Shattered Lies
Web of Lies #3
Kathleen Brooks
Lauren Publishing
Contents
Copyright Page
Also by Kathleen Brooks
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Also by Kathleen Brooks
About the Author
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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An original work of Kathleen Brooks. Shattered Lies copyright © 2017 by Kathleen Brooks
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Cover art by Sunni Chapman at The Salty Olive
Bluegrass Series
Bluegrass State of Mind
Risky Shot
Dead Heat
* * *
Bluegrass Brothers
Bluegrass Undercover
Rising Storm
Secret Santa: A Bluegrass Series Novella
Acquiring Trouble
Relentless Pursuit
Secrets Collide
Final Vow
* * *
Bluegrass Singles
All Hung Up
Bluegrass Dawn
The Perfect Gift
The Keeneston Roses
* * *
Forever Bluegrass Series
Forever Entangled
Forever Hidden
Forever Betrayed
Forever Driven
Forever Secret
Forever Surprised
Forever Concealed
Forever Devoted - coming January 30, 2018
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Women of Power Series
Chosen for Power
Built for Power
Fashioned for Power
Destined for Power
* * *
Web of Lies Series
Whispered Lies
Rogue Lies
Shattered Lies
1
When faced with a table full of men armed with guns, a woman had only one shot at getting out alive. And Valeria McGregor wasn’t the kind to bat her lashes.
One week was all it had taken for Valeria to get to this point, but it was all she needed. She had the information necessary to bring down Mollia Domini, the international group set on pulling the world’s strings from the shadows. Now, if only she could get out of the middle of Manuel Hernandez’s cartel headquarters to tell her group.
“Miss McGregor.” Manuel, the head of the Hermanos de Sangre drug cartel, placed both hands on the worn farm table and stared at her from the opposite end. In between them were eleven heavily armed soldiers waiting to be the one to leap to do his boss’s bidding. “Who do you work for?”
“You,” Valeria replied in Spanish. She may have a Scottish last name thanks to her father, but she had the ability to speak Spanish thanks to her mother. Manuel grinned, and she was reminded that while he was handsome, he was also deadly.
“We both know that’s not true,” he said, giving her a look as if she were a child telling a fib. It was a look she’d seen from someone else right before she’d crossed into Mexico through Tecate, a small town along the border between Tijuana and Mexicali. How she hated when men were condescending simply because she was female. It was like a curse at times. But she never let that look deter her. From there, she’d stolen a car and driven overnight to Hermosillo in Sonora, Mexico. On the streets there, she bought a fake Mexican ID before boarding a plane to Mazatlán, the resort town in Sinaloa, Mexico, that was headquarters of the Hermanos de Sangre drug cartel.
“You look like this American I’ve seen.” Valeria looked at the ceiling fan over the table as she tapped one hand on the table as if trying to remember a name. But it was really just a distraction so she could reach for her gun with the other hand. “Sebastian Abel. That’s it. He’s some famous rich tech guy.” And also the person funding the group led by the President of the United States. A group whose mission it was to bring down Mollia Domini.
Manuel preened at the compliment. Little did he know it was Sebastian Abel’s bank account and private plane that brought Valeria to Manuel’s headquarters, looking for a job. Sebastian was a billionaire and President Birch Stratton’s best friend. He was funding the president’s secret operation off the books. And his name was also showing up places it shouldn’t have.
Valeria’s job was to follow the money. She’d taken down plenty of drug lords when she was with the DEA. So imagine her surprise when she began to follow the money of Dan March and Phylicia Claymore, two corrupt FBI agents working for Mollia Domini, who used it to wreak havoc. And it all came back to a little bank here in Mazatlán, right along with some money from Sebastian Abel. The same little bank that also happened to be owned by Manuel as a way to launder his drug money. As the largest cartel in all of Mexico, Hermanos de Sangre wielded more power than the Mexican government. And that made the man down the table from her very dangerous.
“Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, we know you’re no longer with the DEA. So who are you working for now and why are you here?” Manuel demanded. Flattery, maybe. Sebastian was wickedly handsome with black hair and dark gray eyes, but Manuel was like his mini version, standing the same height as Valeria’s five feet six inches.
“I already told you I wasn’t with the DEA. Didn’t you believe me?” Valeria asked with annoyance. It was how she got into the compound. She’d told Manuel the truth—she’d gotten fired because he was paying off her coworkers and she tried to bust them. Since her career was ruined, why not come to the man she at least knew paid well?
“Yes, but I didn’t believe you. You work at a bar owned by Elizabeth James, an FBI agent,” Manuel accused.
The men at the table shifted.
“Former agent. Just like me, she was fired for doing nothing wrong. We jaded types are drawn to one another. Plus, you pay better than Lizzy does. Now, what is this all about?” Valeria refused to look at the ceiling fan. Instead she kept her eyes locked with Manuel’s.
“It’s about this.” Manuel turned a tablet around as a video began to play. It was from a security camera within Manuel’s desktop computer. It began with Valeria waking up the computer. She’d turned off the complex’s security cameras, but she hadn’t known about the one on his computer. At least he couldn’t see the flash drive she’d copied to that was now safe in a waterproof compartment in the buckle of her belt.
“I can’t check my email?” Valeria asked in amazement. They all knew she was lying, though.
“I see you have a thing for Kerra Ruby’s sex tape.”
Manuel didn’t slam his hands down as she expected. Instead, he sat down and stared at her as if he could read the truth from her. “So you hack my computer, you’re no longer with the DEA, your coworker was with the FBI, and your best friend is the press secretary. You and I both know that doesn’t add up to you coming here for a job. Plus, it’s very interesting company to keep. So I’ll ask one more time. Who do you work for?”
* * *
Jason Wolski didn’t like Sebastian Abel. He stood toe to toe with him at the private airport outside DC. Jason was supposed to transport a dead body or two. What he didn’t need was this man busting his balls. Dalton, his former PJ team member, certainly didn’t trust Sebastian, and Jason couldn’t blame Dalton. He didn’t trust Sebastian either, and he’d just met him.
“Who are you?” Sebastian asked again as he stood tall, trying to intimidate Jason. It wouldn’t work. As a PJ, nickname for soldiers in the U.S. Air Force Pararescue, Jason and his team were the last chance of rescue behind enemy lines, in the middle of the ocean, on the top of a mountain . . . it didn’t matter where you were, a PJ would come for you. It was how Jason had lost his leg. A rescue in the middle of the ocean where a shark decided he looked like dinner.
Dalton had saved him, and Jason had retired to spend time with his wife, Michelle. They’d started a camp in the Virginia mountains to help wounded veterans regain strength and independence while learning to deal with the inevitable PTSD. And then Dalton had called out of the blue. It was then that everything had taken a horrible turn. His wife was now dead, and maybe Sebastian didn’t realize that meant Jason had nothing left to live for.
“Look, I was told you were cooperating with the president. If you’re not, then maybe we need to have a little talk between us to find out who you are working with. When this was arranged, there was no mention of you being on the plane with me. You either need to tell me why you’re suddenly going wherever I am, since I didn’t tell you my destination, or you need to back the fuck off,” Jason growled as he dropped the second cooler at the bottom of the stairs to the jet. He’d packed four—two with bodies and two with fish just in case someone wanted to see what was in them.
“What’s in the coolers?” Sebastian asked instead.
Jason didn’t respond.
“Where are you going?”
Sebastian was losing his temper. Jason saw the heat flushing his neck slightly. Good. Jason was losing his, too, and right now smashing his fist into Sebastian’s perfect face sounded damn good. “Either you’re with us or against us. Which is it?” Jason asked, setting his hand on the large hunting knife attached to his hip.
“I’m with you, if I know who you are.”
Jason smiled a lethal smile. He had survived a shark attack. He’d saved more people than he could remember. He’d scaled mountains, swum through hurricanes, dug through avalanches, and run through enemy fire. If this asshole thought he could intimidate him, he was dead wrong.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “When the pilot called to tell me the jet was ready, I had to check it out. How do I know you’re not stealing it?”
“I guess that’s a risk you have to take. Or simply call the president. I’m acting on his direct orders.”
Jason turned to the back of the truck and hefted up another giant sized cooler. This one had Fitz Houlihan’s dead body in it. Tate Carlisle, the press secretary and member of the band of spies the president had put together, had killed the Hollywood agent when he’d told her she had to join Mollia Domini or die. Too bad for him Tate was a crack shot. When Jason turned back, Sebastian was on the phone. Jason grunted as he carried the body up the small steps and into the plane. Sebastian was going to be trouble. Men like him were used to giving orders, not receiving them.
* * *
“Sebastian, did you see the news?” Birch smiled into the phone. He saw Alex’s head shoot up and meet his eyes. He looked suspicious, and that reminded Birch that the team didn’t fully trust Sebastian. His own best friend was now a possible suspect. It hurt. Sebastian had always been the one person Birch could always turn to.
Birch listened to Sebastian angrily mention a roughneck absconding with his plane. “Who is he, and what does he want with the plane?”
“He’s with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. And you have many planes. I don’t know why this is suddenly a problem. Is something going on, Sebastian?” Birch lowered his voice to his friend.
“No, it’s fine. I need to leave for a couple days, and I haven’t seen him before so how am I to know if I can turn a $50,000,000 jet over to him?”
Birch heard the frustration and something else he couldn’t quite place. “Let’s get together soon and discuss it. Make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“Don’t do that, Birch. Don’t use the negotiator voice with me. We’ll have dinner when I get back.”
The line went dead, and Birch felt the first fingers of doubt grab hold of him. What was going on with Sebastian?
2
It had taken a while but he was finally here. The private villa on the shores of the Black Sea outside the small town of Krapets, Bulgaria, was eerily silent. His villa was near the border of Romania, and well off the main coastal road. Here, looking out over the dark green waters on the quiet shores of the Black Sea, he had conceived of Mollia Domini. He had planned it perfectly. But now, he’d hit a bump in the road. A really big bump. He slid his arm over the desk and sent everything crashing to the floor. Years of developing a network of reporters and celebrities to spread his messages—gone just like that. He’d known while he was traveling to the villa that it was bad, but now the president was being hailed as some sort of hero as contact after contact of his were publicly humiliated on television, even here in Bulgaria.
Secretary of State Sandra Cummings would arrive shortly. He’d gotten in a couple hours before, thanks to his private jet, and the others were just settling in. She’d had a harder time getting away, but he’d gotten her a fake passport. He needed to refocus, and here, where it all began, was where he needed to be. The others in the inner sanctum were having a drink on the terrace. He would join them. He wouldn’t betray his emotions. Instead, he’d plot. It was going to be hard to overcome, but he didn’t become as powerful as he was without making hard choices. And one thing he’d discovered over the years: one could never have too much money or too much power. He straightened his tie and stepped out onto the terrace. His housekeeper hurried forward before he could join the others.
“Yes?”
“I just took this message. I tried you in your office, but your phone was busy.”
Though he kept his cool in public and always stayed under control, sometimes in private he let his temper get the best of him. She handed him a piece of paper and hurried away. He opened it expecting bad news, but a smile broke out over his face instead.
* * *
Elizabeth James, or Lizzy to her friends, tried to sleep on the military plane, but it was so uncomfortable her whole body hurt. She and Dalton had flown comfortably in a Galaxy plane to Ramstein Air Base in Germany before holing up in the cargo of a smaller plane headed for Mihail Kogalniceanu Air Base near Constanta, Romania. When they landed, they would be near the Black Sea and have to make their way inland to Bucharest in order to find Sandra, who had disappeared after a suspected meeting with co-conspirators within Mollia Domini. She hoped Alex was able to find something on her location because right now they had very few leads.
Dalton put his arm around her and Lizzy lay back against him. The plane was too loud to speak without yelling, but they didn’t need to speak. The first time they’d had sex it had been about lust. But now, well, something had changed along the way. They understood each other on a deeper level. So deep that when Dalton felt Lizzy sigh he squeezed her hand in silent s
upport. They both knew they were on a needle-in-a-haystack mission and could be walking in on something that could end their lives. However, it was the risk they both accepted. And for that they didn’t need words.
* * *
He sat in the open air as the evening sun shone off the waters of the Black Sea. The note he’d received hours earlier was still in his hand. He didn’t want to do it, but nothing would stop his plans.
He heard the doorbell ring deep in the house. His housekeeper would get it, but he walked inside to greet his new guest anyway. A minute later, Sandra Cummings, the United States Secretary of State, stepped into the hallway looking worried.
“Have you heard?”
“Yes. I’ll handle it. You’re needed in DC now more than ever. Does President Stratton have any inkling of what’s going on?”
“No. He’s too caught up following his dick. If Claudia hadn’t gone after Tate—” Sandra let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know how some gossip rag got hold of this story. And where the fuck is Fitz? Has George said anything?” He saw her glance out to media mogul George Stanworth sitting on the terrace.
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