The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) (19 page)

Marrec turned. “Madame.” He ducked his head. “To alleviate any concern, let me repeat what I have told your so handsome family. I am thirty-nine.” His eyes slid to Senior though. It was almost as if Marrec couldn’t take his eyes off him. After an awkward silence, Marrec looked around and shook his head. “We all look just like you,
non
?”

“Well,” Drew said, “the boys anyway.”

“Mom, sit down,” Tammy said, as she came in behind them. “You too, Daddy.”

Marrec’s sharp eyes took in Senior’s cane.

“C-clotilde?” Senior asked, sitting heavily on the bench at the big teak dining table. He looked stricken.

Marrec nodded.

“Why d-didn’t she t-tell me?”

“You were a criminal. The
gendarmes
were after you. You left her without a word. And,” here he looked around at them, “
èvidement
, you did not look back.”

Senior looked shaken. “I would have…”

Tris’s mother looked as though she had turned to stone. But she patted her husband’s arm. “Don’t upset yourself. You know Dr. Tanet says that isn’t good for you.” Then she glared at Marrec. “What do you want?”

He gave a Gallic shrug. “To know my only relatives, now that my mother is dead.”

Yeah. Right.

“I’m sure you’ll get around to your real demands,” Tris’s mother said.

Tris had never heard such acid in her tone. He was shocked. She was usually so polite. And she’d certainly drilled into them that rudeness to guests was not tolerated. “He brought Lan home, Mother.” Tris had to give him that much credit.

His mother looked put out that she owed Marrec anything. “Thank you for that.” You couldn’t say her gratitude was effusive, that’s for sure. She turned to Jane. “Is Lanyon all right?”

“He’ll have a very bad headache when he awakes.”

“Oh, dear. He’s been drinking again.” Tris’s mother sighed.

“For two days straight,” Marrec agreed. “That one, he can drink.”

“S-sit down, shon.” Senior looked stricken when he realized his Freudian slip. He’d obviously used the word as a generic term of fatherliness, but it was more than that in this case. Senior regrouped. “T-tell ush about yourshelf.”

Tris saw Marrec immediately shut down. “Not much to tell.” He didn’t sit.

To Tris’s surprise, Michael weighed in. “Well, you’ve seen some action.”

Marrec studied Michael for a moment. “Takes one to know one.”

Michael gave a half-grin. “Yeah. I was Delta Force for more years than I wanted.”

The challenge was implied. Would Marrec say anything about himself at all?

“I hire out.”

A mercenary. God in heaven, the guy was a merc. Around the terrace, the looks of dismay didn’t escape Tris. Or Marrec.

“Guess I better be going.” He set down the iced tea. His face was blank, his eyes hard.

“W-why did you c-come here?” Senior asked. Funny, even as damaged as he was, only he could ask that question and expect to have it answered. Kemble could have said the exact same thing, and Marrec would have already been out the door.

“It was a mistake,” their mercenary half-brother growled.

“But you h-had a r-reashon.”

The guy drew himself up. There was a lot of ‘up’ to him. Tris confirmed his earlier estimate; six-five, maybe two-thirty, none of it fat. Marrec looked for the door. Then he gritted his teeth. “Thought you might need some bodies guarded.”

Well, that was a surprise.

“We have a security team,” Kemble said.

Marrec snorted. “Those guys? You need more firepower than that. After Chicago, or what happened up in Hollywood, even the dead you left in the desert of Nevada, then the attack here…I’m not sure how you have been keeping one step ahead of whoever is after you. Me, I think your luck has run out.” He nodded to Senior’s cane.

How could this guy know where all the bodies were buried? They’d covered their tracks. The authorities hadn’t connected Tremaines to the fire in Chicago. They’d assumed the family were some of the many victims. The mudslide in Hollywood had been a natural disaster, for all anyone knew. Tris’s defense of Maggie in Nevada—well, no one would believe what had happened there anyway.

The rest of the family was just as uncomfortable about Marrec’s revelations as Tris. This guy was dangerous to them.

Kemble apparently didn’t think so. He was all calm and hard as he said, “A tragic fire in Chicago and a natural disaster in the canyons above Hollywood. Unfortunate that we were there, but hardly planned.”
Good for you, big brother.

“Don’t give me that,” Marrec scoffed. “Bad people exist in the world,
n’est-ce pas
? And you have some very bad people after you. I wonder that you let your brother wander around where he can be picked off.”

That struck a nerve with Kemble, who was about to retort when Senior interrupted him. “I think it’sh g-good of you to offer y-your shervices.” Senior was actually directing the conversation. That was new.

“I figure you can afford to pay well.”

“Now, we get to it,” Kemble said, rolling his eyes.

“Perhaps it’s too soon to make commitments on either side.” Jane smiled. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Mr. Marrec? We can all get to know each other a little better.”

He looked like a rabbit about to dash for the door, if a rabbit could look that dangerous. This guy was really conflicted about being here, meeting them, offering to work for them, trying to rip them off—something. Slowly, Marrec swallowed, got himself under steely control and gave a jerky nod.

“Well, then, that’s good,” Jane said.

Senior gave a small smile.

Tris’s mother’s lips thinned in disapproval.

*

Well, well, well.
Jason sat back in his chair, pushing it back from the high-powered telescope. His vantage was high above the Tremaine estate, in a house at the top of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. The estate on the bluff above the ocean was so far away no Tremaine would think they were being observed.

And Morgan would both love and hate the information he had to give her. Looked to him like there was another Tremaine they hadn’t known about. Actually, from the shocked look on the face of the brothers who’d answered the door, the Tremaines hadn’t known about him either. Fun, fun, fun. Another way to hurt them. Morgan would love that.

Even better, although more problematic, there was a girl. The damaged kid had brought her. And she was still there. That would have Morgan worried and rubbing her hands in anticipation all at once. Maybe now she’d finally let Jason move against the kid. He was securely at the estate, but not for long. That kid was a runner. Even if he’d found his Match, he wasn’t going to stay cooped up at the Breakers for long.

Jason knew what was happening. Kid was trying to drown out the initial, overpowering reaction to finding his mate. Jason remembered that feeling only too well.

“Sela,” he whispered. Her name was torn from him.

But it did no good to pine over that. She was dead and gone, and since Morgan had decreed her death, she’d never bring his one true love back to life. All he had now was Morgan. She was where he belonged, and he wasn’t going to blow it.

The news he had would keep him in her good graces for the foreseeable future. She should be back tomorrow, but she wouldn’t want to wait for this news. Hardwick could call her.

Jason took note of the new Tremaine’s license plate. He drove a battered Land Rover. Jason could always pick him up later. Now to call Hardwick. Hardwick had some research to do, on the new Tremaine, and on the girl.

*

Greta watched the
byplay at dinner with half her attention. The food was the best she had ever tasted, hands down. It wasn’t just that the lasagna was good. It was like she’d never had lasagna before in her life. And the lemon on the Caesar salad? A revelation. She could hardly concentrate on anything. She did her best to pay attention, though in view of the circumstances, conversation was awkward. Mr. Marrec deflected questions or grunted answers. He and Michael did talk about Afghanistan and Iraq where both had served in similar capacities, though with far different allegiances. Their anecdotes only hinted at the horrible things they had seen and no doubt done. But Mr. Marrec had also fought in places like Cameroon and Sudan for whoever was willing to pay him. He didn’t seem to care much about the moral right and wrong of war. That made Tammy and Kee go wide-eyed, and put frowns of disapproval on Michael and Kemble. Tris just seemed to be watching everything. They did learn that he wasn’t French, but French Canadian from around Quebec City. His mother had emigrated there just after he’d been born. Other than that? Not much. Jane finally signaled that the interrogation was over, and the family tried hard to have a normal conversation. Greta noticed Brian watching his newly discovered son closely all through dinner, but he seemed tired, and Brina took him off to bed early. This day must have been very taxing for him.

The real reason Greta was so distracted was sleeping off a drunk in the wing the family called the Bay of Pigs. Really, how could she be so enamored of a man who drank so much? And why was he an alcoholic? That sounded so bad. But he was. Better face facts. She’d seen him drinking to excess on every occasion she’d met him. If you were an alcoholic, there was a reason though. You were weak, or in such mental distress that you couldn’t face your life, or you’d done something terrible.

How could you have any of those problems when you came from a great family like this? Of course, someone had shot Brian. They had enemies, apparently in spades, and Mr. Marrec agreed. She had no idea what had happened in Chicago or Hollywood, but the mention of dead bodies in Nevada sure caught her attention. That was the reason Lanyon no longer smiled. Why would someone want to harm this lovely family?

She could practically feel him down in his bedroom. She’d been disturbed and anxious after he left two days ago—almost physically sick. But now that he was back, she was totally out of control again. Her mind was having lascivious thoughts about him lying across his bed down there. Would they have undressed him? Would he be naked? And those thoughts put her body out of control, too. Her panties were wet just thinking about him.

She had to find a way to go down there when nobody would miss her. Just to see.
That he’s okay, I mean.

Oh, great. Now she was lying to herself. She’d always prided herself on looking reality in the eyes, no matter how scared she was. She felt the juices increase their flow between her legs. God, if she didn’t get out of this dining room soon, she’d embarrass herself in front of everyone. Yet, she didn’t dare stand. What if her jeans were…wet? Her thoughts were turning chaotic. Was she sick? Did she have a fever? She certainly felt flushed.

Brina returned just as people were sitting back from the table. Kee had brought out the brandy and some Grand Marnier for Drew and Jane. Greta took a glass of Grand Marnier and gulped convulsively. Maybe the liquor would calm her. Mr. Marrec passed on the after-dinner drinks and pushed back from the table. Brina stood to one side like one of those disapproving stone statues on Easter Island.

“I should go. You…have been most gracious.” The interloper looked embarrassed to say it, like he had surprised himself.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night, Mr. Marrec,” Jane said. “We have plenty of room.”

“No. That would be bad.” He rose. He looked even rougher around the edges than Tris. His hair was shaggier, his boots and jeans worn. And then there were the scars. She’d noticed several others besides the prominent one that slashed over the left side of his face; one on the right biceps that snaked out from under the tight sleeve of his tee shirt, and one on his left temple. Strangely, they didn’t detract from how handsome he was. They made him even more intriguing. Greta would bet he was a lady-killer, even though one look at him and anyone would know he wasn’t home-and-family material. He hesitated, glancing around to the men at the table. “We can perhaps discuss my proposal at another time?”

Kemble nodded grudgingly. “Come back tomorrow. We’ll see.” Kemble must have noticed the fact that Brian had been glued to the intruder all evening. Greta thought he must resent the fact that his father had a son before him and he wasn’t actually the oldest. Yet apparently he also wanted to give his father a chance to know his newly found progeny. It occurred to her that Kemble really might be a good leader for the family, if he could just learn to relax about it.