Rulers of Deception (40 page)

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Cute, but no.” Reaching for his hand, she brought it up to rest against her cheek, her smile warm. “You’re not alone in this. We take on everything together.”

The amber of his eyes darkened at her words, moved by them. Saying nothing, he leaned in to capture her mouth with his. The warmth of her hit him like a sweet, soothing wave, and he let it consume him until there was no trace left of his doubt, of his fear. It faded under the smooth feel of her skin against his hands and the honeyed taste of her mouth.

“Take us home, Grant,” she whispered, nipping at his lower lip playfully.

“Us?” he asked, still lost in her. He pulled away to look her in the eye, realizing then what she meant. “Oh.”

Quinn grinned. “Me and the babies. Though technically they go everywhere with me already, so taking me home means they automatically get to come too.”

He rose slowly to his feet, pulling her with him. “Then let’s get them home.”

She linked her hand with his and tilted her face up for another kiss. He obliged her, his free hand gently finding the small of her back to bring her closer.

“I knew everything would be okay.”

“We don’t know for sure yet,” he murmured, his mouth roaming over hers.

“I know. But when you told me the other day not to worry about the cartel…I believed you. I knew you would never let anything happen to me.” She backed away to look into his eyes as a soft smile curved her lips. “I’ve never felt as safe as I do with you. Despite everything that’s happened. I know I can trust you to be there for me.”

His hands trailed up to frame her face, his eyes searching hers. “You’re everything, Quinn.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she let out a shaky laugh. “Oh God. Sorry, the hormones are making me emotional.”

“But you never get emotional,” he teased.

“I’m allowed to for the next several months,” she shot back, eyes bright. “Now take me home.”

“Your wish is my command.”

A month later,
they stood together in the lobby of the hotel. Night had fallen, so the lobby was quiet and peaceful. The lights of the chandelier and table lamps cast a soft, golden glow around the high-ceilinged room.

Madison slipped her arms around her brothers, a feeling of contentment washing over her. Things had returned to normal much faster than she could have hoped, and for it she was grateful. Now they could all get back to work, and to the legacy they’d inherited.

She hadn’t seen or heard from Daniel, which assured her that he’d taken her threat very seriously. His insight into Veronica’s actions and the emails he’d handed over to the police were enough to prove she’d not only staged her kidnapping but that she’d exploited her position as a journalist to attack the Vasser family. And when Daniel supplied the name of the hotel she’d holed herself up in during her kidnapping, the police discovered her fake identification and credit cards, which further proved what she had done. Her reputation, post mortem, was in shreds. No one in the media wanted to talk about it, so the entire story was swept under the rug surprisingly fast.

The police closed their investigation after finding out the other man who’d helped Veronica, Jimmy, was out of the country somewhere, long gone. And Daniel had been given a deal, just as Madison promised, for his cooperation.

They’d resumed their merger with McAllister and continued transitioning his hotels to the Vasser name, giving them all a reason to celebrate. Reservations were up in several parts of the country as late summer kicked into high gear and people snuck in last-minute vacations before school started. It appeared the public was responding well to having the option to stay in Vasser luxury at a much more affordable price. It was a win-win for them all.

In the end, Madison knew her grandfather would be proud of them. They’d managed to save the company from defeat once again, hopefully for good this time. Though Madison had a feeling that was an unlikely wish.

“You know, I think we all learned a very valuable lesson from this whole thing,” Madison said suddenly, a devious smile lighting her face.

Her brothers looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Linc asked.

“No matter how hard we try and no matter what we do, there’s always going to be some scandal hiding around the corner,” she explained, staring around the lobby with pride. “It’s in our blood; it’s who we are. We’re never going to escape it. But the good thing is we’re never going to be destroyed by it, either.”

Grant considered her words, seeing her logic. “It does seem unavoidable.”

“But not unfixable,” Linc added with a hard grin. “We’ve definitely overcome some crazy odds.”

“And there will be more someday,” Madison said. Her eyes rose to the beautifully painted murals on the ceiling, thinking of her grandfather and the legacy he built for them. “Until the day I die I’ll fight for this. All of this. It’s worth every tear and every drop of blood.”

Grant nodded, his eyes rising to the same mural. He thought of his great-grandfather Winston and how fitting it was that Quinn wore his great-grandmother’s wedding ring. It was tradition and family, two of the most important things in his life. “I want to leave my children a company worth inheriting.”

“We all want that, don’t we?” Linc said, eyeing his siblings. “This can’t end with us. We have to see it through. And soon, Kennedy’ll be out of school and she can help us.”

“Yes, she can,” Madison replied, lifting her chin. “She’ll need to prove herself first, though.”

“It’ll be nice to have the four of us together,” Grant put in. “She deserves the chance.”

“And she’ll get it, just like we all did,” Madison assured him. “We’re the lifeblood of this company and this family. This legacy is ours.”

“Then we won’t fail,” Grant said with a confident smile. “And we’ll never stop protecting it.”

If you prick us, do we not bleed?

If you tickle us, do we not laugh?

If you poison us, do we not die?

And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

― William Shakespeare

October 1865

Mad Rock Harbor, Massachusetts

Her life was
beautiful. Her death was a tragedy. For Sally Lockwood time moved slower than it had
before
. Clouds lingered, frozen in the sky. The indigo water of the harbor lay unnaturally calm. Dry leaves clung to the spindly branches of towering elms, the wind unwilling to shake them free. Sparrows no longer sang. Stray dogs refused to bark.

It was as if the world itself came to a standstill, though her young mind could not comprehend why.

How could she understand? Her death was too sudden.

Sally’s family home stood comfortably on its generous plot of land—its white colonial columns and blue siding set against the backdrop of a quaint and quiet Eastern Seaboard town. The house and the town was all she knew; all she had seen of the world.

In her short, five years of life she had been sheltered from many horrific things. A Civil War that pitted brother against brother. The brutal destruction of entire towns. The slaying of over half a million men in the name of equality. The assassination of a prolific president.

It was five years that would change the course of history, years she witnessed with the innocence of a child. They were the only days she harbored a beating heart.

Safe within the confines of her home, she skipped down the upstairs hallway. A carefree smile brightened her porcelain face as her blonde curls danced. The lacy white dress she wore billowed at her knees, the movement fluid and graceful. She felt lighter and less clumsy, the skinned knee and bruised elbow from a previous fall now miraculously healed. The inexperience of youth kept her from wondering how or why.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her bare feet, the only sound to penetrate the silence. She paused for a moment in the doorway of her parents’ bedroom. Her smile faded when she saw it was empty. No bed, no armoire, no vanity with a dressing stool where her mother sat and powdered her nose. Concern rushed into her mind briefly, then flew away like a little, lost bird.

She wandered to the stairway, her hand tracing the banister of the second floor balcony. It dropped off abruptly where the banister was broken, the wood sharp and splintered. She peered nervously over the edge and down to the first floor entryway. A sick feeling washed over her. On instinct she backed away and continued to the stairs. She wanted to find her mother and listen to her play the piano. As if she could already hear the sweet music, Sally began to hum.

She made her way down the stairs, her feet thudding on the wood with each step. Hazy sunlight poured in through the windows and filled the entryway with light. Out of habit, she twirled to the right at the bottom of the stairs and headed for the room where her parents kept the piano.

Something stopped her dead in her tracks. Her gaze locked on a dark, spreading stain. It marred the wood floor underneath the second floor balcony where the banister was broken. Coldness settled over her along with a feeling of dread and discomfort that she didn’t understand. In the blink of an eye, she saw a vision of her own body lying crumpled and lifeless over the stain. For one brief moment, she saw her death with clarity. As rapidly as it appeared, it vanished. The cold feeling escaped with it and she continued on as though nothing had happened.

The lack of furniture in the living area stopped her again, and her tiny brow creased with worry that she had been abandoned. What if her parents had left her there all alone? She heard the slamming of the front door and immediately followed the sound, calling out for her mother. Her cries fell on deaf ears, as the living rarely hear the pleas of the dead.

Shoving aside the lacy curtains of the parlor window, she watched her parents approach a horse drawn carriage. She beat her hands against the windowpane, begging them not to leave her. Not to abandon her.

As her father secured a trunk to the back of the carriage, her mother took a final, long look at the house. Her eyes fell on the window and seemed to capture one last time the image of her angelic daughter’s face.

She shook her head and climbed into the carriage, tears spilling down her cheeks. The carriage pulled away, never to return to the house that had claimed the Lockwoods’ only child.