Midnight Legacy
by Dee Tenorio
UNEDITED
Meaning… this excerpt has not been touched by the editing gods (who are mean to me, MEAN I tell you… 🙁 )
But I nice girl, so shall share this small piece of a nifty book that with luck and babies that nap, we might see it in Aug.
UNEDITED EXCERPT of Midnight Legacy
Well, that went…badly.
When Jordan had outlined her plan, it sounded deceptively simple: make it look as natural as possible. By the time she’d spilled her secrets to Chase, she had already put it in action, leaving him with fewer choices than he expected. Tara Sellers had been contacted as a possible employee and relocated to California for the job, putting her in reasonable proximity to the Remington family. Her position would even put them in striking distance—something entirely possible after her run-in with Raven—and as the owner of the magazine, Jordan would be well within her rights to make sure her newest hire didn’t accost her son again. They could then claim that the shocking resemblance to her sons had led them to investigate and voila, found lost heir; begin the media spin.
Of course, nothing could ever be as easy as planned, not in this family. Tara Sellers hadn’t exactly been receptive to being an heiress. Sky hadn’t been receptive to learning about his father’s infidelities and Raven’s response to officially having another sister could only be described as a black wrath. No one was speaking, Sky was in full denial and Raven had closeted himself to stew in his anger, as usual, until they both left the compound without so much as another word. As Chase feared, the family that had just begun to knit their wounds closed had sliced them open once again, this time deeper. All the way to the bone.
For most of his life, he’d played a middle man to the brothers…to the whole family. A walking conscience since both of theirs were occasionally known to go on vacation. It hadn’t done him much good. Or them, really. The brothers barely spoke. Now Jordan had him doing her dirty work, too. Truthfully, a smart man would have gotten himself a new family.
Then again, none of the Remingtons had ever commented positively on his intelligence.
“She’s going to need someone to talk to. Someone to trust,” Jordan had said, her blue eyes full of innocence.
“You mean someone you can trust,” he’d replied, already feeling sick, knowing he’d do just about anything Jordan asked. He’d known that from the first moment he accepted the file on Tara Sellers and the baby in his head changed to a full-grown woman with a past. A terrible, painful past. She wasn’t likely to trust anyone, least of all him.
But still, here he stood, outside the door to the Blue Room, hand raised to knock, without a clue what he was going to say. Inside, Tara Sellers had to be coming to terms with revelations she could never have expected and he was doomed to give her more.
The door opened and he met the cool gaze of the woman he’d been sent to comfort with his supposedly soothing bedside manner. Looking at her didn’t inspire his usual detachment though. Especially not when she bit out the welcoming remark, “You going to stand there all day or what?”
Oh sure, she had “wounded” written all over her. Somewhere beneath the black scowl, right next to the insolence and irritation. God help him, someday he was going to find someone without the disposition of a stepped on cat to deal with. No time soon, of course, but it had to become a priority one of these days.
“And miss out on your charming personality? Of course not.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his khakis, rolling back slightly on his heels. “You’ve been up here for hours. We wanted to know if you were still alive.”
If anything, her thunderous expression darkened. God, she couldn’t be more Remington if she tried. “No, you wanted to know if I’d escaped. Go on back to mommy, Pretty Boy. Tell her I’m still here. I didn’t raid the silver or anything, she’s got nothing to worry about.”
Pretty boy? Chase momentarily considered whether to be more insulted at the Pretty or the Boy. Sadly, he couldn’t refute the mommy bit. “Nice to know the window bars are still holding. The ivy outside is lousy for climbing anyway.”
Not so much as a flicker of humor in her eyes. Tough crowd. What would she look like with a smile? One thing was bound to be true, he sure as hell wouldn’t recognize her. “Is there anything you need or are you settled for the night?”
“Lapdog to butler in one-point-two seconds flat. Must be some kind of record.”
She had no idea. “Wait til you see my driving.”
“I’ll be sure to watch…when you leave.”
No one could question her bark. He’d wait a while before sampling her bite, though. She might not look frail or even particularly shocked, but he’d seen her face when Jordan had meted out her husband’s secrets—that Harper Remington had fathered Tara, arranged for her adoption and abandoned her to fate. Fate hadn’t been kind.
As a toddler, she’d been kidnapped, renamed, even re-aged, leaving her in the guardianship of a woman who’d done so damn little to raise her that Child Protection Services had taken her away, tossing her into the foster care system and wiping away all traces of who she’d once been. All Tara’s golden color had faded to a sallow yellow and the pupils of her vivid green eyes had widened until the iris was merely a suggestion. His fingers had itched to check her pulse, which he’d have bet money was thready, considering the speed of it at her throat. Outwardly, she’d had little response other than denial, but he’d seen the signs of shock. She was in no shape for further aggravation. Not to mention, unlike Raven’s insistent beliefs, Chase was sure Tara Sellers never once wanted to be a Remington. She definitely hadn’t plotted for recognition. Why would she? She lived a life built on anonymity. If anyone bore the guilt of revealing her, it should be him. And boy, did he ever…
“I’m only asking because there’s not a lot of staff. Just a few maids and a cook. Jordan likes to do most things for herself.” Massive understatement. “If you need anything later, you might not be able to find it.”
Her eyes narrowed with accusation. “So the prisoner has run of the house?”
She was hardly a prisoner, but given the unpalatable truths Jordan had laid out—without the Remington protection there at the compound, Tara would find herself in a feeding frenzy of her own colleagues—he could see how she’d view it that way.
Preferring to stay neutral, Chase nodded, adding with a shrug, “It’s your house.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t remind me.” The house, the land, but nothing in it. No money to support it. Nothing but an albatross around her neck. Just like her unwelcome pedigree. She backed away from the door, turning and leaving it open for him. Go in and see where the conversation led or turn around and leave the mercurial woman to her brooding?
The answer was fairly simple. He’d never been able to leave women alone. Especially not the tall, leggy types. Were she anyone else, she probably would have gotten his attention on the street—at least until she spoke and ruined the whole effect—but she wasn’t anyone else. Nothing could change the fact that she was being entrusted to him to protect.
And to manipulate, damn it.
