to meet my good friend, Reid Kennedy.”

Her father exhaled a dramatic breath. “Today, of all days, you choose to bring home your latest flavor of the month in some pathetic attempt to try my patience? And what do you do, Reid?” he asked, looking at him like he was used goods. “Let me guess. Tattoo artist. No, that would be too obvious. You strike me as a bartender.”

Concerned, Lia turned to look at Reid, but was relieved to see nothing but composure. He squeezed her hand three times quickly but never looked away from her father. “I run my own garage in Fort Pierce, and last time I checked, my vote counted just as much as each of those people you have standing in your back garden right now just waiting for you to kiss their asses, so you need to say something of value to me real quick.”

Lia looked down at the cream carpet and smiled in spite of the awkwardness.

“Franklin,” her mother’s voice sounded outside the room. She knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Franklin, the Boveys have just . . . Lia, darling, I wasn’t informed that you’d arrived.” Her mom hurried over and air-kissed in the general direction of her cheek. She took in Reid but turned to face her husband. “The Boveys have just arrived, and you told me you wanted to be informed as soon as they were here.”

Her father simply grunted and nodded. “Very well. Julianna, I will be very disappointed if you attempt to pull any kind of stupid stunt today. And Mr. Kennedy, mark my words, I don’t need your vote, and any attempt to assist my daughter in any kind of foolish action will result in your immediate rejection from not only this house, but from this island.”

“Duly noted,” Reid replied.

With that, her father left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

“I think he really liked me,” Reid said before kissing the back of her hand. His lips were warm against her skin, and it reminded her of the way they had felt while he sucked on her nipples earlier that morning. Unusually, she felt her cheeks blush.

Grace looked between the two of them. She fiddled nervously with one of her diamond studs, the color high in her cheeks. But she was wearing the closest thing Lia had ever seen to a full-blown smile. “Mom, this is Reid. My . . .”
What? They’d never really talked terms.
And she didn’t want to presume.

“Her boyfriend,” Reid filled in cheerily. “What your daughter seems to have some trouble spitting out is that I’m her boyfriend.”

* * *

“That is a great question, Ryland. Our current schooling is creating namby-pambies who don’t know how to operate as adults. They have no concept of how to self-start because everything is given to them. They have no sense of what it means to win, or to fight. If we want to eradicate the apathy that defines Generation X and beyond, that sense of permanent entitlement, we’re going to have to change the way we teach them.”

Reid took a sip of the overly sweetened iced tea that Grace Carlisle had given him and rolled his eyes in Lia’s direction. Quite frankly, he’d had enough of Lia’s father’s ramblings.

To some people, her father appeared defiant. To others, sycophantic. At least four times that Reid had counted, Franklin had contradicted himself arguing both sides of the same coin to two different people.

Guests continued to come and go, but one thing was reasonably constant. They were white, elderly, and richer than the Treasury. There wasn’t an ounce of diversity to be seen, and there sure as hell wasn’t anybody who looked like Lia. Even subdued, she still stood out like a lit firework in the night sky, and he suddenly had a sense of what it must have been like for Lia to grow up in an environment like this. She was too much . . . everything. Too bold. Too smart. Too colorful. She was a rainbow in a sea of beige.

Lia found her way over to him. She’d spent much of the afternoon in the kitchen helping her mother keep food moving amongst the guests while interacting with them as little as possible. It also meant her mother could be outside, in prime hostess position, which, Lia had told him, her father had insisted upon, yet Grace despised.

“Having fun yet?” Lia asked.

He reached for her hand, pulling her closer. “You just got here, so yes.”

“You sweet talker. I almost believe you. Did Daddy convince you to contribute to his campaign yet?”

“Ha-ha. He keeps giving me the side eye. I think he’s worried I might attempt to steal something.”

Lia looked in the direction of her father. When he caught her eye, he gestured her over. Lia groaned. “How many minutes and seconds until this is over?”

“There’s nothing keeping us here, babe. Say the word and I’ll rescue that pretty little ass of yours. I think we should have a call sign, like if you need to be rescued from your dad, tilt your head to the right and flip your hair over your left shoulder.”

“Funny. This is worse than high school.”

“No, if this was high school, you’d pass a note to that woman standing next to your father who’d pass it to the woman standing two people down, who’d pass it to me.”

He watched Lia as she walked toward her father. To the untrained eye, everything seemed completely natural. The way her father put his hand on her shoulder was almost proud, his smile as he introduced her to the group he was talking to was almost relaxed. Even Lia was pulling off a grade-A performance as she said a few words and shook hands with the members of the group. There was something so . . . robotic about it. And painfully false.

He switched from foot to foot, impatient for the whole thing to be over. Then they could go back to her place and he could convince her that nothing was worth putting herself through this.

Someone appeared behind Franklin and both he and Lia turned to greet the person. Reid couldn’t see who it was, but the stricken look on Lia’s face as she turned toward him suggested he wasn’t going to like it. As Franklin stepped to one side to make room, a face he hadn’t seen in six years came into view.

Winston Bell.