Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (8 page)

“Eternity,
Mr. Hart.”

Carter
jumps to her feet and runs out of the room. I hear them pound as they hit the
steps. For the first time in as long as I can remember, the block of ice inside
my chest, otherwise known as my heart, begins to thaw. No woman has ever
touched me in the way that she just has. I’m left alone, staring at all the
mementos she has of Ells, trying to understand the true meaning of each of
them. I can’t. It’s not possible. I’m completely at a loss. Allowing her to
keep this room as a shrine to her beloved daughter won’t let her put the past
behind and move forward. But the truth is, how
can
she? Knowing what happened, I’m not sure I could either. The only person I
could discuss this with is Gabby and I already know what her answer would be. I
can be an asshole, but even I don’t think I have it in me to say no.

In
order to give her more time alone, I wander around, inspecting some of the furniture
and other items once more. Then I go and look for Carter. I find her outside
again by the pool, drinking vodka. This time, the bottle sits next to her.

“Well,
I guess I’m finished. Here’s what I’m interested in right now. I have my eye on
some other things that I want to think about for a couple of days. Like I said,
I’ll let you know, if that’s okay. I’ve taken some pictures so I want to look
at them and then check my own inventory.” I hand her the list I’ve made. “You
can store what I don’t want either here in the attic, or in the space under the
house.”

Gray
eyes seek out mine. “And the room?”

“I’ll
keep it as is for an undetermined length of time.”

“What
does that mean?”

That’s
exactly what I’d like to know.

“I’m
not sure, Carter, other than for right now, you can have access to it.”

“And
our little arrangement?”

“Look,
please don’t be offended, but I can’t take you up on that. I can, however take
you up on a part of it.”

She
looks at me warily. “I don’t understand.”

“Let
me explain. I recently moved here, and I don’t know a soul. You’re born and
raised here, right?”

She
nods.

“Occasionally,
I’ll need a date.
Mainly for business functions.
I’d
like to call on you for that, because you can introduce me to people. I would
assume being raised here that you’re connected to some of the Charleston
business people I need to get to know. However, you really need to spruce up
your wardrobe.”

Her
features scrunch up as she says, “Yeah, I do know a lot of people and I can do
that. As far as my wardrobe goes, my funds have been really tight, with the
house and all. I haven’t bought any clothes since, well, since the storm. I’ve
had to sell my mom’s jewelry and all her things that were worth any money just
to keep the place going.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that.”

“But
now, with the sale, I’ll be able to pay off all the debt so that will clear
everything up. I’m going to put the lot on Sullivan’s for sale and when that
sells I’ll be able to go shopping.”

“The
lot on Sullivan’s?”

Her
body sagged when she answered, “Yeah.”

“No
house?”

“Oh,
no. The Atlantic swallowed it all up.”

“Jesus
Christ. Everything?”

“Yeah.
The driveway and the rubble were all that was left behind. I had to have it all
cleared away. But the slab is all that remains. I can show you if you want.”

“You’re
selling?”

“That’s
what I said. I don’t have a choice. I’m liquidating everything I own in order
to stay solvent. If I don’t, I lose it all. Taxes have killed me. And honestly,
I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Your
parents weren’t insured?”

She
let’s out a bitter laugh. “I loved my parents like crazy. But according to
Uncle Foster, my dad was a brilliant attorney and an idiot of a businessman.”

“I
see.”

“So,
our arrangement. You’ll want me as a date for various functions?”

“Yes.”

She
chews on her lips for a second,
then
says, “Okay, I
can do that. And I promise to look presentable as soon as I can afford to go
shopping.”

I
want to ask her to fix her hair, but I hesitate.

“What?”

“Don’t
take this the wrong way, but your hair.”

“What
about my hair?”

“Can
you brush it?”

“I
do brush it. It’s simply unruly.”

“There
are things, you know, treatments and such, that can help with that.”

Her
expression morphs into one of distaste. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I
just do. Go to a salon.”

“Salons
cost money, Mr. Hart.”

My
wallet is in my hand before I even think about it and I hand her five hundred
dollars. “Here. This should do. Tip them well. And find the best salon in
Charleston.”

“I
can’t take your money.” She’s insulted.

“You
can if you want to keep Ells’ room.”

“Are
you blackmailing me?”

“No.
I’m trying to get you to fix your hair. If you’re going to go out with me, you
have to do something with it.”

She
snatches the money out of my hand. “Okay, but I’m paying you back as soon as
the deal closes.”

“Fine
with me. But do this as soon as you can.”

“Are
you ashamed of me?”

“Not
at all, Dr. Drayton. I’ll call you next week.”

She
walks me to the front porch. “What kind of car is that?”

“An
Aventador
.”

“Oh.”

Clearly,
she has no idea what it is. That’s fine. She’ll ride in it soon enough and find
out then.

***

On
Saturday night, Shayla and her husband meet me at Huck’s Downtown. When they
arrive and after we’re seated, Shayla wants to know how I got reservations on
such short notice. This is one of the best restaurants in town and usually it
takes weeks to get in here. I don’t tell her I stopped by on the way home
yesterday and slipped the host a few c-notes to get a table.

“I
have a few connections.” I smile.

Ralph
hasn’t stopped inspecting me since we’ve arrived. I contemplated wearing a
shirt that covered my tattoos, but then decided against it. They both need to
know the real me. Shayla examines them as well.

“Mr.
Drummond, one of the reasons for this dinner was so you could get to know me. I
hope Shayla has mentioned to you that I would like for her to travel with me
when the company moves in that direction. Obviously we are still building our
staff and aren’t at that point yet, but we will be soon. Your wife is a
talented administrative assistant and I’d like to have her as my right hand. Of
course, I only want to do that with your blessing. HTS travels using our limo
service or our corporate jet and only on occasion do we use commercial
airlines. We offer great security for all our employees by using the best
hotels.”

“Did
you have her safety in mind when you took her for that joyride in your
Lamborghini?” His eyes drill mine. He’s a tough customer.

“Actually,
I did. Normally, I would’ve driven back roads—had I known them—at
excessive speeds, but I didn’t and I drove within the speed limit.” I steeple
my fingers as I match his gaze. I don’t back down, but I won’t be an asshole
either.

“How
good of you,” he says sourly.

The
waiter interrupts us, asking if we’d care to order cocktails.

“Wine?”
I ask.

“Scotch.
Lagavulin. Neat,” he replies.

“Shayla?”
I ask.

“Chardonnay.”

I
order a bottle of Chardonnay for us.

“Look,
Kestrel, I won’t beat around the bush here. I didn’t want my wife the take this
job. You father was a criminal. A mobster. And I didn’t want her associated
with the Hart name. She went against my wishes, anyway, and took the job. As
far as I’m concerned, traveling with you is out of the question. That will
never happen as long as we’re married.”

“I
see. Can I at least explain some things to you?”

“As
long as you’re aware that I didn’t even want to come to this dinner.”

Whoa.
Talk about hostile. He’s added a new dimension to the word.

“Fair
enough. You’re right. My father was a criminal. The worst sort and the greatest
day in my life was the night he was shot and killed. Langston Hart was the
cruelest bastard that ever lived. But HTS has nothing to do with Langston Hart
and it never did. I’ve cooperated with the FBI in dismantling Hart
Entertainment, which is why I’m now working with HTS. I want nothing to do with
anything that had Langston’s hands on it. He was a vile man and the further I
can distance myself from him, the better. I’m not asking you to be my friend.
I’m not even asking you to like me. What I am asking you is to let your wife
work at a highly respectable company, make a hell of a great salary with
excellent benefits, and do some business travel with me. She’ll be very
respected in her role at HTS and you can believe that neither of you will
regret this decision. Now, if you’d like, I can have my security team send you
anything you’d like on me to satisfy your distrust of me. I’ve never been
arrested. Yes, I’ve had a few speeding tickets, but that’s about it. I drink
alcohol, don’t do drugs, and other than my ink here, I lead a relatively boring
life. And by the way, each one of my tattoos tells a story, but really that’s
none of your business.”

He
sits and stares. I don’t break eye contact, not even to blink. I’m an expert at
this because an intimidator raised me. Ralph is a decent sized guy, but he’s
not nearly as large as I am. He’s probably five feet eleven and he knows I have
him. The wheels churn; I can see him clenching his jaw and the flicker in his
pupils. Finally, he dips his head slightly.

“Okay.”

“Good.
No woo-fuckery here, then?” I ask.

His
brow creases. “Huh?”

Shayla
slams her hand on the table and the glasses rattle. Her laugher fills the room
and heads turn. I wink at her as Ralph watches her like she’s lost all her
sense.

The
rest of our dinner goes rather well. When we’re done, I ask if they’d like to
join me for a drink at a bar down the street. They decline, so we part ways. I
watch as they climb in the limo and drive off. Then I walk down the street and
find another spot to hit. It’s only ten o’clock and I’m in no mood to go home.
I find a nice quiet bar and grab a Lagavulin. I chuckle to myself when I think
of Ralph ordering this. I can’t deny his taste in Scotch.

As
I sip my drink, I scan the crowd from my corner seat at the bar. It consists of
couples, except for me. I spy one couple at a table directly across the room
and it appears they’re having an argument. When I take a better look, I realize
it’s
Carter. She’s frowning and gesticulating and he’s
angry-looking. They both have untouched drinks in front of them. He’s a
preppie-looking type and she’s looking geeky as usual—thick glasses and
hair pulled tight in a sloppy ponytail. She suddenly stands, her chair topples
over, she picks it up and stomps out of the place, crying. He’s left there
staring after her.

First,
I’m surprised how at shocked I am to have seen her in here with a man. She
doesn’t seem the type to date. Second, I’m torn between following her, or
leaving her alone. She was clearly upset, crying, and angry. Should I check on
her to see if she’s okay? I don’t want it to seem like I was eavesdropping, but
I also want her to be safe. This is downtown Charleston, though, a safe area, so
I don’t dwell on that part for long. Since Carter’s personal life is none of my
business I decide to drop it. A few minutes later, I finish my drink and walk
home.
 

Turning
the corner on
Tradd
Street, a few feet ahead I see a
hunched up figure leaning on a brick wall. As I get closer, I recognize it’s
Carter, and I can hear her softly crying. When she hears my footsteps, she
jerks upright.

“Carter?
Are you okay?” I ask.

She’s
taken her glasses off and she looks me dead in the eyes. It’s hard to see
because it’s so dark, but the reflection of streetlight makes her cheeks
glisten where tears have left their traces behind.

“I’m
fine. What are you doing here?”

Her
southern accent is refined, much different than Shayla’s. It’s obvious by the
way she’s shielding herself that I’ve frightened her. Should I tell her I was
in the bar? Would that seem like I was spying on her?

“I’m
on my way home from dinner. Do you need a hand?”

“N-No.
I’m fine. Truly.”

“Are
you sure? I can walk you home.”

“No,
it’s okay.”

She
really is in no condition to walk alone. So I reach for her arm and say, “Come.
I insist.”