“Fact was, she didn’t like me. And she didn’t waste a moment telling me who she was and why she was important. That says something about a person, Alex.”
“The wine comment?” She rolled her eyes. “First off, here it’s all about wine. If you are the wine, you let people know. Second, if you think she didn’t like you, it’s probably your own guilty conscience making you feel that way.”
“My guilty conscience?”
“You’re worried about what I might have told her.”
She was teasing him, but he flushed. Obviously, she’d pushed a button. “She’s possessive of you. It’s not normal.”
“That’s not true.”
“An entitlement thing. Like all those children of the vine.”
“You’ve had too much to drink. Children of the vine, give me a brea-”
She bit the last back and brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. I know what it means.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“What you just said. Children of the vine. Not children, boys. Boys of the Vine. That’s what BOV stands for.”
He reached for his wine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My mother… the ring, its inscription…” Alex felt sick and got to her feet. “I have to leave. I need some air.”
“Alex, what… wait-”
She ignored his attempts to stop her and hurried from the restaurant out onto the street. Even though it was a Monday night, the square hummed with activity.
Blindly, she started to walk. Her thoughts whirled. Her mother. It was true. It couldn’t be, but it was.
It felt like losing her again. The few good memories, hopes and dreams that she had managed to cobble together, destroyed. She wanted to hate her. It would hurt so much less than this betrayal.
How could you, Mom? How could you be so low? So pathetic?
“Alex?”
She looked up, vision blurred with tears. Reed. With a woman. His partner, she recognized.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, I’m-” She moved into his arms and clung to him.
His arms came around and she pressed her face into his chest. She tried not to imagine her mother with those young men, concentrating instead on the steady rise and fall of Reed’s chest and how safe she felt in his arms. How reassured.
Tim called her name. He’d caught sight of her, she realized. And in that same moment, she realized how crazy she must look to Reed, his partner and anybody else strolling by.
“Alex, what’s going on? Is that man bothering you?”
“No, it’s-” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “The inscription on the ring, I figured it out, Reed. BOV means Boys of the Vine. My mother’s boys. The story’s true.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Monday, March 15
8:20 P.M.
Reed watched Alex and her ex walk away. BOV. Boys of the Vine. It fit, that was for sure.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He looked at Tanner in question.
“You’re a stand-up guy, Reed. Rock solid. And I like you. Clarkson, on the other hand, seems to be operating from a place somewhere left of center. She worries me.”
She worried him as well. On several levels. Not the least of which was the way seeing her with her ex-husband made him feel.
The ex who hadn’t acted like an ex. He’d been protective. And possessive. When he’d introduced himself, there had been a tone in his voice, a look in his eyes. That man-to-man sizing up of the competition. A challenge issued.
Reed had recognized it because he’d had the same tone, the same look. Obviously, Tanner had picked up on it.
He turned to her. “Mind if I bag on dinner? I’m going to run this BOV thing by a couple of old-timers.”
“Want company?”
“Not this time.” He started off. She stopped him by calling his name.
“Got your cell?” He indicated that he did and she patted hers, clipped to her hip. “Use it, dude.”
He did, calling ahead to make certain his dad was at home. He was. Luckily, his brother Joe was there as well. He parked behind Joe’s big-ass Benz and climbed out.
His mom had seen the headlights and met him at the door. “This is such a lovely surprise, Dan.”
He kissed her cheek. “For me, too.”
“Your dad and Joe are in the library. Talking business, as always. Have you eaten?”
“No. And yes, I’d love to stay.”
Reed made his way to the library and tapped on the partially closed door before sticking his head inside. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, Son.” His father waved him in. “Have a seat.”
From Joe’s expression, Reed suspected their father had been delivering news Joe hadn’t particularly cared for.
Every once in a while, Reed compared his brothers’ lifestyles to his own and wondered if he’d screwed up. The luxury vehicles and exotic trips, grand homes and designer clothing. Then he’d get a peek at what that lifestyle really cost his brothers and be thankful for his decision. He’d rather drive his battered SUV than be his dad’s punching bag or puppet.
His dad poured him a glass of wine. “Particularly proud of this one,” he said.
“What brings you out tonight?” Joe asked stiffly, refilling his glass.
Reed kept his eyes trained on his brother. “Boys of the Vine.”
Joe seemed to freeze. “What did you say?”
“BOV. Boys of the Vine.” Reed shifted his gaze from Joe’s pale face to his father’s flushed one, then back. “Joe? You recognize the name?”
His brother looked helplessly at his father. Reed found something in his expression trapped. And horribly lost.
He and his older brother had never gotten along that well, but he found himself feeling sorry for him.
“For God’s sake, Dan!” his dad exclaimed. “This isn’t the time or place-”
“You’re right on one account, Dad. It’s past time.” He turned back to his brother. “Joe? You recognize it?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice choked. “I recognize it. Boys of the Vine. That was us.”
“Who?”
“Our posse. Me and Clark. Terry, Tom and Spanky. A couple others.”
“That’s all I wanted. Confirmation.”
“Dinner is ready,” Lyla said from the doorway.
“I’m not staying,” Joe said. “I promised Cindi I’d be back in time to help with homework.”
“But I thought-”
“Sorry, Mom. My bad.” He kissed her goodbye, then without a word to either of the other two men, left.
Lyla looked from one to the other of them. “What was that all about?”
“Don’t know, sweetheart.” Wayne rubbed his hands together. “But that means more for me.”
During dinner, his father was like another man. Not even a shadow of what had transpired seemed to cross his features. He was every inch the jovial, accommodating husband. The sympathetic father.
His father was a chameleon, Reed thought. Why hadn’t he noticed before?
His mother interrupted his thoughts. “Have you made any progress on finding Tom’s killer? I saw Jill the other day, poor thing looked devastated.”
“The investigation’s ongoing, Mom. But I’m glad you brought that up.” He laid down his fork. “The night Tom died he made four calls in the seventeen minutes before his murder. One of them was to up here, to Red Crest.”
His mother looked stunned. “My God, how awful.”
“Did you happen to take that call?”
“No,” she said, then turned to her husband. “Wayne, did you?”
He shook his head. “No, baby.”
“He connected with somebody. The call lasted two and a half minutes.”
His dad looked at him. “Maybe one of the staff answered?” he offered.
Something in his expression set Reed’s hair on edge. What was he hiding? “Maybe. Why do you think he called up here?”
“Probably hoping to find a ride.”
What he had thought. Until tonight.
His mother made a sound of distress. “If only I had answered, he might be alive today.”