FRAUD
R.C. STEPHENS
Copyright © 2018 by R.C. STEPHENS (Irene Cohen)
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Created with Vellum
To my Em, with love.
Contents
Preface
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
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Sneak peak
HALO by R.C. Stephens
Prologue
Chapter 45
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by R.C. STEPHENS
Preface
Eleven years together and today I find out . . .
I don’t know the first thing about the man I’m sleeping beside every night.
My marriage is built on a bed of lies . . . Nothing is real.
Each day I’m barely surviving, falling deeper into despair and loneliness.
Meeting Hayes Taylor is not in my plan.
Younger, beautiful and broken—just like me. I feel a connection with him I’ve never experienced before. But I am a married woman, and cheating isn’t in my DNA. I ignore the sexual tension between us and push him away.
And like most women, I stay in my marriage for my kids.
But my husband not only manipulates, he keeps secrets I’m not prepared for. Secrets that may destroy me . . .
This is not only my fight song, this is my journey to discover love.
Chapter One
Summer 2005
My pulse beat fast and my anger simmered inside me like a pot waiting to boil over when I saw my husband’s car in our driveway. “Hello!” I called out from the front door. Where the hell was he? He was supposed to be back two days ago and I wanted answers.
“In here.” His voice came from our bedroom. It sounded a little raspy like I woke him from sleep. Yeah, well, I didn’t care. He had some explaining to do.
I walked straight to our bedroom; the terra cotta walls hit my line of sight first. I shook my head and looked at the lump on the bed. Mark had the covers over his head. The room was a mess with dirty clothes strewn all over the floor. His jeans were hung on our black wrought iron footboard where he usually liked to leave them. There was a pile of what I assumed was dirty socks and underwear on the floor. Damn! I had cleaned this morning before work. I inched inside the room and felt crumbs of dirt stick to my feet from the ceramic floors. Had he brought sand home with him? I was so confused.
I hadn’t seen him for three weeks. We’d never gone that long without seeing each other in the eight years we’d been together. He had gone back to LA to see his mom through a double mastectomy due to breast cancer. I tried to remember that because my temper was becoming uncontainable. He’d been MIA for two days and came home and made a mess that would be my job to clean up.
“Hey, baby. I missed you.” He must have sensed me standing beside the bed. He took the blankets off his head and squinted against the sunlight pouring into the room through the cracks in the blinds.
“Don’t baby me. I was expecting you home two days ago.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’ve been calling your mom’s cell for two days. I’ve tried calling Rafael . . . does no one in your family pick up a damn phone?” Clearly his mom and brother didn’t.
He shifts up in bed. “Would you relax? Shit, Nat, everyone in my family is really stressed out.”
I exhaled. “I know, and I feel terrible I wasn’t there to support you, but honestly it’s not okay for you to just not show up and not call. Where were you? Why the hell didn’t you call? Are you okay? Did something happen?” I bombarded him with questions, not giving him a chance to answer while fighting to restrain my fiery nerves. Clearly I was losing the battle. Two days ago I’d made him a welcome home dinner and had told our two-year-old daughter, Lily, Daddy should be home any minute. He never showed or touched base to let us know he was alive.
He pressed his fingers to his temples.
“You didn’t give me a flight number. I didn’t even know what airline you were on. That isn’t okay.” I continued to wait for an answer.
“Fuck, Nat, I just got back from a long flight. My mother and family have been through hell. I don’t need this right now.”
I took some long cleansing breaths, my anger burning through me. I didn’t think I was overreacting. I had been close to calling the police and filing a missing persons report. I took another deep breath and deflated because he looked so sad. His dark hair was ruffled, his dark eyes had bags under them, he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a good week. Maybe now wasn’t the time to call him out.
I sat on the side of the bed. “I missed you,” I pressed a kiss to his lips. “How’s your mom?” I’d been praying for her. It was terrifying what she’d been through and she was so young. It unsettled me that he hadn’t call much while out west. Between work, taking care of Lily, and the different time zone I’d had a hard time getting hold of my husband. I hadn’t given it much thought, figuring he had his hands full helping his mother recuperate.
“She’s brave. Surgery went well. Now she’s going to need to go through physical therapy for her arms. She can’t do much. She also has to go through six rounds of radiation,” he said and my stomach sunk. How awful. Clearly that was not the time to call him out on his absence. I’d put it off.
“When do the results for the surgery come in?” I asked, knowing they removed a tumor. The family was waiting to hear if all the cancer was removed and what kind of tumor it was.
“About three weeks.” He sighed.
“I feel terrible I couldn’t be there with you.” My head pressed to his chest and I hugged him. Truth was he didn’t ask me to come along on the trip, and I figured it was a tense time for the family and flying all of us out to LA would have been more than we could afford.
“Don’t feel bad.” He kissed my forehead.
“What can I do?” I asked, feeling helpless. “I’ve been praying she’ll be okay, that everything will be okay.”
“Thanks, Nat. That’s all we can do at this point,” he said, rubbing his temples.
“Do you need Advil?” I asked.
“I’ve got a hea
dache.”
I went to the bathroom and grabbed the pill bottle and a cup of water.
“I was going to take Lily to the beach with Immy and Lewis, but we can stay home,” I offered because he probably wanted to spend time with Lily and me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should’ve. I was going through . . . I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Mom’s surgery hit me hard. Originally my flight was booked out for the 25th. I decided to stay an extra couple of days in LA,” he explained, and I tried to hide how much it hurt that he didn’t call to tell me he wouldn’t be home. I’d fixed a big dinner. Lily and I had waited anxiously for his arrival. By eight that night Lily had been rubbing her eyes. I’d put her to sleep and stayed up past midnight waiting for my husband to walk through the door but he never showed. I’d blamed his lack of contact on bad reception. Mark had always been good at staying in touch. He sometimes checked in numerous times during the day.
“Should I can cancel the beach then? Lily is going to be frantic about seeing you. She missed you so much.”
Mark turned on his side.
“How is my little munchkin? I missed her.” He smiled soflty. “I want to see her, but I think it’s best you guys don’t change your plans. I’m exhausted and have a killer headache. I just need sleep.” His eyes fluttered as he spoke to me.
My stomach sank. I understood he wasn’t feeling well, but we hadn’t seen him in three freaking weeks and he didn’t want us home. An ache filled my chest.
“Sure, of course.” I gave him a quick kiss. “See you later. Glad you’re home.” I turned to our walk-in closet and changed out of my work clothes. My mind was reeling from him arriving two days late like it was no biggy and then not wanting to spend time with us.
I worked as an assistant in a lab. It wasn’t my number one job choice but I never made it to grad school once I finished my bachelor’s degree. Mark and I were head over heels in love. He was five years older and itched to get married. With my work clothes discarded on the floor, I slipped on a bikini, a pair of cut-off jean shorts, and a bright pink tank top. By the time I left the closet, Mark was fast asleep. Since his mother’s diagnosis six months ago, he’d started withdrawing more and more into himself. I wanted to be his support system but he’d shut down, and it hurt because he was my person and I wanted to be his. He’d also stopped having sex with me, which was odd. We’d always had a healthy sex life.
His mood swings were becoming the norm. I had always been his center, and when Lily was born she shared that spot with me. Now it seemed like he had no interest in either of us. I didn’t want to call him on it, not wanting to come off as needy during a tough time for him.
I dashed toward the door, grabbing the bag I’d packed in a rush this morning. With the cooler on my shoulder and Lily’s diaper bag in my hand, I bolted out the door so I wouldn’t be late picking her up.
I threw my bags in the back seat of my Honda Pilot and drove speedily toward the freeway. The Best of You by the Foo Fighters blasted through the speakers as I bounced in the driver’s seat. Mark crossed my mind. I’d given him the best of me: my youth, marriage, and a baby. Now I was drowning in our marriage. I felt so alone. Dammit! I didn’t have the guts to ask my husband why he hadn’t called to tell me he extended his trip in LA. As his wife he owed me that. As my frustration built, I remembered the first time we met. My nerves eased, remembering that warm sunny day in LA. I lived with my best friend, Imogen, who I nicknamed Immy back in grade school. We were both enrolled at UCLA. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and we were surfing. The waves in LA were so much better than the waves back home in Florida and so we took advantage on all our free weekends. I had just left the water with my wetsuit on and my board tucked under my arm when a ball smacked me in the head out of nowhere.
“Sorry, Miss.” Mark came up to me and winced. “We’re playing volleyball and my younger brother has the worst aim on earth.” He smiled widely, and I drank him in. Olive skin, dark soulful eyes, long dark hair slicked back. He towered over my five foot seven height. He had a narrow torso and chiseled abs, his shoulders were wide and strong.
I fixated on his beauty.
“That’s okay. No worries.” I smiled.
“You should tell your brother he should learn how to aim,” Immy cut in, and I’d forgotten she was beside me. I looked at her a little wide-eyed, and with a glare willed her to shut up. She gave me an impish smile.
“Sorry, you’re totally right,” Mark agreed. He took a deep breath and ran one of his hands over his hair. A dark strand had come loose and had fallen over his forehead. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen on this beach, and I’ve been coming to this beach since I was a kid,” he said.
My chest warmed. Beside me I heard Immy say something under her breath, but I couldn’t make out the words. I think she thought he was feeding me a line and I was buying it. He was just that good looking.
“I bet you say that to a lot of girls.” I smiled at him, squinting against the sun. I was flirting. I didn’t usually flirt but he was gorgeous.
“Not at all.” He frowned. “I don’t make a habit of picking up girls on the beach. I’m here with my family. My three brothers and my sisters. We only come to the beach once a year,” he said.
I laughed. “Why only come to the beach once a year?” I asked. I went to the beach almost daily back home.
“My sister died here on this beach twelve years ago. We only come here once a year on the anniversary of her death. All my siblings. So, like I said I don’t make a habit of picking up girls while I’m here.” The air got sucked out of my lungs. I looked to Immy and back to him.
“Sorry, I’m Mark.” I blinked not realizing he extended his hand to me, but I was rendered speechless.
“I’m Immy and this is Natalia.” Immy spoke for me. She knew what had caused my silence.
“Nice to meet you, Natalia.” His wide smile washed the sadness away like a new wave.
“Nice to meet you too.” I finally spoke.
“Can I get your number?” he asked next. I didn’t believe in fate. My life had been a series of situations that had brought me to this moment. People made decisions that had repercussions at least that’s what I believed until this day.
I nodded. I didn’t have a pen. I was acting like the cat got my tongue and even though Mark didn’t know why, Immy did.
“Let me grab my cell,” Mark said, and I watched his firm muscles as he walked toward an umbrella with some girls sitting under it. I assumed they were his sisters. He wore a light blue pair of board shorts that complemented his dark skin. His ass was round and firm. The breadth of his wide shoulders and muscles in his back made it impossible for me to look away.
He returned, and I gave him my number and that was it. I believed our fate was sealed because I had lost my brother to the ocean. Matt was a competitive international surfer who died during a surfing competition in Hawaii.
I didn’t tell Mark my story that day, but after we began dating I did. We shared a sense of loss over a sibling, we connected on a deep level, and he became everything I never had, love and family.
Beads of sweat rolled down my back before the car’s AC finally kicked in. After four years of marriage and four years of dating, the initial fizzle of the relationship could end in a slow burn, but I naively believed something stronger would form in its path. A bond, a sense of family, an intimate friendship and we had all that . . . six months ago, before his mother was diagnosed with cancer and underwent chemo. I truly believed Mark and I were soul mates. Me, the girl from a broken home, the girl who promised to never marry. I always found that funny. Instead of never marrying, I married very young. My own parents were a dysfunctional wreck. I had friends growing up whose parents were truly in love, and I saved those memories in my mind, hoping one day to have what they had. A sense of family, love, support. With the AC blasting in my face and Beyonce’s voice pulling me from my sulking thoughts, happy vibes bounced through me as I pulled into
the parking lot of Lily’s daycare one minute before dismissal.
The only available parking spot was the farthest from the center, making me speed walk through the intense heat to arrive on time.
“Natalia,” I heard Immy’s voice from behind me. I must have driven right past her in my haste to not be late.
I turned around quickly and realized she had a gorgeous guy standing beside her.
“Oh hey, sorry I didn’t see you.” I walked toward them and my flip-flop bent on a small pothole in the ground. “Shit.” I went flying forward, almost faceplanting, but the hot man grabbed me by the arm and steadied me. My body melded flush with his; looking up, I squinted against the sun, noticing his blue eyes first, clear and playful before my gaze moved higher to his amazing hair, caramel colored ringlets that hit his shoulder. A soft sigh escaped me before I snapped my mouth shut.
“Whoa, are you all right?” he asked. His accent was like Immy’s husband, Shay.
My focus lingered on him a moment longer. Holy crap he was hot. Leave it to me to make a fool of myself. I can be such a klutz sometimes.
“This is Hayes, Shay’s cousin. He surprised us last night,” she said, and that explained it. I would’ve known if Immy had a houseguest.
FRAUD: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 1
