by Fiona Keane
Lies & Secrets
BOSTON LATTE SERIES
Book One
By Fiona Keane
Lies & Secrets
Copyright © 2018 by Fiona Keane.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2018
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-353-5
ISBN-10: 1-64034-353-9
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For all of my friends who like their coffee with a little something extra.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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Chapter One
Julian
There wasn’t time for me to vomit. There was no time to destroy whatever blocked the path to leave St. Mary’s. My arms trembled and my chest ached as I gasped for breath. Someone knows.
I don’t remember my feet contacting the ground. I can’t recall interpreting a single sound from the excruciating journey home. I couldn’t feel the heat, my skin already burning from the rage boiling within my blood. Don’t let her go.
I felt my throat tighten, suffocating me as I resisted the sob desperate to escape—it kept me awake. How ironic, I thought, that my own desire to panic kept me moving. I couldn’t let anyone see the breakdown threatening to destroy me.
The shattering pain in my chest, each piece that didn’t belong to her, chipped away with every painful step that splintered into my throbbing shins. The doorman greeted me with a concerned nod, quick to open the door and not question my lack of response. The air conditioning hit me like a wall, slamming against my swollen skin as I tore through the lobby, impatiently pounding on the elevator button.
God. Dammit. Jesus. Fuck. I’m going to kill someone. Hurry up!
“Julian.” John Hill appeared at my side. “You don’t look so well.”
I despised sharing a building with that misogynistic slime bag. He stepped around me to press the elevator button once more, as though my ten thousand attempts to speed the elevator were futile. I neglected to reply, my thumb already almost chewed in half as I impatiently waited with thoughts running amuck in my mind. Someone knew, someone KNEW, and I hadn’t done enough to prevent it. Whatever is happening is my fault. Knowing that was killing me.
“Julian?”
“What?” I snapped, spinning around, glaring at him.
“Oh.” He laughed uncomfortably. “Sorry. Just wanted to check that you’re okay.”
My thoughts flickered from her for one second, remembering I saw Hill’s intern earlier, and a wave of nausea rolled over me. She was on a date. I might never have that. We, her and I, might nev—Stop.
I walked onto the open elevator and closed the door before my slimy neighbor could follow me and pressed the button for my floor. I tumbled forward with the jolt of its movement, gravity and rage pulling me onto the floor, where I fell into a ball. My pained roar resonated around the small space, swallowing me whole.
If he has her again…
The door opened, and I was lying there, motionless and unable to move. Her last words to me flew into my mind, providing my broken heart with exactly what it needed to move. Christ, she was beautiful. Is beautiful. Is.
“Julian.” Liam’s voice broke through the painful cloud lingering around me while I crawled off the elevator.
“Julian,” he repeated, his tone urgent and close, stinging my ears while his voice tried to erase her from my thoughts. “Shit! What’s wrong? Julian, get off the damn floor!”
I tried. Think of her. I needed to find her, to save her. I needed to protect her like I promised. I crawled toward my brother, my head heavy with the urgency to vomit. I tried to remember everything, compiling each detail to hold close to my heart as I had promised her. The sparkle of gold in her hair when she allowed sunlight into her room, the small, delicate scatter of freckles barely visible across her cheeks, the soft decadence of her mouth…
Liam’s hands were under my armpits as he tugged against my weight. “Let me help you.”
“Liam,” I choked, accepting his support while I shook myself of the stupor. “What are you doing here?”
“Protecting my brother,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
“Someone took her, Liam,” I blurted, my eyes locking on him. “Someone took her. They took all of her.”
“All of whom? Julian?”
Whom? That was my reminder. He only knew what I told him. I pulled away from Liam and stormed toward my door, only to notice it was ajar.
“It’s just me,” he called, and I resented the fact Satan’s spawn had access to my home. But somewhere, buried beneath what mattered, I cared about him, and I knew I could trust Liam, despite him being everything I despised about the human condition.
“Good,” I grunted and entered, quick to tear a path to my bedroom.
The throbbing pain surrounding my head threatened to explode as I stormed through the doorway, unsure of what to do with myself. That nurse knew her, she spoke with her about the missing wedding ring, she reassured her. I could only imagine the price paid for her silence. The precious life of a loved one, a threat of torturously violent death; a number of realities drifted into my thoughts. I was too foolish. She was my weakness and my strength, and I was nothing but a failure.
I started to scream, my arms swinging at any object I could find; pillows, vase, remote. I made a mistake in trusting people charged with her care, and her mistake, her worst and only flaw, was trusting me.
“Julian!”
I spun around to match Liam’s voice, my knuckles tightening against shredded scraps from my duvet. His arms were raised cautiously while he studied the wild boar across from him.
“What is happening here? Have you lost it?”
“Yes,” I roared, “I have.”
“You need to tell me what the hell is going on, brother, or I’m going to have you committed,” Liam whispered, slowly inching closer. “You don’t want that. You don’t want to be locked away, Julian. Tell me what’s happening to you.”
The tension in my shoulders crept along my neck, exploding with vibrant pain inside my skull while I observed my brother. He stood before me, attempting to care, although
I could never truly know if it was affection, loyalty, or fear of a damaged reputation. Liam’s eyes were wide, staring at me with unease, and I watched, wondering more about his presence.
“Why are you even here, Liam?” I snarled, the fingers of one hand continuing to crumple fabric from my duvet. “I never asked for your protection. I tried to save you. I was trying to fix your flaws, and I am the one who gets damaged, Liam. DAMAGED!”
I lowered my head, aware Liam was uncharacteristically mute. He must have understood it wasn’t a game, the rage spewing from my pores wasn’t a tantrum.
“Julian,” his voice cracked, “where…where is she?”
His inquiry pulled my attention from the scraps of shit along my floor, my gaze flying to his in aware defense. Liam continued to study me, unhurried and purposeful, suggesting he had no intention of leaving.
“I don’t know.”
Reality slammed against me, my bottom crashing against what remained of my mattress as I repeated the horrific notion in my mind. I didn’t know where she was.
“Who knows?”
“Someone,” I whispered, “someone knows. Someone has her. Someone took her.”
“Okay.” Liam paused, his feet inches from mine, while his hands clung to my throbbing shoulders. “Let’s find her.”
Let’s find her? Did he really just say that to me? Did this arrogant bastard just suggest he could help me?
“You’re kidding,” I scoffed, my tone filled with venom. “You think you have any control over this? Over anything? Liam, for fuck’s sake! You’re the reason she was taken! You are the reason! Not me, but you!”
“Me?” Liam stepped back, sensing the rigidness brewing inside of me, aware something in me shifted.
I stood purposefully before Liam, my own brother cowering beneath me. My fingers tensed, stretching and releasing, before they tightened into weapons.
“If I wasn’t in the hospital because of your foolish fuckery, I wouldn’t have met her, and she wouldn’t have been stolen,” I roared, swinging my fist into Liam’s face.
My knuckles pulsed with the hard impact against his cheekbone, shaking to release tension before balling once more to slam into his stomach. He tumbled backward, gasping for breath before running toward me, hands swinging for any piece he could contact. His foot lifted toward my stomach, but instinct had my hands tightening around his ankle, tossing him to the floor like a sack of flour.
He didn’t entirely resist, but Liam was limp in that fight, taking what I gave him until we ended up on the floor, and all I saw around us was a blur of black and red dancing before my frozen eyes.
“Julian! Stop! I can’t breathe!”
I didn’t care. Someone had to pay; someone owed debt for taking the woman I love. It wasn’t my brother. Liam’s back arched beneath me, and I realized I restrained him against the floor, my right hand tightened around his jaw, my lost soul prepared to kill my own brother. I jumped from him, ashamed and horrified with myself. What had I just done?
He scrambled away, unsteadily climbing to his feet and rubbing the stain of my fist along his cheek. I hovered over his absence, staring blankly at the hardwood floor where I almost lost myself and killed my brother. That simple. That is how visceral my rage became, instinct consuming the human particles of me she once restored, demanding revenge and destruction.
“Julian, what the fuck,” Liam moaned, catching my attention. “Are you high? Shit.”
“No.”
“Then what the hell is wrong with you?” he screamed, his blue eyes wide. “I’m your brother!”
“And I’m a monster,” I muttered, slowly standing and stuffing my trembling hands into the pockets of my trousers. “A monster.”
“Well, no shit,” Liam scoffed, slowly approaching my damaged bed and sitting against the edge. “What the hell is happening here?”
“If I wasn’t in the hospital, she wouldn’t have met me. If she never met me, she wouldn’t have been taken.” My gaze lifted to his wearily. “I’m a fucking monster, Liam. I did this. I’m responsible.”
I kicked the bottom drawer of my dresser as I passed it on the way to my closet, angrily tearing off my outfit and changing into sweats. The comfort seemed crass, considering I had no idea how she felt, but I knew our night promised to demand endurance.
“We’ll find her,” my brother whispered from my bedroom, his voice quiet. “Whoever she is.”
I shook my head, struggling to calm the misfiring nerves that tore through my body, leaving only pain in their wake. Liam’s words, while arrogant and frustrating, rang in my ears. I’ll find her.
Liam was cracking his neck, continuing to rub the damage left from my knuckles, when I stepped from the closet. Whoever she is? He had no idea. Absolutely no idea of the siren responsible for the torment I craved, desperate for one glance. But I was a selfish man, aware a mere glance wouldn’t suffice. Whoever she is?
I was in the doorway of my room, stuffing my smooth gun into the waistband of my sweats while responding to my brother’s haunting comment. “She’s everything, Liam. You’ll see.”
Chapter Two
Two Months Later
I stood before the mirror, staring at myself like an anxious teenager before his first date. Do I take flowers? No. She isn’t that kind of girl. She would want French fries, a stiff drink, and a hug. Unless she changed. I prayed to a god in whom I didn’t believe, begging her to be without clue, without awareness of the damage done to her, but I knew that wasn’t possible. Demons in hell are capable of converting even the most horrific evil into its own poison. Someone took her, hurt her, shattered what we rebuilt together. Please don’t change. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. Still. Always.
I latched onto the counter, nerves crippled as my knuckles whitened. Two months passed—two months since she was taken from me, two months of torture and grief. Two months of her wondering why I never came. I never stopped looking. I needed to remind myself. She would understand; she knew about my life. She understood and accepted it—one of the traits I adored about her, her unconditional love—no matter how much we both despised my life, my family. And I never stopped looking.
I was sick, standing there while realization poured its filthy notions into my soul. I let them take her from me. I’m the monster, the failure. I’d found her, but no information about the tortuous interim, no clue the damage done to her body and soul. Will she run from me? Will she want to see me? Her last words to me as they pulled her away radiated in my mind, their painful potency stabbing my soul. I love you. But she wouldn’t anymore. I was sure of it. How could she, after I wasn’t able to save her, to protect and prevent whatever damage had been done? I just need to see her. I need to know she is alive. She would never be safe, not while living alone, working with them, but I dedicated myself to never leaving her again. I would always have an eye, an ear, waiting for her.
My blood flowed with determined revenge, desperate for time to pass so the answer to our mystery was already in our past and we could move on with the future we promised one another.
My closet overflowed with files and scraps of information Liam and I spent two months sorting through. There were hopeless trails, bounties of information that left us spinning in circles until our backs smashed into each other. I closed the door as I passed the pit of information and suits on my way out of the bedroom. I’m going to see her.
Without second thought, without allowing my nerves to belittle my heart, I went into the parking garage and sped off toward the Common. Traffic, the icy rain falling on snow-covered Boston, and lethargic pedestrians would not threaten my trip. I parked two blocks away and turned off the ignition. Move, you bastard. Just MOVE. I couldn’t. All I thought in that brief moment before stepping into the salted sidewalk was how I lost the woman I love.
I flipped the collar on my coat, covering my ears while I marched through the cold winter air. The flow of people in and out of the shop never ended. Life was normal, a flurry of activity, but I knew as
well as anyone how deceiving appearances were. Even the ideal, perfect American family held the darkest, most deviant secrets. Mine was one of them, the utmost of privilege and evil, captivating society with appearances, destroying lives for our own pleasure. I despise it.
“Excuse me.” I was shoved by pedestrians crossing the street while the traffic lights changed. I hadn’t realized. I simply stood there, watching the icy rain patter against the windows of the coffee shop. Petrified. The glass panes were frosted from inside, signaling a blissful moment of studying, coffee, and hot cocoa. Make it so damn hot that it will burn off his skin. The people inside didn’t have an inkling as to what devious deals and murderous plotting occurred within those walls…and how magnificent the heart of its owner was. Was. Is. I hope.
There I was, with a trembling hand reaching for the knob, heart pounding in my stomach, and fucking terrified. The door swung open with my hand in the air before three college students tumbled into me, the smell of her coffee shop flowing out in their wake. I felt it. She was finally there. She’s back.
The ink in my shoulder, the permanency of her mark on my heart, burned as I crept into the shop. She told me she loved me, and I couldn’t save her; I couldn’t keep her like I promised. But someone kept her alive—to torture her, to torture me. A warning. A challenge. I was prepared, determined, my ammunition of methods in which to kill instilled within the coldest part of my soul. And yet, it left me in that moment. Breathing, beating, thinking. Gone.
My soul abandoned me, as I knew she felt I did to her, when I saw her across the shop. It all left, but in the same moment I was alive, renewed, and utterly destroyed. She was barely exposed, leaning against a wall behind the espresso machine, eyes locked on him. I wanted to know what he told her about it, if he told her what a piece of shit he was, and his entire family. I want to kill him.
