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“I guess I’d be wasting my time to ask if you’d let me go down there alone? Right.” Fray tugged El back next to him when she leaned away to answer his question with a look.
In an attempt to shake the shroud of dread that the visit with Bin had cast, Fray had suggested dinner at LaRue’s. El had all but leapt at the opportunity. She was just as eager to forget the sense of doom and gloom the revelations the last days had instilled.
They’d made their way to the dancefloor within a few minutes of being seated at the table they’d enjoyed during their first visit. For a while, they simply embraced on the floor and barely moved to the sultry jazz swaying through the air. Eventually, the seductive piece had its way with the lovers and they began to sway, taking hold of the pleasure summoned by their closeness.
“Knowing what I do, I should be asking you to forget the whole damn thing,” anguish came through clearly in her words. “We could just bury that key and my dad’s journal with it.”
Fray put a kiss to her temple and smiled at the soft fragrance clinging to the baby fine tendrils there. “Knowing what you do, that’s the last thing you’d agree to,” he said.
“What are we gonna find in those journals or down in those caves for that matter, Fray? Bin’s the strongest woman I know and even she didn’t want to think on it.”
“That’s because she already knows.”
The certainty in his voice had El lifting her head from his shoulder. His smile unnerved as much as it intrigued.
“Do you really think Bin wouldn’t have asked her brother and husband anything about where they buried those ramblings of my great great grandfather?”
El nodded, needing only a moment to agree to the logic. “So what are we gonna do with whatever we do find down there? Do we lock it away again or bring it to light?”
Fray winced in response to the question as he scanned the LaRue’s dancehall. “I don’t think I’ve got an answer to that one, Elli but whatever we do, it shouldn’t be a decision made by a few. We should have everybody chiming in on this.”
“Everybody?” Despite the dismal subject matter, El felt her heart flip in response to the killer grin that slashed across Fray’s face.
“For somethin’ like this, we should have a rep from each of the six families,” Fray felt his dance partner immediately tense in his arms. He wasn’t surprised by the reaction.
Tension was as evident in El’s posture as it was on her voice when she spoke then. “I’m gonna take a wild stab at guessing you already have these six reps in mind?”
“Can you think of a better six?” He challenged, the wicked grin returning.
El refused to let the gesture rattle...or arouse. “I can think of tons of better sixes.”
“Seriously El.”
“That’s what I’m being,” her fist clenched against the worsted fabric of his dinner jacket. “You can’t really expect this to work.”
“Why?” He was a picture of completely appealing innocence. On him, the effect was staggering. “Why Elli?” he insisted, “it worked for us.”
“Moy wants to claw Zy’s eyes out.”
“You had visions of introducing me to your knife, didn’t you?”
The tease did nothing to trigger her amusement. “Visions are a far cry from carrying out an actual act. Moy’s always been... brash. That hasn’t changed.”
“I got it, El,” slight amusement still had its way with his expression.
“No you don’t,” She tugged his lapel. “She’s much worse now.”
Fray saw her concern then. “Alright you’ve got my attention. How’s she worse?”
“Understand this Fray,” she patted his lapel then as opposed to tugging. The move seemed to help her put her words together. “From a man’s perspective, it would strike you as worse. Most women would think she’s among the more enlightened of our species. She’s uh...her business helps women in bad marriages or those who’ve just gotten out of one.”
“I know that Elli, Zy’s checked in a few times. A subtle check in,” Fray clarified in response to Ellia’s surprise. “I’m sure she’d have mentioned it to you if she suspected he was snooping around.”
“What’d he find?”
Fray shrugged, nonplussed. “That she was happy. That made him happy. She’s surrounding herself with people all in the business of helping others.”
“Mmm,” El’s smile was a smug one as she nodded. “He obviously doesn’t know what her business really is. I doubt many men would be happy with the way my cousin helps the women she works for.”
Fray gave a shake of his head, clearly unsure how to respond then.
“Moy helps women put their husbands, ex-husbands or boyfriends in jail, the hospital or both whichever the client deems appropriate. I’ve never had the nerve to ask if she puts them anyplace more permanent.”
Fray stood gaping down at El for close to half a minute. There was no swaying in time to the music then and soon El was laughing, tickled that she’d managed to stun him.
“It’s not such a unique service, Fray,” humor continued to hug her voice. “These kinds of businesses exist all over the country-all over the world for that matter.” Her laughter returned in full force when Fray only continued to gape in stricken fascination.
“It really is a wonderful thing to be so underestimated,” El shook her head, sending curly tendrils from her high ponytail swinging merrily.
“If this place ever truly became a woman’s world, you men would never see the end of your reign on the horizon.”
“You may be right there,” his brow furrowed as he considered the argument. As if to settle himself, he drew Ellia close again. Pressing his mouth to her temple, he inhaled the soft mellon scent of her upswept hair.
Content, El leaned in, unmindful of the attention they drew given the striking picture they made. The magic of LaRue’s was no less potent than it had been on their first night there.
“So you’re saying my plan’s a bad idea,” Fray resumed the discussion once he felt settled enough to do so. “Are you against inviting other opinions into what we should do with whatever’s down there or just the group I’m suggesting we invite?”
“I’m not against either,” El murmured the words, more interested in swaying in his arms. “I think it’s a great idea. I even think using this particular group is a great idea. I only want you to be aware of what you’re potentially opening up.”
“So you’re saying some hates...can’t be revoked?” He had to ask, but didn’t treasure hearing her response. It hadn’t escaped him that she had yet to say she forgave him. On the other hand, it wasn’t as though he’d been doggedly pursuing those words from her.
“Not irrevocable,” El fixed her eyes on the open collar of the dark shirt he wore beneath a walnut brown blazer. “But not easy to dismiss after sixteen years.” She clasped her hands against his chest. “It’s like a pressure cooker, see? Some of that intensity is going to have to be eased before the lid can be removed to add more to the pot.”
There was silence before soft laughter eased in.
“Do you use cooking analogies a lot, Ms. Taylor?”
“No,” she laughed the word, “couldn’t you tell?”
The two enjoyed more laughter until the sounds tapered off to easy quiet.
“Is it wrong that I want us- all of us- back to where we were before that night? Before my father came knocking on Bin’s front door?”
Smiling coolly, adoringly, El reached up to smooth her fingers down his cheek. “Not wrong just- just not possible. We can’t act like it didn’t happen-like it didn’t change us.”
Fray tugged a lock of her hair. “Do you think there’s a chance the others could have what we’re having now while we um...work it out?”
“I don’t know. I hope so,” she gave a tight smile. “It might take them a long time to get here where we are.”
Fray took her hand, still resting on his cheek and squeezed it there for an extended time. “What’s beyond here where we are?” The quiet raspiness of his voice added a poignant edge to his words.
“I know what I’d like to be beyond it,” her response held the same poignancy.
“Care to clue me in?”
“Don’t you know?”
Fray responded with a tight smile of his own. “I know what I want to be beyond it, but I can’t be sure until I hear it from you.”
“We’ve got a long way to go, huh?” She understood the unspoken meaning behind his words. “A lot we’ve got to move past before-what?” She’s noticed him nodding. “What is it?”
“Sorry I um,” he winced, relinquishing his hand at her waist to work the bridge of his nose. “I know it’ll be a long time before you’re ready to even think about any kind of...anything like that.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that, Fray-”
“I’m sorry, Elli. I’m a jerk to be pushing you after everything that went down before.”
“Fray,” his name firm on her voice then, she grabbed his jacket lapel and tugged. “Shut up,” she waited until the gray-flecked stare was on her face before voicing the command.
To make sure he obeyed, she kissed him. Like before when she’d kissed him unaware, Fray could only stand stunned still by the act. All similarities ended there.
Fray engaged in the kiss with fierce demand. He took her mouth in a manner that roused the whimpering sounds from her that he adored. Seconds later, he was murmuring a curse amidst the erotic duel fought between their tongues.
“Are you very hungry?” he asked.
“I can wait,” she was breathless and still craving more of his kisses, “do you have a better idea in mind?”
Before Fray could tell her that he did, LaRue’s head host Orrin Vincent jostled them lightly as he wound his way through the dance floor couples.
“You two might like to know that LaRue’s has a lovely selection of private lounges that are... for more than lounging. Ms. Taylor knows the way. Nighty night...”
Fray broke into soft laughter while Ellia turned her burning face into his chest.
“I actually want to do more than lounge with you,” he noted in a soothing manner.
“Orry said they’re for more than lounging,” El sighed the reminder.
“So he did, but I think they’ll be closing way before I’m done doing more than lounging with you.”
El stood on her toes, pressing her forehead to his chin. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart,” He said and then led her from the dance floor and out the dining room.
***
“Can we get you anything before Boyd leaves, Mr. Bentley? All we’ve got in the office is alcohol.”
“Your in-office drink is just fine with me. Scotch, if you’ve got it.” Dennis Bentley grinned while releasing Warwick’s hand. “Reporters are rarely invited to anyone’s office and offered a drink. Most often we’re being shown to the door and even fewer of us get flown in with all-expenses paid.”
“We appreciate you accepting the invite,” Zyon was saying as he greeted Bentley with a handshake and nod. “We won’t keep you long. Your driver’s already waiting to carry you to the hotel.”
“Thanks Boyd,” Warwick walked their assistant Boyd Weiss to the office door. “You can go ahead and take off for the night.” Once the young man made his exit, War made his way across the room to the long, stately bar fashioned of some gleaming golden wood.
“As I said Mr. Bentley, we won’t keep you long.” Zy had escorted the reporter to a chair before his desk. “We’ve only got a few questions about your run-in with Mr. Dunlap.”
“Hmph, a run-in would’ve been nice,” Bentley grinned. “The man looked like he wanted to kill me that night.”
“All because you mentioned his old job?” War asked, returning from the bar with drinks for his cousin and their guest.
“Thanks,” Bentley accepted the Scotch. “What happened with Dunlap was nothing new. His former employer had been raked over the coals every which way since they sold and put thousands out of work across Georgia and Florida where their factories are located.” Bentley paused to sip his Scotch and nod in appreciation of the flavor.
“It wasn’t until I mentioned them getting in bed with VanSty Connections that he got pissy.”
“Who’s VanSty?” Warwick asked from his perch on the edge of the desk.
“Some labor-finder company out of Pittsburg,” Bentley explained. “Pretty good outfit. I made the mistake of asking Dunlap if Crewson- his old employer- was finally trying to turn away from their underhanded labor practices by hooking up with a shiny organization like VanSty.
The man went wild, accusing me of slander when I thought I was complimenting him. It all worked out in the end- the picture they printed the next day sent paper sales and website hits into the stratosphere.”
Shrugging then, Bentley considered his drink. “I guess it was a small price to pay for almost having my throat crushed.”
“Yeah, your photographer really captured the horror of the moment,” Zyon grinned.
Bentley laughed as well. “The pic online’s got nothin’ on the wide angle- which reminds me,” the reporter reached into the satchel he’d brought along and retrieved a tan legal-sized envelope. Opening it, he withdrew two 8x10 glossy prints that he slid across the desk to Zyon along with the envelope.
“I brought that and the notes from my stories on Crewson,” Bentley added.
War moved round the desk to study the pictures over his cousin’s shoulder. “What happened after the story broke on the fight?”
“Well that was the end of the expose or the barest mention of Crewson or Dunlap,” the reporter cringed. “He threatened to sue unless we dropped the story. My editor backed away like he’d been scalded.”
“Just like that?” War glanced up from the photos to ask.
Bentley gave a slow wave. “The fact that Crewson had wooed VanSty was rumor. Besides that, VanSty could’ve turned around and sued us for linking them to a labor monster like Crewson. The paper wasn’t hurting for stories and I sure as hell wasn’t hurting for work, so we dropped it.”
Zy’s observation of the glossy prints was rather idle until he frowned and suddenly leaned in for a closer look. “Where’d you say this all went down?” he asked.
“A networking fundraiser...”
While Dennis Bentley spoke, Zyon nudged Warwick and pointed to something in the photograph. War’s 6’9 frame appeared to bristle in response to what he saw.
“Dunlap and a few other well-to-do alums from his college Alma Mater hold it every year,” Bentley continued, “It gave respected companies in the area the chance to see the cream of the school’s business and law school crops. Dunlap’s school was proven to have some fine minds so it was never very hard to get guests for the events. They could take in as much as fifty K at one of those shindigs.”
“Can we keep these prints?” War asked.
Again, Bentley waved. “Please do. I hope it gives you the answers you want. I had no differences with Dunlap, but I never wanted to see him dead.”
“Thanks for helping us Mr. Bentley,” Zyon favored the man with a firm nod and smile.
“Don’t know why I held onto that stuff so long,” Bentley jiggled the ice in his glass. Setting it to the edge of the desk, he gave a resolved smile of his own. “Maybe this meeting was why.”
“Well we thank you again,” Zyon said.
“Freshen that drink for you Bentley?” War offered.
“Please,” Dennis Bentley got up to follow Warwick to the bar.
Zyon returned to study the photo again and cursed.
***
In spite of his sudden desire to have the woman he loved in his arms for the night, Fray decided to drive them back to Ellia’s instead of spending their evening in his room at the hotel. The spot was a little too close to her work and he wanted no interruptions once he had her. Besides that, the spot was a little too close to the cliffs they were about to explore.
Fray hadn’t merely been being overprotective when he’d asked Ellia to consider not going along with him down there. He’d been speaking in terms of his own reservations about peeking into the past. Thanks to Bin, they already knew at least one thing- what they’d find would be nothing good.
How would his ancestor’s hatred displayed in the man’s own words, affect the struggling spark of a chance he and El were being given? Would it take them right back to where they’d been when he’d arrived almost two weeks ago?
Fray slowed the SUV to wave to a few of the guards in charge of security for the Taylor, Croix and Desmond end of the island. Moving on, he continued to debate his predicament. The logical side of his demeanor told him there could be no real forward motion between them until they’d upended and swept beneath every rock.
To hell with logic, the hard set of Fray’s jaw tightened to a more rigid line. He had Ellia back and he’d keep her. You have her body, do you know if you have her mind?
No, he didn’t he responded to the silent voice. He didn’t and that could be a real problem if what they found cast them; by way of his family, into a deeper, darker shadow.
Fray pulled the SUV into the wide, swept dirt drive that curved around to the rear of Ellia’s home. Only then, did he notice she was asleep. He started to call to her, but changed his mind and thought of just getting her key from her bag and carrying her inside.
He made it around the hood of the Suburban, stopping cold when memory seized him like a lance to the spine when he saw the door. In his mind, the door wasn't closed as it was then. It was open and Elliott Taylor stood there filling the space and looking frantic. Fray remembered his own panicked cries as he’d carried Ellia home. His voice had echoed through the woods...
“Jesus,” Fray rested against the hood for a moment. Bowing his head, he tried to shake it free of unwanted thoughts.
He’d already visited her more than once since his return, but hadn’t carried her inside the house. He hadn’t carried her in since that night. He wasn’t about to now.
Rounding the SUV, Fray pulled open the passenger door and began freeing El of her seatbelt. “Elli? Hon? Wake up for me, okay?”
El, who had only fallen into a light doze during the drive, began to stir and awakened quickly. Seeing Fray’s darkly, gorgeous face looming so close, summoned a lazy content smile. She was eager to continue what they’d started at LaRue’s.
Fray helped El from the truck and followed her as far as the porch steps but then stopped and hung back. Ellia was well into the kitchen when she realized he hadn’t followed her inside.
“What?” She returned to the porch, spreading her hands when he didn’t respond. Moving back down the steps, she took the lapel of his jacket and tugged.
“Fray?” She frowned when he didn’t budge.
“I need to get back and make some calls, Elli.”
“Now?” She almost laughed, moving closer to loop her arms around his neck. “I thought you wanted to do more than lounge with me?”
He couldn’t resist touching her, letting his fingers dance along her temple and down her cheek. His gaze followed the move intently before he appeared to rein himself in and pull away.
“I have an early day tomorrow. Still some folks I need to pin down for signatures. Besides,” he traced the line back up to her eyes and let his thumb make a quick sweep alongside. “You’re exhausted,” he said.
“I’m not that exhausted,” she insisted though the effort was an absent one. She was far more fixed on his expression. “Fray what- what happened? Did I-?”
“No,” he cut her off first with a word and then with his kiss. “No,” he said again while pulling away and directing a nod toward the front door. “You go on in and lock up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Disappointment fused with the confusion in her bright stare but she forced a nod. In moments, she’d returned to the house.
Fray waited until he heard the click of the back door locks. The sound convinced him that the night was really over.