Roman unlocked the car with a beep but didn’t get in. Instead, he opened the passenger door for her. “I’m sorry I said anything negative about Mad. I have complex feelings for him, but I miss him every single day. I wish he was here because things never seemed as grim when he was around.”
She glanced away, but not before he saw the haunted look in her eyes. “Yeah, Maddox Crawford made even the worst things seem a little better.”
God, he hated the jealousy that snaked through him every time she said Mad’s name. Neither one of them deserved it. They’d been adults and single, and Roman had been plain when he’d ended things with Gus. But it still fucking hurt that Mad had never once asked him if touching Gus was okay.
Not that he’d asked Dax. As far as Roman knew, whatever developed between him and Dax’s sister was going to come as a hell of a surprise.
He held out a hand, blocking the open door so she couldn’t get in the car. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you by sending Connor here. I was simply worried. There’s more you don’t know. I want to tell you, but, damn it, Gus, you can be so reckless. I’m worried if I let you in on everything, you’ll try to fix this on your own. You’ve always broken off from the pack and done your own thing. But the implications are bigger than just Mad’s death or Constance’s, or even your father’s. And now that whoever is behind all this is trying to blackmail Zack, I’m sure you’ve figured out this is serious. I can’t let you go rogue.”
She laughed, the sound tinged with bitterness. “Roman, I’ve never broken off from the pack to go it alone intentionally. I didn’t have a pack to run to, and I was never one of you. Even when I was sleeping with one of you. At the time I thought no woman ever would be included in the inner circle, but I was wrong. You’ve accepted Everly and Lara, and Holland fits right in. Joy was on the inside, too. I know if Mad had lived and married Sara, she would have been included with you all. I’m the only one who gets shut out.”
Because she’d picked the wrong gentleman. She’d picked the one who couldn’t love the way the others did. Roman frowned, but that didn’t stop his hard truths. He’d been handed someone amazing at a young age and he’d kicked her to the curb because she hadn’t been who or what he’d thought she should be. She hadn’t fit the ideal in his mind of whom he should love.
He stood frozen as she sat and buckled her seatbelt.
She wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t blame her.
With a long sigh, Roman closed the door. Gus was here with him, but she still felt alone. That much was apparent. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was, at least in part, responsible. And the only way to fix the situation was to betray his best friends and potentially put her in danger.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gus took a calming breath and again surreptitiously read the text message she’d received while Roman had been questioning Yolanda. She prayed he didn’t pay her any notice now.
If you want the truth about Constance Hayes, meet me in the village cemetery at midnight. Come alone or bring the Hitman with you. I don’t care, but you’re the only one I’ll give the information to.
Deep Throat
The message sent a thrill through her. Sure it was ninety percent abject terror, but she felt the adrenaline rush, too. Maybe this person had answers, like the Deep Throat of Watergate, the source who’d led reporters Woodward and Bernstein to the truth about the break-in at the Watergate Hotel. The information had blown up Nixon’s presidency and forced him to resign.
Sure, she’d considered sharing the message with Roman, but then he’d reminded her once again that she was outside the Perfect Gentlemen’s circle and she always would be. And if this source could tell her something useful, it might put her back in this game. After all, if she got answers, Roman and the others wouldn’t be able to shut her out anymore.
Then, after this mess was unraveled, she could walk away on her own terms.
But if she shared the meet time and place with Roman now, she would likely find herself surrounded by armed escorts, being hauled back to London. Connor would take her place. Roman would throw a wig on the former CIA agent and style him in her Herve Leger bandage dress rather than letting her go to the cemetery.
So now she had to find a way to persuade Roman they needed to stay in the village tonight, instead of returning to London. They’d retire early because she was so exhausted, of course. Once he’d drifted off, she would slip out.
Roman emerged from the small law enforcement office he’d insisted on visiting. “That was a complete waste of time. They have the same police report I’ve read a hundred times. Constance’s blood alcohol level was five times the legal limit, etcetera, etcetera. But when I asked the cop how he thought she could have possibly driven even a mile that intoxicated, he shrugged and said he’s seen worse.”
It must be super frustrating for Roman not to be able to use his powerful position to force people to follow his orders with the snap of a finger. He was so used to it. “Were you able to talk to the officer who wrote the report?”
“He retired last year and now lives in Aruba, believe it or not,” Roman replied. “Come on. Let’s drive to the site of Constance’s crash. I didn’t notice much when we drove past earlier, and it probably won’t tell us anything since it’s been years, but I feel as if we should see whether the police might have overlooked anything relevant about the road or the surroundings. I owe it to Zack to be as thorough as possible. Then we can head back to London before it gets too late.”
“Or we could talk to some of the locals,” she suggested. “Villages like this are similar to small towns back home. Their residents have long memories about events like these. I’ll bet someone remembers that night. Going to the site might even give us an idea about who we should talk to.”
He opened the car door for her. “I thought about questioning the locals myself. That’s not a terrible idea.”
It was a brilliant idea, thank you very much, but she was used to his faint praise. “I know you need to head back to London tonight, but I could stay for a while. I saw a B and B on the edge of town. I’ll see if I can get a reservation. Tomorrow, I’ll shop in the village and have lunch at the local pub, see what I can find.”
Roman shut the car door and before she knew it, he was sliding
in beside her. He had the engine purring and they were making their way down the road that connected the village to the sanatorium again for a closer look at the crash site. “What are you up to, Augustine?”
“The same thing you are, trying to investigate without drawing too much attention,” she replied carefully. “If you’re worried about me being up here alone, call in Everly. She’s worked security and she’s nonthreatening. We’ll say we’re having a girls’ trip. People will talk to us.”
She could deal with Everly. Gabe’s wife was perfectly reasonable and would treat Gus like an actual adult.
“Yes, I’m sure Gabe would love me for that.” Roman turned the car right and kept his eyes glued on the narrow, hilly road. Still, she felt as if his attention was weighing her down. “I can hear the conversation now. ‘Hey, buddy, my girl wants to draw yours into a shit ton of trouble and danger. What do you say?’”
“You don’t have to be an ass about it.” She should have known exactly how he’d respond. All these men seemed to think their women were made of glass.
Gus held in a sigh. Could she return to London and find a way back here before the meeting? She wasn’t missing this opportunity. If someone wanted to play Watergate, Gus would happily play along.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea. I just don’t think Gabe would be all right with me luring Everly into a situation that might require body bags. As it happens, I have a room at that B and B tonight. If you’re intent on doing this, I’ll go with you. I’ll keep my mouth shut since you think I scare people away. You can say I’m your mute boyfriend or that I speak no English. Hell, half the time I’m in Britain I’m sure I don’t. I asked someone where the PCSO was and I was told the bizzies lived on Main.”