Page 35 of Absolution

“Hmmm.” He didn’t sound convinced, but gratitude flashed in his blue eyes. “You’re right, little girl, but—”

“But what?” she interrupted, abruptly aware of the heat spreading to her face as she countered him. He’d thrown her over his lap for less impertinence, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding back from her.

“Tucker.” Their eyes met as she employed his name. Ella knew he loathed her using it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He’d been agitated and distracted since she’d found him this morning, and initially, she’d put that down to the break-in, but the more time crawled past, the more she wondered if things were worse than he was letting on. The way his stare drilled into her did little to quell her rising apprehension.

“I need to talk to you about that.” His voice was quiet—unusually quiet for Tucker—and the fact he hadn’t chastised her for using his name was also troubling.

“Okay.” She squeezed his fingers, pulling in air. “I’m listening, sir.”

His gaze darted to the marble countertop as though the ornate design would help him find the right words. “There was something else.”

“Something else?”

Time was moving in the same strange pockets it had applied during her stay in the cabin. It felt as though the kitchen was swirling around her, yet she knew she was sitting on the stool at the marble island.

“Apart from the roses.” He scowled. “The bastard left a message on the card that came with your flowers.”

“Oh.” She glanced at what remained of her bouquet, eyeing the one remaining rose. She’d transferred it to a smaller vase and cleared away the remnants of the others but hadn’t spotted the small card that had been sent with them. “I didn’t see that this morning.”

“That’s because I have it.” He reached into his shirt pocket and tugged out the pristine card. Tucker had insisted on changing into the more formal attire before Ewan arrived. “I held back from telling you because I didn’t want you to worry, but…” He hesitated. “I don’t like keeping things from you, little girl.” He placed the card down and slid it across the counter to her.

“Thanks.” Her attention fell to the red ink that had graffitied her love note, her stomach churning as she read the words.

I’M BACK, BOWMAN. C.

Shit.

Ella didn’t know who’d written the menacing missive, but the creepy scrawl, added to the sinister circumstances, made it clear the culprit knew who Tucker was and didn’t have his best intentions at heart.

“Do you know who wrote it?” She pressed her palm onto the cool marble.

“I have a good idea.” His jaw tightened.

“Care to share, sir?”

“Yes.” His pained expression said otherwise, but Ella appreciated his willingness to disclose the information, regardless. “It’s all rooted in my shadowy past, Ella, and I’m afraid some of it might not be easy to hear.”

“Is it about my dad?” A new wave of unease twisted inside her.

“Not this time.” He chuckled, as though Alexander’s potential involvement was in any way amusing. “At least, I don’t think so. His name doesn’t start with ‘C’, and anyway, the Bennett I know wouldn’t have the balls to do this.”

It was difficult to disagree. The man who’d turned out to be her father was far from brave or heroic.

“Who then?” she pressed.

“Another jerk from my past, this time from the military.” Tucker scowled, gesturing to the card. “I’m pretty sure he tried to kill me once and fucked it up, and I have the distinct impression that this latest message is supposed to scare me.”

Based on what Ella had witnessed, the unknown perpetrator had succeeded. She’d never known Tucker so shaken up before.

“Why?” She shook her head. “Why does he want to kill you, sir?”

“I never figured that part out.” The anguish in his eyes conveyed how torturous Tucker had found that experience. “I was discharged from service and never saw the cretin again.”

“Why do you think it’s him, then?” Perhaps Ella couldn’t see the full picture, but she couldn’t see how the break-in and albeit ominous message confirmed the culprit’s identity. “Is he ‘C’?”

“Yes. His name is Collins.” He shrugged. “But I suspect another of my old foes is really behind this break-in.”

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