Gerald racked the balls and they started.
Someone’s phone buzzed. As all three checked, Declan held up one finger, turned on his heel, and walked out the main door. Business.
“Heard he left Anterdec. Bought some coffee chain. Thinks he’s going to build the next Starbucks,” Vince said as Gerald took his shot, spreading the balls but not getting any where he wanted them.
“Yeah. Works his ass off.”
“Don’t we all?”
Gerald’s phone buzzed.
You two play this round. Need to manage an issue for fifteen minutes.
The text was from Declan.
“He’s out for this game. Says he’ll be back in fifteen.”
Vince snorted and took his shot. “Their lives really suck.” The scratch ball went in the right corner pocket.
“So does your aim.”
Fishing the ball out of the pocket with hands better suited for picking up small cars, Vince grumbled a string of unintelligible syllables.
“Billionaires with plenty of money but no time to enjoy it. Being rich means being busy,” Vince finally said.
Gerald stayed silent.
“Hey, man—take your shot. Waiting for an engraved invitation?”
Gerald took his shot. The ball rolled aimlessly to the edge and stopped, an inch from target.
“So close, yet so far. How’re things with Suzanne? You tell her the truth yet?”
Shit. Vince didn’t just go straight to the heart of the matter. He went to the bone.
“What?”
“Your biggest fear. You told me the other day. Remember?”
Silence.
“You have to tell her.”
“I did.”
“The whole story?” Vince raised an eyebrow as he elegantly shot the striped nine into the right side pocket.
“Most of it.”
“‘Most’ is not ‘whole.’ You graduated college. You should know that.”
“Not talking about this, Vince.”
“That’s your problem, Gerald. It’s how you lost her ten years ago. By not talking about it.”
“I’m not one of your clients.”
“I’m telling you this as a friend.”
They stared at each other.
Bzzz.
Text from Suzanne.
Kulli is here. Hopewell house. Weird. Might be late.
And that was it.
“Shit.” Fire poured through his veins.
Vince picked up on it immediately.
“I have to go,” he said curtly.
“Afraid you’ll lose to....” Vince’s voice dropped off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Something. I have to go meet Suzanne.”
He sprinted, hearing Vince call out, “Be whole!”
Kulli wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt Suzanne.
He knew that.
What Gerald feared was worse.
Kulli might tell her the whole truth about why he left her.
And once again, Gerald hadn’t trusted her with the truth.
No. That wasn’t right.
Gerald didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth.
Chapter 13
The Hopewell mansion wasn’t. Suzanne had to laugh as she pulled into a rare parking spot on the Back Bay and realized she was about to go to your basic townhouse in a long row of them. Hopewell had more money than James McCormick but lived a life under the radar.
She admired that.
The artifact rested in a small case, under glass, in a room one walked into, surrounded by subdued security that Suzanne knew was high tech and designed to be inconspicuous. The relic wasn’t the only item on display, but she forced herself not to pay attention to the others.
They weren’t her focus.
Footsteps. The carpet muted them, but she heard the steady beats as they slowed. The person was clearly coming closer. Security? The person from the MFA? Prepared to turn around, she halted as the person spoke.
“Hello, Suzanne. Fancy meeting you here.”
Her shoulders hunched. She fought to lower them. When a guy like Harrison Kulli approaches you from behind, any movement, any show of emotion was a sign of weakness. Guys like him thrived on it.
On reaction.
On knowing they’d gotten to you, even in the smallest of ways.
“Harrison,” she said. Trying to play it cool, she reached for her phone, quickly typing a few words to Gerald. She hit Send and slowly put the phone back in her purse.
“Recognized me by my voice, did you?”
“No. By the faint scent of brimstone.”
He laughed through his nose, but the sound was tight. She’d gotten to him.
Good.
“I’m hardly the devil.”
“No. You’re not intelligent enough. But you’ll do as one of his minions.”
And with that, she spun around on her heel, taking great care to look down in order to make eye contact.
He was pissed. You had to have spent two years under his command to know that, though. A stranger would see a placid man, a face that gave no quarter.
Harrison Kulli was a compact man, wiry and strong, Standing at about five foot three inches, he exuded anger. It radiated out of him like musk.
That quality had been fabulous in battle, commanding troops.
In civilian life it had only one truly good purpose.
A purpose used by men in power.
Suzanne had done her research, trying to figure out who Kulli worked for. She’d failed. Whoever his client was, the cloak of anonymity was secure.
She didn’t much care. She knew what Gerald would decide. But Kulli’s presence definitely complicated the matter. Over the years, she’d come to wonder whether he’d played a role in Gerald’s leaving her. Call it a hunch. Or intuition.