Chapter 1

North Raleigh, North Carolina

“You don’t get to dump me like yesterday’s garbage.”

Allegra St. Cloud’s heart pounded like a drum. She held up a hand, palm outward, and was relieved that it was not shaking. Sometimes, angry people could be mollified. “I’m not ‘dumping’ you,” she uttered in a voice that was surprisingly calm.

She stared into burning eyes. Her unexpected visitor’s fury was palpable; it even had a smell. Fetid and rife with desperation and vengeance.

The odor coated the back of her throat, stung her nostrils.

The visitor took a menacing step forward.

Allegra’s breath hitched in her throat. She took a step back. The soles of her bare feet touched cool tile. Goosebumps popped up on her arms.

An ugly twist of the lips. “What was I? A joke to you? Something to fill the time?”

Allegra shook her head. Her dark hair spilled across the shoulders of her cranberry robe. It almost looked like the color of blood in the dim light. “No. It wasn’t like that. But you’ve got to understand−”

“Shut up. I’m so sick of your lies.” Fury took one threatening step forward.

Terror spiked through Allegra’s veins like lightning. She turned to run…

#

Hackensack, New Jersey

An unexpected ringing startled Mariah St. Cloud, violently interrupting her troubled musings as she studied pictures contained in the maroon photo album on her lap.

She swiftly closed it and stared at the phone on the table next to her, a visceral sense of foreboding chilling her.

Moments later, a gut-wrenching cry of anguish from the floor below solidified that initial premonition.

“Mom.”

Heart racing, Mariah jumped to her feet, the springs of the full-sized bed squeaking, the photo album falling from her lap and landing onto the carpeted floor of the attic with a dull thud.

#

Southeast Raleigh, North Carolina

Overwhelmed by weariness, disbelief and sorrow, Mariah St. Cloud barely registered the striations of mauve and yellow that painted the cloudless sky just as the sun started to set, or the other cars already parked in the grassy driveway on her grandmother’s property. Mariah only had eyes for her grandmother Della “Gran D” Hennessey, a well-rounded woman wearing a cobalt blue sundress, black sandals and tortoise gold glasses. Her grandmother usually let her wavy silver hair hang to her shoulders, but today she wore it in a bun.

“Gran D,” Mariah whispered, her voice trembling as she flew into the woman’s waiting arms, the comforting scent of lavender filling her nostrils. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

After Gran D informed Mariah and her daughter of Allegra’s death this morning, the two frantically packed and made the seven-hour trip from Hackensack, New Jersey to Raleigh. Mariah felt the thickness of tears in her throat, but the ability to cry still eluded her.

Gran D pulled back, and one lightly veined hand lovingly cupped Mariah’s cheek. “I know, baby. I know.” Her voice always had a strong, feminine timbre, but today it was fragile and shaking, her dark brown gaze clouded. Despite the tragedies in her life, Gran D looked twenty years younger than her seventy-four years. There was delicacy and strength in her features, a wide forehead and high cheekbones that tapered down into a narrow chin. If not for skin the color of a Dove milk chocolate bar, it was hard to believe a slave master’s blood flowed throw her veins. She stood eye level with her daughter and Mariah, tobut she seemed to have shrunk, and the line of her generous mouth twisted.

With a shaky breath, Gran D released Mariah, and then hugged Mariah’s mother. Sniffling, Gran D released Anna, her eldest daughter. She dug her right hand into the chest pocket of her dress and withdrew a tissue, using it to dab at her nose. Her eyes squinted as a hand came up, lightly caressing her left temple, and Mariah’s brows flickered a little. One of Gran D’s rare headaches.

The front screen door to Gran D’s yellow ranch-style house opened, cutting into Mariah’s thoughts and Kevin, her first cousin, appeared – a husky man slightly under six feet wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt and black sneakers – with a package of Goody’s headache powder in hand, as if he sensed his grandmother’s need.

He murmured a greeting and warmly enfolded Mariah and Anna in his arms before stepping back to hand the packet to Gran D.

“Thank ya, baby.” She took it. “Go back in the house and keep the peace.”

Bewildered, Mariah opened her mouth to ask Gran D what she meant, but Kevin interrupted her with a taut jerk of his head.

As the quartet stepped inside, the faint scent of cherry vanilla wafted through the house with the help of the ceiling fan. Energy-efficient bulbs illuminated the cool mint living room with its deep-sea blue trim and teal blue accent wall added to its calming atmosphere.

There were three people Mariah didn’t recognize in the living room. She thought about Gran D’s earlier comment to Kevin. They seemed peaceful enough.

“Excuse me,” Anna murmured to the visitors, her head bowed. They nodded respectfully toward her mother as she headed toward one of the bedrooms. With suitcases in hand, Kevin followed.

After Anna disappeared, Mariah studied Gran D’s guests. There was a tall woman perched on the light brown sofa, her fingers clasped tightly around a large black purse. Currents of anxiety emanated from her, which made Mariah a bit nervous, too.

A man stood nearby, preoccupied with something. Mariah noted how much he and the woman resembled each other. In the far left corner of her peripheral vision, another man stood a foot away, his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

As Mariah moved into the middle of the living room, Gran D slowly ambled to the couch, circling the wooden and glass coffee table, her footfalls making hefty, temporary impressions in the plush butterscotch carpet. She didn’t have a soft tread, but her steps were never as heavy as they were tonight.

Using the arm of the couch for support, Gran D sank down next to the young woman she introduced as Thomasina.

Before she could utter another word, one of the men stepped toward Mariah and held out his hand. “Thomas Payton,” he said in a smooth, Southern flavor, a sharp contrast to his handshake, which was forceful and formal. The message was clear: Okay, I’m here. Deal with me.

Disquiet rolled through Mariah and she removed her hand — which he engulfed in his, making her feel like a caged bird — promptly. She noticed how Gran D’s lips curled slightly in distaste and was relieved that she wasn’t wrong in her original assessment of the man.

Even though Mariah instantly disliked Thomas, he was impressive. Mariah wasn’t obsessed with fashion, but years of living with Allegra taught her to recognize expensive clothes. A cobalt blue dress shirt and black dress pants fit the lines of his tall, attractively-proportioned body, and black Oxfords completed the dressy ensemble. Being handsome didn’t hurt, either. Olive-brown skin highlighted keen dark brown eyes framing features so perfect that any more delicacy would have made him too beautiful to be a man. He gestured to the woman beside him.

Thomasina rose to her feet, standing at least six-feet and solid. She wore khakis, a simple white Polo shirt, and beige sandals. Tawny, oval glasses outlined mild dark brown eyes, and her dark hair was pulled back into a bun. While the strength in Thomas’s features – the square jaw and broad cheekbones – complemented his male beauty, the effect was lost on Thomasina, muting any possible attractiveness into the ordinary. Even her handshake was limp.

Kevin returned to the living room just as Thomas blurted, “I can’t believe Allegra’s…gone. I …was going to ask her to marry me.”

Everyone gave a little start at the news, especially Thomasina.

“I’m sorry,” Mariah sympathized, even though she couldn’t envision Allegra marrying anyone, especially this man.

“And this is Anthony Caine,” Gran D interjected as if Thomas hadn’t said a word. Great affection laced her voice as she made her introduction. She extended a hand, palm up, in the direction outside of Mariah’s peripheral vision, a spot where Thomas focused his attention earlier.

Anthony Caine. A spark of familiarity coursed through Mariah. She’d never met him, but she’d heard about him off and on throughout the years.

Mariah slowly turned her eyes to Anthony, and a quiver surged through her veins. Taken aback, she made a quick, involuntary appraisal of his features. Mother Nature had certainly blessed him in abundance with a body that was heavily muscled, but not bulky, smooth caramel skin and a remarkably handsome face that could have belonged to royalty.

He strolled forward, his large hand outstretched. Anthony stepped a foot within her personal space, and for such a big individual, his approach was inaudible. He smelled incredible, like cedar. He stood about six-three, slightly taller than Thomas. A classic robin’s egg blue T-shirt emphasized wide shoulders, powerful biceps and sharply toned abs. Bruised-washed jeans hugged narrow hips. In the light, his hair looked almost brown and was cut in a tapered fade, working well for a man with his features.

But his masculine beauty was not untouched. He sported two curved scars, one along his high right cheekbone, and the other extending from the right corner of firm, full lips to the middle of his chin. Oddly enough, they did nothing to diminish his appeal.

Anthony turned his head slightly to give Thomas a brief, enigmatic glance, the lines of his profile were somber, sharp and confident. Mariah found herself captivated by his eyes. Yellow and gold with russet and copper tint, they were full of contradictions, impassive, yet razor-sharp.

Wolf eyes.

But that detachment evaporated seconds later when they traveled to Mariah’s mouth, focusing on her lips with laser-like precision before lifting to meet her wide gaze.

Mariah’s breasts tingled against the fabric of her shirt and she swallowed hard. The man was standing in her personal space, preventing her from ignoring the strength and heat of his physique. Warm, strong, blunt-tipped fingers surrounded hers, and Mariah hesitated. A bizarre tremor, a combination of caution and unwanted awareness, of needing to move closer and run away, of feeling safe and being exposed to a maelstrom, slid up her spine when his unusual eyes moved over her face, as if he could see into her soul with one look.

“I’m sorry for your loss, and I’ll help in any way I can.” His voice, gravelly, like Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry, was strictly Northern and carried with it a curious mix of compassion, danger and underlying sensuality.

“Thank you, Mr. Caine,” she replied in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off as she hastily tried to disengage her hand.

His hold tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to keep her attention as his amber eyes locked with hers. “Anthony,” he replied with quiet emphasis before releasing her hand.

“Anthony was a cop in New York City for a while, and just moved back here a few months ago,” Gran D spoke up, startling Mariah and dispelling the haze she’d fallen into. Mariah’s breath quickened and heat crept into her cheeks as she scrambled to gather her composure. “His grandma was my best friend,” Gran D went on, “and I’m glad he’s back home.”

Right then, someone coughed and cleared their throat. Mariah eyes moved in the direction of the sound. It came from Thomasina. Mariah felt a little ashamed of herself, because she had forgotten the woman was there. Mariah would have looked away, but something in Thomasina’s expression stopped her.

It was the way her eyes darted to Thomas’s face, then his hand. Mariah’s gaze followed and her gut tightened. His hand curled into a fist by his side as he stared across the room at Anthony. It was evident that Gran D’s comment about Anthony had rubbed Thomas raw.

But why?

Gran D spoke low. “This morning, Allegra’s maid called and she was frantic. She said she’d left something at the house and tried to catch Allegra before she left for work, since she didn’t have the alarm code. She said she found Allegra on the floor…and the front door was unlocked.”

Mariah frowned. Why would Allegra’s front door be unlocked? “What about her alarm?”

“It wasn’t on.”

Disturbed, Mariah shook her head. That didn’t sound right. Allegra was keen on security.

Gran D turned to Thomas. “I know y’all came over to help with the funeral, but it’s not necessary. We can handle this.” Her message was polite enough, but something in her tone captured Mariah’s attention.

She didn’t want their help.

Both siblings gave a nod. Thomasina’s was gentle and accepting, but Thomas’s had a slight edge. “Alright, Ms. Della. I’m here if you change your mind,” he offered.

“Mmmm hmm,” Gran D replied.

With a weary sigh, she got up and headed to the door. Taking the not-so-subtle hint, the twins did the same.

Before she reached the door, Gran D switched her attention to Anthony, who also readied to leave. “I need ya to stay a little while.”

Thomas’s gaze shifted in Anthony’s direction. The look in his dark eyes was colder than a loan shark’s glare when a borrower comes up short on cash.

And the hairs on the back of Mariah’s neck stood up.