by Gemma James
Again, he pauses, hand hovering above the notepad. “Working on a Sunday? You must be really dedicated.”
“I wasn’t working.” Several beats pass as we regard each other. “We spent the weekend inside her apartment.”
“I see.” Riley slides the legal pad to me, his lips sloping into a frown. “I’ll need your assistant to corroborate.”
“That won’t be a problem.” I jot down Jules’ contact info. Her name is a scrawl on the paper, drawing my eye. She’s no doubt wondering where I am since I told her I’d call her. I drag a hand through my hair, antsy to get back to her. But it’ll be hours before I’ll be in the clear. After Riley is done with his line of questioning, my father will be on me next, issuing the rundown on press releases and coaching my behavior for the foreseeable future—from what I say to the media, how I act at the office, to the hours I shop for fucking groceries. His top priority will be the company image.
And then there’s Kaden…
He’s got some fucking explaining to do.
The photo of Monica with her lover flashes in my mind’s eye, but instead of seeing a faceless man, this time I see my brother. I shake the vision from my head.
“I have a few more questions for you.” Riley leans back in his seat, fingers brushing his clean-shaven chin. For a detective, he’s young—probably several years younger than my thirty.
“Of course.”
The next hour passes in a flurry of more questions, from Monica’s routine at home to her duties at MontBlake to the names of her closest friends. How Lydia ties into this is unknown, but I answer everything he throws my way without hesitation, despite the fact that my head is in a tailspin. The situation is too surreal, and somewhere in the back of my mind I know it hasn’t hit me yet.
Because she left a note.
A fucking suicide note.
Then there’s the medicine cabinet, left open in Monica’s haste to leave. The detective found a prescription for benzodiazepines, but the pill bottle matching the paperwork is missing. He doesn’t have to tell me that mixing them with alcohol can prove fatal.
Something about all of this doesn’t add up, and the detective knows it.
I know it.
“Am I being charged with a crime?”
He raises a brow at my blunt question. “No, this is merely an interview.”
“Then if you don’t mind, it’s late.” I push up from the stiff-backed chair, making it clear I’m done with his questioning for the night, because he’s been going in circles.
“I’ll be in touch, Mr. Montgomery.” There’s an undercurrent of suspicion in his words, and that gives me pause.
“Do I need a lawyer?”
Stupid question. I should have lawyered-up the instant they brought me to the precinct. As if fate is looking out for me, someone knocks on the door. The attorney MontBlake has on retainer strolls inside the room and instructs me to stop talking.
“Mr. Montgomery is my client,” Thomas Blackwell tells the detective. “Unless you’re charging him, he’s leaving with me now.”
“He’s free to go.”
Blackwell ushers me from the room, and I wait until we reach the front of the precinct before speaking. “My father sent you?”
“Yes.” He stays close to my back as we make our way outside to a black luxury sedan. He opens the back door where I find my father waiting for me. I slide onto the cold leather seat, and the attorney slams the door before taking the passenger seat in the front.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Dad demands. A partition shields our conversation from Blackwell and the driver.
“I didn’t think about it. By the time I did, they were already questioning me.”
“I hope you kept your head on straight in there.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Bullshit. Where were you?”
“With Kaden.”
“Try again. Kaden hasn’t seen you this weekend.”
“You talked to him?”
“At least one of my sons has the decency to answer his phone.” He folds his arms across his chest and penetrates me with a shrewd stare. “It’s just you and me now, son. What the hell happened today?”
“How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t home.”
“That’s what I’m gathering. Where were you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
I shoot him a glare. “Do you even care that someone is dead, or that Monica is missing?”
“Of course, I care,” Dad huffs.
The driver takes the next exit on the freeway and heads toward my parents’ house, and I fist my hands, already feeling trapped by the hours to come.
“Drop me off at Kaden’s. I need to talk to him.”
“You’re coming back to the house. We need to go over a game plan for tomorrow. I’ve called for a press conference first thing in the morning. Besides, Ned and Roni are waiting for us. Your brother will be there too.”
I’m tempted to ask if Monica’s parents are half as worried as my father is not, but I bite my tongue.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Cash. Where were you?”
“Clearing my head.”
“Why did you need to clear your head?”
I meet his gaze head on. “I was planning to file for divorce.” My admission brings on stony silence, but the storm gathering on his face stiffens my spine, and I wait for the eruption.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Not after his uncaring reaction the night of my birthday dinner when I dropped the bomb of Monica’s affair.
“Are you screwing another woman?”
My silence is all the answer he needs.
“Damn it, Cash! How could you be so stupid? Or do I need to remind you of the infidelity clause? You know what’s at stake!”
“A woman is dead and my wife is missing! I think the stakes are already fucked.”
“Exactly. We have enough to deal with without adding your whore to the mix.”
An intense desire to plant my fist in his face heats my blood. Instead, I press the button that lowers the partition. “Pull over. I’m getting out.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
My father shoots out a hand. “Don’t you dare stop this car,” he shouts at the driver.
“Stop the fucking car!” I’m already grabbing the handle.
The sedan slows in front of a gas station, and I push the door open before the driver has a chance to come to a full stop. My dad exits the car, followed by Blackwell, and they come after me, both shouting my name at the same time.
“Leave me the fuck alone.” I toss a glare over my shoulder, but their footsteps increase. Seconds later, a hand grabs me by the arm.
“Get back in the car, son.” My father’s tone is calm and even. He’s reined in his temper in order to gain control of me. It’s his number one tactic, and even knowing this, I falter.
“My personal life is off-limits,” I say, turning to face him and Blackwell. The car’s reverse lights are on, wheels rolling to eat up the short distance.
“So you’re willing to risk everything over a piece of tail?”
“I mean it. Off-limits.”
My father is about to say more when Blackwell interjects. “Going to war with each other won’t solve anything.” He stands tall at my dad’s side, and I find his impeccable suit annoying as hell. He’s as put together as if he just dressed for the day. I can’t say the same for my father. Lines of stress sharpen the angles of his face, and his lids droop over tired eyes.
He relaxes, apparently convinced I’m not going to take off again. “Blackwell’s right. We’ll work this out at home.” He glances around our deserted surroundings, save for a guy in a red truck pumping gas, and a woman in scrubs entering the store adjacent to the gas station. “This isn’t the place to have this conversation.”
I’m tempted to start off down the street anyway
, but my father and his vulture of an attorney aren’t about to give me breathing room. With a sigh, I let them usher me back to the idling car.
2. Hidden Truths
Cash
Mom’s been crying. As she gathers me into a hug, I detect a low sniffle at my ear. “How are you holding up?”
I pull back and look into her watery steel eyes. “I’m not sure yet. It’s still sinking in.”
It’s still sinking in for all of us. We end up in my father’s home office. Even though his heart attack last year forced him to slow down, he still insists on overseeing everything that goes on at MontBlake.
Seated on a love seat next to my mother, Veronica Blake is dabbing her eyes while Ned paces the room, running his hands through his silver hair. He’s not as tall as my father, but I’ve always found something about him intimidating. Definitely not someone I’d trust with my secrets.
As the six of us go over the tragedy of today, I’m thankful Blackwell and my father aren’t bringing up my unknown whereabouts. As far as anyone’s concerned, I was with Kaden, because Monica and I have been going through a rough patch.
Part of it is absolutely true.
“You should’ve had your phone on!” Ned rounds on me, gaze aflame with accusation.
The guilt inside me grows another tooth, sinking deeper into my gut. “I know.” The heel of my foot is itching to tap the floor, but I remain as still as stone in one of my father’s leather seats. A glass with two fingers of bourbon is clutched in my hand, compliments of my father.
I haven’t taken a single sip.
“Calm down, Ned,” Roni says. “Cash couldn’t have known she’d do something like this.” She might be soft spoken, but her ice blue gaze sparks reproach, and I see my wife in her like I always do.
Strikingly beautiful.
Sharp. Strong. Brutal.
The anger bleeds from Ned’s face, and he regards me again, calmer this time. “Do the police have any leads?”
I hesitate a second before shaking my head. I’ve told no one about Kaden’s involvement.
Ned stops pacing and takes a seat next to me, and his empty glass thuds on the side table separating us. “Give me your take,” he says. “Is my daughter capable of doing something like…” He trails off, shoulders slumping. Even Ned Blake’s world is shaking under his feet.
“She hasn’t been herself for months. I just don’t…I don’t know.” I hang my head, wishing I knew more. Wishing I’d paid more attention.
Wishing I didn’t feel so fucking useless.
Blackwell clears his throat, and the heavy moment shatters. “I need to speak to Cash alone.”
Ned glares at the attorney. “You’re not shutting me out. She’s my daughter.”
“I understand, but the best thing you can do for your daughter is to let me do my job.”
Ned rises, but he’s not happy about being asked to leave. Blackwell, however, is loyal to my family—he’s been on the payroll for as long as I can remember. Probably before I was born.
Ned ushers my mother and Roni out of the study. My father exchanges a few words with Blackwell, spoken so low I can’t hear what they’re saying, then he exits the room, face blank. If he’s upset about being pushed out, he doesn’t show it.
Now it’s just the attorney and me, and I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. Him, I can handle.
“Just so we’re clear,” he says, taking the seat Ned just vacated, “anything you say is confidential. Not even your father will learn of what you tell me.”
“I understand.”
“Good. So will you tell me where you were today?”
“I’m pretty sure you can guess where I was.”
He nods. “If it comes to it, we’ll have to use her as an alibi.”
“I’ve already told the police the truth. They have their alibi.” I hesitate telling him about Kaden, but I have no doubt Detective Riley will be looking into him as well. “My brother, on the other hand, might be in some trouble.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The detective showed me surveillance photos of Monica leaving the parking garage today. Kaden was with her, but they thought it was me.”
“That is a problem. I’ll need to talk to Kaden before I leave here tonight.”
I shake my head. “I need some time alone with him first. I’ll have him stop by your office tomorrow morning.”
Blackwell searches my face for several seconds before nodding his agreement, and just like that, he drops it. We discuss the photo I received several weeks ago, Monica’s odd behavior, and what little I know about Lydia Hirsch. An hour later, we leave the study, and I find Kaden waiting in the living room, alone. Blackwell bids me goodbye, promising he’ll be in touch soon.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
“Dad’s been on the phone since I got here.” Kaden nods toward the garden room where I spot our father pacing with his cell to his ear though the French doors. “And Mom gave Roni a sleeping pill and set her up in one of the spare rooms.” Clashing sounds come from the kitchen, and that answers where she went after she got Veronica Blake settled in. Mom deals with stress that way—by cleaning shit in the kitchen, even in the middle of the night.
“And Ned?”
“He’s in the library with a bottle of something.”
I settle next to my brother on the couch. His knee is bumping up and down, and he seems as frayed around the edges as I feel. “Probably for the best it’s just you and me. We need to talk.”
Kaden must have detected the hard edge to my tone. He sits up a little straighter. “What’s on your mind?”
“How about we cut through the bullshit? You’ve been fucking my wife.”
The accusation settles between us, heavier than an elephant. Kaden stares at me for five long seconds before getting up and turning his back to me, both hands raking through his dark hair. “I haven’t slept with her.”
“You expect me to believe that? The detective showed me a photo of the two of you kissing today. Or did you forget about the cameras in the parking garage?”
Kaden drags in a deep breath before letting it out. Then he turns and faces me. “I mean it. I haven’t been with her…not since you guys got married.”
I jump to my feet, hands clenching at my sides. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Kaden lets out a sigh. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t want me to find out at all.”
“You’re right.” He reclaims his seat on the couch, and something about the dejected set of his shoulders pricks underneath my anger.
“You need to be straight with me. A woman is dead and Monica is missing. Now’s not the time to keep shit from me.”
He glances up, slowly nodding, as if the coming conversation is an inevitability he can’t escape. “Monica and I were…involved before you got married.”
I blink, but it does nothing to dispel the shock building inside me. Suddenly, I’m looking at my twin—a man who is my mirror image—in a whole new light.
Almost as if I don’t know him at all.
“When, and how long?”
“Off and on for years, right until the wedding.” He looks away with a hard swallow, because there’s no skirting the fact that even then, they were fucking behind my back.
“How did I not know this?”
“The Blakes didn’t approve, so we kept it discrete.” He shrugs. “You were the one they wanted her with, man.”
“And what about Monica? What did she want?”
“She wanted the company and everything that came with it.”
My stomach tightens with utter sickness. I wander toward the French doors and watch our father pace behind the glass, cell to his ear. He’s oblivious to the brewing argument in the next room. “I was just a substitute that happened to look exactly like you.”
“That’s not true. She cares about you.”
“She hasn’t let me touch her in months!” I whi
rl, heartbeat knocking behind my ribcage, and glare at my brother.
My fucking brother, of all people, who fucking betrayed me.
“Why do you think that is, Kade? And don’t you dare tell me nothing’s been going on.”
“You’ve gotta believe me,” he says, an undeniable plea in his tone. “After Monica made her choice, I accepted it.”
“You expect me to believe you haven’t been screwing her all this time?”
“I haven’t, and that’s the truth.”
“If not you, then who? I have a photo that proves she’s been screwing someone. It sure as hell isn’t me.”
“You have a photo?”
“Someone sent it to me two months ago.”
Kaden seems to consider that for a moment. “Mom told me about the affair. I confronted Monica while you were in Oklahoma.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to hear her side of it.”
“Because you’re in love with her?”
“Because you’re my brother, and I needed to hear it from her.”
The angles of his face are cut from guilt. I read between the lines of his non-denial, but for now, I let it go. “Did she admit it?”
“She told me to mind my own business.”
“That sounds like Monica. She’s been shutting me out for months. I don’t know who she is anymore. Apparently, I don’t know you as well as I thought I did either.”
“I’m still your brother. I swear to God I haven’t touched her since the wedding.”
“Your word doesn’t carry the same weight it did. If I’m to believe everything at face value, then Monica’s been fucking someone else, and you’re still someone I can trust.”
“You can trust me.”
“Then tell me what happened in that parking garage.”
“She called asking if I’d heard from you, but she sounded off, so I went to your place. Found her in the garage loading a duffle into her car.” Kaden’s brows draw together at the memory. “She was a mess, crying, saying shit that didn’t make sense.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No. She said she needed to get out of town for a while. I tried to stop her from leaving, but she was too upset and wouldn’t listen to me.” Kaden pauses. “Now it’s my turn. Where were you when all of this went down?”
