Ashes

  ALEATHA ROMIG

  New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of the Consequences, Infidelity series, and Sparrow Webs: Web of Sin and Tangled Web trilogies

  COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION

  ASHES

  Book 3 of the WEB OF DESIRE trilogy

  Copyright @ 2020 Romig Works, LLC

  Published by Romig Works, LLC

  2020 Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-947189-48-5

  Cover art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design (www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk)

  Editing: Lisa Aurello

  Formatting: Romig Works, LLC

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  2020 Edition License

  * * *

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  A note from Aleatha

  Thank you for reading Sparrow Webs. You’re about to read ASHES, the dramatic conclusion of Web of Desire.

  If this is your first trilogy of the Sparrow Webs, please know that there are other amazing stories in this world.

  Web of Sin

  SECRETS

  LIES

  PROMISES

  * * *

  Tangled Web

  TWISTED

  OBSESSED

  BOUND

  * * *

  And coming in September of 2020, Dangerous Web

  DUSK

  DARK

  DAWN

  For a complete list of my books, please go to “Books By Aleatha” following the story.

  Now, I hope you enjoy ASHES and thank you for reading.

  * * *

  Aleatha

  SYNOPSIS

  ASHES– book #3 WEB OF DESIRE

  “From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire...” ~ Robert Frost

  * * *

  I lived through hell for one reason, for one person, and for one purpose. I would do it again for her survival. Now, it’s more than her. It’s about us, our family, and friends. Patrick has awakened a fire I forgot existed.

  Will this renewed desire warm my soul or consume my world?

  Is it too late?

  Will the life we yearn to have survive the ashes?

  * * *

  From New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes a brand-new dark romance, ASHES, set in the dangerous world of Sparrow Webs. You do not need to read the Web of Sin or Tangled Web trilogy to get caught up in this new and intriguing saga, Web of Desire.

  * * *

  ASHES is book three of the WEB OF DESIRE trilogy that began with SPARK, continued with FLAME, and concludes in ASHES.

  Have you been Aleatha’d?

  Prologue

  The conclusion of FLAME, book #2 Web of Desire

  * * *

  Patrick

  * * *

  “She’s your daughter,” Reid confirmed. “Dr. Dixon was certain of that. However, she was perplexed by another result that she found.” He had our attention. “She was so surprised that she ran the test three times.”

  “What test?” I asked.

  “Mason and my counter test came back with no statistically significant number of similar markers.” Reid said.

  “Yours and Mason’s,” Sparrow repeated a bit slower.

  “Yes,” Reid said with a nod. “I’m just going to say it.”

  We all waited.

  “While Mason and I share a statistically insignificant number of genetic markers with Ruby...” He took a breath. “Sparrow, you share just under twenty-five percent of the genetic markers—a statistically significant amount.”

  Sparrow stood and lifted his hands. “I never met Madeline before the other night.”

  “No,” Reid said. “You’re not Ruby’s father. Dr. Dixon and I consulted Laurel...” He looked at Mason, took another deep breath, and turned back to Sparrow. “...we are all in agreement that while you’re not Ruby’s father, genetically you’re related—statistically, closely related.”

  “That isn’t possible.”

  Madeline

  Last night

  “Does this mystery asshole who didn’t want to be bothered with bastard relations have a name?” I asked.

  “His name was Allister,” Marion said. “Your father’s name was Allister.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something?”

  “You might be more familiar with his son,” Andros said with a fucking shit-eating grin on his lips.

  “Tell me.”

  “I believe you’ve met your brother,” he said, “Sterling Sparrow.”

  Madeline

  With the long pale green robe wrapped around me, I stared toward the awakening sky as dawn’s early morning rays coated the underbelly, a sprinkling of clouds, in shades of crimson. Moment by moment, the hues lightened, reds morphing to rose before changing to pink. Light high above overtook the darkness as the sky changed from velvety black to a vibrant shade of blue.

  I’d been sitting on the lounge chair near Marion’s pool since sometime in the middle of the night. Sleep hadn’t been within my reach as I’d paced the confines of the bedroom he’d temporarily deemed as mine. All the while, I contemplated my phone and necklace, my secret means of communication with Patrick and others from the Sparrow organization.

  What would I say?

  Options came to mind. I could start with the past, explaining how I had been tricked and sold into sexual servitude only to be sold again to one man, to Andros. Or I could jump ahead and blurt out that Andros had indeed moved on, not releasing me from my obligation but by selling me a third time to Marion Elliott.

  Even considering the discussion occurring privately with Patrick brought a coating of perspiration to my skin and more knots to my already-tangled stomach.

  I was, and still am, a commodity.

  The woman Patrick had married nearly two decades ago no longer existed. I’d given up my free will the day I’d told Andros I’d go with him, willingly accompany him as his purchase, agreeing to do whatever he bid for the price of staying with my child. That wasn’t completely accurate. My free will was stripped from me the night my body was also stripped and used for the vulgar pleasure of men like Dr. Miller and Senator McFadden. Any remaining self-worth was crushed over the following four months while I lived in inhumane conditions as nothing more than an incubator subject to ongoing humiliation.

  With nothing left but the hope of my child’s survival, those same depraved men put me on display, such as a statue to be viewed and ogled. And now, years later, I learned that the honor of continued existence they’d bestowed upon me didn’t come because of me but because of a man who impregnated my mother.

  Even if I told Patrick the truth about the transactions, it didn’t broach the subject of my newly discovered parentage. I was the half sister of the kingpin of Chicago, the man Patrick not only served but considered a friend. It was the status Andros had hoped to capitalize upon, the one Marion still believed would be to his advantage.

  For a large portion of the night, I’d reflected on the few memories I had of my parents, of the two people I thought were my parents: Will and Alycia Tate. They’d married before I was born, yet I wasn’t certain of when.

 
; As a young child, I didn’t question or ponder.

  Life was what it was.

  Sadly, I reflected upon their influence in my life and found nothing remarkable in those memories. There were day-to-day activities, going to school, coming home, and homework at the kitchen table. There were flashes of sitting on a couch as a family, eating popcorn and watching television, and other flashes of my dad reading stories of lore beside my bed. He would tell tall tales of princes and princesses, dangers and dragons, and happily-ever-afters.

  If I searched back hard enough, I had visions of a bedroom with posters of cats and dogs, as well as boy bands who rose and fell in popularity. I was indifferent as I recalled dinners with frozen food from the microwave and bowls of cereal while they both worked, leaving me alone, and homemade pancakes when they didn’t. Perhaps the true revelation of the night wasn’t the memories but the emotions that came with them.

  None.

  I was devoid of happiness or sadness when it came to my childhood. I couldn’t say that the Tates were neglectful nor could I recall them as being attentive. I simply knew they were there until they weren’t.

  Never once had my dad—the man who raised me—insinuated that I wasn’t his flesh and blood. I recalled him as both a comforter and a disciplinarian. My mother took on both roles as well. There was never the threat of my father coming home to deliver a punishment. Perhaps as a child, I was unaware of friction beneath the surface. I had simply been a carefree child doing what children did until the day it was ripped out from under me.

  “Miss Madeline,” Eloise said as she rushed across the pool deck with a blanket in her hands. “You will catch your death out here. You must be freezing.”

  Before I could respond, she laid the plush blanket over my legs and tucked it attentively near my legs.

  “May I get you something warm? Coffee or tea?”

  I turned, peering up at her. “I need a ride to the airport.”

  Surprised, she took a step backward. “But I thought…I was told you were staying.”

  “Eloise, I’m sure you were.”

  “Ms. Miller, have you been crying?”

  Had I?

  I reached up and wiped the moisture from my cheeks.

  Eloise lowered herself with her hand on the arm of the lounge chair. “I’m sure the speed of this situation is a shock, but always remember that Mr. Elliott is a good man. He wants what’s best for you and Miss Ruby. I’ve known him for a long time.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I tucked my fingers into the warmth beneath my arms. When our gazes met, I asked, “What has he told you?”

  Her neck straightened. “Ma’am, it isn’t my place.”

  My volume rose. “What has he told you about me, about our arrangement?”

  “He said that you needed help, and though he doesn’t like the recognition, I know that’s the kind of man he is, the kind who helps those who need it.” Her hand came to my arm. “While it isn’t my place, I must add that he’s also lonely. That isn’t a new development. The first Mrs. Elliott has been gone a long time, well, most of your life. We all hoped he’d decide to move on, not because we didn’t love Miss Trisha and McKenzie, we did. It was because we all care for him, too. It’s been hard on us to watch him when he’s alone. That’s why everyone here is thrilled that you agreed to marry him.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I believe you’ve been misled.”

  “I hope that isn’t the case.” She stood. “What may I bring you?”

  My head shook as I once again looked out toward the barns and corrals. “I don’t need anything.”

  “Eloise,” Marion’s booming voice came from the patio where we’d eaten breakfast the day before. His boots clipped determinedly across the brick and concrete deck, the sound growing louder as he neared. “Bring us coffee. Mrs. Elliott takes hers with cream as I’m sure you recall.”

  Mrs. Elliott?

  My head snapped toward Marion, yet his attention was on Eloise.

  “And then we’ll eat breakfast in the dining room,” he said, “It’s too damn cold out here this morning. Damn Texas winters.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile as she turned away.

  Once Eloise had disappeared into the house, Marion came to a stop near my legs. The gregarious personality from the tournament and yesterday morning was gone, replaced by the more solemn expression of last night. “Madeline, I went to your room to find it empty.”

  “That’s because I couldn’t sleep.”

  With a sigh, his long legs bent as he lowered himself to the lounge chair near my legs. “I had the same problem.”

  My spine straightened. “The same? Were you having problems sleeping because you were once again reduced to a commodity and bartered in a transaction? If that’s the case, please, let’s chat. If your difficulty sleeping was caused by anything other than that demeaning occurrence, I’m afraid I can’t relate.”

  He shook his head. “Let me tell you what I’d planned.”

  The sound of his voice and his drawl no longer made me smile. On the contrary, it caused the acid in my stomach to churn and percolate in my throat.

  I threw back the blanket that had recently brought warmth to my legs and toes, warmth that I didn’t realize I’d been missing. Moving my legs to the other side of the chair and out of his reach, I said, “You’ll have to excuse me, Marion, I’m not feeling well.”

  As I stood, he seized my wrist. “Hear me out, Madeline.”

  “Why? Why should I listen to you or Andros or any of the vile, contemptuous men who found sadistic pleasure in my agony?” I freed my wrist. “You said yesterday that you and the others thought I was enjoying myself seventeen years ago. Did you hear yourself? Do you truly believe an eighteen-year-old abused and starving child enjoyed having the eyes of men twice and three times her age staring at her, leering, fantasizing, and judging? Is that the kind of lies you told yourself to justify your behavior?”

  “Some were closer to your age, such as Antonio.”

  The confirmation caused the acid bubbling to move upward in my throat.

  “Didn’t you know?” he asked with a sneer.

  “I didn’t, but I’m glad he’s dead. One down.”

  His grin grew. “We really must move on. There are more pressing matters.”

  “My daughter is sixteen years old. Do you believe that I want her near any man who found perverse pleasure in the suffering of a teenager?”

  “Andros was there—”

  I lifted my hand. “Stop right there.”

  “I can assure you that when it comes to Ruby, my intentions are pure.”

  “Pure, as in you want to adopt her, you want to claim her as your own, and you want to stake a claim on an empire she has never known or known of her connection. Tell me, is that your definition of pure?”

  “As I said,” he replied, standing, the long chair now separating us. “We must move on. There are matters at hand.”

  “You know what?” I asked, slapping my thighs as I turned away and then back. “I thought I had moved on. Somewhere and sometime during Ruby’s lifetime, I thought I had moved beyond that horrible night, the hell that preceded it, and the one that followed. I dedicated my life to her and her well-being.”

  “That is why you need to hear me out,” Marion said. “We—my men, not Andros’s—have been looking into what happened yesterday.”

  “How you sent Antonio Hillman to retrieve the most precious person in my world and how he double-crossed you.”

  Marion inhaled. “It appears as though Mr. Hillman had a small aircraft chartered near where his body was found. It was set to fly into Mexico, a small town only seventy miles south of the border. I have private detectives going there today.”

  I had to remind myself that this should be new information.

  “Why?” I asked, pretending that I wasn’t confident she was now safe with her father. “Do you think Ruby is there?”

  “Not via the plane Hillman char
tered. But it’s a lead, Madeline. I promise we’ll find her.”

  Inhaling, I let out the breath slowly. As I did, I recalled Marion’s first words as he came closer. “Why did you refer to me as Mrs. Elliott? Saying it doesn’t make it so. I can’t and I won’t marry you.”

  Marion nodded. “After you left the library last night, Andros and I discussed that possibility.”

  My neck straightened. “Of course you did. The two of you have this all worked out.”

  Marion reached into the pocket of the suede jacket he was wearing over a light blue button-up, complete with a bolo tie.

  My eyes narrowed as I waited for another ribbon or symbol of my servitude.

  Held between his thumb and finger was a small velvet box.

  My chin rose. “I told you that I don’t care if it’s a ribbon or a ring, I won’t wear it.”

  He opened the box. In the early morning sunlight, the diamonds glistened. There was one ridiculously large center stone surrounded by multiple smaller stones. “I contacted a jeweler in Dallas late last night and described what I wanted,” he said. “He worked all night.” Marion plucked the ring from the velvet grasp. “I didn’t know your size and neither did Andros. The jeweler promised me that it can be sized in a matter of hours.”

  Of course Andros didn’t know my size. Nothing he ever gave me was purchased by him directly. He gave orders. Others followed.

  “It’s lovely, Marion.” Rather ostentatious, but lovely. “I’m not interested. I don’t care that you wasted millions of dollars in a deal with Andros or that you wasted money on that farce of a symbol of servitude. That’s your doing, not mine. I care about my daughter and my freedom. I don’t give a damn what you and Andros decided. The truth is I’ve done my time. I won’t marry you.”