“Your research took you that far, and then your mother shuts you down and you didn’t want to listen.”
“It was just research. Anyone can find the information if they look for it. And if this is what we’re dealing with, then we have to see it through. The world needs to know.”
Maybe Braden finally understood Cressida. Her mother was all about secrets, and Cressida had taken a completely different path in writing exposés. He might now understand why she hadn’t so easily dropped the story that she now very well could have the chance to complete in a way she never imagined.
If they survived this. They needed to report this to someone in authority, but he would talk to Octavia about it first—she had known all along but hadn’t been free to discuss it with him—that is, if he hadn’t gotten this completely wrong. He needed to know with certainty what he was dealing with before he contacted someone in authority. He needed to know with certainty whom he could trust, if Octavia’s own man she sent was now betraying her, searching for the location of a deadly secret.
He realized he’d been quiet much too long, lost in his thoughts, and Cressida was staring at him.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking,” she said, “we need to find Diggins first. He was in the woods when I drove up, and this locket is the truth he needs so he’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“Sounds like Evelyn has already told you.”
“Diggins could know more,” she said.
“You could be handing this over to the very people who killed your father.”
“And this is how we’ll find out.” Cressida gripped the locket and moved to look out the window, then turned her attention back to him. “Let’s end this once and for all. But from now on, I want the full truth from you.”
“I didn’t betray you, Cressida, in the sense of deliberate disloyalty.” He’d wanted to be a hero for his sister, for Elise. For the two who meant the most to him, and now he was floundering. “One last thing you should know...” And he was betraying her mother by telling her.
She arched a brow and stepped into his space. “What’s that?”
He glanced at his watch. She’d be here by late morning or early afternoon. If she took a private jet, she could be here within the hour. “Your mother is on her way to Hidden Bay.”
37
On the back of his motorcycle, Cressida held on to Braden, her arms wrapped around this man who’d lied to her. Or rather, it was a lie of omission. She almost detested the feel of his taut back muscles and tight abdomen.
He’d returned Hawk’s pickup and opted to take his Ducati to the Pirates’ Bash for easier parking and a quicker escape if necessary.
So she held on and let the thoughts bombard her. Everything Evelyn had shared, the many possibilities of what could lie at the location, and the fact that her mother was on her way to Hidden Bay. She could already be here.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
Wasn’t it just like Mom to try to sabotage Cressida’s efforts? Braden claimed her mother hadn’t told him the reason she was coming. The woman was probably already in the state, making her way to Hidden Bay. Cressida shoved concerns of her mother behind her for now. She’d deal with her when she saw her. But thinking about something else wasn’t as easy as she hoped.
She couldn’t forget Evelyn’s words about forgiving her father for the role he’d played in the loss of her husband and, in the end, the loss of her son. And yet, Evelyn Monroe still forgave him.
Seriously, how had she done it?
Cressida couldn’t fathom forgiving her mother, but she had to admit that resentment and bitterness, the estrangement, were eating her up inside.
How, Lord, how?
How do I forgive?
Braden decelerated as they entered the packed marina parking lot. More parking was created for the bash. Time to focus on the clear and present danger. Looking for Diggins. Cressida had seen him when she’d arrived at Evelyn’s safe house. Then Cressida and Braden had searched the woods near the house, but Diggins was nowhere to be found.
Supposedly, he was an important figure at the Pirates’ Bash, so his presence was required. Cressida had wanted to attend anyway from the moment she’d heard about it—for research purposes, of course. Except now her reason for attending was far different. No mulling about and free-spirited exploring to learn what she could from the locals about the region and their impressions of the folklore surrounding theSpecter’s Bounty.
She hopped off the motorcycle, and Braden secured both their helmets. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day for the bash, but in the distance, clouds boiled up again. No matter. Washingtonians were accustomed to the rain.
She didn’t even want to look at Braden, not really, but they had to work together and, in this instance, trust each other. Then when this was over, she was done with him.
Forgive.
Okay, she might forgive him because—she had to admit—he’d had a good reason to keep the information from her,but that didn’t prevent her from walking away without seeing what could happen between them. She gave a quick glance his way. He was surveying the crowd, his expression as intense as she’d ever seen over the course of a few days.
