Reveling in Sin Read online

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  Asa shakes his head. “Renee never could’ve kept it quiet this long. I don’t believe it.”

  That’s when I blurt out the secret I was keeping from him too. “Renee told me who Ricky’s dad was the day Ricky proposed.”

  “What?” My brother’s eyes widen and he glances at Lincoln for the first time, but looks immediately back at me.

  I explain, quickly and succinctly, all the threats Renee made to force me into the wedding.

  “Jesus Christ, Whit.” He crushes me in another hug. “I thought you loved him. I did. I would never have pushed you into it if I didn’t think it was the best thing for you. I’m so fucking sorry, Whitney. I wish you’d told me.”

  “I didn’t want you to know. I made my choices, and I lived with them.” I look up at my big brother. “Now I need you to be able to live with the choices I’m making now.”

  His expression darkens as he shifts his attention back to Lincoln. I expect my brother to tell me to keep dreaming, but instead he asks me a single question. “Do you love him?”

  “Absolutely and completely.”

  “Then I’ll withhold judgment. For now.”

  “Thank you.” Lincoln finally speaks, and the fact that he stayed quiet this long and let me and my brother say what we needed to say makes me love him even more. “And you’re more than welcome to spend as much time with Whitney here as you want. I’m sure there’s a lot your sister would like to tell you. If you need a place to stay, we can set you up with a room on the VIP floor at The Gables.”

  “Are you giving away my rooms again?” McKinley says as she joins us.

  “I do need to talk to my sister, but I don’t need your charity. I pay my own way.”

  “Mr. Gable, we don’t consider it charity. We consider it making sure everyone is shielded from the press to the extent we can assure it,” McKinley says, countering him.

  Asa’s gaze narrows on her. “I can handle myself just fine, Ms. Riscoff.”

  McKinley shifts her weight from foot to foot, and I have to wonder if Asa makes her nervous.

  “Let’s take this conversation to the library,” Lincoln says. “Whitney can catch you up on everything that’s happened.”

  My brother’s muscles tense, and I know he wants to spend time at the Riscoff estate about as much as he wants to step on an IED.

  “Please, Asa.”

  21

  Lincoln

  Asa Gable, a man I’ve always thought was unflappable, looks dumbfounded when Whitney finally finishes explaining everything that has happened since she returned to Gable.

  “Jesus Christ. If I’d known, I’d have left the jungle and gotten my ass here a hell of a lot sooner. This is a goddamned disaster. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit alone.”

  “She’s not dealing with it alone. Your sister has the full power of the Riscoff family behind her.”

  Asa’s gaze flicks to me. “She shouldn’t need it. She should be able to have the quiet, simple life she wanted after Ricky died. This isn’t that.”

  “That’s not their fault, Asa. It’s Ricky and Renee’s,” Whitney says.

  “I know. I just want you to be happy, and having the press come down twice as hard on you isn’t making that happen.” He pauses. “And then Renee gets a gun and it all goes to hell, and now we’ll never know the truth.”

  “Didn’t she submit the DNA sample for testing anyway?” McKinley asks. “Couldn’t we still pursue it?”

  “No. She had forty-eight hours to provide one after a DNA sample could be collected from Father, so her sample was never delivered.”

  “Do you really think she had one?” Whitney’s brother sounds skeptical when he voices the question.

  “I don’t know. Part of me says no. I think there’s a good chance she just wanted money, and expected that by sending the letter to Commodore, he’d pay her off with a quick settlement to keep it all quiet.”

  Asa leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “Renee always had money when we were growing up. Ricky had the best of everything, even though she didn’t work. I always wondered about his dad, and thought maybe he was paying the bills, but we never talked about it.”

  His observation drops like a lead weight in my gut. “If we look at it logically, there’s a good chance money is all she was after. If my father was paying her to keep quiet, the money would’ve stopped when he died.”

  “But by then, Ricky was starting to make money,” Whitney says.

  I nod. “And Renee had you to write the songs to ensure he kept making money.”

  “That fucking bitch,” Asa whispers. “And when Ricky died . . . she needed a new income stream.”

  I finish his train of thought. “Which fits with the timing of Commodore getting the request for a paternity test just after Ricky died.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Asa shoots to his feet. “I wish I’d known. I never would’ve let her get away with this. I would’ve gotten answers, and now there’s no goddamned chance we can.”

  “Unless . . .” McKinley’s voice is hesitant. “Unless someone comes forward with a kid that’s Ricky’s.”

  * * *

  I shake my head. “I don’t think there is one. If she had a grandkid she was protecting, she wouldn’t have done what she did today.”

  “You’re right.” Shockingly, Asa agrees with me, and then he says something I don’t expect. “Has anyone thought about exhuming Ricky’s body? That’s the only other way to tell.”

  We all look at him, and I wonder why the hell I didn’t think of it first.

  “Ricky was cremated. It was Renee’s choice,” Whitney says quietly.

  “Why would she have him cremated if his DNA could possibly prove her case?” my sister asks.

  “Because she’s a liar and she didn’t want anyone to be able to prove it,” Asa says as he grips the back of his neck. “We need to find out more. Hire a PI. Get proof either way.”

  “We’re already on it. There are several investigators currently working on the situation.”

  Whitney’s brows go up. “There are?”

  “Yes, and they’ll tell us immediately if they find anything.”

  “Good. Keep me informed.”

  I don’t like Asa Gable giving me orders, but in the interest of keeping the peace, I nod.

  Whitney rises and moves toward her brother. “Are you staying? What’s your plan?”

  “I’m here until after Cricket’s wedding, and then I have to get back.”

  “Get back where?” McKinley asks, and quite frankly, I’m shocked by her question and her curiosity about him.

  “That’s above your pay grade, Ms. Riscoff.” He turns to look at Whitney. “I’m going to go check in on Aunt Jackie. You coming?”

  “Commodore thought it would be safer if we all stayed here for now.”

  Her brother’s gaze cuts to me. “Really? The old man has you on lockdown?”

  “Your name has been added to the guest list,” I tell him instead of giving him the confrontation he seems to want. “Feel free to come back anytime.”

  Asa nods at me, and I still see mocking derision in his gaze.

  “Take care of my sister, or I’ll take care of you.” With that vague threat, he heads for the door.

  McKinley watches him as he leaves. “He’s . . . interesting.”

  “He’s been in the military since he turned eighteen, so he’s a little . . . rough,” Whitney explains.

  My sister stares at the door he just walked out of with enough concentration that I’m tempted to return the beating Gable gave me to encourage him to stay the hell away from her.

  “He’s not in uniform.”

  “I don’t think he’s active duty any more. I don’t actually know what he does . . . because he’ll never say.”

  From the look of her brother, I’m going to guess that Whitney is one hundred percent accurate. She must not have caught the ten-thousand-dollar watch he was wearing on his wrist, but I did.

  I
don’t know what Asa Gable does, but it pays a hell of a lot better than Uncle Sam.

  One more mystery to add to the unsolved column, but at least this one doesn’t bother me too much. No matter what Asa thinks of me, he’ll never do anything he thinks will hurt his sister.

  “So, what’s next on today’s exciting agenda?” McKinley asks. “Because I’m not sure if I need to start drinking yet or wait until later.”

  22

  Whitney

  With the press still in a frenzy outside the gates due to the grisly events of a few days ago, plus my bombshell confession about Ricky, Commodore still insists we only leave the house if absolutely necessary. When I ask about my cousin’s final dress fitting and he deems it unnecessary, I disagree completely.

  “I appreciate your concerns,” I tell him, “but this isn’t something I can miss. She’s not just my cousin; she’s my best friend. I’ve already let the media take enough from me, and I’m not giving this up too.”

  He shifts in his power chair and studies me for a solid minute. “And if I still say no?”

  “I’ll leave anyway. You said it yourself—what matters most is family, and Cricket might as well be my sister.”

  For a few moments, I expect him to shut me down completely, but he tilts his head.

  “Have them come here instead. You’re right; there’s no reason we should let the press keep us from important things. However, to protect our privacy, we may have to rearrange things.”

  There’s a note of respect in his tone, and I accept the compromise.

  Two hours later, I hug Cricket as she walks into the Riscoff mansion, her eyebrows nearing her hairline.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. But with everything happening, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind too much.”

  Cricket releases me. “Shut up, Whit. This is awesome.”

  “And when we’re done, we have a champagne lunch waiting for us out in the garden.”

  Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “I wanted to make today special.”

  “Mission accomplished. You’re the best.”

  The seamstress arrives moments later, and we move to the conservatory where a pedestal has been set up for the final fitting.

  “Are you sure you’re not going to change your shoes? You don’t want to wear heels to the reception?” the seamstress asks.

  Cricket sticks her Birkenstock-clad foot out from under the skirt of the dress. “I’m wearing these the whole night. Before the wedding, during, and after. No one is changing my mind, and I don’t care if you think they don’t match.”

  I bite my lip to quash my grin, because the seamstress clearly doesn’t know Cricket that well. It comes as zero surprise to me that she’s wearing sandals on her big day. It doesn’t matter that she’s getting married at what is likely the most expensive venue in the state—she’s still Cricket, and that’s just one thing I love so much about her.

  “Fine. Fine. I just wanted to give you the chance to change your mind.”

  Cricket crouches down so she can address the lady eye-to-eye. “I’m granola-crunchy and I like it that way. The fact that I’m wearing a traditional wedding dress at all is a miracle, and only because my mother-in-law would die if I walked down the aisle in cutoffs and a tank. Got it?”

  The woman nods, and I hold back a laugh.

  “You look beautiful, Cricket. The dress is perfect. Your sandals will be comfortable, and the wedding will be magical.”

  Tension lines my cousin’s face, and some of the happiness bubbling up inside me fades when I realize she’s not nearly as confident about the wedding as I am.

  “I keep asking Hunter if we can just cancel the whole thing and elope. It’s so much pressure, and this town has gone crazy.”

  Guilt floods me again because when I came back, crazy followed me to town.

  “I’m so sorry, Cricket.”

  “No, I didn’t mean because of you, Whit. You know I didn’t. I keep thinking that maybe we don’t need another thing to fuss over after everything that’s happened.”

  I meet my cousin’s gaze. “What do you want? Screw Hunter’s mom and everyone else. This is your wedding. How do you picture it?”

  She closes her eyes, and I wonder if it’s the first time anyone has asked her opinion. I pray that I’m wrong.

  “I want simple. Hunt and my family. Trees and mountains in the background, and the sound of rushing water underlying it all.”

  McKinley, who watches from the doorway, finally speaks up. “I can promise that you’ll have the background and sound you want. Your family, I can’t control, but we can make everything else perfect. We can cut out all the extra trappings that people usually tack on to make weddings over the top at The Gables. How about a sunset ceremony with only the people who matter to you?”

  The lines on Cricket’s face soften. “That sounds incredible. Like maybe there’s a chance I could have a wedding that doesn’t look like Bridezilla planned it.”

  “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’re going to have,” McKinley says as she steps into the room. “I have the perfect spot in mind, and we’ll keep it as simple as possible. Also, just so you know, we’re honored to have you at The Gables for your wedding.”

  I already liked McKinley Riscoff, but now I like her even more because she put happy tears in my cousin’s eyes.

  Thank you. I mouth the words to her as the seamstress finishes the last-minute alterations on Cricket’s dress.

  “Do you want to join us for lunch?” Cricket asks McKinley. “I hear there’s champagne.”

  McKinley smiles. “I’d love to.”

  For a few moments, I feel like everything is going to work out fine. The rehearsal is only a few days away, and then Cricket can have her beautiful but not too over-the-top wedding.

  But I’ve been known to speak too soon.

  23

  Lincoln

  “Unfortunately, your mother’s tissue didn’t pass the necessary screenings for donation,” the organ-donation coordinator says. “We’ve notified the funeral home that she is ready for pick up because the coroner has also finished, and the hospital is officially releasing—”

  “What are you talking about?” I grip my phone tightly as I close myself in the room my father used as an office at the estate. “How could she not pass the screening?”

  “Sir, I’m not at liberty to speak further on the subject. I’m sure the coroner would be more than happy to discuss the findings of your mother’s autopsy report with you if you have questions. I know he fast-tracked it due to your family’s request.”

  It’s been three days since my mother’s death, and this is the last conversation I expected to be having. I assumed all the organs and tissue had already been harvested and put into use by now. “She was on heart medication. Is that why?”

  The woman clears her throat. “No, sir. That wasn’t it. You really should talk to the coroner. I can’t speak further on the subject without putting my job at risk.”

  Frustration mounts, but I understand her position, and I know I’m not going to get anywhere if I keep pushing her.

  “Thank you for the information. I’ll handle it from here.” I end the call, probably quicker than I should, but it’s better than unleashing my temper on the messenger.

  I pick up the phone to call the coroner, but when no one answers, I’m forced to leave a message full of questions.

  The main one running through my mind is, What the fuck is going on? What could my mother possibly have been taking that would show up in a tox screening that would disqualify her from organ and tissue donation?

  I leave the office and track McKinley down in the library to find out if she knows any more than I do.

  McKinley shrugs. “She took heart medication. That’s it, as far as I’m aware, other than vitamins. I can’t imagine those would’ve been an issue.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,”
she says with a nod.

  I have to believe my sister is right. I can’t picture my mother being able to hide taking something. Not just because she had no way to obtain illicit drugs, but because her behavior and attitude never changed. I would have noticed.

  For the first time since Harrison walked out the door, I wish my brother hadn’t left. He spent more time with our mother than either McKinley or me . . . and if she wanted something, he would have found a way to get it for her.

  But my brother wouldn’t have acted as my mother’s drug dealer. Would he?

  The fact that I can’t answer that question with complete certainty bothers me more than anything.

  “Call Harrison. Ask him what he knows. He’ll respond better to you than to me,” I tell my sister.

  She nods and pulls out her phone to initiate the call, but it doesn’t ring. Instead, we hear a recorded message stating that his number is no longer in service.

  “Fuck. Commodore already shut it down.” I stare out the window for a beat before I look back at her. “Do you have any idea where he’d go?”

  “Other than old frat brothers, I don’t think Harrison has many friends. I have absolutely no idea who he’d call for help or where he’d go.” McKinley shakes her head. “Do we know how much money he had?”

  “I didn’t keep track of what he kept in his bank account. He got paid well and didn’t have any bills that I know of, so unless he blew it all, he would have plenty. He could be on the other side of the world by now.”

  McKinley presses her lips together. “I’ll start looking online.”

  “Let me know if you find anything. I’m going to go talk to Commodore. We need the coroner to get out here and explain what the fuck is going on, because something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Thank you for coming, Dr. Bard. We appreciate it.” I lead the coroner through the house to the office where Commodore is waiting.