Rise of the Notorious (15 page)

“What is it?”

“Your father’s opponent in next year’s election has a damning connection to my family,” Linc began, his face tightening with both anger and dread. “His father is the man who covered up the murders my grandfather committed while overseas during World War II. He consorted with my grandmother and buried the files. Your father plans to use this information against him in the coming months.”

Lynette digested what he had told her, disbelief clouding her eyes. “This is insane, Linc. What are the chances?”

“I know.” He managed a tired smile as he watched her. “But it’s something we’ll have to deal with, as is what your father said tonight.”

“But what if they arrest Madison?” Lynette asked fearfully, reaching for his hands. “Can they do that?”

“I doubt it. It’s all hearsay until there’s proof and, as far as I know, the cops have already deemed this a legit suicide.” He sighed, leaning in to rest his forehead on their joined hands. “But I would hate to be in the room when she gets word of it. It’s going to break her heart.”

“I’m so sorry. I feel so helpless…”

“So do I.” He pressed his lips to her fingers before rising to his feet, pulling her with him. He held her, shutting his eyes tight against the still simmering anger flooding his system. “This is war now, Lynette. Your father is my enemy.”

“I know,” she whispered, her throat clenching at the thought.

It appeared that, at last, hell had been delivered.

H
er office had never been a lonely place to her until now. She found herself holed up there more often these days with nothing but her sense of duty to keep her company. Though she’d never had much more than that in the first place, a weight was currently hovering over her, a cloud of responsibility and expectation that never left her alone.

And being told that she was responsible for her father’s death did not make the weight any easier to bear.

In her hands she held the transcript from the radio show that had aired the night before, though she didn’t bother reading it in its entirety. She had seen the worst of it when she read Shaw’s words about her and her father.

Linc and Grant had presented the transcript to her that morning, both solemn and apprehensive. Rightfully so, as even she had expected herself to scream and curse and rage. Instead, she had shut out her brothers and read the words in private, absorbing them on her own. While she did feel some measure of anger for Shaw, she also felt pity for him. The man was walking a dangerously fine line, one that could split very easily if he wasn’t careful.

The few people in her life who had dared cross her had lived to seriously regret their decision. The classmate in preschool who had stolen her prized antique pocket watch, a gift from her grandfather. The professor in college who looked down his nose at her and attempted to fail her because he didn’t like her family and what they stood for. The French bastard she’d caught trying to slip a roofie into her drink in a bar in Paris.

All had paid a dear price for what they had done. She had seen to it personally.

As for Shaw, his actions were decidedly more painful than those others had been. He had seen fit to blame her for a tragedy she was still grieving, one that he had no right to be involved with in the first place.

She was still left with the question of who this secret source of his was. It troubled her that the first person who came to mind was Duke. But as jealous as he was, her cousin wasn’t an idiot. He would understand that something like this would only draw more attention to the scandal, which would hurt him as much as it hurt her.

So who was it? And where had they gotten the idea that somehow she, Madison, was responsible for tampering with the drugs that led to her own father’s death?

Feeling sick to her stomach, Madison threw the transcript in the trash can beside her desk. She fled her office and sought a distraction, any distraction, to take her mind off Shaw and her father’s death. She made her way into the kitchen of
Cherir
, deciding to work on the seasonal menu updates with Raoul. The frenzied chopping of a knife stopped her short of entering.

Raoul stood at the kitchen island and had a large butcher’s knife in his hand, which he was using to furiously hack away at a tomato that was swiftly turning into bright red mush. Beside him, Quinn watched in cautious silence, her eyes darting up to meet Madison’s. The alarm Madison saw in the other woman’s face had her heart clenching.

“Raoul, stop it,” she ordered.

He faltered, his head lifting to face her, his dark eyes wide and frantic and his lips curled in a snarl. His chest rose and fell with his labored breathing, while the hand that held the knife trembled in one quick spasm.

When she saw the shock pass over his face and weed out the violence, she walked forward and gently removed the knife from his hand. He let her take it, his mind and body dulled from the outburst.

“I’m sorry,
cariño
,” he murmured, immediately turning away from her to busy himself across the kitchen.

Madison watched him brush her off, and her temper immediately flared. “Do I need to send you home?”

“No,” he barked, reaching for a stainless steel pan and smashing it down upon the stove. He began to fill it with olive oil, ignoring her as she came up beside him.

“What the hell is wrong with you then?” she demanded, forgetting Quinn’s presence altogether. Worry for her friend tore through her, and she couldn’t shake the image of him losing control that way. She’d seen him in fits of rage before, but nothing like this. He seemed downright mad.

When he said nothing, she pulled on his arm and turned him to face her. “Damnit, answer me!”

“It is nothing.” He grit his teeth and turned back to his work, struggling to ignore the distress in her eyes.

“We were listening to the radio, and they replayed what Senator Shaw said about you last night,” Quinn supplied, wringing her hands together anxiously.

Madison didn’t take her eyes off Raoul, a distinct coldness hardening her face. “I see. Darling, you can’t let that upset you. I’m handling it.”

In response, he slammed another pot down upon the stove, its echoing bang resounding like a gunshot through the kitchen. To her credit, she didn’t flinch, but instead focused on him as he faced her. Their eyes met, and she detested the enraged misery she saw reflected in his.

“They tarnish your name and blame you for that fool’s death,” he snapped, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. “I should kill that senator for this.”

“I appreciate your conviction, but that may only make things worse.” Madison attempted a smile, reaching out to him. When he backed away from her instead, she eyed him curiously. “What is it?”

For a long, haunted moment, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously low and condemning.

“You didn’t listen to me,
cariño,
” he said quietly. “You think I don’t have eyes watching his every move while he stays in this hotel?”

She didn’t have to ask who it was he meant. It was obvious in the infuriated way he was watching her. But knowing that he knew about her and Wyatt, acknowledging his disappointment, brought her way more guilt than she realized it would.

“So I have a weakness,” she confessed, her chin lifting defiantly. “I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”

Leaving it at that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, only to run directly into Kennedy just outside the stainless steel doors.

“What is your
problem
?” Kennedy cried out, glaring at Madison.

Madison’s jaw clenched as she stared down at her little sister. “I have many problems, darling. None of which I would ever wish upon you.”

“You know, I learned about sociopaths last year in school. I seriously think you’re one of them,” Kennedy charged, pointing a finger at Madison accusingly. “You feel no emotion; you’re cold to the bone. You are a self-serving narcissist who will hurt anyone and do anything to get to the top. Grandpa was the same way, and both of you get a kick out of destroying everyone else’s happiness. Like dad’s…you just had to get rid of him, didn’t you?”

Shock registered briefly over Madison’s face before she controlled herself. “Excuse me?”

“You killed him!” Kennedy’s face contorted with anger as her eyes filled with tears. “It all makes sense now. He got in the way and so you did something to his weed, which he only used to help the pain he was in. But you couldn’t leave him be, could you? You locked him up like a criminal and then played on his weaknesses so he had no way out but to die.”

Madison’s heart jolted with both indignation and despair at her sister’s callous words, but she couldn’t help but feel she was right. She had indeed locked her father up like a bird in a cage, too embarrassed by his antics to let him loose like the free man he had been. And in doing so, she was in part responsible for his death. It was something she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.

Before she could think of what to say to her sister in return, Quinn appeared from inside the kitchen and came up beside Kennedy, resting her hand on the girl’s shoulder. As Kennedy leaned into Quinn for comfort, resentment hit Madison like a steel mallet to the chest.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked, her arm wrapped around Kennedy. “Are you okay, sweetie? You’re crying…”

“
I hate her!
” Kennedy snarled.

Alarmed, Quinn shot a quick look to Madison before addressing the girl. “You don’t mean that, you’re just upset.”

“Yes I do,” she declared cruelly. “She doesn’t give a shit about me and never has. I wish she was dead.”

She tore free of Quinn’s grasp and flew out into the restaurant, leaving Madison and Quinn hovering in stunned silence.

Before Quinn could attempt to console her, Madison left. She was in no mood to deal with comforting words or pointless excuses for behavior.

Quinn watched her go as Raoul came up beside her, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

“She doesn’t show it, but she wears many scars inflicted by that little girl,” he said quietly, thoughtfully.

When he turned around to go back into the kitchen, Quinn had to rub her arms to chase away the chill that came from his words.

Grant was welcomed
home by the alluring scent of garlic, tomato sauce, and basil. It wafted out of the kitchen and greeted him as he came through the front door and discarded his briefcase and coat, his mind and body exhausted from work.

It had been, in the simplest of terms, a trying day.

The whole family was on edge because of the radio interview and Shaw’s accusations, and as a result, tempers were easily provoked. Linc had almost come to blows with Cy, Madison had bickered with Kennedy, and he had gotten into an argument with his mother over what they were going to say to the press. That task was usually Linc’s job, but because his brother was more than a little spiteful and unpredictable these days, Grant felt it was best if he and Madison handled it.

Only, he hadn’t been able to talk with his sister all day. She had locked herself in her office, then slipped out unnoticed at some point to go home. She wasn’t answering her cell, and when he had tried her at home the phone had been disconnected. Clearly, she did not want to be contacted.