The Red Roots (14 page)

“But that’s the difference between a man and a coward. Reed would never do such a thing to you. Do you know Gavin asked me about children last night?”

“You and him?”

“He gave me the story of how he’s older, and we should carry on the name, blah, blah, blah.” Carys took the wine bottle from Isla’s hand and drank down a healthy swig from it. “Why would I want to have his children when he has
her
on the side? He’ll never change.”

“Maybe he will, maybe he is.”

Carys shoved Isla with her shoulder. “God, you’re so gross now. What did my brother do to you?”

“I’ve seen Gavin with Jules. He adores her. Maybe this entire fucked up situation has opened his eyes to what’s important.”

“I called Jack and told him to shove off, talk about mixed signals.” Carys laughed and paused. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier—”

“You should be,” Isla teased. “Bitch.”

Both took a swig from the bottle, laughed and leaned against each other. Their lives were far from happily-ever-after, but wasn’t that real life? Though Isla and Reed were a united front, the pair had a long way to go. He was captivated by her strength, and he didn’t see through the rose-colored haze. He didn’t see her insecurities, and her fear of intimacy didn’t faze him—for now. What would he feel in another year?

Reed’s patience would crack. Isla tasted the sourness of rejection. She took a drink of the wine, holding the liquid in her mouth to wash away her anxieties. There wasn’t time for doubt, not while so much was at stake.

Amaranthine would fall, and a new Pierce family would rise. If they could all stay alive.

Ellis Pierce (1955–2015)

Ellis Mitchell Pierce was born December 11, 1955, in New York City, New York, to Mitchell and Ellen (Ryan) Pierce. He was a pillar of the community . . .

“PILLAR OF THE community?”

Isla stopped typing and looked up at Gavin. “Do you want to do this?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and go away, ” she said.

Gavin’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pants pocket.

“Mademoiselle Skank?”

“No. I ended it.”

“You’re lying.”

Gavin rolled up the sleeve of his shirt showing Isla a fresh bite mark. She laughed.

“Not funny.”

“Yes, it is. Better head to the clinic for a rabies test.”

Reed entered the office. “What’s so funny?”

Gavin pushed his sleeve back down. “Don’t tell.”

Between gut throbbing laughs Isla told him about Gavin’s not-so-love bite. Reed didn’t find it quite as amusing.

“You deserve far worse from my sister . . . your wife.”

“I know.”

“Do you?

“She doesn’t want me at the service, but I will be there. I’ve been a selfish fool. I want to make things right with her.”

“Start by keeping your dick in your pants.” Reed turned his glower to Isla. “Let me know when you’re done. I want to go over everything.”

He turned and left the room before Isla could reply. She told Gavin to go find his wife and beg for her forgiveness. He agreed and left her to finish the memorial. Talk about an awkward moment. She didn’t know what happened to Gavin. He seemed almost human, but Isla was skeptical about his epiphany. No way did he wake up one morning and decide to change his entire life. Not Gavin. But she was hopeful for Carys.

Isla focused back on the computer screen and continued on typing. The true motive of the obituary was to lure out their enemy. The service was more or less a trap. If Joe wasn’t the one who executed the ambush, the person would come out of the shadows soon. Security with sharp shooter skills would be placed in surrounding buildings and at the front entrance of the church. All other doors would be locked.

Her stomach fluttered with dread.
Was this what Ellis felt? He knew his death was imminent.
Isla’s tangled nerves feared for Reed and Jules’s lives, but what if it wasn’t theirs she sensed falling away? Perhaps hers would be taken and Reed would sit in the very chair she was in, writing Isla’s obituary.

She shook the morbid thoughts and finished the last line.

In lieu of flowers, please send contributions to Women Helping Women. womenhelpingwomen.org.

Time to bring change.

THE DOWNTOWN GREEK revival church of stained glass and faux mourners tolled its bells eleven times. Isla was contained but aware. Whenever she was around the families, she’d shelf her emotions. Even in her current setting, Isla didn’t shed a tear or quiver her lip. She was sad about Ellis, but too many other situations saturated her feelings.

Jules was instructed to text Isla every thirty minutes. She glanced down at her phone, almost time for another check in. Her concentration was muddled. All she thought about was Jules. She felt off, and not because of the memorial or the media circus out front. Isla sensed a presence; the phantom Joe spoke of.

Isla scanned the first few pews. The bosses of the sister companies sat stoic with their families, cradling a Bible, pacifying the Lord’s command with prayer on their lips. Pastor Randolph rambled on. The stench of judgment and incense burned her nostrils.

What was worse, organized crime or organized religion? Was there a difference? Isla didn’t pretend to be sanctimonious. She didn’t sing hymns on Sunday and embezzle money on Tuesday.

Mr. Thomas Birk, president of Calvin Health Group did. Sitting in the third row, Isla watched him check his watch. His sin was insurance fraud, and he knew how to hide his money trail. Thomas’s son-in-law was their accountant. Probable, but she locked onto Martin and Mia. His smug mouth and her arched pencil brow, both glared at Isla.

Pastor Randolph announced the reading of Carys’ eulogy.

Carys stood and smoothed down her dress. Her dark tresses were tied back into a sleek ponytail. Holding a folded piece of paper she glimpsed at Isla. “You have this, Scarlett.” Isla whispered. A small smile teased the corner of Carys’ lips, and she walked up the green-carpeted steps to the podium.

She unfolded the paper and cleared her throat. “My father was a man of authority, and he ruled with an iron fist. At times my siblings and I caught glimpses of his gentler side when one of us fell ill or was injured, though it was short lived. He taught Reed and me how to broker deals by the age of fourteen.” Carys paused. “He ruled with an iron fist.”

She turned the paper over and skimmed the pews of their corporate family. Isla knew what was coming next but they didn’t.

“My father also taught me that family is the most important thing until there is betrayal. Once those boundaries are crossed, there’s no redemption. Trust is the foundation of family. Minor cracks here and there can be repaired, but only for so long. The foundation will crumble.” A shadow crossed Carys’s face. “Amaranthine means everlasting, just like the Pierce family. Unified, we’ll extinguish all who threaten us. We will not crumble, and for those who try, they will fail. We will protect whom we deem trustworthy. For the rest, death is only the beginning.”

Not a single sound was made.

Carys didn’t give a eulogy. She delivered a warning.

In perfect lady etiquette, she paused at her father’s photo and expressed her gratitude by placing a kiss upon his cheek, then returned to the seat next to Reed. Isla leaned over and patted her leg. Reed nodded. Something wasn’t right. She hid her wonderment and looked away from Carys knowing she’d see right through her.

Where was Gavin?

Isla didn’t notice his absence earlier, but admittedly she was preoccupied checking her phone every few minutes.

“Please bow your heads for the Lord’s Prayer,” Pastor Randolph instructed. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,”

Her phone vibrated. She swiped the screen.

Restricted: Excuse yourself. Follow the hallway left of the entrance to the last classroom named Mrs. Stikes. Enter the classroom. Go to the door that leads outside. Tell no one!

Isla’s face drained of all color. She quickly responded.

Isla: Who is this?

Restricted: I have Jules.

With pressure under her ribcage, Isla read the statement over and over again. Her fear was realized. Panic clawed up her throat. She suppressed her scream. Someone had her daughter. Someone knew Jules would not be within arms-reach of Isla. Someone knew where she’d be.
Gavin.

Isla slipped her phone inside her purse and leaned toward Reed.

“I’ll be right back.” She whispered.

“Everything alright?”

“I need to use the ladies room.”

He turned his head a bit more in her direction. Isla hated lying to him again but Jules was in danger, and clearly Gavin was watching her every move. Bastard. Isla knew his confession was empty. She stood, adjusted her trousers, and lightly stepped down the side aisle. The toes of her sling backs glided over the floor. Her thoughts about what she was going to do to him weren’t nice, and she waited for God to strike her down before reaching the doors. She paid no attention to who was observing her quiet exit. Most still had their heads bowed and their eyes closed. Isla slowly opened the heavy door to the narthex. No sign of Gavin. She could hear media commotion out front.

Isla’s breath stuttered, and she looked down the dim hallway. She walked past the church office. Silence rang in her ears as murals and scripture-scrawled halls guided her closer to the last classroom. Isla stopped at the door and grabbed the handle. Her heart throbbed, like someone was fisting the organ, squeezing the life from it.

A pendulum of frenzy and rage swung inside of her. Pounding. Echoing. She pushed the door open. The classroom was empty. Her phone vibrated. Isla pulled it out from the inside pocket and slid down the screen.

Restricted: Time is running out.

Dammit.

She hurried across the classroom, weaving through the desks. Isla pushed the emergency exit door. Grey clouds spun above the steeple. She peered through the wood tower playset. The swings swayed with each gust of wind, and beyond the small playground was a black SUV, just like the one Jules rode in at Ellis’ safe house. Like the one Henry was killed in.

The driver’s side door opened, and Gavin stepped out. Red. Isla saw nothing but red.

GAVIN APPROACHED HER. She lifted her arm to reach inside the purse for her gun.

“I wouldn’t, Isla,” Gavin said and flashed his own firearm.

“Where’s Jules?”

“Drop the bag, and I’ll bring you to her.”

“You’re despicable.”

He gave her a dark sneer. “I am. Now, drop your bag, and let’s go.” Her limbs shook as she lowered her purse to the ground. “And, your phone.” She hesitated, but Isla opened her hand and let it go. It hit the cement, cracking the screen.

Gavin motioned her to the vehicle. Her muscles tensed with each stride. The scars on her back flared. She imagined her black wings breaking free from her skin, unfolding, and slicing Gavin from stomach to skull.

They had planned everything out, and it dissolved right in her hands. He yanked Isla’s arm, the sleeve of her crochet cardigan slipped off her shoulder. Baring her teeth, she yanked from Gavin’s grasp.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Then pick up the pace.”

He opened the passenger door, and Isla climbed inside. Gavin grabbed the seatbelt and reached over her. She shoved him off. Isla was quite capable of buckling her own seatbelt. She didn’t need a traitor helping her.