Broken Vow (Brutal Birthright, #5)

by Sophie Lark

Instead of crying out, I make a sound almost like a sob. “Are you alright?” Raylan asks, his blue eyes full of tenderness. “Yes!” I cry.

Celia can’t help laughing. “At least we’re having a good influence on you.” “Yesh,” I mumble, mouth full and belly happy. Raylan laughs too, loving that he’s managed to sway me over to the joys of breakfast if nothing else. His laugh is loud and mischievous, the kind that pulls everyone else into mirth. The boys start giggling, and soon Shelby and Grady are, too. I like this family so much. They’re warm and welcoming, unpretentious and hardworking. They love animals and the outdoors. I like them and respect them, as much for our differences as our similarities.

I’m looking at the computer screen, but I’m seeing the flow of numerals in my brain. I’m watching them twist and reform in kaleidoscopic patterns. Until at last . . . at last . . . I see it. I see the irregularity. I see it, and I understand it. I let out a long, slow breath. “Motherfucker,” I whisper. Josh Hale has been stealing from us. And not a little bit . . . a whole fucking lot.

When we had to purchase all that land for the South Shore Development, he duplicated some of the properties. He copied the purchase agreements almost exactly—omitting only a single number or letter per page. That way, the documents would look identical to the naked eye, but could be sorted into separate folders in the computer system. But where did the money go? That’s the question. The numbers all add up in the spreadsheet, with the duplicate properties removed. Which means the money we paid for the properties is gone. Siphoned off to some other account that I can’t see here. I know it’s Josh because the only properties with double documents are the ones signed by him and him alone. But I don’t know where the fuck he sent the money. We’re talking almost fifty million dollars . . .

“Do you want to go back?” he asks. “Well . . . I have to. I’ve already missed so much work. And with Josh gone . . . I know it sounds stupid, because apparently, he’s a treacherous asshole, but he did handle a huge workload. Somebody’s got to pick up the slack. Not to mention it’s pretty clear who’s getting the partnership now.” “Congratulations,” Raylan says dully.

“You’ll come back with me, won’t you?” I ask. He lets out a little exhale of air. “Well . . . you won’t exactly need a bodyguard anymore, will you? And that’s a good thing,” he hastens to add. “Right,” I say. It’s true. Still, I feel a little dull at that realization. Which is ridiculous. Did I think Raylan was going to follow me around everywhere for the rest of my life? The whole point was to figure out who hired the hitman and get back to normal existence. That’s done. Or, almost done.

“Your mom told me what happened right before you enlisted. She told me about your father.” “Waya was my father,” Raylan says at once. “I know!” I say quickly. “That’s what I meant.” Raylan looks at me with a strange expression. “I’m surprised she told you. She doesn’t like to talk about that. Obviously.” He gives a short, mirthless laugh, totally unlike his usual laugh. “Since I never heard about it for eighteen years.” “You belong here,” I say. “I just wanted you to know . . . that I understand that.” Raylan looks pained. His voice is tight. “Does every family have an ugly history?” “Mine certainly does.”

“Your mom told me what happened. But not how she got away from Ellis Burr.” I don’t say “your father” or even “your biological father” because I know Raylan doesn’t view him that way. Raylan lets out a long breath. “I’ll tell you,” he says. “But not in here. Come for a walk with me.”

Riona looks tense and expectant. Her face is paler than usual, I think out of sympathy. I know she likes my mother and doesn’t enjoy thinking about her beaten, battered, and heavily pregnant. It’s strange to think that I was technically present for all of these events. Just a nearly-grown fetus, carried along for the ride. I don’t remember any of it, obviously. I’m only going off what my mother told me after I found her wedding certificate in the attic. She was willing to tell me everything, once I knew the truth. She described it all in perfect detail, and Waya added anything she didn’t know or couldn’t remember. It’s all burned into my brain. It was the most unexpected thing that’s ever happened to me. I was so safe and secure in my life. I had never suspected for a second that Waya wasn’t my “real” father.

It was dumb luck I found the wedding certificate. It was all folded up, stuffed into a folder with a bunch of documents. I wasn’t looking for it. If you can believe it, I was looking for an old set of Ninja Turtle action figures I’d stashed up there, thinking maybe I could sell them on eBay for a couple bucks. Instead, I found the old certificate, which was actually a copy ordered later so my mother could finish the paperwork to get remarried. She looked horrified at the sight of it. Like it was a snake that might bite her. I’m sure she wished she’d thrown it away. At the time, I wished she had, too. Now I don’t regret that I found it. I only regret how I reacted. Some things can’t be taken back.

“So they marched Ellis a full ten miles out into the woods and shot him in the back of the head. They dug a hole and buried the body under enough dirt and rock that no animal would dig it up. Waya and Abott did it. Uncle Earl stayed behind to move their car in case someone came along and saw the crash.

“Ellis was reported missing at first. His work called it in. The sheriff found Ellis’s car shortly after. There was a hunt through the woods—they thought maybe he hit his head in the accident and wandered off, confused. But they didn’t think an injured man could wander far, so they only went a few miles in. They found some blood on the ground. So some people thought an animal had got him. “Everybody knew he’d been drinking at the bar. He wasn’t a local, and he wasn’t liked. So nobody looked too hard for him.

“Ellis stayed a missing person for several years. Then eventually his work wanted to claim their insurance policy on him, so they did the necessary footwork to get him declared dead. “When they did, my mother found out that she was the beneficiary of a pretty hefty insurance policy herself. Plus Ellis’s estate. He had no will, so it all went to her.

You can’t have a best friend that you’re attracted to. That’s what being in love is. It’s wanting to fuck your best friend.”

“You know I think the world of you, Riona.”

Raylan and I head back to the ranch house. We linger outside the kitchen door, both of us feeling there was more to say to one another. When Bo interrupted us, I think Raylan was about to tell me something else. After he’d already told me his family’s story. I don’t take that lightly. That’s a secret they’ve kept for thirty years. He told me because he trusts me. I wish there were a way to show him that I trust him, too. But all I can say is, “Good luck with the horses.”

Raylan has become like sunshine on my skin. Warm, comforting, enlivening. When he goes someplace else, I feel chilled and dull. Like a flower just waiting for the sun to return.

“Hey. I wanted to update you—we don’t have Josh.” My stomach sinks down like an elevator. “What happened?” “We called Uncle Oran, and he said Josh hadn’t come into work today—he called in sick. So we went to Josh’s house instead. But there was nobody there. The place was a fucking mess. It was hard to tell if he’d packed up and cleared out or if he’s just a slob.” “His office is like that, too,” I tell Cal. “We searched the streets to see if his car was anywhere around. Bribed his neighbor, but he said Josh left that morning at the normal time and he hadn’t seen him come back. We’ve got eyes out anywhere we can think of . . . ”

“Did you check his girlfriend’s apartment?” “Yeah, Uncle Oran told us about her. She was at work—said she hadn’t talked to him that day. We took her phone, tried texting and calling him. No answer. We made her give us her key and searched her flat. Fucking nothing.” I don’t like the sound of that at all. We end the call.

He must know that we found out what he’d done. But how could he know that? Is it a coincidence? Was he always planning to take the money and run once he’d amassed enough? I don’t believe in coincidences that big. He disappears the very day we come looking for him? That seems off. Maybe he found out that Lucy sent me those files. I never told her to keep it a secret.

I remember how Raylan reacted when I told him about the emails back and forth. He seemed uncomfortable with it, like I’d made a mistake. Is it possible to trace an IP address? If I emailed Lucy from this laptop, could someone locate where my email came from? Could they have found out where I’m hiding?

Out of nowhere, Raylan hits him from the side. He barrels toward us from the direction of the house, tackling the Djinn sideways, taking him out at the knees so they roll over and over on the crushed stone. “Run, Riona!” Raylan shouts. He’s wrestling with the Djinn. He’s got no weapon either. Silver flashes as the Djinn swings the fish knife toward Raylan’s eye. Raylan grabs his wrist, barely twisting the blade in time so it cuts his cheek instead.

He pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly against his warm chest. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” he says. I think he’s reassuring himself.

I should never have left her alone at the house. How the FUCK did the Djinn find her!? It could have been the emails—he might have tracked the IP address. Or maybe it was the phone calls. Either way, I wasn’t careful enough. That won’t happen again.

She looks inhumanly beautiful. Almost too beautiful for me to reach up and touch.

I can’t get enough of her. Every time we get close like this, I want more of it. I never want it to end.

All I can think of while I do this is, You’re mine. I kept you safe . . . and now you belong to me.

I feel like I’m marking her. Claiming her as mine.

It seems impossible to sleep after the night we had. But that’s how powerful our release is together . . . it washes away even the most intense stress. Leaving nothing but peaceful warmth in its place.

“What did he say?” “They found Josh.” I help Riona mount Penny once more. I climb up on Brutus, leading Horatio behind me. He trots along cheerfully now that he has no load to carry. “They found his car in airport long-term parking,” Riona says. “He was in the front seat, dead. It looks like he shot himself in the head.” “It looks like it?” Riona shrugs. “So they say.” I frown. “They think he was trying to get a flight out of town . . . and what? He lost his nerve? Figured your family would catch up with him one way or another, so he might as well just end it?” “I guess.”

“So, what now?” I say at last. “I guess . . . I go home,” Riona replies. It’s what I was expecting. But her words hit me hard anyway. I don’t want Riona to leave. And I don’t think that’s what she wants, either. Not really. I say, “You could stay.”

“I do know you, Riona,” I say, calmly. “You think you’re independent and invulnerable. You think you want power in your family. But I know you need so much more than that.” “What?” She demands. “You need to be loved,” I tell her. “You’re not above it any more than I am. You’ve been happy here with me. Happier than you are at home. This is where you belong—here with me.”

“I do like it here. But I’m not going to abandon everything I’ve worked for in Chicago. I want that partnership. I earned it. I’m grateful for everything you did for me . . . everything your family did. But I don’t belong here. This is your home, not mine.”

I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hoping that Riona would stay. After everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve learned about each other . . . I thought she had bonded to me like I bonded to her. But I was wrong. She’s anxious to get back home. The Djinn is gone, and Josh Hale as well. Nobody is out to get her anymore. She doesn’t need me. I did my job a little too well.

“I’m sorry,” Riona says softly. She doesn’t ask me to come back to Chicago with her again. She understands what I owe my family after leaving all that time. Still, neither of us is happy in this moment. We’re determined but not content in our choice. We ride back the rest of the way to the house in silence.

Raylan and I are too different to be together. We want completely different things out of life. He told me he wants to get married and have kids someday. I’ve sworn a hundred times that I’ll never get married, and I’m not too keen on children, either. He wants to stay on that ranch, and I want to run a law firm. We’re just not compatible. It’s like Nero said—he and Camille have the same plans, the same goals. Internally they’re the same.

Raylan and I are different inside and out. Yes, we learned not to drive each other crazy. And we learned how to work together pretty well. And sexually speaking, we were pretty fucking compatible . . . But you can’t build a whole relationship around sex. I’d like to . . . but I can’t.

“Hey, did you hear about Josh?” “What?” I ask, playing dumb. Angela grimaces. “He killed himself.” “He did?” I’m a terrible actor but Angela doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too wrapped up in the drama of this particular piece of gossip. “Yeah. Just yesterday. It’s so weird—I never thought he was the type. You know, he always seemed so full of himself. I guess I shouldn’t say that, now that he’s dead.” “Why did he do it?” I want to know if anybody’s heard about the embezzlement. Angela always knows what’s going on in the office—if there’s a rumor circulating, she’ll be the first to hear it.

“Who knows! He was fighting with his girlfriend. But I bet it wasn’t that.” “Huh,” I say. “I guess you never know . . . ” Angela steps all the way inside, speaking even more quietly. “I bet it was a work thing.” “What makes you say that?” “Well…” She casts a quick glance back over her shoulder in the direction of Uncle Oran’s office. “I saw Oran giving him shit a couple of times. Pulling him into his office for private chats, and then Josh came out looking stressed as fuck, like he got dressed down. And he was bragging to Lucy that the partnership was in the bag . . . but the rest of us thought you were going to get it. So if he found out it was yours . . . I could see him losing it.”

“He acted totally normal all day long! And then he leaves and shoots himself . . . ” I’m about to nod, but something catches in my brain—like a nail snagging on fabric. “Wait,” I say. “Josh came to work yesterday?” “Yeah,” Angela nods. “He was here all day.” “I thought he called in? Said he had the flu or something?” She frowns. “He definitely didn’t have the flu. He was strutting around like usual, giving Lucy shit over some letter she forgot to type up for him and complaining about the espresso machine.” “What time did he leave?” “I don’t know—about four or five o’clock? Early enough that I thought he probably had a date with his girlfriend. Why?” I look at her blankly, my mouth open. “I . . . no reason.”

I wonder what it would feel like to hold my own child. To see a mix of my own features and the features of the person I loved best in the world. I can imagine the gratitude I’d feel to my wife for carrying my child and going through the pain and labor to bring it into the world. I can imagine the overwhelming impulse to take care of them both. To provide for them and keep them safe.

I felt that impulse toward Riona. When I heard her scream my name, I ran back toward the house at a speed I’ve never even touched before. And when I saw the empty kitchen with its overturned chair and the spatter of blood on the tiles, I was afraid like I’ve never been afraid before.

I still feel that impulse. I know it’s all over now and she should be safe in Chicago. Josh is dead, the Djinn is dead, and she has her family to protect her. But still . . . I feel like she needs me. Or maybe it’s me who needs her.

“What are you gonna do about Riona?” “What do you mean?” She fixes me with a look like I’m being deliberately stupid. “You’re obviously crazy for her. You’re gonna act like you’re just gonna let her go back to Chicago and never see her again?” “You’re one to talk.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You and Duke.”

“He’s my best friend.” “He’s been in love with you since you guys were twelve years old. Maybe even before that. And you lose your fucking mind if another girl so much as looks at him.” “No I don’t,” Bo snarls. “You’re gonna lose him as a friend, one way or another. Either you let the relationship develop . . . or you’ll lose him to somebody else.”

“What do you know about it? You’re never here. You don’t know what our lives are like.” “I’m here now,” I tell her. “So you better get used to it. I’m your big brother—that means I give you big brother advice. Whether you like it or not.”

“Well, let me give you a piece of little-sister advice. If you found a girl who can stand you, you shouldn’t let her go so easy. ‘Cause it might not ever happen again.”

“I wish Waya could have seen her,” she says. “He loved babies.” Sometimes after a person dies, everyone else feels obligated to speak highly of them. To exaggerate their merits and forget all their flaws.

With my father, it’s the opposite. You could never do justice to how good a man he really was. He didn’t just love babies—he was incredibly kind to all children. He laughed and joked with us. Taught us with infinite patience how to tie a shoelace, or skip a rock, or milk a cow. Never shouted, even when we did things that were stupid and aggravating. He’d answer any question—if you asked him why clouds float or where bears sleep, he’d give you an explanation you’d actually understand. The only time he was stern was if he saw us acting cruel. That he never allowed. I miss him. God, I miss him.

I wish he could have seen this baby. And I wish he could have met Riona. He would have admired her fire and her determination. All my memories of my father are good. The only regret I have is things unspoken. Things I should have told him when I found out we weren’t related by blood. Bu...