Hidden Depth (Lockhart Brothers Book 4)

by Brenda Rothert

  I stuff my free hand into the pocket of my wool coat and start the mile walk to The Marquis Hotel, where I’m meeting the partners for brunch. One thing I’ll miss about the city is walking from meeting to meeting when I can. I usually get in at least three miles by the end of the day. In Lovely, you’re never more than ten minutes from wherever you’re going, unless you’re leaving town.

  Admiring the stonework on a building as I walk past it, I realize I’ll miss the architecture here, too. St. Louis is a beautiful city. But I’ll still come back from time to time to appreciate the ornate buildings.

  I didn’t initially plan on moving back to Lovely after law school. I had my sights set on some firms in New York City. But every time I go home for a holiday or just to visit my family for no real reason, I feel a sense of loneliness when I leave. I’ve got great friends and colleagues here, but they’re just not the same as my brothers and parents.

  All my brothers are married and have children now. I’m the last single one, and I love to remind them about the perks of bachelorhood. I’ve started many a group text convo between the five of us with a photo of the inside of whatever sports bar I’m watching a game at on Saturday night or a recap of a date that ended over breakfast.

  I’m not ready to settle down, though my mother has already mentally married me to daughters of a few of her friends. You’d think Kyle’s recent wedding would have satisfied her, but it just seemed to intensify her interest in marrying me off.

  That’s not happening, though, and I’m not going on any mercy dates with Lovely women just to make my mom happy either.

  I take out my phone as I approach the Marquis to see how late I am. It’s 9:08 a.m. Could’ve been worse. There’s a text and a photo from my brother Reed, and I stop to look at it just outside the hotel’s front doors.

  The photo is of Reed’s son Noah grinning proudly, displaying a gap where one of his front teeth used to be.

  Reed: My kid’s a badass. Pulled his own tooth out.

  I smile and tuck my phone back into my pocket. Another thing I look forward to about moving back home is being a better uncle to my nieces and nephews. I may not be ready for kids of my own yet, but I love those rug rats. I’m planning on taking them fishing, hiking, and swimming this summer.

  A uniformed doorman nods as he opens the front door of the Marquis for me. It’s busy here this morning, and a giant bus is taking up all the space out front.

  I walk across the marble-floored lobby, my phone buzzing in my pocket with a text. When I take it out, I see a message from Tom.

  Tom: Sorry, Justin, we’re running late. Leaving the office now.

  So I’m the first one here. Nice. I decide to hit the bathroom before the partners arrive because I’ve been drinking coffee since I got to the office at seven, and this is probably going to be a long meeting.

  They think they can persuade me to join the firm permanently, but my mind is made up. Out of respect, I’ll hear them out even though there’s no offer that would make me stay. But the partners are determined, and they’re attorneys, so I know they’ll try to make the case from every possible angle.

  And then I’ll politely but firmly decline because in a few weeks, I’m going home for good.

  Elle

  I’M THINKING ABOUT MY Chicago shows as I push open the door to the bathroom stall and walk up to the sink to wash my hands. Maybe I can modify some of the dances to minimize the strain on my shoulder. Every time I try to push through with an injury, I end up sorry.

  But I canceled a show in Chicago last year, and we weren’t able to reschedule it because the venue was closing for a major renovation. Fans were so disappointed, and I hated that. I don’t want to cancel another Chicago show this year.

  “Elle?”

  The sound of a male voice in a women’s room makes me jump as I look up from the sink. There’s a man a few feet away wearing a dark baseball cap. His eyes are sparkling happily.

  “Finally,” he says, exhaling with relief. “You don’t know how long I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  I put on a smile. A man approaching me in a women’s room is a first, but then, so was autographing a woman’s boob until a few months ago.

  “It’s great to meet you,” I say. “I’m so sorry, but my tour bus is about to pull out. I’ve got time for a quick picture if you’d like?”

  The shake of his head is almost imperceptible.

  “It’s me, Elle. Gary. You got my letters, didn’t you? I know you couldn’t write back because you’re on tour, but—”

  “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I did. My publicist’s office actually takes care of my mail.”

  His smile fades away, and I don’t like the expression that replaces it.

  “I’m in love with you,” he says, taking a step closer to me.

  Unconsciously, I step back.

  “I know it seems sudden,” he says, the smile back now, “but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small black box. “It’s not much, but it’s a real diamond.” He flips open the box. “Elle, I want you to marry me.”

  I need Chloe. Or Andre. Or Chloe and Andre.

  “Thank you, Gary,” I say softly. “I’m so flattered that you feel this way. But you should save that ring for a woman who loves you in return. I’m engaged to someone else.”

  Gary shakes his head again. “He’s a fucking fool, Elle. He cheats on you every chance he gets. Don’t you see the magazine covers?”

  “You can’t believe all that.”

  He sighs heavily and comes closer to me. My chest tightens with panic. God, I hope Andre busts in here looking for me within the next five seconds.

  “We’re meant to be together, Elle. I’m in love with you.”

  “My bus is waiting.” I keep my voice level and confident. “My bodyguard will be here any minute, Gary, and I don’t want you to get in trouble. You should go.”

  “Go?” His expression morphs into disbelief. “You’re not listening to me.”

  I back up another step, and my back hits the bathroom wall.

  “I know you’re a really nice person,” I say, putting my hands out in front of me. “And I appreciate how you feel, but—”

  “You bitch.” He narrows his eyes, and my heart flies into overdrive. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get you one-on-one like this? I’ve been following you for months. I had to figure out which lines to cut in a bus engine so it wouldn’t start.”

  This is a nightmare. I’m scared, but I know if I can keep Gary calm for long enough, Chloe or Andre will come in here looking for me. I swallow hard and gather myself.

  He unfastens his belt buckle, the clanging noise making me sick to my stomach.

  “So, um . . . where are you from?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “There’s more than one way to make a marriage legal,” Gary says, now pulling the top of his pants down. “We’ll just have to consummate it first.”

  He shoves my shoulders against the wall, and I’m immobilized by fear. I can’t even make myself breathe for a couple seconds. But as soon as his hands start tugging on my pants, something inside me switches on.

  “No, stop!” I dig at his chest with my elbows and thrash from side to side.

  He slaps me across the face—hard—and goes back to trying to get my pants down. I take a deep breath, planning to scream, but I’ve hardly gotten a note out when Gary’s hand clamps over my mouth.

  “Shut your fucking mouth.” There’s a clicking sound, and I see the blade of a knife pop up in his other hand.

  Oh, God. Please help me. Someone please walk in here and help me.

  He takes his hand from my mouth and reaches into the pocket of his jeans. I don’t scream, because the blade of the knife is just an inch from my chest.

  As he stuffs a handkerchief into my mouth, tears fall onto my cheeks. I’m light-headed, terror clawing at me like a pack of wolves I can’t escape from.


  “I planned this all out,” Gary says as he turns me around and slams me into the wall again. My cheek makes a cracking sound as it hits the tiled surface. “There’s a sign outside the bathroom that says it’s closed for cleaning. No one is coming in here. When we leave here, our marriage will be consummated, and you’ll be mine forever.”

  He puts a knee between my legs and presses his body against mine, pinning me in place as he wraps something around my mouth to hold the gag in place. Then he takes hold of both my wrists with one of his hands and leans closer to whisper in my ear.

  “Now hold still, and this won’t take long. I bet you’ll even enjoy it.”

  My whole body screams out in response. No. I will not let this happen. I push back with all my weight, knocking him off-balance. Then I claw at the cloth around my mouth and make a break for the bathroom door.

  It’s so far, though. He catches me, and this time, he slams my head down on the bathroom counter. The pain is so intense I can’t even breathe. He wraps a hand around my hair and slams my head onto the counter again. And again.

  I’m on the verge of losing consciousness. I can feel myself slipping away. I’m on the floor now, and Gary is kneeling between my legs, pulling at my pants again.

  I scream against the gag, the sound muted, and then I drive my knee up and into his crotch. He cries out and then punches me in the stomach.

  I hurt everywhere. The whole room is spinning. I’m not going to be able to fight him off after all.

  The click of the knife sounds, and Gary mutters the word “bitch.” There’s a new burning sensation in my cheek. I want to keep fighting, but I can’t make my hands work anymore.

  I’m losing consciousness. This is my end. I just hope Chloe or Andre make it in time to catch this crazy bastard so he doesn’t get away with my murder.

  Justin

  THE WOMAN IN A Marquis maid’s uniform looks half confused and half pissed as she knocks on the door of the women’s room across from the men’s room I’m about to walk into.

  “This is my bathroom,” she says loudly, hands on her hips. “Karen, are you in there?”

  She shakes her head and meets my eyes. “Dumb-ass new girl,” she mutters. “I’m goin’ to get my boss.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask her, approaching.

  “This is my bathroom,” she repeats, pointing at the Closed for Cleaning sign on the door. “And I didn’t hang that sign up.”

  With a frustrated groan, she stomps off.

  I turn to go back to the men’s room, but then the door to the women’s room opens. A man walks out and looks from side to side. His dark baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes. I don’t like the look of him.

  “Hey, man. What are you doing in there?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t even look up. “Sorry, I’m late,” he says, darting away.

  I push open the door to the women’s room and call inside without looking. “Hello? Anyone in here? Hello?”

  After a couple seconds without an answer, I step inside.

  Holy shit. A battered woman is lying in a pool of blood. She’s unconscious. I drop the coffee cup in my hand and practically fly to her side, getting on my knees to check her pulse. It’s there, but it’s weak.

  “Hey, hang on,” I say. “Hang on, help is here.”

  That motherfucker is getting away, but I can’t leave this woman for even a few seconds to go tell someone about him. There’s blood gushing from a chest wound, and her leg is twisted at an unnatural angle. It’s probably a blessing she passed out.

  I shrug off my suit jacket and bundle it up, pressing it against the wound on her chest. Then I scoop up her fragile body and position her against my chest, holding her as tightly as I can so my chest will put pressure on the chest wound.

  I kick open the door to the bathroom and run into the hallway. A blond woman is approaching, and she pales as she sees me.

  “Elle? Oh my God, Elle.” Tears well and fall in an instant.

  “Call an ambulance,” I tell her. “Now. Go now.”

  She nods numbly and takes out her phone. I run to the front door to wait, feeling fifty-fifty on whether she’ll even live until the ambulance arrives. There’s blood everywhere.

  “What’s going on?” A Marquis security guard is gaping at me as he stares at the dying woman in my arms.

  “She was attacked in the bathroom. I got a look at the guy. He’s maybe forty, wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and a black ball cap. Call the cops, and go get your security footage for them.”

  He nods and rushes off. People on the sidewalk are staring as they pass. I wish my brother Kyle were here. He’s a doctor; he’d know what to do. All I can do is hold on to this woman as tightly as I can and hope to stop the bleeding.

  The blond comes to stand beside me, tentatively reaching her hand out toward her friend but then pulling it away.

  “Is she . . . alive?” she asks.

  “I think so.”

  A big guy with tribal tattoos runs up to us, his mouth open in horror.

  “Fuck,” he cries. “What . . . ?” He closes his eyes. “I never should have left her. This is my fault.”

  The blond goes to him and puts a hand on his back. “I was the one who left her, Andre. I let her go in there alone.”

  They’re both crying, and I feel for them. It’s not their fault, though. The one at fault is that motherfucker in the hoodie. I’d love to get my hands on him.

  The wail of an ambulance siren sounds, and I lean my face closer to the woman and murmur, “The ambulance is here. You hold on. Keep fighting.”

  When the ambulance stops in the middle of the road, I walk out to meet it. As soon as a medic opens the back doors, I call up to him. “Just let me bring her to you. She’s bleeding out, and I’m putting pressure on a chest wound.”

  He nods, and I step up into the rig. He puts on rubber gloves and gets a bunch of gauze pads out. As soon as I lay the woman on the stretcher, her chest wound starts gushing again, and the medic puts pressure on it.

  “Let’s move out,” I say. “Right now. She’s in really bad shape.”

  Another medic, who is looking up at us through the back doors of the ambulance, nods. She steps in with us and tells the driver over her radio to get us to the nearest hospital.

  As the medics work on the woman, I sit back in stunned silence. I can’t believe this is happening. If I just could have gotten there a few minutes sooner, I could have stopped this.

  I’d hold the poor woman’s hand, but I don’t want to get in the way of the medics, who are working furiously to stabilize her. Instead, I close my eyes and pray she’ll pull through.

  Elle

  I OPEN MY EYES, the bright light making me close them again immediately.

  “Elle?” The sound of my mom’s breaking voice makes me open my eyes again.

  “Mom?” My voice is a croak.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here.” She covers my hand with hers. “Chloe’s here, too. Daddy’s out in the waiting room.”

  Finally, my eyes focus. “I’m in a hospital.”

  “Yes.”

  A nurse comes in then and talks to me from the foot of my bed.

  “Elle, it’s good to see you awake.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  I try to sit up so I can look myself over, but I can’t. I’m not sure if it’s fatigue or something else, but I seem to be trapped in my own body right now.

  “I’m . . . not sure,” I say.

  “Does she have amnesia?” My mom turns to the nurse in a panic. “Oh my Lord, amnesia, too?”

  Too? What does that mean? What does any of this mean?

  “It’s okay.” Chloe is at my side, her voice soothing. “Everything’s going to be okay, Elle.”

  I give her a weak smile.

  “Can you two give me a minute alone with Elle?” The nurse looks from my mom to Chloe.

  They both nod and walk toward the door, my mom still wiping aw
ay tears.

  “Will she ever remember me?” my mom is asking Chloe in a panicked tone.

  As soon as the door closes, the nurse pulls up a chair to sit beside me.

  “I thought it might be easier for us to talk alone,” she says. “I’m Danielle, and I’m one of your nurses here. If some stuff seems foggy or hard to remember right now, that’s okay.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “An ambulance brought you. Do you remember being at The Marquis Hotel?”

  I consider for a few seconds. “Yes. In St. Louis. I did a concert there, and then . . . met a girl named . . . I can’t remember. And then I went to the bathroom.” A light comes on in my head. “I was attacked there. A man . . . I remember. And I lived? I’m alive right now?”

  Danielle smiles. “You’re alive. You fought hard, Elle, and you’re a survivor.”

  My eyes are feeling heavy again. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I so tired?”

  “Your body is healing. Just rest.”

  “Do I have amnesia?” I murmur as my eyelids close.

  “No. Sleep now, sweetie. We can talk more later.”

  I want to agree with her, but I can’t summon the energy to say another word. Nothing feels as important right now as sleep.

  WHEN I WAKE UP, it’s dark. I’m alone in my hospital room, and I still can’t seem to move much. I want Chloe or my mom or Danielle the nurse, but I can’t even move my arm to grab the call button near my pillow.

  The feeling goes from being annoying to scary really fast. I’m taken back to the way I felt alone in that bathroom with my attacker. Helpless and doomed.

  “Help me,” I say. “Someone help me.”

  There’s no one in here to hear me, but I keep repeating the words until I’m yelling them in a flat-out panic.

  There’s movement at the doorway, and a shiver of fear passes through me. I can’t even move to defend myself, and someone’s coming.

  “Elle, it’s okay,” a woman in a nurse’s uniform says. My dad comes rushing into the room behind her.