The Hidden Truths Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  The ME donned a pair of purple latex gloves and lifted one of the corpse’s hands. “His fingertips have been severed. Missing.” He opened the man’s mouth. “Each tooth was pulled.”

  Bile rose in my throat, and I turned away from the body. It was hard to tell if it was Tyson. The body was discolored, and the flesh partially stripped. “Does he have a tattoo?” I remembered Tyson had a tattoo of the Marine Corps flag on his chest. We’d been at a family function at Martha’s Vineyard once when I was fifteen, and Tyson had been there. My father had brought him everywhere like Tyson was his own personal secret service.

  On the beach I’d noticed Tyson’s tattoo, which prompted me to ask him about his time in the Marines. Our conversation had always stuck with me, and the night my father and I had the big blowout, I remembered Tyson, and I thought, Why not?

  “He has a tattoo,” Danny responded.

  “Marine Corps flag on his chest?” I balled my hands at my sides, my chest flaring with rage. Tyson had been a good man. A better man than my father. He was someone I went to for advice when I was a teen. He’d worked for my father since I was twelve. I respected the man. And now—

  “Yes.”

  “How’d he die?” I still couldn’t turn around. Jake’s hand was on my shoulder, and I leaned forward, pressing my hands to my knees.

  “He had multiple wounds, but the final blow was most likely the stab wound to the left groin that hit the femoral artery. He was either tortured, or someone really didn’t want his identity discovered. Probably both.”

  I sucked in a breath, held it a moment, and released it. I needed to get out of there.

  “You gonna be okay?” Jake asked as my spine straightened.

  “With Tyson dead, I have to assume that my father was also murdered.” I turned to face Danny, who was zipping up Tyson’s body bag.

  “Is it possible that someone could fake a heart attack?” I knew the answer, but I was curious to hear a medical opinion.

  “Of course. A lot of drugs can induce a heart attack. Even some common medicines, if abused, can result in heart failure, especially if someone has a pre-existing heart condition.” He pushed Tyson’s body back into the refrigerator. The thought of his body packed away like meat made me sick again.

  “We need to get to my father’s place and check it out.”

  “Thank you.” Jake shook Danny’s hand again, and I followed suit.

  I handed Danny a small scrap of paper I’d brought with me, just in case. “Here’s the name and phone number for this man’s sister. You might want to have her come and ID the body.”

  “Thank you. Sorry for your loss,” Danny said, averting his eyes to the floor. I couldn’t imagine his job—having to meet with families and give them the worst news of their lives.

  “Thanks.” Jake and I left the police station and made our way back to the Jeep.

  “You ready to go to your father’s?”

  I sighed. I had to do it eventually. “I guess.”

  Jake turned on the radio. Country music, of course.

  I glared at him. “Hell, no.”

  “Oh, come on. This is real music.” He drummed his fingers on his knees and looked out the window.

  “I don’t want to hear about someone’s broken truck and dog running away.”

  “At least my music has lyrics. Unlike that techno stuff you listen to.”

  “I don’t listen to techno. It’s called house music.” I pulled out onto the road, joining the pack of cars on the busy street. “They sing, F.Y.I.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.” He grinned at me.

  “Man, I don’t know how I put up with you in the past.”

  “Oh shit,” Jake said a few minutes later.

  “What?” I stopped at a red light and looked over at Jake, who was holding his phone.

  “I just got hits on the photos of those guys you sent me.” With a low voice he announced the names: “Andrei Belyakov and Oleg Konstantin.”

  I quickly reached for the music, turning it off. “Konstantin? As in Alexander Konstantin?”

  “Oleg is Alexander’s nephew—his brother’s son. And Andrei is one of Alexander’s hitmen.” He tapped at his phone. “Tyson’s murder has Russian mafia written all over it. It’s a classic Russian hit—everything from the teeth and fingers to the Hudson River. And with you running into Oleg and Andrei at the gym yesterday—”

  “It just seems suspect that Declan would ever introduce me to them.” I paused, thinking back to the gym. “Well, they didn’t exactly give me their names.”

  “You could be reading into that, but the fact that he’s friends with these guys means he’s probably connected to Alexander Konstantin.”

  “Declan mentioned making a deal with the Russians, but the Russian mafia wasn’t the first thought that came to my mind when he said that.” I gripped the steering wheel as the light changed. “Can Konstantin be the middle-man between Reid Enterprises and the Saudi deal? Is Konstantin even capable of creating that kind of connection in the Middle East?” Frustration pushed through me, knocking me off my game. It was a feeling I wasn’t used to, and sure as hell didn’t like.

  “Konstantin could probably make the mayor of New York run in circles and sing damn opera if he wanted, but a deal with the Saudis?” He pulled his lips together in thought.

  “This is getting complicated.”

  “Thank God I’m here to help you.” He smirked at me and reached into his pocket and pulled out his black-rimmed glasses. “I’ve pulled up the rap sheets on Oleg and Andrei.”

  “And?”

  “They’ve been in and out of jail for the last twelve years. But they rarely served longer than a few months. Most of the crimes were small. Just got out of jail recently, though. The both of them.” Jake scratched his jaw. “Well, damn. I almost missed this. Nine and a half years ago, they were both accused of murder, but the case never made it to trial. Two people were killed at a club in the city—a bartender and Colin McGregor, the right-hand man of the McGregor crew, an Irish gang. The McGregors owned the bar, but—” He shifted in his seat and looked at me.

  “What?” I pulled off to the side of the road, illegally parking so that I could focus.

  “The club McGregor owned—you’ll never guess who now owns it.”

  “I’m not great at guessing games.”

  “John Jackson and Declan Reid.”

  Everything went silent at that moment.

  “Connor?” Jake snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “What’s the name of the club?” I finally spoke, my voice breaking.

  “The Wynn.”

  I rubbed my hands over my face. “The name of the bartender who was killed?”

  “Jessie Scott.”

  21

  Olivia

  I wasn’t sure what to do, but I was pretty sure Andrei Belyakov was following me. When I saw him at the gym, I didn’t think he recognized me, but the fact that he was tailing me must have meant that he, at least, had his suspicions.

  But what could he prove?

  I knew there was a chance I’d eventually come face to face with Andrei or Konstantin’s nephew. They had only been out of jail since mid-April. The DA was always going after Konstantin and his crew, but he couldn’t make the charges stick, or any sentences last longer than a year.

  I ducked inside the subway train, popped in my earbuds, and pulled out my phone. I pretended to listen to music and read an eBook, hoping to seem unaware. Was it just a coincidence that Andrei was at the subway station? Boarding the same train as me?

  I peeked up from my phone and glanced over my shoulder. I caught a glimpse of his large body, the tattoos spiraling down both his forearms. He was looking down at his phone and not at me. That was a good sign.

  I hated Andrei, but it was Oleg who had pulled the trigger that night. Regardless of who took the shot, of course, Alexander Konstantin was ultimately the one to blame. His marching orders had caused my sister’s death.

  I thou
ght it would’ve been next to impossible to ever get on a case involving Konstantin, because of my past, but I had needed to do something. There were other men like him, and they had to be stopped. So as soon as I finished college, I applied to the FBI. When I discovered Blake, who I’d been sort-of dating, had been assigned to the case, I decided to stalk Konstantin and learn his behaviors and patterns.

  I knew Konstantin was a boxing and MMA fan. He liked to party at clubs, particularly The Phoenix and out in Vegas. Loved gambling and women. When I realized there was a connection between Declan Reid and Konstantin, I presented my plan to Blake, but I struck a deal. Bring me in on the case for the information.

  Okay, so I would’ve told him what I’d discovered even if he’d said no, but I had to try. I wanted to bring Konstantin down more than anything. And I thought if we targeted Declan we might have a chance at getting Konstantin. Then the skies opened with mercy on me as an admin position became available at Reid Enterprises, turning my idea into a reality.

  Although Blake begrudgingly had agreed to my plan, he wanted my past to remain a secret from Sean, the only other member on the team. Blake had insisted to the director that our team needed to be small, to prevent any leaks. Too many people were on Konstantin’s payroll—we had to be careful. No one other than our team and the director knew it.

  At first, all I could think about was my chance to bring down Konstantin, the king of Brighton Beach, the man who’d caused Jessie’s death. But as I got to know Declan more, I had hoped I’d be able to drag his ass to hell, too. I couldn’t stand the man.

  The doors to the subway opened, and when I looked up, Andrei was gone. I hadn’t noticed where he got off. Perhaps his presence had only been a coincidence. I also didn’t look anything like I did at the gym yesterday. I was dressed for work in a fitted gray skirt with silk blouse, and my hair was flat ironed, pin straight. Yesterday I had been a sweaty, make-up free mess.

  I decided to stay on and ride the subway a little longer, varying up my routine. After exiting the subway, I hopped in a cab.

  As the taxi pulled onto the Brooklyn Bridge, I peered at the bridge out the window, unable to take my eyes off the object as it loomed over the East River, linking the two boroughs.

  My gaze pinned on its granite towers, and the web of wires and steel cables that poked the sky, arching and slanting in perfect symmetry to hold everything together. The bridge was secure. Stable.

  I had to dislodge my heart from my throat when Connor had once told me about his escapades—one of them included bungee jumping off a bridge.

  I caught a glimpse of the man I once knew when Connor dropped his guard with me this morning. He was definitely harder now. Steely. But if you cut through the many layers of Connor Matthews, you’d find the same twenty-two-year-old guy I’d met and fallen in love with.

  Or thought I loved. I’d spent the last decade convincing myself I never really loved him after he abandoned me. But at this point, I had to call bullshit. We’d been in love. I just don’t know how we went from love to him running off to join the Iraq War.

  It was still difficult for me to picture fun loving Connor shooting a weapon. Killing someone.

  “Here,” the driver shouted, awakening me from my daze.

  “I had to shower and get dressed for work before I came. Sorry,” I said to Blake once I’d made it to our meeting place.

  He shut the door behind me and followed me into the living room. I could feel his gaze on me, and when I turned around, I discovered I was right. He looked up from my legs and met my eyes. “We need to end this and soon.”

  Blake had been fine with the slow pace of the investigation up until recently, and now it appeared he’d lost his patience. I had to assume the fact that terrorists were now involved was the reason. “You talk to your friend in D.C.? Is Homeland or the CIA aware of the situation?”

  “They’re up to date. They’ll be sending in reinforcements soon and specialists to help track the flow of weapons. Hopefully, we can take down some terrorist cells while bringing down the entire Russian New York mob.”

  Yeah, I just needed to figure out how to do it without hurting Connor. “I had a run-in with Andrei Belyakov and Oleg Konstantin yesterday.” I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see the reaction that would spring to his face.

  His hand was on my arm and his breath on my face when I opened my eyes. “What?” His blue eyes grew dark, his pupils expanding.

  I pulled my arm free from his grip and turned my back. “You have any coffee?” I escaped to the small kitchen, where the coffee pot was full and warm. Thankfully, Blake was like me—he drank coffee at all hours of the day.

  “Olivia.” He crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter in the kitchen, standing a few feet away while I made myself a cup.

  “They were at the gym yesterday. I don’t think they recognized me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I was afraid you’d pull me from the case.” I sipped my coffee and attempted to act nonchalant. Ha. Not possible.

  “Damn right I’d take you off the case!” His arms dropped to his sides, and he shook his head. “Shit, Olivia. What if they made you?”

  I knew I should also mention spotting Andrei at the subway, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. We were too close to bringing down Konstantin and Declan. If we could connect Konstantin to terrorism—to treason—no way he’d be able to wriggle out of that one.

  “You were the one who identified them at the police station after your sister’s murder.”

  “They didn’t see me then. I was behind glass. And the case was never brought to trial, so they don’t know me.” Somehow, the case had been dropped due to police negligence. But I knew that was straight BS.

  “They saw you at the club. You told me you charged Oleg like a damn bull and hit him in the chest, after what happened to your sister.” He closed the gap between us, and I set my coffee down on the counter.

  “Olivia.” His hand touched my forearm. “This is exactly why I should never have agreed to let you on the case.”

  I started to shake my head like some bobblehead doll. “I was barely twenty when that happened. It was ages ago, and he didn’t get a great look at me then. We were in a dark club. The second I ran up to him, the cops were on the place, and he took off.”

  “Yeah, missing his chance to kill you.”

  “We’re getting close, Blake.” I pulled my eyes up to meet his blue ones. “I’m actually glad Andrei and Oleg are out of jail. Now we can make sure they rot away for good when they’re arrested.” Not just on another one of their bullshit pseudo-sentences.

  Blake stared at me, his eyes cold. I touched the counter with both hands, bracing myself. “If you’re worried about Connor, don’t be. He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

  “How am I supposed to ensure the deal happens smoothly while also staying away from Connor like you ordered?” I pushed my hair to my back, frustration spearing me, my nerves wreaking havoc on my organs.

  “I doubt Connor will bring his friend to the club, right? Regardless of what you think Connor’s doing, he won’t bring an FBI agent to The Phoenix.” He shoved his fingers through his blonde hair and wrinkled his nose at me. “Make sure he’s at the club tonight and agrees to sell the weapon to Declan. We can’t waste any more time, especially now that Andrei and Oleg are in the mix.”

  Connor

  I pulled into my father’s parking garage and turned off the engine. My brain was still spinning full throttle. Resting my hands on the steering wheel, I peeked at Jake from the corner of my eye. He was busy reading something on his phone.

  “This is a bit hard to believe, don’t you think?” Jake looked up from his phone, but my head now had that feeling of being at extreme altitudes, where your ears have a persistent, low-pitched ring inside. I couldn’t think straight.

  “Olivia would’ve been about twenty when her sister died. Would she have put such a long-term plot into plac
e?”

  Jake slipped his phone into his pocket and shifted to better look at me. “Anger doesn’t have an expiration date. Maybe she stumbled upon the chance to go after these men while working for Declan.”

  I was shaking my head without realizing it. “No. Olivia’s way too smart. There’s no way any of this is a coincidence. She knows about Declan’s connection to that club. She brought it up when we grabbed a bite to eat recently.” I shut my eyes, trying to remember our conversation. Her olive skin had gone almost ghost white after she’d mentioned that the club where we’d first met was now owned by Declan. She’d been thinking about her sister—I just hadn’t known about her sister’s murder at the time.

  “What?”

  “I’m betting that Olivia has been after Andrei and Oleg for a while, but they’ve been protected by Konstantin or in and out of prison. She’s on a revenge mission, and she targeted Declan to get to the mob.” My eyes popped open, and I was sure the color was draining from my face.

  Olivia was going to get herself killed. I knew if anyone had ever hurt Mason, I’d have done the same thing. But I would’ve been too impatient to wait for the right time to attack, like she clearly had. I’d want to ring my hands around the bastards’ necks at the first chance.

  Olivia could fight, though, and she was capable of firing a weapon without flinching. She’d been preparing, but there was no way Olivia could go up against Konstantin and his men. They’d crush her as soon as they found out who she really was.

  “You’re that sure Olivia is on a revenge mission?”

  I reached for the door handle. “Hell, yes.” I slid out of my Jeep.

  “Why hasn’t she been honest with you?”

  I swung the door to the building open. “Maybe she thinks she can’t trust me. She’s worried I’ll break her cover.” I was afraid to tell her the truth, myself. I couldn’t blame her, given the past we shared.

  “You think she’s doing this alone?” he asked as we entered the lobby.

  “If she is, she’s not alone anymore,” I answered before my jaw clenched.