Deadly Lies

by Mary Stone

  Not that he had PTSD, he corrected himself. He didn’t. Absolutely not.

  The smile slid from his face. He didn’t like to think that he was screwed up in the head. What soldier did, he supposed.

  He didn’t have time to think about it more because Kylie was chattering on about art and thieves and little orange dogs, and before he knew it, he was pulling into his parents’ driveway.

  Kylie grew quiet as he stopped behind Erik’s BMW. Or maybe it was Craig’s? The two should have been twins. Killing the engine, he didn’t move to open the door.

  Kylie’s hand came to rest on his arm. “It will be okay,” she said softly.

  He exhaled a breath that had grown stagnate in his lungs, then turned in his seat so he could look at her full-on. She deserved his full attention for this. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  The very tip of her nose turned pink, and her eyes grew glassy with tears she blinked away. She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad I’m here too.” Clearing her throat, she looked away first, scanning the huge expanse of green lawn and colorful gardens. “You grew up here? This place looks like the castle at Disney World.”

  Linc gritted his teeth as he looked up at the Spanish-style mansion. Every window in the place was ablaze with light. “You think it’s ostentatious now, wait until you see the inside.”

  He got out, walked around to the other side, and attempted to open her door, although she was already hopping down herself. She smoothed out her skirt, looking worried. “I feel underdressed. I might even feel underdressed in a ball gown. I should’ve asked the mice to help dress me since you were no help.”

  Linc leaned over, inhaling her sweet scent as he planted a kiss on the shell of her ear. “You look incredible,” he told her, fixing his hand on the small of her back. She was wearing these high heels that buckled around her ankles, and her hair fell around her shoulders in lose waves. “In fact,” he pushed her against the truck, “how about we spend a minute or two relaxing each other before we face the clan.”

  She laughed. “Not after yesterday!” She rested her forehead against his chest. “I’m so sure your mother knew exactly what we’d been up to. That was mortifying.”

  “Nah,” he lied. “She didn’t have a clue.”

  Kylie raised her head, gnawing her lower lip. She was damned adorable. He was suddenly very glad to have her by his side.

  “Did she stay long?”

  Linc shook his head. “She left just a few minutes after you left.”

  Kylie ran a hand down the front of his shirt. “In that case, I wish I’d stayed.”

  Looking at her now, it was hard to believe he’d found the resolve to ever let her go.

  Instead of answering her, he took her hand and led her up the long sidewalk. Not hesitating, he rang the doorbell. Might as well get this over with.

  Mason, his parents’ long-time butler, answered with a nod. “Master Lincoln.”

  Kylie giggled so low under her breath that he didn’t think anyone could have heard it but him. He inclined his head. “Mason, good to see you again.”

  The door went wide. “And you as well, sir.”

  Stepping inside, Linc watched Kylie take everything in. Her eyes were huge as they swung up to meet his. Linc could tell exactly what was going through her mind: You grew up here, in this museum?

  Smiling slightly, he led her into the living room, where the members of his family were gathered around like a mosaic, watching Erik’s twelve-year-old daughter, Ellory, play some extremely complex-sounding Chopin piece on the piano.

  The music stopped as his mother exclaimed, “Lincoln!”

  All heads swung in their direction. Linc’s oldest brother, who was closest to the door, swung the rest of his body around, hand extended. “Well, if it isn’t our baby brother,” Craig said, his eyes flashing over to Kylie. “We were wondering if you were ever going to show up at one of these, or if you’d forgotten us completely.”

  Linc forced himself to ignore the jab. “Good to see you too.”

  He was about to introduce Kylie when Ellory shouted his name. “Linc!” The girl scooted out from the piano and ran to hug him. He was tackled from behind by Erik’s youngest, six-year-old Jackson.

  “Hey, guys,” Linc said, grinning as he grabbed them up in big hugs. This was the way family dinners usually went. Linc would go off and play with the kids while the “adults” conversed about adult things. He looked over to the couch where Craig’s two kids sat, teenagers Bailey and Martin, noses buried in their smartphones. They both half-waved. “What’s up, Uncle Linc?” Martin said. Even they were too adult for him.

  But Linc guessed he couldn’t leave Kylie alone with the vultures so he could play with the kids this time.

  He waved to Addison and Melanie, his brothers’ blonde trophy wives, who seemed to forever be in a competition to see who could be thinner. Now, they were practically invisible. His brothers, too, were in a constant competition to one-up each other, professionally, personally, materialistically…in just about every facet of their lives. Kylie shook hands all around and didn’t seem to mind too much that they were all staring at her like a space invader.

  Then his father came up, swirling his tumbler of scotch, patting Linc on the arm. “Good to see you, son.” He turned his attention to Kylie. “Nice to meet you too, young lady. Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Scotch?” Linc’s father was always the bartender at things like these.

  “Wine, thank you,” Kylie said, smiling at Linc’s mother. “Your home is gorgeous, Mrs. Coulter.”

  “Why, thank you, my dear,” she said as Linc deposited little Jackson on the sofa, headfirst.

  Kylie sat down stiffly on a different sofa, staring at the formal tray of fancy hors d’ oeuvres that his mother always had the kitchen staff set out during their family meals, though no one ever ate them. Kylie’s back was so straight, Linc wondered if she’d maybe sat on a pole by accident. If Kylie was looking for some down-home family fun, she was mistaken. His family never let their hair down. Never.

  He looked down at Jackson, who was playing with his mother’s Limoges like they were action figures. At least they had the boy to lighten the mood.

  Linc’s mother pointed at Kylie’s arm, a look of concern on her face. “Are you injured, dear?” Linc was immediately concerned too because Kylie was holding her injured arm close to her chest. Had he hurt her and not realized it?

  Kylie dropped the arm, and Linc could tell from her expression that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding it so closely to her body. A self-soothing motion, he realized. He could understand why.

  “No. I mean yes. I…injured my shoulder at work.” She glanced up at him, clearly worried that she’d say the wrong thing.

  Linc accepted the scotch his father poured him. “She got shot by a serial killer a couple weeks ago. Kylie’s a private investigator.”

  It had the desired effect. His brothers all turned to look at his little badass of a companion, the wives gasped, and his mother started to fan herself, her eyebrows shooting straight up to the sky.

  Ellory’s face lit up. “A gunshot wound? Cool! Can I see?”

  Linc’s father tapped a finger on his chin. “Wait. Are you that woman who’s been in the news? With the Spotlight Killer?”

  Kylie nodded, a blush climbing over her cheeks.

  His father’s face turned impressed. “Well, I’ll be damned. If I remember correctly, that psychopath kidnapped you, then shot you in cold blood.”

  His mother looked horrified. “A serial killer? I can’t even read about such things, they upset me so much.”

  “You weren’t involved in that, were you, Lincoln?” his father said to him.

  “I should hope not!” his mother said, fanning herself harder.

  Linc could sense Kylie staring at him. She probably wondered if he ever communicated with his family at all. The answer: No. Not really.

  Linc lifted a shoulder. “A bit.”

  “Well. So, your girlfrie
nd’s a hero!” his dad said, raising his glass. “Way to go. We have a celebrity with us. I’ll drink to that.”

  Kylie took a demure sip of her wine. “Thank you, but I really didn’t do very much. It was—”

  “Nonsense. I read the paper. Don’t be modest. That killer was brutal. The news said you were responsible for bringing her down, and without you, she’d still be at large.” His dad sounded more enthusiastic about Kylie’s accomplishment than he ever had about Linc’s. “You probably know that Linc just plays with dogs all day, huh? And you still want to date him?”

  Kylie’s face turned troubled, and her gaze shot to Linc. Probably wondering why he didn’t set the record straight. But he’d heard this shit for years. There was no setting the record straight where his father was concerned. “No, I—”

  “Yeah.” Erik, sitting on an ottoman in his buttoned-up three-piece suit, downed the rest of his drink. From the hazy look on his face, Linc could tell he was already half drunk. He put on his most charming air as he addressed Kylie. “Sweet, pretty, and brave…what the hell are you doing with that?”

  He hooked a thumb at Linc.

  Craig guffawed behind him, ogling Kylie like a steak he wanted to take a bite of. “Yeah, really. Baby brother, you lucked out. Your girl’s a little firecracker.”

  He’d meant what he’d said the previous day. Most men couldn’t seem to get enough of Kylie. She was all curves, long dark hair, sexy eyes…she walked into the room and made every other woman in the place invisible. Linc’s brothers, though happily married, were no exception. They were fucking her with their eyes, right in front of their wives and kids.

  Kylie opened her mouth, but before she said anything, the butler rang that dinner was ready. Like good little puppets, all the Coulters stood in unison and paired off to walked to the formal dining room.

  Kylie just stood there, looking a little lost and something else. Pissed? He couldn’t blame her.

  After giving her a formal bow to lighten the mood, Linc offered her his arm. She took it and they trailed behind his family. As they walked, Kylie’s head swiveled, looking from one wall to the next. “I still can’t believe you grew up here. Never in a million years would I imagine you coming from a place like this.”

  He felt the same. Even growing up, he’d never felt at home here. Too ornate. Too gold. Too…everything his grandparents’ farmhouse wasn’t. “Well, I had fun sliding down the banister, at least.”

  Kylie’s eyes followed the railing all the way up to the third floor. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.”

  He laughed. He’d had a few close calls indeed.

  She hugged his arm tighter against her. “I’m trying to picture little Linc playing ball or Legos in this place, and I have to admit…I’m failing.”

  She suddenly looked sad.

  “Hey,” he said, cupping her chin, looking into her beautiful eyes, which seemed clouded, not as bright as usual. “We can leave. If you want, I can tell them—”

  “No.” She smiled, but he could tell it was forced. “It’s fine. It’s…different, yes. But it’s nice that you have a big family, and that you all get together for dinners. It’s sweet. I wish I had a family like this, but it’s always just been Mom and me.”

  And just like that, Linc felt like an asshole again.

  Thinking back, he remembered that he hadn’t been the only one risking his life on the bannister. Or climbing the big trees in the backyard. Or having rock fights in the expansive gardens. Those days with his brothers, he missed.

  “They aren’t very nice to you,” Kylie said, stopping to study an enormous family portrait, commissioned when Linc had been about two. It was surrounded by a gaudy frame of gold and black. Everyone in the painting looked miserable.

  Linc shrugged. “They call it brotherly ribbing.”

  Kylie narrowed her eyes. “More like brotherly bullying.”

  He couldn’t disagree but agreeing made him seem like a victim. He didn’t like that either.

  “Well…” Kylie said, drawing the word out, “I don’t like it. They are too refined to be so mean.”

  Linc laughed and pulled her closer to him. “I can handle it.”

  She scowled, but her voice was as soft and light as a feather as she pulled his head down so she could whisper in his ear. “If you want me to throat-punch them for you, let me know.”

  Then she turned and walked slowly toward the dining room, hips swaying, giving him a view of her perfect ass.

  Linc grinned and followed after her, like a puppet on a string.

  14

  Looking at Linc, unassuming, down-to-earth, no-nonsense Linc, who wore rumpled t-shirts and worn hiking boots, who lived for the outdoors, who liked to play with dogs and didn’t give a shit about what his hair looked like…Kylie never would have thought he’d grown up in that house. A mansion, with crystal chandeliers and gilded walls and so much pretention it should have been on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

  No wonder he didn’t get along with his family.

  When Kylie’d walked in there, she’d thought they stumbled into the wrong house. No, the wrong dimension. Aside from his father’s eyes and strong chin, it was clear that Lincoln Coulter shared nothing with his family at all. Definitely the black sheep.

  A very sexy black sheep.

  Dressed up more than she’d ever seen him, he wore a button-down plaid shirt and khaki pants with a brown pair of Wolverine boots that made her realize the man did have a bit of good taste.

  Still, he was nowhere near as dressed as his brothers and father, who in their dark suits, could be guests at a fancy wedding. Their wives looked like elegant models. Even the kids were dressed well. The little boy was actually wearing a bow tie.

  She felt like she’d walked onto a magazine cover shoot. Kylie’s mother liked to put on airs, but she wasn’t anywhere near as classy as these people.

  And as dinner began, it became pretty clear to Kylie why Linc didn’t like to speak. His father and brothers commanded the conversation, talking about their cases that they had going on like it was the only thing worth conversing about. They blustered on, as the women sat there, quietly discussing domestic matters, like housewares and the children’s private-school education.

  Across from Kylie, on the “men’s side” of the giant dining table, Linc didn’t add a single comment. Apparently resigned to their current circumstances, he simply nodded when the situation warranted and focused on the food on his plate.

  He was lucky. Kylie was forced to pretend to be fascinated as his mother and the two wives chatted in low voices about the weather in Fiji, the construction of a new mansion down the street, and whether the house should be done up in gold or white lights for Christmas.

  Dinner was the carcass of a little bird sitting primly on Kylie’s plate among a few peas and carrots and some white mush she couldn’t place. Bleh. How did one eat such a thing? She’d been tempted to pick it up with her fingers and chomp down like she would a buffalo wing, wondering how many of the wives she could make faint if she sucked on the bone.

  But she was determined to be on her best behavior, taking tiny little slices from the tiny little bird and delicately placing each sliver in her mouth before chewing, making sure her jaw didn’t move too much.

  She was bored to tears.

  Tuning out the boring talk, she studied the paintings on the wall across from her, not saying a word. Which wasn’t like her. She usually was able to insert herself into any crowd. But she was out of place, except the tiny little fluttering in her chest every time she caught Linc’s gaze on her.

  “Those are lovely paintings, Mrs. Coulter,” Kylie said when there was a break in the conversation. The art had actually made her think of sweet Emma Jennings just down the road. “Are you the collector, or is Mr. Coulter?”

  They all stared at her for one uncomfortable beat. Maybe they had forgotten she was there.

  Mrs. Coulter smiled at the paintings. “I suppose we
both are. My husband’s always bringing home little trinkets he thinks I’ll like. That one, over there, is new.” She pointed to a scene of trees, the bright gold, red, and oranges reflecting on the still waters of a glassy brook. Next to the water was a googly eyed boy and his dog.

  It had a very familiar style to it, but after looking at all the art that Emma had shown her, all the paintings she saw seemed to bleed together into one runny palette. That was what she’d been doing all day, helping Emma go through the inventory, trying to see what else might be missing. They’d only gotten through a fraction of what was there.

  “It’s very, um, pretty.”

  “Kylie, dear,” one of the wives, she wasn’t sure which one, said to her. The two of them, Addison and Melanie, were so skinny, Kylie was sure they shopped in the Barbie department of whatever uber-expensive store they went to. They wore painfully large diamond wedding rings too, and Kylie figured that was where most of their weight came from. It sure didn’t come from food. Neither woman had eaten more than a spoonful from their entire plate. “Have you and Lincoln been dating long?”

  Kylie looked over at him. For once, his eyes weren’t on her. He was busy listening to something his pretentious brother was saying. Kylie lowered her voice. “Not long. And…we’re just friends. He’s training my dog, actually.”

  The women’s eyes widened. The other said, “Well, it has to be more than business if he brought you here.”

  They all nodded in agreement, then, in unison, eyed Kylie expectantly.

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. She sat there, twisting her napkin on her lap while trying to choose her words.

  As she opened her mouth, Mr. Coulter’s booming voice drew her attention. “Son, I understand the concept of busy very well. Down here, in the real world, busy must be much different than it is up in the mountain, with your head in the clouds.”

  Kylie swung her head to him. Before she’d really thought it through, her mouth was open, and words were flying out. “I’m sorry, sir. But Linc does a lot. He trains those dogs, which is no easy feat.”