Chapter 6 - bloodlines and brass
"Sterling?" Willa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What is he doing here?"
Jared didn't waste breath asking questions. He hit the release latch on the French doors and kicked them wide open into the storm.
"Stay inside!" Jared roared over his shoulder.
Brutus was already gone, a silver streak tearing across the sodden grass of the courtyard. Jared sprinted into the darkness after him, rain instantly plastering his dark hair to his forehead.
Willa didn't stay inside.
Dr. Sterling had been her mentor for three years. He had given her a job when she was sleeping in her car. He had taught her pharmacology, bandaged her scraped hands, and loaned her money for rent when the clinic hours were cut. The idea that he was standing in the garden of a murdered mob widow was impossible.
She ran out into the freezing rain, her shoes slipping on the wet flagstones.
At the far end of the walled garden, near the service gate that led to the alleyway, Brutus had cornered Sterling against the brick wall. The veterinarian was cowering, his spectacles crooked on his wet face, holding the manila file against his chest like a shield.
"Call him off! Willa, please, call him off!" Sterling shrieked, his voice trembling in terror as the ninety-pound mastiff snapped inches from his throat.
Jared arrived in three massive strides, grabbing Sterling by the lapels of his sodden trench coat and slamming him back against the wet brick. Jared jammed the barrel of his SIG Sauer under Sterling’s chin, forcing the older man’s head up into the rain.
"Talk," Jared growled. "Before I let the dog have your throat."
"I didn't kill her! I swear to God, Jared, I didn't kill Helena!" Sterling sobbed, his hands shaking so violently the paper folder slipped from his fingers, falling onto the wet grass.
Willa dropped to her knees, scooping the folder out of the mud.
Inside were medical records, yellowed with age, stamped with the seal of an elite private maternity clinic in Geneva, Switzerland.
"Dr. Sterling," Willa said, her voice cracking against the wind. "Why do you have these?"
Sterling looked down at her, tears mixing with the rain on his pale cheeks. "Because I didn't hire you by accident, Willa. I was paid to watch you. For seven years."
Willa felt like she had been kicked in the chest. "What?"
"Who paid you, Sterling?" Jared demanded, pressing the gun harder against the man's throat until Sterling choked for air. "Was it Richard? Was it the Morettis?"
"Neither!" Sterling wheezed. "It was Julian! Julian Kensington!"
Jared froze. The garden went dead silent except for the drumming rain.
"Julian is dead," Jared whispered, his voice trembling with an unnatural, terrifying fury. "I buried him ten years ago."
"He didn't die on that bridge, Jared!" Sterling cried out, the truth tearing out of him. "He faked the crash! He had to disappear because the commission had put a contract on his life! Your own father approved the hit because Julian refused to merge the family with the Morettis!"
Jared’s grip on Sterling loosened by a fraction of an inch, his face pale beneath the rain. "My father... put a contract on Julian?"
"Julian survived," Sterling rushed on, desperate to stay alive. "He fled to Europe. But he couldn't take Clara. She was already pregnant, and taking her would have painted a target on her back. So he arranged for her to hide in Queens under an alias. When Clara died, Julian hired me through a Swiss trust to track Willa through the foster system. When she turned twenty-two, I made sure she applied to my clinic."
Willa stared down at the damp papers in her hands.
The top document was a certified birth registry from Geneva, dated October 14, 1995.
*Child: Willa Kensington.*
*Mother: Clara Thornton.*
*Father: Julian Kensington.*
Pinned to the back of the certificate was a small velvet pouch.
Willa’s trembling fingers untied the black ribbon. Out slipped an antique brass signet ring, heavy and ornate, bearing the exact same crest as the silver tag—two crossed daggers beneath an open crown. Inside the band was an engraving: *To my brave Clara. Until the river runs dry. - J.*
Willa’s throat closed up completely. The ring was real. The drawing in her mother's sewing kit was real.
"If Julian set this up," Willa asked, looking up at Sterling with burning eyes, "why did someone try to kill me tonight? Why poison Brutus?"
Sterling’s eyes shifted from Willa to Jared, terror returning to his features.
"Because three weeks ago, Julian stopped making the escrow payments from Switzerland," Sterling whispered. "His lawyer in Zurich sent me an emergency code: *Breach.* Someone found Julian’s safe house in the Alps. Someone tortured his financial trustee to get the location of the girl."
"Who?" Jared demanded, his voice dangerously low.
"Richard Kensington found out three days ago," Sterling said. "He knew that if Willa claimed the trust before the tenth anniversary next week, he would lose everything. Richard poisoned your dog to distract your security, Jared! He hired Paulie to assassinate Willa before she ever knew who she was!"
Jared stared at Sterling for three long seconds.
Then he slowly lowered his weapon.
"And Helena?" Jared asked. "Why is she dead in the drawing room?"
Sterling looked down at the mud, his voice barely audible. "Helena wasn't working with Richard. She was trying to protect Willa. But Richard got here first."
Suddenly, the headlights of four black Cadillac Escalades lit up the service alley behind the garden gate.
Heavy car doors slammed in unison.
The sound of multiple automatic weapons cocking echoed through the narrow alleyway.
May you like
A voice, smooth, arrogant, and amplified through a bullhorn, boomed over the garden wall:
*"Jared! You're trespassing on Kensington Financial property! Step away from the gate with your hands up, cousin! The police are already on their way!"*
