Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(127)

She handed him the ice pack. “Hold that there.”

“Got it. Thanks. Sonya, you can’t leave the room closed off forever.”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking of having a steel door installed over the existing one.”

She got two beers and opened them. She set trays in front of him then offered the other to Owen when he came in with Cleo.

“You were hurt, and it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Cleo patted Sonya’s arm. “I’ll get us some wine. The windows in that room started slamming. Hard enough I don’t see how the glass didn’t break. The dogs went crazy.”

She pulled the stopper from an uncorked bottle, poured two glasses.

“The dogs went crazy, and we all ran to the house. They’re barking and snarling and racing upstairs. We heard banging and crashing. You were shouting.”

Owen took another long pull of beer. “Was I?”

She nodded. “Your turn.”

“It was mostly my fault. I’ve gotten everything about that room and Dobbs secondhand. So, you know, let’s have a look.”

“Nice try. Commendable.” Steadier now, Sonya sipped her wine. “But Trey’s a big boy, and—obviously—he can take his lumps.”

“Just saying. So, the light’s off in that wing—got a dingy look to it—and the air’s cold. Did you notice?”

“No.” At her look at Cleo, Sonya got a headshake. “But we were a little distracted seeing Trey crumpled on the floor.”

“I wouldn’t say crumpled.” He added.

He picked up the story, careful not to leave out any details. Not fair to her, and he had to admit, he hadn’t been fair to her.

“A lot like before then.” The anger faded, leaving just a shade of resentment.

“A lot like,” Trey said. “But not altogether. This time I saw her.”

“You saw her.” Instantly Cleo dropped down into the chair beside him. “And you didn’t lead with that?”

“Just for a second, but I saw a woman, black dress, black hair, and one who looked a lot more pissed off than either of you.” He looked at Owen. “You didn’t?”

“I was pretty busy watching you go airborne. And the door slammed shut.”

“Sonya did some drawings of her. Like I said, I only caught a glimpse—while airborne—but I didn’t have any trouble recognizing her. Or recognizing that most of what we saw in there was bullshit.”

“So you said before you flew,” Owen reminded him.

“The curtains weren’t moving. The room’s full of wind, but the curtains don’t move?”

Frowning, Owen sat. “You’re right. You’re right about that.”

“Illusions. Trickery.”

“The bloody nose and the lump on your head aren’t illusions.”

“No.” Because he thought they could both use it, he rose, put his arms around Sonya. “But she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, come past the door. Like the bird that vanished a few feet out of the window.”

He kissed her forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Any way we can figure it out with food?” Owen wondered.

“Damn it! I forgot to get anything out for dinner.”

“You could do that thing you did last time. With the vodka and the pasta. I want to see how you do it.”

“I could do that.”

“We’re about finished upstairs. We can do the basement tomorrow. Can you manage that?” Trey asked Owen.

“After what just happened? You couldn’t keep me out of it.”

“No more side trips while the little ladies are tucked away.”

He gave Sonya a solemn nod. “No, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome to stay if you like. God knows we have enough bedrooms—discounting that wing.”

“I don’t have any gear, but … I’ve never spent the night in the manor. I’ve got some work clothes in the truck. Got a spare toothbrush?”

“And plenty of them. Pick a room.”

“I’ll do that. What do you all do about breakfast?”

“That’s strictly fend for yourself,” Cleo told him. Firmly.

“Even on Sunday?”

“Even. And I’m down to my last Toaster Strudel, so don’t even think about it.”

“The apple ones with the white stuff on the top?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

With a shrug, he opened the refrigerator, checked some cabinets. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“While we’re taking a moment, Trey says you work out, lift weights, and such?”

He gave Sonya a shrug. “Sure. Yeah, you’ve got that gym downstairs. Can I use that?”

“Help yourself. And that brings me to a project I’m working on, a possible job, for Ryder Sports.”

“Okay.”

“I need photos, which Trey’s mother is going to provide.”

“She’s good at it.”

“She is. I want one of you, maybe doing the classic biceps curl.”

“Me? Why?”

To help the cause, Cleo reached over, tested his biceps. “Oooh.” She batted her lashes. “That’s why, stud.”