Page 80 of Beautiful Revenge
“I believe in your ability to multitask.” As always, Bella’s sarcasm is as sharp as a sword. “Imagine my surprise when I got a call from my CIA officer husband telling me to turn on the news, only to see there was a shooting at my brother’s business across the country. It’s like you’re dead set on creating buzz with bad press. I won’t even touch the subject of why you’re personally attending to the billionaire heiress. What happened?”
When one buys a crumbling estate, spends millions to refurbish it into a luxury resort, and the entire place turns into a crime scene when a sketchy guest gets shot, it makes the American Princess calling off her wedding for the world to witness not so bad.
If Roman Malloy is associated with Turner, he’s sketchy as fuck.
I didn’t tellHarlow about the connection before this morning because I was trying to protect her. I don’t want anything, or anyone, associated with Fusion Logic near her.
In hindsight, that was a mistake.
One I fixed immediately. I explained the background to both Harlow and Dean back in my office. I’m not sure if Harlow has forgiven me or if her head hurts too bad to be angry at the moment, but she’s not giving me the silent treatment or running away to live in her grandmother’s dilapidated farmhouse, because let’s be honest, at this point, rooming with a stray family of racoons might be the way to go.
Dean knows my background, but he didn’t know the details of the case that ended my career. He might be a small-town police chief, along with being in charge of Winslet’s youth sports, but I’m not the only one with a second career. Dean spent ten years in the military serving in special forces before he decided to hang up his night-vision goggles to return to Winslet where he grew up.
While Dean was questioning Harlow, his officers—all five of them—scanned the forest across the lake where I saw a glint of metal in the sunlight before the shots were fired. There are so many hikers in that area, the foot traffic and tracks are heavy. They found no evidence and have fewer leads than Carl and Winnie have celebrities hung on their wall.
I follow Harlow as she makes her way to her bedroom—and not the one she shared with me last night. I’ve seen every inch of her at this point, so I do not afford her any privacy. She sits on the edge of the bed to kick off her tennis shoes before going to the bathroom to dig through a travel bag full of meds.
“We made the news?” I ask Bella.
Harlow stops digging and mutters, “Great.”
“The national news,” Bella amends.
Damn.
I don’t share that with Harlow.
In one week, I’ve racked up a canceled wedding and a gunshot victim. Not exactly the full-color spread I planned onto promote my new business. It’s even worse if that shit is broadcasted far and wide across the country.
“What are they reporting?” I ask as I watch Harlow throw back a couple pills.
I take her by the hand as Bella keeps updating me. “So far, it’s reported as stray bullets. One report from a local who was interviewed said there are hunters in the area and it’s not uncommon. It’s not the big city, after all. I’m not sure who came up with that story but thank goodness, because you and I know better. I haven’t had time to log into your closed-circuit cameras yet. This has to be linked to Turner. If this is from a different drama, then you, big brother, have more trouble on your plate than you can handle.”
“There’s no way it’s not related. I’ll call you later with more details, but for now Roman Malloy is in surgery, and I need Harlow to rest.” Harlow doesn’t argue and comes with me as I lead her through the suite. She heads straight to the messy bed we shared last night, and I pull the curtains shut to darken the room.
“Yes, Harlow,” Bella enunciates. “It seems you’ve been keeping some secrets from your family. She’s in your suite?”
“We’ll chat about that another time.”
Bella turns her attention from my niece and nephew talking in the background. “I took you off Bluetooth so you can speak freely. Let’s hope someone can question him.”
“I must be getting soft in my retirement since I want him to survive to question himandso that no one is killed by a sniper on my property,” I mutter.
“Of course, I want that, too. I’m not a complete monster. But questioning him is the first priority,” Bella bites my head off before she turns her attention back to her kids. “Who wants to swing in for ice cream on the way home?”
Harlow unzips her tennis skirt before she pushes it to the floor and then rips off her tank and bra. She climbs back into my bed wearing only a tiny thong, and now I can’t get off the phone fast enough. “I need to get back into Ozzy’s system and fast track this shit.”
“Yes, do that. Let me know if Malloy makes it through surgery. And do me a favor, keep your head down. You’ll really mess up the family get together next week if you end uplike your friend Roman. And you’d better be ready to spill about Harlow Madison.”
I pull the comforter over Harlow and whisper, “I’ll be right back.”
She nods, closes her eyes, and rolls to her side. I close the bedroom door behind me and move to the dining room windows overlooking the gardens, lake, and mountain range. I lower my voice so there’s no chance for Harlow to hear me and can’t control the wrath in my tone. “It makes no fucking sense. I was twenty meters away—maybe more. If this was Turner, I should’ve been the target, but I wasn’t. Harlow was. The only reason she’s not on an operating table, or worse, is because she was hit by a bloody tennis ball first. She went down and the bullet caught Roman instead of her. What happened today only creates more questions. None of it makes any damn sense.”
“Hang on.” There’s a pause before she turns her attention to the kids. “Abbott, darling, here’s a twenty. Take Issac in for a cone. I’ll join you after I speak with your uncle.”
Abbott is Cole’s daughter, but she and Bella have bonded so deeply over the years, you’d never know they weren’t blood. More chatter ensues until the door finally slams shut, and I can tell my sister is alone.
Gone is the fun mum who stops for ice cream treats. “I assumed you were the target.”
