Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (20 page)

Ciro Halloran. Lucy Madole. Lamiae. Ricky.

Another came in.

I can help you.

I slid off Lydia’s desk. “I need to talk to Pamela. If Gabriel comes back early, can you give me a head start before you tell him?”

“Enough time so he can’t catch up and stop you?”

“Please. Pamela’s being a pain in the ass, and I don’t want him dealing with her. I’ll shut her down myself.”

I arrived at the prison and was putting my phone in the glove compartment when it started to ring with Gabriel’s tone. I hit Ignore, murmured an apology, tucked it away, and hurried off.

I
was ready to do battle with Pamela. Ready for that wide I’m-so-happy-to-see-you smile that lights up her face and makes me feel guilty for cutting her out of my life. Ready for the I-just-want-to-protect-you-Eden bullshit that led to a good man’s death.

But for the first time, my mother walked into the visiting room with her head high, no hint of a smile on her face. No smiles for the guard, either. No whispered words of thanks for the escort, whom she dismissed with a flick of her fingers.

“Eden,” Pamela said. “You got my message.”

“I did.”

“You’re well?” Her gaze surveyed me. It was a thorough assessment, but a cool one, as if ensuring one’s prize mare hadn’t been injured. “Gabriel left me a message detailing all of your injuries and your prognosis and your release from the hospital.” A humorless smile. “I would thank him for being so considerate, if it didn’t come with a warning to stop contacting you. Screw him.”

This was my mother. My real mother. Looking in her eyes right now, I could finally reconcile the woman before me with the one who’d murdered four people.

“What do you want, Pamela?” I asked. “You’re offering me information. Therefore you want something. Quid pro quo. It’s the Tylwyth Teg way.”

That icy composure cracked at the edges. My mother hates the fae, even if we both share their blood.

“I want to renew contact,” she said. “With you.”

My laugh came harsh. “Bullshit. I see through you now, Pamela. Don’t play the doting mother—”

“You don’t see me at all, Eden. And yes, I will call you that. You are Eden to me. You are Eden to your father, even if he is more circumspect. I
am
the doting mother. I’m simply not the kind of doting mother you’re comfortable with—the one who bakes cookies and sings you to sleep. Look to your father for that sort of love. Look to me for protection.”

“All right. Since we seem to be putting our cards on the table, let me lay out mine. Don’t ever use that word with me again.”

“Mother?”

“Protection. We both know where your maternal protection led, and I’m sick of hearing how everything is for my own good. Move on.”

Her lips curved and that ice thawed, just a little. “Good girl. Consider the matter set aside. Yes, I do want something. I want a place in your life, and if I need to bribe you to get it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“You said you have information on the lamiae murders. From where?”

“The same place I get many special treats these days, Eden. I’ve always had benefactors. In the past, the Cŵn Annwn looked after me. That was the deal—if we were convicted, they would make prison easier for me and your father.”

“So this information comes from the Cŵn Annwn?”

“No, they have made sure I am safe in here and never need to worry about anything as trivial as my commissary fund. But it’s not as if they visit me or seek my favor by offering useful information.”

“Which someone now is.”

“Several someones.”

“Starting with Tristan.”

“Yes. And after his disappearance, my stock soared in value. I am the mother of the new Matilda. I paid the price of my freedom to cure her from a crippling condition. Then I enlisted Tristan and, ultimately, left him to take the fall for crimes we conspired to commit. I bested one of their own. And they fall over themselves to praise me for that as a sign of my power, my strength. I have met monsters in here, but there are none that compare to the average fae.”

“Yet you use them to your advantage.”

“I do. I just never forget what they are. They court my favor now, in hopes I’ll use my influence with you.”

“Influence for what?”

“Everything. To convince you to side with one or the other. To side with neither. To betray one. To take them under your wing and give them sanctuary in Cainsville. To champion their cause and invoke the fury of the Cŵn Annwn on their behalf. There is much you can do for fae.”

“So that’s the price: you give me information, and I grant them favors.”

“No, I promise them nothing. I would never see you obliged to the fae, Eden.”

“Okay, so this information …”

“Ciro Halloran’s common-law wife was murdered two months ago,” she said. “My sources tell me he is now killing lamiae. Two so far. I trust you know that much.”

“I do.”

“His wife, Lucy Madole, came from a family of
mhacasamhail.
That’s Gaelic for ‘counterpart.’”

“Families with ties to the fae. Generations-long reciprocal relationships.”

Pamela sniffed. “Generations-long slavery. But yes, the Madole family are samhail. So is the Halloran family.”

“Ciro’s?”

She smiled. “Good. I’ve added new information to your investigation. Yes, the Hallorans are also samhail. That’s how Lucy met Ciro. It is also why he’s been able to avoid death by the hounds of the Cŵn Annwn.”

“It also means he
knows
he isn’t killing random street kids.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know
why
he’s killing them?”

She shook her head. “My contacts only see what’s happening. But take a closer look at the murders. They aren’t random stabbings.”

“I know the killings themselves seem ritualistic. Is there more?”

“My contacts don’t know. The bodies haven’t been found. That’s common with fae. After death, the glamour breaks.”

“On to Ricky, then,” I said. “What do you know about his connection to this?”

“That he’s been framed for Halloran’s disappearance. Framed poorly.”

I had to bite my tongue not to comment on that.

“I’m still worried,” I said.

“Of course you are. Ricky is a good man. The Cŵn Annwn are not fae. They have principles. Like your father. I’m trying to get more on this problem with Ricky. Right now, I know only that he was accused. Getting a reason is my priority, Eden, because I know it’s yours.”

So she would keep digging, but to hear what she found, I had to visit her. I agreed to that.

As I rose to leave, she said, “Before you go, I’d like to thank you for letting Gabriel take my case.”

I took a moment to assimilate that. Then I said calmly, “You were doing so well. I really thought we were making progress. But when it comes to Gabriel, you cannot resist.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know he didn’t or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”

“So I should have kept that from you? Let you go on thinking you can trust him?”

“I can trust him. Yes, in the past he’s done things that hurt me because they benefited him financially. But that isn’t the reason here, is it?”

“Of course it is. He’ll be well compensated—”

“There is not enough money in the world to make him represent you again. This is about exonerating Todd. I want my father out. To give me that, Gabriel’s willing to represent the woman who tried to put him in jail for life.”

“And he made that decision without consulting you.”

“He had to. Even if it means hurting Todd’s chances, I could never have let Gabriel do it. So he’s taken that choice out of my hands, and maybe it makes me a coward and a hypocrite, but I appreciate what he’s done.”

“You appreciate him betraying your trust.”

“Yep. And I appreciate you telling me, because it gives me the perfect excuse to say
screw off, Mom.”

I got to my feet. The guard started forward, but Pamela’s hand shot up to stop her.

“All right, Eden. You win that one. You’re right. I cannot overlook an opportunity to drive a wedge between you and Gabriel.
You’re going to need to allow me that one weakness. However, you have my word that I won’t hurt him to do it.”

“You’re in jail. You can’t
physically
hurt him yourself. Nice loophole. Try again, Pamela.”

I walked back to the table. Sat. Folded my hands on it. Waited. It took at least two full minutes before she said, “I will do nothing that could lead to him being physically harmed. I will do nothing that could lead to him being incarcerated or otherwise forcibly removed from your life. If I ever do, you have the right to never see me again.”

“Still a loophole, should you decide that getting rid of him is worth it.”

Her jaw tensed, just a little, but she said, “Fine. You have my unequivocal word. I will do nothing to see him physically harmed or forcibly removed from your life.”

“Good.” I rose again. “I’m still going to penalize you for that foul, though. If you have more information on Ricky, I will come see you. However, you need to contact me through Gabriel.”

“And trust he’ll actually tell you?”

“He will.”

G
abriel
was waiting in the hall. Not standing there impatiently. Not checking his e-mail. Not jotting notes on a scrap of paper. Just standing, his attention fixed on the visiting room door. When I walked out, his gaze shot to my face. I kept my expression impassive as I said, “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

It was, I will admit, a cruel jab, given that I’d just told Pamela I was fine with what Gabriel had done. But if I walked out of that room and said, “It’s okay. I understand,” that would give him an excuse the next time.

His only reaction was a cheek tic and the slightest shift of his gaze. For Gabriel, though, that was as sure a sign of shame and guilt as if he’d dropped to his knees.

“I should have told you.”

“
When
should you have told me? At what point, exactly?”

A glimpse of something almost like panic, as his mind whirred to come up with the right answer. He knew the one I wanted, and while Gabriel Walsh had no problem telling people what they wanted to hear—truth be damned—I was different.

“It’s not a test, Gabriel,” I said. “Put it this way—when do you think I’d want you to tell me?”

“Before I first spoke to her.”

“And when do
you
think you should have told me?”

“Immediately after she agreed.”

I laughed. The sound startled him, as he looked at me in confusion. I rose up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his cheek. “You passed.”

Now he really did stare at me, as if suspecting I’d been passed an illegal narcotic during my brief prison sojourn.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m sure you’d rather have had a handshake, but I couldn’t resist. You’ll survive.”

I pointed toward the exit, and we started out. We got through the doors. Then I said, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Okay, I think you should have told me right away. I can hardly say that I’m
glad
you went behind my back, can I? In future, just tell me, okay? Then do whatever you think is best. But I understand why you skipped that this time, and so I accept your apology.”

“I haven’t apologized yet.”

“Mmm, right. Do you want to do that? Or just pretend you did?”

“I made a conscious decision to do what I thought was right, knowing that you would likely disagree. I’m sorry if you thought it was the wrong decision.”

“That’s kinda like an apology. Sure, I’ll take it. Now, do you have dinner plans?”

“Do I ever?”

“You do now.”

Our early dinner turned into a late one, lingering over the meal and then dessert and then coffee. We talked about his strategy for Pamela and Todd. We talked about what Pamela had told me.
We talked about Aunika and Ciro and the lamiae and what we’d do next. And we talked. Mostly, we just talked.

I’d had a bit too much wine to fetch my car, so Gabriel drove me to Ricky’s. If I needed a lift in the morning, just call. No, scratch that—he’d pick me up at eight.

When I opened Ricky’s door and saw him dozing on the couch, textbook open on his chest, I watched him and thought how lucky I was. I stood there, grinning like an idiot, the wine still singing through my veins. Then I crept forward until I was right beside him and—

Ricky grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto him in a kiss.

“Gotcha,” he said.

“That was supposed to be my line.”

“You’re too slow.”

He tugged me on top of him and pushed the book to the floor with a thump. Then he kissed me, a sweet and deep kiss that seemed to ignite that lingering wine, sending it roaring to my head, making me light-headed and giddy and happy. Indescribably happy. When he ended the kiss, he caught my chin and lifted my face over his, looking up at me.

“Yes, I may have over-imbibed on the cabernet.”

He chuckled, a delicious throaty chuckle, as intoxicating as the wine. He stroked his thumb over my cheek and said, “You look happy,” and I thought I caught a note of wistfulness in his voice and I pulled up a little, worried, but his smile held no hint of that, and his next kiss was even better than the first. A kiss that had me stretching out against him, pressing against him, as he entwined his fingers in my hair. No quick shedding of clothing. No hands moving anywhere other than hair and hips. Just a kiss. A wonderful kiss.

When it broke, he took my face in his hands again, fingers stroking both sides of it, eyes looking up into mine as he smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you happy again, Liv.”

“Um, pretty sure I’ve been happy for about six months now, ever since a certain guy convinced me to go out with him.”

He smiled. “You’ve been happy. Just not like this. Not for a while. It’s good to see.” He kissed me again, briefer now, slower and sweeter.

When I pulled back, I said, “You could make me happier,” and his smile grew to a grin.

“Could I?” he said. “And how would I do that?”