The Hidden Truths Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “But why?” she asked, her voice cracking a little as she spoke.

  He sunk back into the couch and clasped his hands together. “I have two theories. Your stalker wants you back in New York for whatever reason, maybe to do you harm there. Or, there’s also a chance that this is somehow connected to your mother’s murder.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” she snapped.

  Michael turned away from the window, zoning in on Jake as though he had a grenade in hand.

  “I did some research on you after Michael called me yesterday. Sorry,” Jake said.

  “Apparently, your research sucks because my mom wasn’t murdered.” She closed her mouth and pushed to her feet, walking to the fireplace, where she stared down at the fake, gray logs.

  “Kate, I’m sorry. But what do you know about your mom’s death?” Jake asked.

  She turned around and looked at Michael. He was beholding her with the same worry that rippled through her own body.

  There was no way she could deal with this right now. No way. “She was eight months pregnant and went into labor early. They had to do an emergency C-section. There was a lot of bleeding. Her blood pressure spiked. She died.”

  “Shit, I didn’t expect to be the one to tell you this. I assumed your father—or, at least someone would have told you the truth.” Jake reached into the duffel bag by his foot and retrieved a folder.

  “Your mom was murdered in her parents’ home on Lake Norman, in your grandfather’s office. She was shot in the chest.”

  Kate trained her eyes on the FBI agent, who was killing her on the inside with tiny little knife jabs of unwanted truth.

  “Your dad arrived on the scene right after it happened—your mom was still alive, but barely. The medics couldn’t save her, but the ER doctors were able to save you.” He took a breath.

  Jake might as well have put a gun to her heart. It felt like her life was seeping from her. She looked down at her chest to see if there was blood.

  Jake continued, despite the fact that Kate was ready to collapse into an abyss of darkness. “The police decided it must have been a robbery gone bad, that maybe the burglars expected the home to be empty, and your mother confronted them with her father’s gun. Perhaps they took the gun and shot her . . . and then when her boyfriend—your father—showed up, they took off.”

  She was touching her chest now. There was real pain there. She could feel it. She couldn’t possibly be imagining the feeling—her heart was constricting against her ribcage. Her nails clawed at her chest as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Kate?” Worry lit across Michael’s face. “Are you okay?” He darted toward her, holding her arm as if she might fall. He guided her back to the armchair.

  She sat down for a few minutes in silence.

  Murder?

  No, it wasn’t possible.

  “My dad would have told me. I don’t believe it,” she mumbled.

  Jake let out a breath and continued to speak with a steady but softer voice. “Your father took you to New York as soon as the hospital let him. And your grandparents abandoned their home after the shooting. Either it was too painful for them to be in Charlotte or they suspected the murder was more . . . personal . . . than the police explanation.”

  Her legs felt heavy, even though she was sitting down. “My dad left Charlotte because my mom died here. He left because this city was a painful reminder of her existence. Not because she was murdered.”

  “Kate, I’m sorry, but it’s true. I can show you the police report if you’d like,” Jake said.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed on Jake as he held up his hand. A warning.

  “She needs to know this,” Jake insisted. He stood up and walked over to Kate.

  Her attention shifted up to meet Jake’s eyes. “Go on,” she whispered.

  “DNA evidence was brand new back then, and forensics didn’t reveal much. There was evidence of a break-in at the door to the back entrance. Your father reported that a family necklace your mother always wore was missing from her neck. Since your father saw no sign of a vehicle, the police assumed the robbers had parked down the street and approached the house on foot. Because your father worried there was more to the story, the cops interviewed friends and classmates of your mother, but they came up with a bunch of loose ends.”

  Kate wasn’t sure how she would manage to stand. “I need to make a call. Excuse me.” She stood, but her legs had that weird, rubbery sensation as she walked. She didn’t remember how she got to her bedroom or dialed her father’s number, but she was now listening to him say her name for the third time.

  “Are you okay? Kate? Say something.”

  She shut her eyes. “You lied to me. Why?”

  “What in God’s name are you talking about? What’s going on?” Her father’s voice had lost its cool edge. It broke with stress.

  “Mom was murdered.” The words sounded strange as they rolled off her tongue.

  Silence greeted her on the other end of the line.

  “Why did you lie to me?” Her eyes flashed open, and she gripped the phone tight to her ear.

  “Who told you this?”

  “I just want the truth. What happened to her?”

  “I’m taking the next flight to Charlotte. I’ll call you when I land, and then I’m picking you up and taking you home.”

  The line went dead.

  She continued to hold the phone to her ear as though answers would pour forth from it.

  “Kate?” Michael rapped at the door. “Are you all right?”

  “Go away.” It was her turn to blow him off. To close herself up and hide behind a fortified wall of steel.

  “I can’t do that.” Michael opened the door, and she regretted not locking it. She dropped her phone on the bed and focused her attention on the plush carpet beneath her toes. Don’t cry. Don’t break down in front of him.

  “Kate.”

  She shifted to lie down. Turning away from him, she pleaded, “Please, leave.”

  But he ignored her, damn him. She felt the weight of the bed shift as he joined her, and when he wrapped an arm around her, tugging her flush to his body, she cried, “Let me go. Leave.” She started to struggle, to shift her shoulders, to move away from him, but he only tightened his hold.

  “I’m here for you, Kate. Let me be here for you.”

  “Damn you,” she hissed. He had no right to be her savior right now. To be the friend she’d tried to be to him.

  But as he nuzzled his face to her neck, sweeping his hand down the side of her face, she gave in to the warmth. To the comfort and feeling of safety.

  And tears began to stream down her face as she remained tucked against the one man who could possibly hurt her more than her stalker. The man who was slowly possessing her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Something heavy pressed against her stomach, and the need to take a deep breath forced her awake. Kate’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked down to see Michael’s arm resting on her abdomen. His long, dark lashes lay against his bronzed skin. His chest gently rose and fell.

  She wanted to shut her eyes and stay next to him for as long as possible. To will away the truth of what she’d learned earlier.

  But she couldn’t hide forever.

  She stared at the ceiling and swallowed as she processed her thoughts. Learning the truth was like losing her mom for the second time.

  “Kate. How are you?” His palm cupped her chin, and he nudged her face close to his.

  Their lips were only inches apart as she practically breathed out his name, “Michael.”

  His brows pinched together, his eyes like blue glass. “I—”

  “My father is on his way here,” she cut him off, worried he’d try to dance around the moment and turn into an ass—and right now she couldn’t deal with that. “He plans on taking me home.”

  Michael’s head snapped back, and he immediately sat upright and rubbed a hand down his face. “Hell, no. You’re safe here,
with me.”

  Sure . . .

  His voice softened a fraction as he said, “Kate, I don’t think going back to New York is a good idea, especially if that’s what your stalker wants.”

  She scooted to the other side of the bed and stood. “I don’t know where I’ll be safe—maybe nowhere. But my father is an attorney; he knows people who can protect me.” She paused, and her shoulders shrank. “But I’m so angry at him for lying to me all these years. I don’t know if I can face him right now.” She looked down at the floor.

  Her life had been a lie.

  “Can I ask what he said to you?”

  She ran her hands up and down her thighs, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. “He didn’t say much of anything other than he was taking the first flight here. But it’s strange, huh?”

  Michael came around in front of her and reached out, cupping her cheek. The gesture was sweet. And so damn confusing it hurt.

  She sucked in a breath, taking note of his eyes, which were not as dark and appeared more like the Gulf of Mexico on a summer day. Or maybe her vision was off from all the crying.

  “I don’t know who killed my mom, or if it’s the same person who is after me, but I kind of want it to be the same person,” she softly admitted.

  He stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowing.

  “I—I need it to be the same person because I want to bring my mother’s killer to justice. I have a better chance of finding her killer if he has already found me.”

  Michael’s hand fell. “It sounds to me like you want to be bait.”

  “Not bait . . . not any more than I already am.” She crossed her arms. “I have to find out who killed my mom.”

  He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and stepped back. “Fine.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll find your stalker and your mother’s killer—even if they’re two different people. But we’re not using you as bait. Period.”

  Michael slid off the barstool when he saw Kate approaching. She looked refreshed and energized after her shower. She had applied a little mascara and lip gloss and had thrown on a pair of blue jeans and a pink, Victoria’s Secret T-shirt.

  He groaned, unsettled by his inappropriate desire. “You look better.”

  “My dad sent me a text. He said he couldn’t get a flight until early tomorrow morning.” She approached the fridge and opened it. “I texted him the address of the hotel where I was staying before. He thinks I’ll be meeting him there at eight. He has no idea about you.” She peeked around the fridge door. “Could you meet him instead? I can’t face him.”

  “Of course.” He preferred to have a one-on-one with her father anyway. “I’ll push my meeting until a little later.”

  “I’m starving. Mind if I ransack your fridge? I stress eat.”

  God, it was wonderful to be around a woman with an appetite. Someone who ate actual food. Not lettuce and carrot sticks.

  Was there anything he didn’t like about her? He was trying to think of something as they finished their food awhile later. “You amaze me,” he said.

  She finished her last bite of bowtie pasta and looked up at him. “What?”

  He hadn’t meant to say that, but he couldn’t turn back now. “You just amaze me.” And that was all he would say. He stood up and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Want any?”

  “Sure.”

  “While you were in the shower, I spoke with Jake,” he said as he poured the wine. “He asked me to email him the guest list of the ball. He’s going to see if any of the guests had a connection to your mom.”

  “Oh.”

  When he handed her the glass, she briefly closed her eyes. “I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t think it was relevant, but I met someone at the ball who knew my mom. He told me I looked just like her. They were classmates.” She looked up at Michael. “I’m sure he has nothing to do with my stalker. I mean, we don’t even know if there is a relationship between her murder and what is happening to me.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Yeah. He gave me his business card.”

  “Okay, I’ll let Jake know.” He took a sip of the wine. “Jake also got the official police report of your mother’s case while we were sleeping earlier, and he’ll visit with one of the detectives who was on your mother’s case tomorrow. He’s retired, but he’ll see if the detective remembers anything.”

  “Wow. He moves fast.”

  “Like I said, he’s one of the best. He normally deals in counterterrorism, but—”

  “Jeez. I hate taking up his time then . . .” She shook her head and looked down at her glass. “I’ve completely disrupted your life. Thank you for helping me, though.”

  He set the glass down on the kitchen island and moved toward her. “You don’t need to thank me, and I don’t want anything in return,” he said in a low voice. “I’m helping you because I care about you.”

  She bit her lip and her gaze averted to his mouth. “Why do you care about me? Even before you and I, um, hooked up, you wanted to help me. I don’t get it. Is it because you were in the military? You have some desire to help people in need?”

  “I like you, Kate. You know I do. I can’t help but care about your safety.” He rubbed his forehead and grabbed his wine again. “But I shouldn’t want you the way that I do. It’s selfish of me to still want you, especially now. Especially after the day you’ve had. But damned if I do.” He poured the remaining contents of his glass down his throat and swallowed. “I’m going to call Connor and have him come over.”

  “What? Why?” She moved closer to him.

  “I need to go out. I can’t be here right now.” He didn’t trust himself. And, although he hated the idea of ladies-man-Connor spending the evening with Kate, he knew it would be worse if he spent any time with her. He was still sending her mixed signals, and it wasn’t fair. She needed protection, and all he’d ever be was pain if he got any closer to her.

  “I thought we were going to come up with a plan.”

  “Jake’s working on the plan. Don’t worry.” He reached for his cell and left the kitchen before he could change his mind.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, following him into the living room. “To a bar? A club? To find someone else to be with? Someone that’s not me?”

  He jerked around to face her, his chest moving up and down as he tried to control himself—to stop himself from taking her in his arms right now and showing her that she was all he wanted. All that he needed.

  And then he turned his back and strode from the room—getting as far away from her as possible.

  Michael brought the Jack and Coke to his lips and stared in a daze at the row of liquor bottles that lined the wall. The bar was dead. It was a Monday night, after all, and closing time was in fifteen minutes. He was on his fourth drink, and he was still unable to digest his feelings for Kate. The last few days had taken him by surprise. Kate had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else had. He was trying to keep his wall up, but she was like a sledgehammer. All she had to do was smile.

  He’d thought he would get her out of his system once they slept together. But he only wanted her more. He’d never done drugs before. But for the first time in his life, he felt like he could understand the dilemma that drug users faced. Once they felt the high, they wanted more of it. They knew it was wrong. They tried to stay away. But when temptation was near, their mind would ignore the sin and only remember the pleasure it could bring.

  Kate was becoming his drug, and he couldn’t trust himself around her. He was growing weak.

  He’d faced terrorists eye to eye. He’d gone to bat with men who strapped bombs to their chests—and yet, he couldn’t be in the same room with Kate without needing her so much that it risked his self-control. What was happening?

  He took a sip of his almost empty drink and tried to remind himself of all the reasons that a true relationship was not an option for him. The memories came hurling back with such force that he almos
t spat out his drink. He shut his eyes and bit back the pain that was now gathering like a storm in his chest. He reached into his pocket and threw a few twenties on the counter.

  His legs felt heavy as he exited the bar and walked the few blocks back to his place. When the elevator doors opened, and he entered the living room, he saw Kate curled up asleep on the couch, with Connor sitting beside her. An action flick was playing on the television, and Connor appeared engrossed in the movie. He jumped up when he saw Michael.

  “Thanks for looking after her, man,” he said as he kept his eyes fixed on Kate asleep.

  “Sure.” Connor arched his back, and then stretched his arms out in front of him. “Are you okay? You seem more tense than normal.” He laughed a little. “If that’s possible.”

  Michael nodded. “I’m fine,” he answered as he finally looked at his friend. “Thanks again. See you in the morning.”

  As soon as the elevator doors closed and Connor was gone, Michael reached for Kate and picked her up in his arms, trying not to wake her. He carried her down the hall and to the guest bedroom, staring down at her, mesmerized by the sleeping beauty in his arms. Relief struck him upon noting she was still in her jeans and hadn’t put on one of her flimsy nightgowns for Connor to see. Gently, he laid her on the bed.

  “Michael . . .”

  Hearing his name, even mumbled, caused him to stop in the doorway.

  She was dreaming. About him.

  He pressed his palm to the inside of the doorframe and bowed his head as he stifled the sudden stiffening between his legs.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, wishing he could sleep next to her. To feel her in his arms again. But the nap they had earlier today was the closest he’d come to sleeping with someone since he’d been out of the Marines. And even that had been a mistake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “David Adams?”

  The man was not who Michael would have expected. He knew David Adams was a powerful defense attorney in New York City, but he wouldn’t have pegged him for a shorts-and-wrinkled-T-shirt kind of guy. He decided that Kate’s looks must have come from her mother—her father had dark cropped hair, brown eyes, and a plain, oval face. Something about him screamed lawyer, though—or maybe it was that Michael didn’t trust lawyers, and he definitely didn’t trust Kate’s father, who had lied to his daughter all her life.