The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) (18 page)

“Jusht like you d-did.”

Yeah. They had that in common, she guessed. “It was hard. I didn’t know who to trust. But I made it through.” She had, too. “I got control.” There. She felt the anxiousness that remembering that whole time always engendered lift. “Thanks for understanding, Mr. Tremaine.”

“You t-too. C-all me B-brian.”

She took a big breath and let it out before she nodded. “Brian. Now, we should find Brina. How did you get upstairs? Do you need help getting down?”

Brian shook his head. “K-Kemble put in e-elevator.”

“Show me.”

He stood with some difficulty. She held out her arm. The smile she could manage she knew was tentative. He took her arm. She actually saw his eyes twinkle. “Thank you, y-young l-lady.”

*

It was lunchtime
and Tris was hungry. Drew and Michael were on the terrace. Maggie and the kids were out on the back lawn having a picnic. The parents were upstairs. Kemble, as well as Tammy, Greta, Kee, Jane, and he had gathered around the kitchen table when Kemble’s cell rang. Kemble got up and retreated to the sink to answer it as conversation continued to swirl. Tris saw his brother frown, then his eyes went unfocused for a minute. Tris knew what that meant. The call had been from the security guys, and his brother was infusing himself into the surveillance cameras around the grounds to have a look. Kemble went white. Surprisingly, Greta did, too.

“I’ll meet you outside.” Kemble flipped his phone shut.

Tris was up from the table in an instant. “What’s up, bro?”

That got the whole table’s attention.

“Edwards has something he wants us to check out,” Kemble said carefully. He motioned Tris to the front door.

“Is it dangerous?” Tammy asked. “Should I get Lance and Suzie? They could help.”

“No, no,” Kemble said, a little too quickly for Tris’s liking. “Not dangerous.”

Greta rose slowly from her chair. “Lanyon’s back.”

Everyone at the table turned and stared at her. She knew where Lan was. They all knew what that meant. Maggie and Kee took in a breath and exhaled. That was it. Greta was Lan’s Destiny. There was no question now. The only question was how hard his butt-head younger brother was going to make it on himself and this girl.

Tris set his lips and followed Kemble’s long strides to the front door.

“What is it?” Tris whispered when they were out of earshot of the family.

“Greta’s right. Somebody brought Lanyon home,” Kemble muttered. They exchanged glances. Both knew what Greta being right meant. But they had other fish to fry at the moment.

“Clan? Why would they bring him here? Hold him hostage more likely.”

“I don’t know. Could be something worse than Clan. Maybe I’m wrong. Those cameras aren’t that clear.” He pulled open the front door.

Both Kemble and Tris stopped dead. Tris came to himself first, pulled Kemble out the door and hastily shut the door behind them. Edwards, Ernie and Rory surrounded the guy on the portico, looking wary. He had Lanyon thrown over his big shoulder. Lan was out cold, his long hair swinging over lax features. But none of that was what held them speechless.

The guy was pretty much the spitting image of them both, except for a nose that had been broken, a scar across one side of his face and the hardness of his eyes. It was like looking in the mirror at a tougher version of themselves.

Tris could feel both their brains going from frozen to top speed in nothing flat. There was only one explanation for this. Before their father had gotten the magic of an Adaptor, he’d been a con man, one of the best, able to pretend to be or do anything. Therefore, not a saint. When he’d met their mother, that chameleon-like quality became the ability to actually do or be anything. He lost the ‘pretend’ part. Tris knew his father was an only child. So there was no question—the man who stood before them had to be their half-brother. The only question was whether he had been conceived before or after Senior had married their mother.

Oh, boy.

“Lost something?” the guy asked in what Tris thought was a French accent. Guess Senior had spent some time in Europe. When they just continued to stare at the intruder, his brow furrowed. “Unless you would like me to dispose of him elsewhere?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Kemble barked.

“Eef you were closer, you would smell thee whiskey.” He wrinkled his crooked nose.

The door opened behind them. Tris whipped his head around. Jane. She gave a little gasp, but recovered immediately. “Poor Lanyon,” she said. “Why don’t you bring him inside?” Jane held the door open for the intruder and his unconscious burden.

“Thanks, guys,” Tris said to Edwards and his guys. “I guess we can take it from here.” They touched their temples in acknowledgement and moved off, their faces carefully blank. Only Rory, the youngest of the lot, raised his eyebrows as he turned away. Tris looked over at Kemble as they watched the interloper haul a gently bobbing Lan inside. Tris saw his own misgivings reflected in his brother’s eyes.

“We’re in for a bumpy ride,” Kemble muttered.

‡

“Put him down
on the couch, if you don’t mind.” Jane motioned toward the living room. Tris couldn’t see any way this didn’t turn out badly.

“Lan?” Tammy jumped up from her seat in the kitchen. It had a clear view of the recent arrivals. “Goodness. Is he okay?” She hurried out, followed by most of the rest of the family.

The scarred guy slid Lanyon off his shoulder. Lan slumped onto the couch. Tris grabbed his legs and put them up. Lan’s head bounced down onto the couch cushions. The family was clustering around now. The Parents hadn’t yet come downstairs. Thank God for small favors. Greta stood, wringing her hands in the background. Poor thing. After all, she loved his scapegrace little brother, whether she wanted to or not, whether she knew it or not.

“He’s just drunk,” Tris said to reassure her. No use dressing it up. Greta visibly relaxed. The rest of them hadn’t seen the ‘other shoe’ yet. They were too focused on Lan.

“Thank you so much for bringing him home,” Jane said to the guy in her soft voice.

The big man stood. Hard to mistake him for anything but a Tremaine. Same black hair, light eyes—green like Tris’s—fair skin. His features were those Senior had handed down to all the boys. This guy was bigger than Tris or Kemble, though. He might even beat out Michael’s six-five. And he looked hard as nails, not just because of the scar or the hard bulges of muscle that stood out under his black tee. His expression said he’d seen stuff. Bad stuff.

“Thee bartender wanted to call thee cops,” he said. “Your brother was getting, how you say, rambunctious?
Très fortuné
he passed out. I did not have to deck him.”

This speech unfortunately focused everyone on the newcomer. Tris was in a great position to see the quizzical expressions, followed by realization and, in some cases, downright horror on their faces. But it was Greta, to Tris’s surprise, who spoke first.

“I know you,” she said slowly. “You’ve been at the clubs. You decked that guy who was trying to hit on me. I…I never got a chance to thank you.”

The intruder bowed slightly. “
Tout le plaisir était pour moi, mademoiselle.
”

“Looks like you’ve been stalking our little brother,” Kemble said, the set of his mouth saying that he suspected foul play somewhere along the line.

“I had the interest in him,
oui
.” The guy glanced around. “Maybe more than you,
n’est-ce pas
?”

The guy went on the offensive. He’d be good in a fight. “Lan’s a little hard to contain,” Tris said.

The Frenchman chuckled. “He sows the wild oats, yes?” He shot a look to Greta. “I think he would like to sow these oats with you,
ma petite
.”

Tris watched Greta turn bright red. “I don’t really even know him.”

“My words, they stand.”

Jane was busy taking Lan’s pulse. Drew had recovered her bored drawl, “Looks like the family is larger than we thought. Care to introduce yourself?”

“Luc Marrec.” His tone was clipped, reluctant, as if he didn’t like giving out his name.

“And not a cousin, I suppose.” Drew, for all her nonchalance, was grasping at straws. She, too, knew Senior was an only child.

“What do you think?” Marrec snorted.

Jane stood. Tris was relieved. Jane would know what to do. “Kemble, Dev, can you get Lanyon to his room please? I’m afraid there’s nothing for this but to sleep it off. Tammy, why don’t you dig up one of those sports drinks with electrolytes and some Ibuprofen and leave them by his bed. I’m afraid he won’t be feeling well when he wakes up.”

Funny, these days when Jane gave her soft requests, everybody jumped to it like she was General Patton barking orders. She was somebody you could depend on, and when she asked you to do something she was depending on you to do it. So you did. Seemed only fair. Lan was lifted off the couch. Tammy disappeared.

Jane turned to their…guest? Visitor? Intruder? What would you call him?

Actually, they might have to call him ‘brother.’

“Mr. Marrec, why don’t you come out to the terrace? It’s lovely out there this morning. Kee, perhaps some iced tea?”

Kee scurried into the kitchen. Jane motioned Marrec toward the back of the house.

“
Après vous
,” he said with pointed graciousness.

Jane led the way out through the French doors in the family room. Jesse was building a fort out of blocks on the lawn. It apparently involved explosions. Maggie watched from the pergola and rocked Elizabeth in her pram. In some ways, Tris was the luckiest man in the world. But all this could be taken from him. Senior had proven that. For the millionth time, he wanted to hit something because there was nothing he could do to make his family secure. Was this new arrival a threat to the family as well? The Tremaines arranged themselves around the teak patio furniture.

“Quite a place you have here,” Marrec said. He stood, looking out to the Pacific and around the Santa Monica Bay to the north.

Tris got a bad feeling. Exactly why had Marrec sought them out? He’d stalked Lan to find a way in. That was obvious. And Marrec must have been overjoyed to find out that his father was rich. Really, really rich. Tris set his lips. Well, Tremaines weren’t pushovers. He, for one, wasn’t going to let some mistake of his father’s bleed the family—the real family—of anything. Maybe they could get rid of this guy before their mother saw him. That was what worried Tris the most. He didn’t want to see her hurt.

“We like it,” Drew drawled. “But it seems you know much more about us than we do about you.”

“Before we go any further, how old are you?” Tris asked. Might as well put it out there. Age, in this case, made a big difference.

“I believe I’m your big brother. Well, half-brother. I’m thirty-nine.”

He could feel a collective sigh exhale all over the terrace. Senior hadn’t cheated on Mother. “Guess Senior sowed some wild oats himself,” Tris muttered.

“Oh, it was more than that. Your father and my mother were together for two years.”

Kee came out with a tray of glasses of iced tea, a pitcher of more, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. She offered Marrec a glass first. Tris noticed that his eyes were watchful, constantly assessing. Kee passed the tray around.

“Unfortunately,” Marrec continued, “Our father had to make the quick escape. My mother was heartbroken.” Marrec’s hard eyes got even harder. “She grew to hate him when she realized he was a criminal who lied for a living.”

“So your mother never told Brian about you?” Jane asked.

“Why would you say that?” the interloper asked.

“Because,” Drew drawled, “my father shoulders his responsibilities.”

Damn. Drew was giving Marrec a clear indication that any blackmail scheme he had in mind was a shoo-in to succeed.

“Good to hear.” Marrec sipped his tea. “But in fact, you are right. She did not. Nor would she allow me to contact him.”

“You’re a big boy,” Tris said. Might as well get this out into the open as well. “You just decide to show up when you need money?”

Tris heard the French door open behind him. Shit. He turned. The Parents stood in the doorway like pillars of salt.