Secret Vows. Rochelle Alers

once more and didn’t wake again until daylight came in through the bedroom skylights. He knew his first day would be spent settling into Serenity West. He had to be up and dressed by nine. He’d contacted a cleaning service before leaving Florida to send a team to dust and air out the entire house.

      His to-do list also included shopping for groceries to stock the refrigerator/freezer and pantry. Jason was as deficient when it came to housecleaning as he was proficient in writing music. He’d continued the tradition of Cole men whose mothers had taught them to cook so they wouldn’t have to rely on a woman to feed them. He knew it would take another day before he’d get into the routine of rising and going into the studio.

      Going up on an elbow, he glanced around the bedroom. He’d lingered long enough the night before to remove dustcovers from tables, chairs, the armoire, triple dresser and highboy. Jason had worked closely with the architect that his interior decorator aunt had recommended, and it’d taken more than three months before he had finally approved the house’s design.

      He wanted a house that would fit into the forest setting. It was to be constructed from a log-timber frame, with a broad sheltering roof and using lots of natural materials. The design brought the upper and lower decks close to a forested area, and the generous overhangs kept rain off the windows while protecting the siding and foundation. The lower level was an open gallery of rooms, the media center separate from the primary family living space and the recording studio accessible by a stairway leading to the basement level.

      His cell chimed a familiar ring tone. Reaching across his body, Jason picked up the phone. “Good morning, Mrs. Jones.”

      Ana’s giggles came through the earpiece. “Good morning, Jay. How are you?”

      Jason smiled. “Wonderful.”

      “I’m calling because Mom claims she hasn’t heard from you.”

      His smile vanished quickly. “Tell your mother that I’m okay.”

      “I’m not going to act as a go-between—”

      “But you are, Ana,” Jason accused his twin sister, “when you accuse me of not checking in. I shouldn’t have to tell you how old I am because we share the same birthday, and at thirty-three, I don’t believe I should have to check in with my mother. You never did when you went away.”

      There came a beat of silence. “It’s because I didn’t live at home at thirty-three. Within months of graduating law school, I moved out and got my own place, while you’re still living at home. It’s about respect, Jason. Mom didn’t even know you were gone until she spoke to Diego who told her that you’d made arrangements with him to fly to the west coast. You could’ve left a note.”

      Jason ran a hand over his cropped hair. He knew Ana was right. And it was because he still lived under his parents’ roof that his mother felt he was obligated to let her know if he planned to be away for a while. All of his siblings had moved out in their twenties, and he’d stayed much too long. Recalling what Chase had said the night before—about not having a wife monitoring his coming and going—brought everything into focus.

      “I’ll call her, Ana, and let her know that I’m okay.”

      Jason knew his mother’s apprehension came from the alleged feud between Serenity and Slow Wyne Records because Ana had won the bidding war to sign singing phenom Justin Glover. Basil Irvine, humiliated because he’d lost to a woman, had taken a contract out on his rival. The assassin hired to kill Ana had missed his target. Tyler Cole had taken a bullet to the head intended for Ana. Fortunately Tyler recovered, and Ana had gone into hiding where she’d married her protector.

      “Thanks, Jay. Mom hasn’t been herself since we discovered one of our employees was spying for Slow Wyne Records.”

      Jason nodded although Ana couldn’t see him. “That’s over, Ana.”

      “Is it really?”

      He heard the apprehension in her voice. “Of course it is. Basil’s six feet under, so he can’t bother anyone again.”

      The carefully orchestrated plan to take out the CEO of the L.A.-based record label was reminiscent of a plot from a cold war spy novel. The operative was in and out of Basil’s palatial Beverly Hills mansion in fewer than twenty minutes, having never been seen. Basil’s houseboy discovered his boss’s lifeless body. He called Basil’s brother and then the LAPD. The medical examiner’s report confirmed Basil had died from a massive coronary, attributing it to a combination of alcohol and antianxiety medication. Basil’s younger brother Webb had assumed control of the label and, unlike the deceased CEO, had elected to stay out of the spotlight.

      Jason chatted with Ana for another two minutes before ending the call. He touched the cell’s screen for his mother’s number, holding the phone away from his ear when she launched into a tirade about how his disappearing act was hastening her demise.

      Waiting for a pause in the ranting on the other end of the line, he said in a calming voice, “Mom. I’ve never known you to be so melodramatic.” His attempt to placate Serena backfired when she switched from English to Spanish, the words tumbling over one another. His mother was born in the States, but raised in Costa Rica after her mother had married a Costa Rican government official. Jason heard his father in the background asking his wife to calm down. Jason was tempted to hang up when David’s voice came through the earpiece.

      “What did you say that set your mother off? She’s hysterical.”

      “Dad, come on. You know how she is nowadays.”

      “No, I don’t know how she is,” David countered defensively. “All I know is my wife and your mother is having an emotional meltdown.”

      Jason repeated the conversation he’d had with Ana. “It’s apparent your wife and my mother is under the impression that I’m a child who has to check in as if I were on work release. Would it make her feel better if I wore an ankle monitor?”

      There came a beat. “Jason, I want you to try and understand where your mother is coming from. We came very close to losing Tyler, when we all know that bullet was meant for Ana. This is the second time Martin and Parris have found their children’s lives at risk, and that is a situation no parent should have to experience.”

      “What does this have to do with me, Dad?”

      “I want you to be careful, son. We may have chopped off the head of the snake, but this snake is different because it has the uncanny ability to grow another head. One that belongs to Webb Irvine. One of Simon’s investigators found a witness who claims it was Basil and not Webb who’d stomped a man to death. Meanwhile Webb did a term for his older brother because, as a fifteen-year-old, he knew he would be sent to a juvenile facility rather than jail.”

      “But Webb did go to jail,” Jason argued. The man had spent ten years in a California minimum security prison.

      “That was only after he’d turned eighteen. There had been bad blood between Basil and Leon Burke because Leon owed him money, but the situation got worse when Webb got Leon’s thirteen-year-old sister pregnant, then denied the baby was his. Leon extracted revenge when he cut up Webb’s face. Basil retaliated by kicking him to death.”

      “Why are you telling me this?” Jason asked his father. “Basil’s dead and I doubt if Webb is going to follow in his brother’s footsteps.”

      “I doubt it, too. But this is not about Slow Wyne Records. It’s about your mother. She’s earned the right to worry about you because she is your mother.”

      Jason exhaled an audible breath. “Okay. I’ll give her that, but she can’t expect—”

      “I know what you’re going to say,” David interrupted, “and I agree with you. You’re an adult, and you shouldn’t have to check in. Just promise me you’ll be careful, and I’ll make things right on this end.”

      “I’ll be careful, Dad.” He’d say anything not to prolong the conversation.

      Jason