The Red Roots (7 page)

Instead, she went with, “The past few hours have been the equivalent of a
Twilight Zone
episode and, to be honest, just looking at you irritates me.”

“We had a moment.”

“You have amnesia. I don’t recall a moment but do I recall my gag reflex.” Harsh sarcasm was her defense mechanism; that, and being a full-on bitch.

Erik leaned toward her. “You are a funny lady. I like that.”

“I’ll be here all night.”

They crossed a small teak bridge toward their destination. Erik’s laugh caught the attention of Ellis. His suave demeanor covered him like the bronzer his intern slathered onto him each morning. Dark caterpillars he called eyebrows rose with interest.

“Nice to see you alive, Isla.”

“Ellis,” she said. “I assume I’m in a lot of trouble.”

“Depends on how the night unfolds.”

Touché.

Ellis approached with an extended hand. Isla accepted. “You tremble.” He snapped his finger and within seconds, Isla was served a champagne flute. “All will be fine.”

“I failed to immobilize Martin.”

“I’m aware. You are distracted.”

“I apologize. I won’t allow any more obstacles.” Isla said and glanced over at Reed. He tipped his glass of liquor at her. “We’re going to remedy those obstacles tonight.”

What the hell does that mean?

She gulped down the ominous statement with the champagne. The bubbles tickled her throat. Even with a railway yard of lines surrounding his eyes, Ellis was handsome. Head of the Pierce family, his opinion was the only one that mattered. His word was final, or it used to be anyway. His brother-in-law decided to stir the families into a frenzy when talk of Reed holding the majority of Amaranthine shares began. Martin wasn’t happy to say the least.

The families functioned by way of each having a boss who held a position on the board, and their appointed heir ran their respective companies. Amaranthine was the parent company of five corporations established in lucrative markets. Some of the men held executive roles, but held less shares, allowing the next generation to head up the companies. It took Isla some time to untangle who controlled who but once she understood, she was all in. She influenced more women to step up within the families, like Martin’s daughter, Mia. She was more than happy to become involved if it meant she could snort her daddy’s fortune up her nose.

Isla’s innovative plan had backfired, and Crosby was paying the price. Perhaps adding in the women was too hasty. It wasn’t part of her original plan, but over three bottles of wine she, Carys, and Crosby formed a female code of their own: stand, fight, empower. In typical Carys fashion, she suggested matching SFE necklaces with pink encrusted diamonds. Crosby had pushed up her black framed glasses with her middle finger. Isla laughed and shot Moscato out of her nose. She loved those ladies, but no matching anything, especially in pink.

“Let us sit. Dinner will be served momentarily.” Ellis guided Isla to the chair next to Reed’s. She wanted to ask about Carys and Crosby, and she was curious about what was happening at home. However, now didn’t feel like the right time. The seat across from her was set. Who else was joining them?

She sat down and sniffed.
Did Reed guzzle the entire bottle of whisky?
His hand inched closer to hers atop of the table.

“I bite.” Isla whispered.

“Perfect.”

“Is this a new method of coping? Now is not the time to be drunk.”

“I’m capable of enjoying a drink or two without your scolding. You’re not my mother.” He slurred.

He obviously wanted to be punched in the face again.

“Reed, you’re weren’t raised by wolves. If you can’t conduct yourself properly you may leave.” Ellis turned his attention to Isla. “How is your injury?”

“Better, thank you. Rosa is very sweet.”

“She has a healing touch. I apologize in the way you were brought to me. My men are brutal, and they think with egos, not brains.”

“Martin is out of control,” Isla blurted out.

“I agree. Betrayal holds consequences, but let us not concern ourselves with that. I’m famished.”

A chorus line of attendants lifted silver domed trays and served each of them a plate of scallops and shrimp drizzled with a butter sauce alongside a creamy risotto. Isla laid her napkin down, smoothing it over her lap. Reed nudged at her hand. She shot him a side glare and swatted him away. Isla focused on Ellis.

“Any news on Crosby’s father? How is she?”

“Not your concern right now.”

“Is Carys safe?”

“She’s with Gavin. All the families are on alert,” Ellis said while digging into his meal.

Isla had to phone Henry so she could hear Jules’s voice. They’d have to leave the ranch and change identities. They may even need to leave the country which would be fine. Her daughter’s French and Italian were impeccable. Henry travelled overseas a lot; he often mentioned his love of European culture, especially the Mediterranean region.

The surrounding live oaks shook with disapproval, their dried tendrils swayed in the sea breeze and whispered, “
Do not hide amongst the thorns. Bare your scars.”

Or, perhaps standing together was the answer, united as a family. Ellis never gave her a reason to distrust him. He held her confidences with silence and assigned her with confidential information about the other families. Had Isla gone about it all wrong, wasted years of nothing but idle work? Years of time lost with Jules?

Seagulls squawked nearby bringing her back from her quiet doubts.

Or maybe it was the champagne fizzing into her rationale. Isla pushed the empty glass away and asked the nearest server for a glass of water with lemon.

WATER AND CEMENT walls surrounded Ellis’ strip of balmy paradise. Guards checked the perimeter, guns in hand. His palace blocked the sunset. Where Isla had been recuperating was one of three heavily secured guesthouses on the property.

Ellis wiped the corner of his mouth as he inquired about the hotel shootout. “What did Kata say?”

Isla choked on her bite of shrimp. She covered her mouth and coughed as the pepper burned on its way down. With a big drink of water, she cleared her throat. “That she knew Reed, and that they shared common interests. He instructed her to follow me, keep me out of trouble.”

“Interesting.”

“You believed her?” Reed piped up.

Isla dropped her fork onto the plate. “Joe got me riled up . . .”

Reed threw his napkin down and pointed to his chin. “I know. Does my sister know who
you’re
screwing behind my back?”

“Quiet,” Ellis said and waved his plate away.

A server cleared his space and darted toward the house. Isla, near vomiting, looked to Ellis for help.

Shame had an element of immensity. The area, which left a person numb and unable to recognize all the deceptions, was to be bared.

Ellis nodded at her. He made the decision for her. It was time to tell Reed everything.

“This reminds me of a dinner I shared with you and Carys some years back. I saw fire in your eyes, determined to destroy all who crossed you. Do you feel the same?” he said.

“I do, and I will destroy those who threaten family.”

“What family?”

“
My
family. It isn’t always about blood, it’s about loyalty and trust. It’s about sacrifice.”

“What would you sacrifice in return for family?”

“Myself.”

“Enough, Father,” Reed said glaring down the table.

Tears flooded her eyes as she looked to her husband. “It’s not. I’ve hurt you for far too long. I’m not who you think I am. You don’t know
me.
You love a lie.”

Ellis reached for Isla’s arm and pulled it toward him. His fingers traced Isla’s veins, he stopped midway, right at a pale scar. Two freckles positioned above the contour mark. Ellis pointed to the scar and first looked to Reed, then to her. Isla was consumed with her torture.

Disgrace. Distrust. Repulsion.

“Tell him the story, Isla. Tell your husband what happened.”

Ellis’ touch and fatherly tone entranced her. The memory slipped from her lips.

“It was raining. Ronan was told by a chaperone that I had sex with a boy at our school’s winter social in the girl’s locker room. I didn’t. He was enraged and demanded I prove my virginity.” Isla’s voice quivered. She squeezed her eyes shut reliving the violation, his callous palms scraping along her skin. “I begged him to stop.”

“Did he?”

“No. I was punished.”

“With what?”

“He removed his belt and ripped my dress off, told me to grab the end of the bed.” Isla paused and took a breath. She couldn’t look at Reed, frightened to see his grotesque expression. Isla continued to stare at the scar on her arm. “I screamed at him but that made him angrier. He hoisted his arm back, whipped it forward. The leather snapped in the air. He did it again. I turned, and the belt hit my arm. It was the perfect angle to break the skin.”

“What did you do?” Ellis said.

“I cried.”

“Did he continue?”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Ten.”

Isla trembled. Murderous thoughts mixed with great strain inside of her. She waited to hear Reed’s chair push away from the table, his footsteps fading. Instead, Isla felt Reed’s hand slip into hers under the table. With small strokes, he soothed her humiliation. She didn’t turn to him as she released a stuttered breath. His touch was what she wanted. It was what she needed.

Ellis continued. “Why did he do this to you?”

“He wanted to break me.”

“For who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he apologize?”

“No.”

“Did he do it again?”

“Yes.”

Ellis released her arm, disconnecting the pull he had on Isla. He rose, smoothed out his jacket, and moved behind Isla’s chair. Reed squeezed her hand.

“Who saved Isla?” Ellis said.

“Carys and—”

“No.” He leaned down. “You saved you. You, no one else. Remember that, my dear. To survive is to sacrifice. We all sacrifice. We all give a piece of flesh to the devil.”

Ellis walked to the back of his chair, fingers wrapped around the impressed wood. He ticked his head to Erik who waved to two men at the top of the stairs. A minute later, being dragged down the stairs by his arms, was Ronan. Isla fixed her gaze on him unable to breathe.

Static. Cold. Stiff.

Her life prior to Walker Plantation was decimated by a hit and run. The driver never slowed. Her mom and dad were run down outside the movie theater. Both struck. Both died at the scene. Isla had hacked the police department’s database and clicked through their evidence photos—her parents, mangled, bloody, and left to die in the street.

She was placed in the care of her maternal grandmother and her second husband. Isla relocated near Hillsborough Bay in Tampa, Ronan’s family home since the mid-1800s. Demons came alive at night and stalked Isla while she slept, and eventually while she was wide awake.

Bruised and bloodied, a gaunt Ronan was shoved down in the chair across from her. Isla hadn’t seen him since her escape. With jagged features and coarse white hair, people spoke of him like he was a fictitious villain, but he was real. No heart. No soul. Ronan’s evil was laced with scripture and false shame preaching of a dominant bloodline. Isla’s pulse quickened the longer she stared at him. Under the influence of her rage, she wanted to launch across the table and rip his throat out.

“Ronan, you’re late. Dinner has ended but I have had the pleasure of talking to your granddaughter.”

He flinched his head. “My—my granddaughter?” Ronan fumbled over his reply. His head wavered. Red saliva fell from the corner of his mouth. He leaned to the side but caught himself. His glassy gaze landed on Isla.

“Isla is lovely, do you not believe so?” Ellis asked. Ronan didn’t respond. “I have tolerated much over the years. I’ve allowed Isla to carry on with her plan but no more. What you did to my daughter-in-law is disgusting, and I’ve moved along her plan. Ask your wife.” Ellis moved closer to Ronan. “Oh, you cannot. She’s dead.”

“I did nothing,” his speech woozy. “I did nothing wrong.”

Ellis ignored him. “You sicken me. The mighty Ronan Walker is nothing but a child-molesting bastard. You have nothing. Brain tumor is it? If you believe God will save you, guide you back into power, and cure you of your disease. Trust me, God wants nothing to do with you.”

Ronan looked up. Dread sobering his mind. Ronan was on trial, and Ellis was judge, jury, and executioner.

“You killed Martha?”

Ellis sneered. “She sold you out, Ronan. Hiding out in Atlanta, admitting she was privy to your abuse. Isla is a Pierce, not a Walker. She’s my strongest associate. I’m proud to call her family, as is my son. Are you regretting what you’ve done yet?”

Reed demanded answers from Ellis but Isla couldn’t focus on their discussion. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Ronan. Years had passed since she’d seen him. Her plan was to destroy him last so she could savor his demise but there he sat, still with a hint of smugness.

Isla stood. “You tried to kill my soul but you didn’t. I didn’t let you. The crimes you committed will be answered for, but not in this world. My daughter will never know the immoral acts she was conceived from.” Tears covered her eyes. “I’ve tried for years to understand your hatred, what made you believe what you did to me was okay.” Ronan’s focus was distracted, he squinted and scowled but she continued. “I wanted answers. I wanted to know why but, you know, it doesn’t matter. It takes a weak man to do what he did to a child because he knew she was stronger than him. You stole my innocence, but a beautiful little girl restored it—a girl you’ll never destroy with your sickness or abuse. I refuse to waste another breath on you.” Her voice was raw, and she shivered from her words.