Code(29)

“We need to find out what he knows. If he suspects anything.”

“How?” Ben asked quietly.

“Just follow my lead.” Code for: I have no idea.

“Hey, check this weirdo out.” Hi was inspecting a bust on the mantel. “This face is ninety percent eyebrow. What do you wanna bet he owned slaves?”

Scowling to match the carving’s expression, Hi spoke in a gravelly voice. “In my day, we ate the poor people. We had a giant outdoor grill, and cooked up peasant steaks every Sunday.”

“That is General Clemmons Brutus Claybourne, you twit,” a voice said dryly. “He commanded two companies during the Revolution, before dying at Yorktown. You might show a little respect.”


Chance leaned in the doorway, one shoulder against its frame.

Whoa boy.

Chance was dusk made flesh. Dark skin, dark eyes, and dark humor. His thick black hair framed strong features and a Hollywood perfect chin. Tall, slender, and muscular without being bulky. In a word, he was gorgeous.

Last I’d seen Chance, he’d been tired and bedraggled, with purple crescents under his eyes and a nervous tic. Exhausted, haunted, and questioning his own sanity, soon thereafter he’d recommitted himself to a mental hospital.

That boy was gone.

“So. The gang’s all here.” Chance smiled as if enjoying a private joke. “Everyone have a nice end of summer?”

“Hello, Chance.” Now that we’d come to it, my tongue was tied. “I hope you’re doing well,” I finished lamely.

“Do you now?”

Chance strolled into the room and gripped the back of the nearest chair, his fluid stride hinting of past athletic glories. The smirk remained on his face.

“Hey there, Chancy.” Hi is impervious to awkward moments. This one was no exception. “When’d you get out of the nuthouse?”

I know I gasped. My eyes might’ve bugged.

Chance chuckled without humor. “Hiram, you never disappoint. Stop annoying Uncle Clemmons and join us.”

As Hi flopped into a leather seat, Chance studied the group. “Nice uniforms.”

“Heard you’ll be sporting one again,” Ben shot back. “Not enough credits, huh?”

Chance’s grin slipped for a millisecond. “Good afternoon to you too, Ben. Yes, I’ll be back for a few weeks. I missed a handful of exams last semester. But I’ll be done with Bolton soon enough.”

“You’re eighteen now, right?” Shelton arced a hand, taking in the room. “That make all this yours?”

“Yes. I came into my inheritance last month. And with Father . . . away . . . I’m now the Claybourne of Claybourne Manor.”

Chance winked at Hi. “That’s when they discharged me. Funny thing. Turns out, I do own that hospital. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Chance had no siblings, and his mother had died giving birth to him. His father was doing hard time. That made Chance perhaps the richest man in Charleston.

“So you bought your way free?” Ben scoffed.

“Nonsense. I’m cured.” Chance’s gaze found me. “I worked a few things out during my second stint. Reordered my mind. Got back onto firm ground. Plus, it was past time I assumed my position as head of the Claybourne empire.”

“What about the criminal charges?” I hadn’t forgotten. “They just let you walk?”

“The district attorney thought I’d suffered enough.” Chance circled the chair and sat. “I agreed.”

“That’s crap!” I exploded. “You attacked us. Held us at gunpoint!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” Chance replied, all shocked innocence. “Ask my lawyers if you don’t believe me.”

His smugness infuriated me. “The court bought that crap?”

“It’s nice having friends in high places.” Chance flashed me his trademark wink. “Sympathetic ears.”

I bit back a scathing reply. Though Chance hadn’t been directly involved in the murder of Katherine Heaton, he’d done more than enough to deserve punishment. But arguing about it was pointless. He’d wriggled off the hook.

Chance seemed to be enjoying our visit. The old swagger was back, along with his former mock-stern levity.

But he’s not exactly the same.

The drollness was there, but sharper now, more caustic, with a cynical, biting quality. Chance’s eyes still twinkled, but without their former warmth.

He seemed harder. More jaded. We needed to be careful.

“Give him the bag and let’s go.” Ben shifted uncomfortably in his opulent chair. “I’m tired of this fake buddy-buddy garbage.”

“Bag?” For the first time, Chance looked uncertain. “What bag?”

I signaled Shelton, who handed me the pouch. Unlacing its straps, I removed a handful of gold coins.

“You must know we found Anne Bonny’s treasure. This is your share.”

Chance looked momentarily stunned. “My share?”

I nodded. “We wouldn’t have done it without your help. It’s only fair.”

“Fair.” Chance’s jaw tightened. “Fair,” he repeated, dark eyes darkening. “And you’d never be unfair to me, would you, Tory?”