The Red Roots (12 page)

“I don’t know, honey. I’m a little weird about religion, but I think wherever Henry is, he’s happy and watching over you.”

“I think so, too.” Jules sighed and played with Isla and Reed’s wedding bands. “Is it my fault he’s dead?”

Isla shifted so her daughter had to look at her. “Jules Abigail. No, absolutely not. I never meant for you to be caught in the middle of this. Ellis wanted to meet you, and we thought you’d be safe there.”

“I understand you’re protecting me.” Jules lifted her hand. “Henry said you wanted me to be a Pierce like you. Is that true?”

“I’m not opposed to the notion. Is that what you would like?”

“I want to have the same last name as you.”

“So do I.”

“I really hope Reed is ok.”

Isla pulled Jules close to her again. Heaviness settled into her chest.

“Me, too.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.”

Isla was a murderer; she was an animal without constraints ready to destroy anyone who came too close. Would Jules still love her after knowing her mother was a killer?

She skimmed the office, and her vision stopped and focused on a framed photo of Carys and Reed at a family birthday party. Both were covered in frosting.

Where the hell are you, Reed?

THE EMPTY BOTTLE of wine captured Isla’s ephemeral splendor. The moonless sky casted darkness onto the estate. All occupants had retired for the night. Jules snuggled into the plush bedding while Isla sat in the armchair staring out into the night.

The women gained another victory by Crosby’s dad signing over his shares. Isla imagined Martin and Mia fuming together in his stuffed animal lodge. It would take time to undo what Ellis had constructed, but she was patient. Too many moves too fast would raise suspicion, especially with the government.

Isla maneuvered through Dade County’s corner’s database. Nothing.

What if Reed was injured and unable to make contact? Isla shook the visual from her thoughts. Still in her linen kimono top and jeans, she rose from the chair and paced the bedroom. Lights illuminated from beneath the door; she stopped cold. Tension lined her face. Isla sidestepped to her purse that lay on the floor. She knelt down and drew out her 9mm.

Jules slept while Isla tiptoed near the bed. No one was going to hurt her daughter. Shadows of footsteps halted in front of the bedroom door. Isla switched the safety off the gun and readied herself.

The doorknob turned.

The door crept open.

Fingers wrapped around from the other side, and a silhouette peered in from the sliver of light.

Isla lowered her gun and blew out a breath.

“Carys, what are you doing?” She said in a loud whisper.

Carys motioned for her to come out into the hallway. She laid the gun down atop the dresser and followed her. Isla shut the bedroom door behind her. Carys was wiping away tears. Her cheeks and neck were blotched.

“Come with me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Please, just come.”

Isla followed her down the hallway, her heart sinking with each step. Every terrible, tragic scenario played out while she watched Carys’s robe drag along the tile. The words, “Reed is dead” played over and over, almost to prep her for the bad news. He shouldn’t have stayed at the house. Isla should’ve demanded he leave, that he stay with his wife. What was he to accomplish remaining in the feud of gunfire?

The hallway seemed to never end, like they’d been walking for miles. Carys said nothing, and Isla was too afraid to ask. They rounded the corner near the staircase and stopped outside the library. The door was opened. Fire flickered through crease where the hinges fastened to the doorframe. Carys paused. Wary, Isla stepped to the side and peered into the floor to ceiling book-enclosed room.

Near the roaring fire, his back to her, a man in dark clothing tipped back a drink and laid the empty glass on top of the mantle. Was it Reed? Was it real? Was he standing before her? Carys gave her a little nudge.

She inched deeper into the room, closer to him. Almost within arms-length, Isla gasped. Reed spun around. Damp curls hung over his forehead. His lips lifted.
Reed came back to me.

“Isla.”

Her heart exploded and without a second thought, she rushed into his arms. She needed him to take away her pain, to take away her past because he was her future. Reed pressed his lips against hers. She moaned. Pure heaven. Her pulse jerked, heat spread along her prickled skin. His tongue swept against hers. Isla gripped the back of his shirt. She felt his strength as Reed pulled her tighter against him.

Not one to give in so easily, Isla did. She let go and allowed Reed to kiss and nip at her skin. His hands glided over her and the sensation was one she’d never felt before. Isla loved, somehow she loved, and Reed was hers. The last few years of their dysfunctional marriage vanished between them.

They slowed their pace, savoring every second.

“Where have you been?” Isla said between breaths.

“I went after Vinny. He’s not responsible. He’s not with Martin.”

“You believe him?”

“I do.”

“Did Carys tell you?”

“I saw the papers.”

Isla leaned back a bit to look into his eyes. “I killed him.”

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t look at her with disgust.

He simply kissed the corner of her mouth. “I killed Ronan. We did it for our family.”

To justify sin was all Isla knew, she couldn’t feel guilty about it now. Joe and Ronan deserved their violent ends. Not knowing what Carys had told him of their plans, she started to fill him in but he stopped her. Reed guided her to the leather couch, he laid down and patted the space next to him.

“We can exchange battle stories later. I just want to hold you for a bit. Is that alright?”

She nodded and lay down next to him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arm behind her. His harmonic smell of patchouli and cinnamon soaked into her as she closed her eyes.

The fire cracked and popped.

“You said you loved me. Did you mean it?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m hundred percent stupid in love with you.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “You’re far from stupid.”

“I feel like I’ve been in a haze the past few years and neglected what was important. Maybe Carys was right. I should’ve dealt with what happened to me, but instead I allowed it to blind me.”

“You were seventeen, alone, and pregnant. There are no words to ease the ordeal, but you sacrificed for Jules. You’re a fighter, and you love her without bias. I don’t know how many women could do that.”

“I stayed at a shelter not too far from Tampa, and I met this girl. We became fast friends. Her dad molested her from the age of five, and her mom did nothing to stop it. Didn’t even believe her. The girl killed herself in the attic of the house. How does that happen, Reed? How do so many slip through the cracks without help? I mean, the shelter put a roof over our heads, but there wasn’t any counseling or direction.”

“I don’t know.”

“It needs to change.”

“I agree.”

The hours ticked away in silence, but together they would conquer the evils of the world. She slid his wedding band from her finger, he lifted his hand, and Isla guided it back on to its rightful place.

Disclosure of sexual abuse is often delayed; children often avoid telling because they are either afraid of a negative reaction from their parents or of being harmed by the abuser. As such, they often delay disclosure until adulthood.

*The U.S. Department of Justice NSOPW*

THE PRESSURE TO formally introduce Reed created a knot in her stomach. She gawked at her daughter as she painted Isla’s fingernails.

I know you lost the one man you trusted and relied on in life, but ta-da! Here’s my husband who knows all my dark secrets, and he killed my abuser, the other part of your DNA. By the way, I poisoned a man to death at a hole-in-the-wall diner and paid off the entire town.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry.”

Jules dunked the polish brush back into the pink glitter bottle. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“You’re acting weird, more than usual. I’m eleven but not oblivious.”

“You’re still eleven.”

“Mom.”

Isla switched hands. “I want your meeting with Reed to go well, and this whole situation is—”

“Unconventional.”

“I would’ve used a more colorful word.”

“So I’ve heard.” Jules finished Isla’s other hand. “There’s nothing normal about us, and I’m good with that.”

“You’re a child. You shouldn’t be good with that.”

“I’ve been kept in hiding since before I was born, and I’m not a child.”

“You are a child, technically. I wanted a different life for you, Jules.”

“Why? I don’t.”

Isla didn’t see a young girl. On occasion she caught glimpses like the other night when she curled up in her arms just as she did when she was smaller. No matter their distance, their connection remained resilient. Isla credited Henry. He was always praising her in front of Jules. Reminding her of what Isla was doing for her. But it was Henry who committed his life to protecting Jules. He died by the hands of a traitor. Worse, Isla left him there to be dragged into the house to burn with the rest of them.

No bodies.

No evidence.

Henry would scold her wavering thoughts. He was an either/or kind of man. No gray area. Isla believed differently. She lived in the murky world of organized crime.

Jules scrunched her nose as she applied the second coat of polish onto Isla’s nails. Her features mimicked Isla’s except for her ears. They had the same slight point at the top like Ronan’s. Her stomach churned. He would have forced her to call him father. What would he have done to her?
Don’t go there.

“Do you like your nails, Mom?”

“Perfect.”

Carys joined them in the living room and asked Jules to paint her nails, too. Isla sucked down her emotions as she watched the pair laugh together. What had she done in another life to deserve them? She’d done something right.

Isla wouldn’t squander her second chance. It was all she had left.

REED, DEBONAIR IN tailored blue wool dress pants and a crisp white shirt, entered the library. Isla’s heart fluttered. It was a schoolgirl reaction but he always did such a thing to her. Most of the time she ignored it, but as he focused his attention on Jules, who stood in front of Isla, she could not disregard the delight in her heart.

Her sister-in-law was more than happy to let her rummage her sprawling closet. Carys purchased new clothes for Jules at her favorite boutique in West Palm and had a sales associate drop the clothes off at the house. She shoved off Isla’s disapproval and assured her it was what
aunties
did. Carys also added a silk maxi dress for Isla. Reporters had camped out in front of her and Reed’s house, and Isla didn’t want to contend with the media.

Jules didn’t seem to mind; in fact, she enjoyed playing fashion show with Carys. It felt normal. In a short amount of time chaos warped to normalcy. Not in everyday life, but the Pierces weren’t everyday people.

“Hello, Jules.” Reed extended his hand to her. “I haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced to you. I’m Reed Pierce.”