by Mia Ford
Secrets & Lies
Mia Ford
Copyright © 2019 by Mia Ford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Published: Mia Ford 2019
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Contents
Author’s Note
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Excerpt
Author’s Note
Stay connected with Mia Ford
Also by Mia Ford
Author’s Note
Secrets & Lies is a full-length standalone novel. At the end, I’ve included an excerpt from my Amazon bestselling steamy romance box set Good Girls Bad Boys.
Secrets & Lies concludes at around 90% on your device.
Happy Reading!
XO, Mia Ford
Blurb
I never expected to see her again, but, when my ex shows up, a child in tow, I know things are spiraling out of control.
Three years ago, I was happy.
But then Jessica leaves, and nothing is the same,
I try my best to carry on, but I never forgot her.
I will never ever forgive her,
She’s done enough.
I hate her now.
Until she returns, a kid in her arms and apologies on her lips…
Chapter One
Grant
I yawn widely and blink several times. I glance at the clock for the third time in the last minute and groan when I notice that the hands have barely moved past nine o’clock. I’m more than ready for this night to be over, despite the fact that it’s barely started.
“Rough day?” one of the women sitting at the bar asks sympathetically, nursing a red drink in her hands.
“Yeah,” I sigh, rubbing my forehead. I’m so tired. “Hopefully it’s a quiet night.”
The woman snorts. “Fat chance of that; it’s Friday.”
She perks up then and turns away from me, grinning as she sees two more women come into the bar. She slides off her seat and heads toward them; she’s been waiting here for the last fifteen minutes, getting progressively more impatient as the minutes ticked by. I’m almost glad she’s gone; she’s spent the last five minutes whining about how late the others are.
At the moment, the Anchor Bar, where I work, is quiet and almost empty. But I know that will change very soon; it’s Friday night after all, and the place will fill up quickly. I think about the long hours that are stretching ahead of me and I wish I had just called in sick. Fiona McIntosh, the other bartender, would have been eager to pick up an extra shift. I’m just not in the mood to deal with anyone tonight.
A man approaches the bar and I head toward him. He’s smiling and he says something about having a long day at work, so I smile back and give him a beer after taking his money. He’s still chattering about something or other, and I try and nod in all the right places, not really listening at all. It takes me a moment before I realize that he’s taken his drink and left.
“You look like death warmed over,” a new voice says.
Blinking, startled, I look around.
“Kyle?” I ask, confused; when did he come in?
Kyle Jacobs grins at me, his large form hunched over the bar, ridiculously tall even while he’s sitting down. He’s not a quiet man by any means; I must be more tired than I thought if I didn’t notice him arrive and sit down nearby.
“Long day?” Kyle asks.
“You could say that,” I reply, rubbing my head.
Not that I did much. No, most of my problems right now are because of the sleepless night I had suffered through, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning after waking abruptly from stupid dreams. Eventually, I gave up at seven and got out of bed to drink as much coffee as my stomach could stand.
“Where’s Allison?” I ask.
“She’ll come soon,” Kyle says with a shrug. “She went to pick up a friend.”
“A friend?” I ask, curious. “Jacqui?”
I’ve met Jacqui Clark a few times, now. She’s an interesting woman; blunt, cheerful and full of bad jokes and sage advice. She’s definitely the perfect match for Allison Miller, who is headstrong and would easily run headlong into danger without both Kyle and her best friend corralling her.
“No,” Kyle says. “An old friend from school that she reconnected with. She doesn’t get out of the house much so Allison wants to drag her out…against her wishes.” He rolls his eyes but there’s a fond smile on his face that I can’t help but feel jealous of. “She’s fucking nosy.”
“She is,” I say with a laugh. “Looking out for her must be a full-time job.”
Kyle’s smile drops and he sighs. “If she isn’t trying to rope me into some sort of feel-good, enlightenment shit, she’s throwing herself in the path of pickpockets.”
“That’s oddly specific,” I point out.
“Did it two days ago,” Kyle grumbles. “Some fucking pickpocket stole a guy’s wallet, and he started yelling for someone to catch the thief. Allison saw him running and stepped right in front of him. Guy would have bowled her over or shoved her into traffic if I wasn’t there.”
“What did you do?” I ask.
“Beat his ass,” Kyle scowls.
I snort. “He’ll probably think twice before trying that again, at least.”
“He ran off, leaving the wallet behind,” Kyle says, shrugging. “The police haven’t been at my doorstep, asking me about it, so he didn’t cry assault.”
“You got lucky,” I remind him. “The last thing you need is to tangle with the police. They’ll take one look at your record and throw you away.”
“That was years ago,” Kyle protests.
In his teenage years, Kyle had been a problem child following his father’s death, from what I gathered, committing robberies and assaults with a larger group. His current employer, the mechanic, pulled him off the streets and gave him an opportunity to turn his life around after he caught Kyle stealing. All this happened nearly ten years ago, but…
I frown. “I don’t think it matters. A record is a record, and you’ll never get away from it.”
Kyle eyes me with that considering look that he tends to ge
t when he hears me talking about the police. I know he wants to ask; I’ve never spoken much about my life before the Roughshod Rollers, and Kyle isn’t the only one curious. But he doesn’t say anything, just nods in agreement and takes a sip of the beer I slide over to him.
“Anyway, we got distracted,” he says. “Why do you look like you could crawl straight back into bed?”
“Because I could, given half a chance,” I groan. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ve been running on caffeine most of the day but I think I’ll be sick if I smell any more coffee. I just have to get through the next few hours, then I can sleep.”
“Rough,” Kyle says sympathetically. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“Dreams,” I say shortly, making it clear that it isn’t something I want to talk about.
Kyle nods and doesn’t press further. It’s what I like most about my friendship with Kyle; the man is good at knowing when he needs to back off.
Though, from my attitude alone, he’s probably guessed what’s going on. I only ever get harsh like that when I’m speaking about Jessica Russell. And Jessica is the one thing I don’t speak about…with anyone.
Sometimes, I wish I could just forget her, I think as someone catches my attention, looking for a drink. There are moments when I think I have forgotten her, when all I concentrate on is my job, the Roughshod Rollers and, more recently, the renovations we have thrown ourselves into doing. Then I open my wallet, and her damn picture is still in there because I haven’t worked up the courage to toss the thing in the trash, where it belongs.
I constantly tell myself that I’m being ridiculous. It’s been three years. It’s a long time to still be hung up over an ex. I should have stored away all the memories I have of Jessica by now, and forgotten that part of my life ever existed. I should have moved on, fallen in love with someone else and made some new, happier memories.
Three years later, though, I still can’t even look at another woman without comparing her to Jessica. I’m stuck in a constant loop of memories, trapped by my own longings and confusion about what exactly happened to us. I’ve never understood how we fell apart so quickly, leading to the final argument that ended our relationship for good. Jessica took her stuff and ran, disappearing so quickly that my head spun. Before I knew it, everything she owned was gone and I was left only to wonder what had happened.
I still haven’t figured it out. Sometimes, when I think about it, I remember that she got cagey in the weeks leading up to our breakup, as though she was hiding something. She had been snappy and anxious. But she had also been unwell, so I put her attitude down to that and tried my best to help her, despite her suddenly not wanting me there.
Then we argued. It was over the stupidest thing. She didn’t want take-out for dinner, but I was working late, and, with her sick, we had no choice. Somehow, that argument blew out of proportion until we were yelling at each other, throwing out insults and hurtful statements that were only half true.
Then she was gone.
There’s the sound of shattering glass in the corner and I start, returning abruptly to the present. I was filling a glass, my body moving on autopilot while my mind was far away. I shake myself; now isn’t the time to do this. As tired as I am, I still have a job to do.
“Hey!” I call, rounding the bar. The guy who dropped the glass looks up, guilt plastered over his face. He hasn’t been here for very long, but the way he’s swaying tells me that he has already had a few drinks. No doubt he started drinking long before he got here. “What happened?”
“Heee did it!” the man slurs, pointing to his friend.
The other man looks outraged; he’s far more sober than his friend, and he’s leaning back with his own drink. I sigh, already seeing where this is going.
“Fuck you!” the friend says, shooting to his feet.
“Watch it,” I warn, mindful of the glass on the floor; the last thing I need is to have to send someone to the hospital to get stitches.
The two men ignore me and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Then I turn and catch Kyle’s eye. He grins and stands, making his way toward me.
He doesn’t say anything. He just comes up behind me and looms over everyone, dropping his expression into a dark look. As soon as the two men notice, they snap their mouths closed and drop back into their seats.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve used Kyle’s enormous height and muscled bulk to my advantage. More than once, I’ve joked that I need to employ him officially as a bouncer. He’s always joked back that he wouldn’t take the job, because then he wouldn’t get to drink.
“Right,” I say pleasantly. “Now, can someone tell me what happened?”
The drunk guy sinks lower in his seat.
“Dropped my drink,” he mutters.
“If you do it again, I’m going to have to kick you out,” I warn. “Now, can the two of you please move? I need to clean up this glass.”
The men were gone before the last words left my mouth. I snort.
“Intimidating as always,” I say to my friend.
“They’re just fucking cowards,” Kyle says easily. “Want some help?”
“It’s fine, it won’t take too long,” I say, shaking my head.
I clean up the glass, wiping up the spilled alcohol (the bastard spilled almost an entire drink), and head back to the bar. There are several people waiting now, some more patiently than others. Kyle is sitting back on the stool, nursing his drink, occasionally glancing at the door as he waits for Allison and her friend.
“Maybe her friend just doesn’t want to come,” I suggest as I pass him.
“Nah, they’re on their way,” Kyle says, waving his phone. “They’ll be here soon. Allison’s got the car.”
I grin. There’s still something amusing about seeing the small car Allison and Kyle bought together. It’s not tiny but it isn’t large, and watching Kyle squeeze himself into it is hilarious. It’s also a little weird; in all the time I’ve known him, Kyle has only ever driven his motorbike.
“So, will you be good for tomorrow?” Kyle asks.
“Tomorrow?”
As soon as I say it, memory hits. We’re meant to be taking down some walls tomorrow. Now that the founder’s house is back in our hands, kindly donated by the sheepish authorities for our use as long as we fix it up and pay minimal rent, we’ve all been doing our best to work hard on it. Even Tom Green has turned up once or twice, taking a hammer and swinging it with all his might. Some of the others have wondered if the only reason he comes is to take his anger out on something that won’t swing back.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say. “I haven’t had time to look at it this week. How is the work going?”
“Not much left,” Kyle says with a grin. “Some of the builders are starting to look at laying concrete.”
I grimace. The original flooring was motheaten wood panels; my foot went through one board last year, twisting my ankle and putting me on crutches for a few weeks.
“I’m just glad the work has been quick,” I say.
“Got a lot of people to help,” Kyle says, draining his beer. “Everyone’s pitching in. We can use the money to get materials soon. Fucking Alan keeps talking inflated prices for his help, though… We’re not going to ask him for help.”
I laugh. We have several builders in the Roughshod Rollers, and many of them have put their hands up to do the work at a discounted price. It doesn’t surprise me, though, that some of them are taking the opportunity to get paid more than they normally would.
“Alan’s always been an opportunist,” I agree. “He joined the Roughshod Rollers for prestige.”
Kyle snorts and then laughs loudly. Several people look over curiously.
“Fuck that!” he crows. “He must be a fucking idiot if he thinks we get anything more than dirty looks!”
“I think he’s realizing that,” I smirk. “I won’t be surprised if he quits before long.”
Kyle’s phone buzzes. He glances at it and smiles
.
“Allison’s here,” he tells me. “With her friend. Be nice to her, yeah? Allison said she’s nervous,” he grins. “Apparently she’s nice. You never know…”
I give him a tight smile. Kyle makes jokes like that all the time, and I know he doesn’t mean anything by them. I also know that there’s a part of him that hopes that I might like one of the girls he teases me about enough that I’ll forget Jessica and everything that happened between us.
Unfortunately, that’s wishful thinking.
The door opens. Kyle perks up immediately, and I glance over. It’s Allison, her shoulders thrown back, her eyes locking on Kyle the moment she enters. She grins and waves wildly. I manage a smile and a small wave back; it’s only been a few months since everything that happened, but I’m finally starting to forgive all the trouble Allison caused Kyle.
There’s someone behind her. Allison is tall, so the other woman is hidden in her shadow, obviously worried about being here. I wonder how Allison managed to convince her to come out if she was that shy. I roll my eyes and turn away, noticing that someone up the bar is trying to catch my attention.
By the time I turn around again, Allison and her friend have made their way to Kyle. The couple are kissing each other, and I look away, turning my attention to the woman Allison has brought with her, instead. I notice, first, the awkward look on her face, caught as the third wheel while her friend greets her boyfriend.
