G-Men: The Series (141 page)

I smile up at him. “Sometimes I get these thoughts that things are going too well, you know? That I’m too content, or too happy and it’s time for something to go wrong, or for someone to step all over our happiness.”

His brow knits in confusion. “Where is that coming from?”

I shrug. “Past history maybe?”

Just then, Rita our housekeeper taps on the door of the master suite. “Mr. Matthews, I’m sorry to disturb you, but a courier letter has arrived that requires your signature.”

“It’s seven-thirty at night,” I say, clearly hoping this isn’t the dreaded crumbling of our happiness I voiced just minutes ago to my husband.

“It’s probably something from one of the businesses,” he remarks, as he launches himself from our bed, pulling up his discarded boxers. “I’ll be down straight away, Rita.”

“I’m going to hit the shower before Westin’s next feeding. See you in a bit.”

As the warm water washes over me, and I lather my body with scented soap, my imagination is now seriously working overtime. Every worst case scenario is playing over and over in my mind, until I’ve had enough and rinse myself off, deciding I will find out exactly why that phone call and now this registered letter has taken control of my mood.

This is simply not like me.

At all.

But instinctively I’m feeling out of sorts.

And that is real.

I’m dry, dressed in my night gown and robe as I go downstairs in search of Easton. He’s in his den; and he’s on the phone.

He looks up as I come through the doorway, and signals me to come into the room.

“Thank you, Alyce,” he says into the phone. “Yes and please make sure that you put on the card, “With sincere condolences, Mr. and Mrs. Easton Matthews. That’s right. Smashing. Good evening to you as well.”

Oh God.

“Bad news?” I ask, looking over at him trying to see what type of mood he’s in, but I see nothing but his usual businesslike demeanor.

“Not really,” he replies, “Not for me anyway.” He hands me the contents of the registered letter envelope in front of him. “Go ahead. It explains that call you received last night.”

I glance at the typed letter enclosed. The top of the stationery reads: From the desk of Karina Templeton. I don’t read further.

“Who’s Karina Templeton?” I ask, knowing that somehow she’s related to Bianca Templeton, Easton’s former fiancée.

“She’s Bianca’s younger sister.”

Do I even want to know what’s in the letter?

“Just tell me, Easton. What does she want?”

“She wanted to let me know that Bianca and her partner and love interest, Christopher Rolando, were killed in an automobile accident early yesterday on the Autobahn near Cologne. I suppose she wanted to let me know as a courtesy since we were involved at one time.”

“And so she was the one that called last night?”

“She was. I asked her if she had called and she said that she had. She apologized for hanging up. She said that she was simply stunned. Apparently, she runs into my mother from time to time at various charity fundraisers or social events in Europe. Mother always makes it a point of letting her know how much I continue to carry a torch for Bianca, and of course, how much she hopes a reconciliation is on the horizon for us someday.”

“What the hell?”

“Relax, love. It’s just my mother’s way of fucking with me since I’ve banished her from my life. I did feel it appropriate to have my assistant order flowers for the funeral—from the both of us.”

I look up at him. “No, that’s perfectly fine, Easton. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Darcy. Bianca stopped being a part of my life a long time ago, you know that.”

“But,” I continue, “Are you okay with this continued estrangement from your own mother? I mean, we have her grandchild. Don’t you think it might be nice if she gets to know him and vice versa?”

“No fucking way,” he says, and his tone leaves no room for argument. He turns off his desk light and stands up, taking my hand as he leads me out of the study. “Come, let’s go and see about Westin.”

And though I know the subject of his mother is closed, for now, I also know that it isn’t one that will be dropped permanently. I am persistent, but I’m also patient when necessary. I will meet Easton’s mother some day, and of that, I’m sure.

^prologue

~ Darcy ~

I probably need to start where we last left off. Let’s see, Lindsey and I had survived being abducted and held captive by her sociopathic father—and grandmother, Louise, in a deserted warehouse in New York City. Luckily, my on-again, off-again boyfriend, lover, whatever, Easton Matthews had a definite propensity for stalking. He had gifted me some clit jewelry. It just so happened that the clit stud contained a state-of-the-art chip of Night Moves® Track-ware. Pretty cutting-edge stuff, which in the end, just may have saved our lives.

So, to make a long story short, we were found. Jack Dennison a.k.a. the “Rat Bastard” was taken down; Grandma Louise was put in prison, and life got back to normal.

Sort of.

Lindsey went through some stuff; finally coming to terms with the reality of whom her father was, and what he was capable of doing. Her husband, Taz, was right by her side through it all. Those two were so in love, it made me cringe at times. Other times, it made me just a bit envious. I couldn’t explain it exactly. It was kind of like watching a song play, visualizing the perfect melody and harmony; feeling the rhythm and cadence they mastered with one another.

Easton was the one who rescued me that evening from the warehouse. Once he was there, untying the ropes that had bound me and making me feel safe in his arms, all my former resolve to push him out of my life melted.

Yeah, I know. There were a lot of people that felt I had given in too easily…that Easton didn’t deserve a second chance. They opined their disappointment in me that I didn’t make him work harder to prove his love and dedication to me after the roller coaster ride he’d put me through with his assholiness. Well, to those people I say:

“@$#%!U&*@^$%!#@^!@!!!!!”

So, let’s move on.

Easton and I had jetted off to Monte Carlo where we were married in a private ceremony. I gave birth on January 13th to our son, Weston Jamison Matthews. Weston is the pride of both of us and Easton took to fatherhood right away. We’d made our home in D.C., close to my family and friends, Lindsey and Taz, and of course, Eli and his partner, Cain.

Lindsey had given birth to a son last May. So, she and Taz were now parents of a daughter, Harper, and a 7 month-old baby boy named Jackson.

Okay, let’s get to the good part. Easton had promised me a lavish ball after Weston arrived and I was feeling up to it. But I’d decided on something else, which had to be postponed for a while until Lindsey was comfortable leaving Jackson for a couple of weeks, and everyone involved could get their schedules synchronized. But now they had, so it was time.

We were taking a cruise together! All of us. Taz and Lindsey, Eli and Cain, Sammie and Slate, Colin and Ronnie, and of course, Easton and I!

Twelve days on a top-scale luxury liner in the Caribbean, making stops at luscious locales such as: Samana, Prickly Pear Island, Antigua, Martinique, Bonaire and Aruba. Seriously, I couldn’t have been
more
excited! Sun, sand, surf and sex. My favorite things, besides couture, but there’d be that as well.

Easton had booked an owner’s suite for us that had a small private deck and atrium. He’d booked classic suites for our guests that had balconies that connected and a private pool for all of us to use. Slate’s mother, Katy was staying with Bryce and Sidney; Lindsey’s grandmother was staying with Harper and Jackson, and my parents were keeping Weston and thrilled to be doing so. They had insisted on pulling baby-sitting duty, even though our housekeeper, Martha, had offered. We had intended for them to join us on the cruise, but they had begged off, saying they had really had their fill of cruises for a while.

I was stoked for the trip and it was the wedding celebration I wanted more than anything. We were leaving on December 27th, and returning on January 7th. I’d completed all of my shopping for Christmas and the cruise.

The name of our ship was the Sailbourne Legend. I felt that was an omen, and that this vacay was truly going to be legendary.

^{chapter 1}

On the first day of vacay…

~ Easton ~

I’d never seen Darcy so excited. She’d been walking around with this contagious smile for weeks, her eyes lighting up brighter than Christmas lights. Her shopping had been of epic proportions—which says a lot, because my wife could shop.

Then there had been the constant phone conversations back and forth between her and Eli about what constituted a ‘must have’ for the cruise wardrobe, both of them making lists on what to pack for any possible event. She had then phoned Ronnie and Lindsey to make sure they were clued in, to save them the embarrassment of a ‘fashion faux pas,’ was how she had explained it to me.

I had merely shaken my head, not even attempting to fight back a smile. I knew my Darcy and she was completely riveting to watch when she was in her element like this. It took everything in me not to kiss her during every second of every day. And I didn’t really even try to attempt not doing
that
,
either. She was truly happy, and as was I.

“Do you feel alright about leaving the baby?” I had asked her several times on Christmas Day, whilst she attempted to show Weston how to tear open the multitude of packages Father Christmas—er, I mean, Santa Claus had delivered.

“Easton,” she had sighed, “it’s only for twelve days. He’ll love being spoiled by Mom and Daddy. Anyway, it’s good for us to have some time apart from him, you know? He needs to be comfortable being left with others so that he doesn’t become a ‘Mama’s boy.’ Besides, he’s probably ready for a break from me. I think I get on his nerves sometimes.” She did that adorable thing where she scrunches up her nose.

“I see,” I had replied, bending over to kiss that nose. “You know best, love.”

Our limo had just pulled up to the premiere boarding area for the ‘Sailbourne Legend,’ the ship we were booked on. The driver got out and motioned for several of the uniformed stewards to unload the six suitcases and one trunk from the back. I’d warned Darcy that she’d over-packed, but naturally, she’d thrown some cheeky remark my way and continued packing with her usual abandon.