Catharine & Edward (12 page)

Edward waited for Gideon to back down first, which he always did. Not because he wasn’t up for the fight, but because he would never win a staring contest. He didn’t have the patience for it.

After Gideon sat down again – feet firmly on the ground this time – Edward touched the built-in screen on the table and brought up a secure connection to the palace mainframe. After a few taps, he had the latest notes from Marcello.

Blake frowned. “Looks like RPS brought Muffy in for questioning.”

Gideon scanned the interrogation notes. “Kind of a dick move, if you ask me. Whoever Muffy’s working with is bound to find out.”

Edward looked through the rest of the missive from Marcello, but saw little else about Muffy. “They will find out, and that might accelerate their timeline. Maybe that’s why RPS brought her in, to finish this off faster.”

“Do you really think they’ll attack the royal family?” Zach asked, his eyes still on the screens.

“I think they want the princess,” Edward said. “The images, the items I found in that room at Muffy’s house, all indicate that this is personal to someone. If they hurt the royal family, I think it would be by association, not intention.”

“Though,” Lou interjected, “if they wanted to hurt the princess, hurting her family would be the way to go.”

Blake pursed his lips. “I don’t get that vibe here. I think Bash is right and this is directed solely at the princess. If they wanted to hurt her family, we would have found evidence of that in the room like notes tracking the other royals, or photos or videos of them. There was none of that there.”

“Who’s to say that room’s the only place someone’s hiding shit about what’s to happen?” Luke said as he pulled his headset off.

“That’s a fair point,” Edward said. “We’re still digging into Muffy’s latest boy toys to see if they’re the link to this. Marcello’s notes mention he planned to send a team to their houses once the princess and I were clear of the capital.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll touch base with him after dinner for an update. I know Marcello doesn’t always put things down on paper unless it’s confirmed. He doesn’t like leaks and he doesn’t like conjecture.”

“So, what we’re seeing could already be old news?” Gideon asked, slight disdain in his voice.

Edward shrugged at his typical attitude. “Could be. I’ll find out for sure later.”

“Why not call him now?” Lou asked.

“We arranged to speak at specific times before I left, unless there was an emergency. This is standard. Our job is to protect Catharine while she’s here, until the threat is neutralized and we can head back to Valentia.

“That’s our job. Not figuring out what the threat is, not figuring out where it’s coming from, even if we want to.” God, did he want to. “That is someone else’s job, and I know that doesn’t sit well, but it’s what we’ve got to work with. We only work the aspects of the case that impact our surveillance and protection detail here. Everyone with me?”

Edward got nods from most everyone, gave Gideon a pointed look, and then he, too, nodded his agreement. “Good.”

“I’ll take first shift after dinner,” Blake said. “Rotations are posted. Make sure you hit them. Lou, Zach – you good or you need to bring someone in to assist?”

“Not going to lie,” Lou said. “Wouldn’t mind a third or fourth set of eyes. My sisters could work it, if that’s cool.”

Edward gave her a questioning look. “Can your sisters take down a man as fast as you, besides being a tech whiz?”

Lou smiled broadly. “You betcha. Who do you think taught ’em?”

His mouth quirked into a smile. “Can they keep a secret?” Lou nodded. “Then make them sign the contract and confidentiality agreements, then bring them in by the book. Got me?”

“Got it, Bash.”

“Good.” At the sound of a baby cooing in the corner, Edward wrapped up the meeting. “We’ve got our assignments, so let’s break. Stop by the main house before you leave, and I’ll introduce you to the princess. Then, we’ll reconvene at six tomorrow morning for updates, unless something urgent comes up. Lou, make sure your sisters are set up by then.” Lou nodded.

“I’m off to do some intense calisthenics,” Edward said as he made his way to the crib.

“You’re working out?” Luke asked.

“Not exactly. I promised my girls a tea party,” he said as he lifted Abella and settled her against his shoulder again. “If you’ve never tried to pick up a dainty plastic teacup with your adult male hands, trust me, you’ve never had a workout.” Chuckles filled the room as Edward walked out, unashamedly making baby talk the whole way.

C
at sat
at the dining table and, for probably the first time in her life, she felt insecure and out of place in a social situation.

She wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

Lisette was lovely and kind, and didn’t treat her formally. Her husband was quiet, but clearly in love with his wife and children. And those little girls, well, there was nothing for it.

She was in love.

And not just with the girls. She’d fallen even more for Edward as she had watched him with them. He was the ultimate uncle: patient and adoring, playful and loving.

He would be a wonderful father; it gave her a sharp pang in her chest to think about it.

Cat had been in family homes like this before, yet now she felt as though she were part of the family instead of simply a visitor. Growing up in a palace, she’d had love and warmth and a crazy family. This house, however, held a different kind of closeness she could yearn for, if she let herself.

Since Lisette had decreed she was a guest – and therefore not on dish duty, not that she had done many dishes in her life, to be honest – she sat waiting for Edward, who’d disappeared with his phone after dinner, along with the rest of his sexy-looking team.

One exception to the ‘sexy’ designation was Gideon. He may have been handsome, but she knew a dick when she saw one.

And Louise – Lou – was a different kind of sexy than the men. On top of that, she was bright and bubbly and so different from herself that Cat began to feel jealous of her, and wondered if that was the sort of woman Edward usually went for.

The screen door quietly slammed as Edward re-entered the house, and headed towards them in the kitchen. He made his way to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “Kids out?” he asked.

Lisette nodded as she finished loading the dishwasher. “They were so excited I didn’t think they’d fall asleep so easily, but clearly their Uncle Bash wore them out.”

He grinned as he opened the bottle and tossed the cap perfectly in the recycling bin. “All part of the service.”

Lisette smiled. “Is my husband around?”

“He’s on first watch tonight.”

“I’ll find him.” She rounded the counter and stopped at the table. “May I get you anything else before I go, Catharine?”

“No, thank you. Really. You’ve already done so much.”

Lisette squeezed Cat’s hand. “No trouble at all.” She turned to Edward. “I’ve put her downstairs. Let me know if I should make adjustments.”

Edward finished taking a swig of his beer and shook his head. “No, that’s perfect.”

“Have a good night then,” Lisette said. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Nighttime farewells were exchanged, and Cat and Edward were left alone in the large room, a combined kitchen and family dining room.

“Your family’s wonderful.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Yes, they are.”

“That’s why you removed your bandages, isn’t it? So, you wouldn’t worry your nieces?”

“Yes. I’ve been hurt worse before. They saw the bandages and they didn’t handle it well back then, so I don’t like to wear them. They don’t fuss over scars, even rough ones for some reason, so they didn’t really notice them today.”

“Is everything else all right?”

He nodded and took another swig. “Up for a walk?”

“I’d love that.” He walked over to her and reached out his free hand. She laced her fingers with his and he led her into the dining room, through a set of sliding glass doors, and onto a large deck. They walked down the short stairs and towards the voluptuous vines blooming with unripe grapes. Towering trees surrounded the vineyard in a crisp line, sheltering the vines. The waning moon was a dim sheen of light in the spring night, and the sounds of insects and the earth beneath their feet were the only noises around them.

It was the most romantic walk Cat had ever taken in her life.

“What are those trees along the edge?” she asked, trying to soften the sharp edge of awareness; she wondered if he felt it, too.

“Olive trees. Planting them is an ancient tradition, one my father championed, so we do, too. He always thought of the trees as sentries for the grapes, protecting them from strong winds or other factors that could affect their pollination or growth. It doesn’t always work, but it works enough.”

His phone rang and he pulled it deftly out of his pocket and answered. “Bash. Yeah? Good. Out.”

“A man of few words,” she muttered as he pushed the phone into his pocket again.

“Don’t need a lot. It’s my job to convey more with actions than words.”

She’d never really thought of it like that before. Suddenly, his behavior made a lot more sense. “Why do people call you Bash over Edward? Even your nieces call you that.”

“That’s a long story,” he said evasively. “A quick answer would be it’s a nickname from my last name.”

“I know your last name’s Bashiera, but that’s not the real reason, though, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” he said quietly. “Most everyone I work with calls me Bash, whether or not they know the truth. The girls heard my boys saying it, so Uncle Bash stuck. If you asked them who Edward is, I doubt they’d make the connection. Maybe when they’re older.”

“Your ‘boys’ seem very confident, including Lou, who is very much not a boy.”

He grinned. “Don’t let her hear you say that. You might break her heart.”

“She’s quite pretty.”

“She is.”

The green monster started snapping its jaws inside Cat, until he spoke his next line.

“She’s also in love with one of the boys, so it wouldn’t matter what I thought.”

“Really?” He nodded. “I wonder who? I hope it’s not Gideon.”

He laughed, the sound rich and low in the dark, sending shivers across her skin. “Not a fan of him, are you?”

“He’s an ass.”

“He is,” Edward readily agreed. “He’s also damn good at what he does. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.”

“That can’t be the only prerequisite to working with you.”

“No, I have to trust the people I work with. I have trusted him with my life, and still do. He’s had my back, and my boys’ back more than once. He’s different in the field. It’s his real life that’s shit.”

“So he’s overcompensating?”

“You could say that.”

They walked for some time in the quiet and dark, a soft breeze playing at her hair and ruffling the flimsy fabric of her blouse. She didn’t want to mar the sereneness around them, but she needed to know. “Why are you called Bash, Edward?”

He was silent for a moment, then turned perpendicular through the rows of vines until they came to the edge where a small, quiet house stood, with one lonely bench outside. He gestured for her to take a seat while he took one last, long glug of his beer and tossed the bottle in a bin nearby, then joined her.

He kept his gaze forward, his eyes on the rows of sleepy vines. His body was loose and relaxed as he sat, one arm resting against the back of the bench, the other draped over his thigh. His face, however, told a different story, one filled with tension and anger.

“My father was a good man,” he began, “an excellent man, really. My mother was an excellent woman. Some say that hindsight can either make things clearer, or distort what was once true. So, sometimes things that seemed bad as a child have less significance when you’re older, or you realize things that seemed good as a child weren’t really all that great. In the case of my parents, this isn’t true. They were exceptional parents and people then, and we all consider them the same now.

“I was fifteen when they were murdered.” Cat gasped while he continued. “Lisette was barely twelve, and Bianca only seven.”

“So young.”

He nodded. “Too young, but then any age you lose two loving parents is too young.”

“What happened?”

“It was here, on this land. At that time, we lived in this house.” He gestured with his head to the house behind them.

“It happened inside?”

He shook his head. “Outside the main house. Or, I should say, the house that once stood there. We tore it down once I bought the land, rebuilt it new.”

“It doesn’t erase the memories though, does it?”

He finally glanced at her. “No, it doesn’t.”

She nodded. “I know something about that, living on the same land my family’s lived on for well over a thousand years, and the same home for the last several hundred.”

The edge of his lips tipped up. “Looks like there’s death around both of us. Something in common. Who knew?”

“Edward,” she said softly and slightly scolding, not thinking this was a teasing moment.

“Apologies, My Lady.” His face became somber again. “The man my father worked for at the time was an anti-monarchist by the name of Dawson. Not all anti-monarchists turn extreme, you know. Many of them don’t want to harm the royal family, they just want a different government.”

“But not this man?”

“No, he was extreme. More to the point, he spent time with those who were extreme as well. He didn’t mind my father’s pro-monarchist views, as long as he kept them to himself.

“One day, Dawson was holding a meeting at the main house. Things got heated, arguments escalated, and a gun went off. Bianca was asleep by then, and she could sleep through anything. The rest of us, however, heard it loud and clear.”

Tension began coiling tightly within Cat. Fear for his parents, long gone, and despair for him and his family bloomed inside her; both were feelings she guessed he wouldn’t want or need from her, at least not right then.

“My father went to see what had happened. He took one of his guns, but it wouldn’t help him in the end. My mother begged him not to go, begged him to stay here with us, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. My father may not have agreed with Dawson’s politics, but he would never let a man bleed to death if he was shot. Even if Dawson himself did the shooting and harmed another man, my father would still go to help. That was the sort of man he was. Some might call him foolish or misguided.”

“Some
have
called him exceptional,” Cat said quietly and Edward’s eyes turned to face her, emotion burning hot and bright in his eyes, and he nodded.

“My mother had called the police after my father left, though they hadn’t arrived by the time we heard the second gunshot. My mother was terrified, but she had to go after my father. She would protect him until her dying breath, and his; that was the sort of woman she was.”

“Oh, Edward.” She reached over and clasped his hand, which was still cool from the beer bottle, and pulled it between both of hers. He squeezed back.

“I told Lisette to wake Bianca and for both of them to hide. There wasn’t anywhere good enough in the house, no secrets rooms or anything, so I told them to run into the fields and wait for my signal.

“I took one of my father’s other guns and ran to the main house. I won’t tell you what I saw, I won’t repeat it, and don’t ever ask me. My sisters have asked, and I will forever spare them the nightmares from it.”

“Did you have nightmares from it?”

He waited a beat, then nodded.

She squeezed his hand tighter. “Do you still have nightmares from it?”

He waited a longer beat, pursed his lips, then nodded again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” he said quietly. “I will only say I found the man who killed my father. We fought. I lost my gun, forced him to lose his. Eventually, I pinned him to the ground. With no other weapon, I bashed his head into the floor until he lost consciousness. He was still alive but, because the farm is so secluded, by the time the police and paramedics arrived, he’d died.”

There it was. Bash.

“The police investigation discovered who was responsible for my mother’s killing. I thought it had been the same man, but it wasn’t. They also discovered he was in the wind.”

“You found him.” It wasn’t a question; she already knew she was right.

“Took me a few years, but that was only because I needed to take care of my sisters first. They split us up. They managed to place my sisters in the same foster home, but I was in a separate one. I needed to prove that I could provide for them in order to get full custody.

“So, I finished the last two years of schooling in one, then got a job doing admin work for the local police. They remembered me, my family, my story, and took pity on me, but they weren’t dumb. They knew I’d go after the man that killed my mother and they were right.

“Still, they gave me time, taught me things. They encouraged me to apply for the RPS once I had my sisters back.”

“Why the RPS?”

“My father always had a deep respect for the crown, and had instilled that in me and my sisters. I wanted to find other extremists, keep the same thing that had happened to us, from happening to others. I knew it would be the right fit for me, but I had to take care of my mother’s killer first. I couldn’t stand the thought of knowing he was alive, that he knew our names and could come after me or my sisters. For my piece of mind, and for my family’s, I went after him.”

His hand tightened on hers; she wasn’t sure he knew he had done it, but she would give him any comfort she had in her power to give.

“Once I had the killer’s name, I also realized I had an aptitude for finding people. Knew which people I should ask questions, knew the right questions to ask, knew when not to ask questions, too, and just read people. Eventually, I found him. And I killed him. With one bullet.”

“You killed in cold blood?”

“No,” he said simply. “My blood was burning hot when I found the son of a bitch. Believe me.

“Once he saw me, he recognized me. I know because he started running towards me, and pulled a knife from his pocket. He called my father by name, called him a ‘monarchy-loving piece of shit’ and I shot him right then and there. The local police called it self-defense, and perhaps that’s the truth. I went there believing that I would kill him, rather than turn him into the authorities.”

“But you don’t know if you would have killed him?”

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slow and long. “No. No, I don’t. But I wanted to.”

“Did you feel peace afterwards, knowing he was dead?”

“I did. I also felt sick to my stomach, if that makes you feel better. To take a life, any life, is not easy. Yet, I also felt peace. The threat against my family had been neutralized, and they were safe; that was all that mattered to me.”