a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures (6 page)

BOOK: a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures
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It had been beautiful, until it wasn’t. There was a part of Mitch’s spirit that still clung to human life, to me. It hovered in the background and nudged me from time to time. Not with words or ghostly appearances. It was always a touch, brief and so light I barely felt it brush the outside edge of my energy field. And it was the reason I’d totally shut down my fingertips. When they were out of commission, I couldn’t feel…anything energetic.

But now my ESP abilities were wide open. And his grave was but a touch away.

I sat cross-legged on the ground and clenched my hands into a tight ball. Could I face the emptiness if there was nothing here? No remnants of Mitch’s spirit? Or would touching his final resting place bring him full-force into my awareness? I consciously splayed my fingers, then wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs. I extended my hand over the grave, shaking so hard it made my teeth chatter.

“You can do this, Everly.” The wind whisked my words into the ethers.

Eyes wide open, I placed my fingertips on the ground, and…nothing. The loss griped my insides and twisted into raw pain. I jerked back, tucked my hands against my body. Still, this was easier than having him invade my energy field.

I took time to suck in a couple breaths, then lay back on the ground and stared at the clouds tumbling across the vivid blue sky. Was I beginning to heal? Had it been me, my grief, my needs, holding Mitch close so he couldn’t finish his transition?

A gust of wind tore through my clothes and I was surrounded with the sweet fragrance of cherries. I shook, cried, laughed, and finally found some words. “Thank you, Mitchell Hunt, for staying, for protecting me while I was such a mess. Still am, I guess. But it will be better now. It’s time for you to finish your journey, and for me to start mine. There’s a place in my heart that will always belong to you, no matter what happens.”

I wiped the tears off my face, stood, paused at the base of the stairs to get my suitcase and handbag, then walked around to the front door and rapped. Parker answered, a frown darkening his face. “You’re family, Everly. Knocking isn’t necessary.”

“I…can’t do this, Parker. Stay here, act normal, friendly. It’s…I’m not comfortable with Mitch’s family right now, and the memories of living here are just too much. And I’ve found a clue. A name. I—”

“What’s going on?” Jayne came up behind Parker, and yanked the door wide open.

“Everly’s found a clue,” Parker said, then dropped his arm over Jayne’s shoulders, tucking her into his side.

Jayne straightened, but Parker held her close. “Why don’t you come in and tell us—?”

“No, I need to leave. There was a name. In England. And I want to start chasing this lead right away. You of all people will understand that I need to do something. I’ve been waiting months for some kind of clue to follow. Pierce has been searching, too, but this one is mine. I have to believe Mitch left it for me.”

“Who?” Jayne spit the question out from between tight lips.

“Fion Connor. There was no address, but he’s in Torquay, England.” I hated to tell her, but there was no way she’d let me leave without a plausible reason.

“Jayne, darling? What is it?” My former mother-in-law. I knew from experience she wouldn’t be put off. There was a lot of like-mother-like-daughter going on in the Hunt family.

I summoned up a truckload of courage. “I found a clue to follow, Mrs. Hunt, and need to leave. I’ll let you know what I find out.” It was such a lie.

Parker’s mouth quirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’ll phone the airport. They’ll have one of the Steele Management jets waiting for you.” He dipped his hand in his pocket and came out with keys, handed them to me. “For the BMW. You can leave it at the hangar, and I’ll have someone pick it up tomorrow.”

Jayne wrapped me in a fierce hug. “I’m trusting Mitchell’s revenge to you, Everly Gray Hunt. Whatever you need, let us know.” She stepped back and turned to Parker. “Give Everly some money. She’ll need it to—”

My temper hit the danger zone. “I don’t think so.”

“Please.” Jayne’s voice wobbled. “We can’t leave, or I’d be on my way to the airport with you. It would mean a lot to me if you’ll accept something from us. It would help me…”

Well, damn it. Sure as bloody hell if I touched Jayne I’d be blasted with her grief and frustration. Not something I could easily brush off since my empathy was at an all-time high, and I completely understood where she was coming form.

“Fine.” It wasn’t a gracious acknowledgement, but it was the best I could do. Accepting financial support from Parker Steele? Could my world get any stranger?

“I’ll be right back.” Parker’s words faded as he strode toward his office.

Jayne inhaled, deep. “I…want you to do this. Need you to, but stay safe, Everly.”

When her voice cracked, my own tears threatened to spill. We’d done this. Cried together. Grieved together. But it was time to move on now. My head knew it. If only I could convince my heart.

Parker stepped onto the porch, shoved a leather envelope into my hand, and then pulled me in for a tight hug. “They’re large bills. No reason to give you a mix when you’ll be changing them for British pounds.”

I nodded, backing away. “Thanks. I’ll keep in touch when I can.”

One last look at the hopeful sadness etched in their faces, and I turned and ran for the garage, suitcase bouncing behind me. It wasn’t a graceful exit.

 

SHARING A STEELE MANAGEMENT JET
with Jayne, Parker, and his colleagues had been a pain in the butt. Rattling around in one by myself for six hours when I wanted to be chasing Fion Connor was only tolerable because I drank two glasses of very expensive wine, and then slept until the co-pilot woke me an hour before we landed in Devon. I used the time to shower and fumble around with a plan that would hopefully include Tynan Pierce.

I knew better than to take on Mitch’s boss by myself. That would be so far beyond stupid it wasn’t worth mentioning. I’d phoned Pierce and Annie with my flight info and destination right after takeoff. Pierce hadn’t answered, so I’d left a voicemail. Annie, true to form, lectured me while I’d sipped my first glass of merlot and nibbled on some cheese and crackers I’d found in the galley. There was no question that Annie’s protective mom genes had flourished since she’d had Madigan, and I gladly endured her lecture. She was becoming a super mom, and I loved her for it.

My plan, and Annie’d agreed, was to hang out on the English Rivera, sightsee, and stay under the radar while I checked out simple, non-dangerous things, and waited for backup in the form of Tynan Pierce. It was an excellent plan, with almost no chance of me screwing it up, except that my chosen backup hadn’t left so much as a text message in over twenty-four hours.

Unsettling.

And not at all like Pierce.

 

SIX

 

THE ENGLISH RIVIERA WAS ONE
of the nicer surprises I’d had recently. Maybe the only nice surprise. And, even better, I’d snagged the last available room in Mrs. Brumley’s lovely bed and breakfast. There were quaint side streets to explore, graceful sailboats moored in the harbor, and old-fashioned lights lined the streets, casting a soft glow over the sidewalks.

It should have been relaxing, but I was vigilantly tense from waiting for Tynan Pierce to show up. It wasn’t like him to leave me hanging on the brink of trouble. Or maybe he wasn’t concerned because he already knew this lead on Mitch’s boss was a dead end that would keep me out of trouble until we went after Eamon Grady together.

Had he been thinking the reason behind Mitch’s spying was for my protection? It made sense. There’d be no reason for Pierce to rush after me if he knew I was perfectly safe. It pissed me off, though. He could have let me know. Still, that interpretation didn’t feel quite right, but…hell, there wasn’t anything for me to do here but play tourist and ask questions.

Tourists took in the sights and ate, and since food was something I could get into, I wandered along the street, following the scent of fish and chips. It would be the perfect way to celebrate my first evening in the UK, and the pub looked cozy and warm, a perfect hideout from the cool, foggy evening. Besides, I loved the name. The Moon and Star.

My server appeared to be in her early twenties with dark brown, almost black, hair and a welcoming smile. “What will it be this evening, Miss?”

“The fish and chips please.” I glanced at her name tag. “And if I could have a light beer with that, Cait, it would be perfect.”

Her deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “A yank are you, then?”

“I am. And do I detect a bit of Irish beneath the Brit?” She sounded a little like my one-time mentor, Whitney Boulay, and there was a smidge of Tynan Pierce coloring her accent.

“Scottish, actually. On my father’s side. Would you like the mushy peas or the tartar sauce with the chippies?”

I ran my tongue over my lips, thinking. “Mushy peas, unless the tartar sauce is heavy on the capers.”

Cait wrinkled her nose. “Too light on the pickle, capers, and horseradish, and too heavy on the mayonnaise. So, mushy peas it is. Anything else, Miss?”

Another table had been seated in her section, and the manager gave her a raised eyebrow. I motioned toward the newly seated party of four. “Go ahead and take care of your other customers, but I’d love some sightseeing advice when you have a break.”

She winked, then hustled off. I lounged into the corner of the booth and absorbed the atmosphere. If I didn’t nag Pierce soon, he’d probably worry, so I sent off a quick text.
Where are you? I’m in Torquay. Without backup.
Not that I needed any backup if Connor turned out to be a friend of my mom’s, but Annie and Whitney had trained me well, and I felt naked without it.

Sliding my phone into my handbag, I ran through a few questions that had been churning since I left North Carolina. If Connor truly was Mitch’s boss, why did he live in the UK? Mitch was US-based, and had worked almost exclusively for the government. True, the States had a working relationship with Britain, but to have his boss based out of the country? This had to be something my mother set up before she was killed. But that was so far beyond bizarre it made my skin itch.

The bartender served my beer, and promised the food would be out shortly. I sipped. It was a crisp, light lager that would go well with the fish and chips. Cait popped over to my table a few minutes later with a steaming corrugated-cardboard platter of food and a tourist guide. She set my dinner in front of me, then opened the brochure and pointed. “I think you’d like Cockington Village, Miss…”

“Everly Gray. Just El is fine, and I think you’re right. Those thatch-roofed cottages just beg to be explored.” I touched the edge of the platter with my fork. “Cardboard?” I nibbled a bite of mushy peas.

“Absolutely, El. The batter needs circulating air to stay crisp or the fish’ll get soggy, so we only use paper. The cook used to own a chippy before he bought this pub. Makes them right, he does.” She tapped the brochure. “There’s definitely lots to explore, and there are some lovely walking trails, too. I live out that way and try to fit in a walkabout most days. How are the peas?”

The rich flavor melted on my tongue. “Delicious. Much better than the tartar sauce would have been.” I lifted the batter off the fish with my fork, letting some of the steam escape.

Should I ask Cait if she knew anyone named Fion Connor? Torquay wasn’t a huge city, but probably the population was too large for village-type neighborliness. I searched my intuition for a reason
not
to ask, and came up with zip. Grady was dangerous, but Connor was just a big question mark that could lead to a bunch of answers for me.

I patted my pocket. No rustle of paper. A second of panic flooded my senses, then I remembered moving my mother’s note with the addresses into the pocket on my backpack—for safe keeping while I strolled around town. Darn it. Now I’d have to wait until tomorrow to see if Cait recognized it. If this Fion Connor guy was Mitch’s boss and had been attempting to protect me, I had questions for him. A lot of questions.

Glancing at the tourist brochure, I decided to start asking the Cockington Village locals about Fion Connor. It shouldn’t cause any problems, and even if it did, Pierce would surely show up within a day or so. Well, before I could get into trouble by asking about Connor.

Cait had hustled off to take care of her other customers while I ate, so I dawdled, wanting to run Connor’s name by her. Meantime, I shot a text to Annie:
Any clue where Pierce is?
Business out of the way, I tucked into my supper with the attention it deserved.

A tourist bus unloaded just as I finished eating, and an influx of customers kept Cait from returning to my table. The manager, hands full of checks, dropped mine off on the run, so I never had a chance to ask anyone about Fion Connor. I paid, then scooted out of The Moon and Star and into the quiet night. A definite improvement over the suddenly noisy pub.

On the way back to my room, I stopped off at a sports store to see if I could find a knife that would be legal to carry in the UK. Not having any form of self-defense, other than my moderately-trained hands and feet, wasn’t sitting at all well right now. I’d been extra diligent with my martial arts practice since well before Mitch was murdered, but this Eamon Grady guy was a skilled hunter. Of people. So I wanted some backup besides Tynan Pierce—especially since his ass was currently missing.

BOOK: a Touch of Revenge (Romantic Mystery - book 6): The Everly Gray Adventures
7.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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