Rae brushed the hair out of her face with both hands. They were trembling. “He always kept his office locked. There were people in Tunis who didn’t like what he was trying to do. Bringing in jobs wasn’t wrong. But bringing in European companies... Some people hate everything about the West. And Julien wasn’t Muslim, which made him the enemy, even if he had been a local. He told me to stay out of his office, that knowing stuff about his business could put me in danger.”
“But locked? All the time? That’s a red flag.”
“He had a lot of staff. They worked there before I moved in. Housekeepers, a cook. There were about ten people besides Julien and me who had access to the house. He kept his office locked to keep them out. That’s what he said. He wasn’t paranoid. Just careful.”
“If he kept it locked, then how did you get in?”
“I picked it.”
Before he could ask about that new skill, Rae continued. “It was June. I was seven weeks from my due date. And feeling sick. Very swollen. And irritable. And it made me mad that he kept an entire room from me. It was my house, too, right?”
“And you never could stand a secret.”
“Oh, I love secrets,” Rae said. No smile. “Exposing them.”
The dull ache that had begun the moment he’d walked in sharpened now. They were getting close. And he wasn’t going to like it. “So what’d you find out?”
She leaned back. “We’d been married almost a year, and I’d never met any of his family.”
“Okay.”
“In his office, I found a name. Alejandro Castellano Garcia Moreau. I’d heard rumors about him. He ran a crime family. Ran drugs and arms. His organization is responsible for smuggling hundreds of girls from Eastern Bloc countries, girls sold into the sex trade. Alejandro Moreau is...” Her voice trailed off.
“He’s a criminal.”
“He’s my father-in-law.”
The ache in his gut sharpened as the words hit home. “No.”
“Technically, he’s Julien’s real wife’s father-in-law. He’s Johnny’s grandfather.”
“But Julien isn’t involved in his father’s company, right? Looks like he’s a legitimate businessman.”
“That’s what I thought. But I had to be sure. I picked the lock on his file cabinet.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
She nearly smiled. “I have skills.”
He opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and said, “Go on.”
“Julien’s business is legitimate. It’s also a great way to launder money for his other business.”
“Which is?”
She sighed. “Remember I told you how we met? I was looking for an arms dealer, the man who sold the bomb that killed my friend in Cairo?”
He nodded.
“He did it.” Tears filled her eyes. “My husband killed my friend. The people he arms... These are bad people, Brady. Terrorists. He plays himself off as this businessman, when, really, he’s arming...everyone. He has no political leanings. He’s in favor of whoever will pay him the most money.”
“So he knew when he met you that you were looking for that arms dealer. Why do you think he—?”
“Lied to me? Married me? I have no idea. I can’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. I mean, he had to know I’d hate him when I found out. And obviously I would eventually. But Julien does like a risk. I thought...it seemed like he really loved me. I felt loved. He acted like... But it was all a lie.”
Brady nodded slowly as the enormity of her words sank in. She wasn’t just running from her husband. She was running from a murderous criminal. “So what happened today?”
“A bomb exploded in Tunis.”
“Okay.”
“In the cafe where we met.”
Brady remembered what she’d said, that it was a little out-of-the-way place, not a place for foreigners. “You don’t think it was a coincidence?”
“I know it wasn’t. That call? That was”—she hesitated slightly—“a contact. He found out the rest of the message the AAT gave when they claimed responsibility.”
Brady had no idea what the AAT was but didn’t interrupt to ask.
She studied her knees. “There was a string of numbers.”
“What does that mean?”
“August seventeenth, two thousand fifteen.” She took a long breath and met his eyes. “It’s our anniversary.”
Thirty-Four
Their anniversary. The bombing had been a message. Rae had given Julien a choice—leave us alone or she’d expose him. He was calling her bluff.
The information she’d stolen from his office showed he’d been involved with selling arms to people who’d killed not just Margot, a British citizen, but American citizens as well. And hundreds of others. But would it be enough to put him away? No. It was circumstantial. Enough to write a good story for a newspaper, but not enough to convict. Julien would get away with it. And even if he didn’t, taking Julien out wouldn’t kill the snake. His father would be free to continue his work. To track her down. And based on what she knew about him, Alejandro Moreau showed no mercy to his adversaries.
She had to run.
She stood and started toward the stairs.
Brady grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
She tried to wrench out of his grip. “We have to go.”
“Let’s think about this.”
Panic rose, squeezed. She swallowed it, looked into Brady’s eyes. “He’s going to find me. He’s coming. He’ll take Jean-Louis, he’ll—”
“Reagan, stop.” Brady grabbed her other arm. “We have to think.”
Her heart hammered. She forced her voice to remain neutral. Nothing to get excited about now. He’d find her, or he wouldn’t. Either way, she had to go. She quit fighting. “You don’t understand.”
“If he knew where you were, he wouldn’t have bombed a cafe in Tunis.”
True. If Julien knew, she’d already be dead. Johnny would be back with him. Still... “He’s trying to find me. That bombing was a message. And I played right into his hands. I called Nate. I have to go. Right now.”
The panic bubbled again. She tried to get away, but Brady didn’t loosen his grip. She managed to free one hand and swung at his head, feeling more desperate, more panicked every second.
He grabbed her arm before she made contact, then wrapped both arms around her, trapping her. “Stop.”
“Let me go.”
“You have to think. He’ll find you if you don’t think it through.” Brady pulled her closer. “I’ll help you.” His voice was low and soothing in her ear. “Please, just let me help you. We’ll work out a plan.”
A plan? There was no plan that would counteract Julien. Rae’s will to fight drained away, leaving her limp and useless. She laid her head on Brady’s chest and wept.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed circles on her back. “It’s going to be okay.”
No, it wouldn’t. Nothing would be okay.
Minutes passed. The tears dried. She sniffed. She should pull away. She had so much to do. But right now, being in Brady’s arms, she felt safer than she had in months. Years.
He ran his fingers down the length of her hair, brushed it aside, and touched her neck.
A tingle slid down her spine, and she shuddered.
“Rae.” His voice was lower, husky. “Look at me.”
She tilted her face upward.
Their eyes met. His were warm and brown and filled with tenderness and desire. Filled with love. That’s what she’d spent twelve years searching for. She’d never found it in another man.
He leaned closer. “You’re not married.”
Rae swallowed. She should move. She would, because this wouldn’t help either of them. She’d pull away. Just one more second.
His lips met hers, and she melted into his kiss. Twelve years disappeared, and in that moment, she belonged to Brady, and he to her. Everything would be all right. Brady would protect her.
He ca
ressed her neck with one hand, held her close with the other. She had no strength to fight. She was Brady’s, had always been Brady’s. Her love for him burst within her like the sun over the sea, reflecting beauty on everything it touched. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, coaxing a groan from his throat. Compared to her feelings for Brady, what she’d felt for Julien was a flickering candle.
Julien.
She ended the kiss, tried to pull away.
“Don’t,” Brady said.
“Let me go.”
He did.
She could hardly walk straight. The world had tilted on its axis. She staggered into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“Rae.”
She couldn’t look at him. “You need to go.”
He stood beside her, touched her hair again.
She ducked away. “Stop.”
“Why?”
“This is... I can’t. I have to make a plan.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Johnny wailed, the sound screeching through the baby monitor. She wasn’t sure she could muster the energy to stand. She pushed back in her chair, but Brady laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Let me.”
She nodded, and he walked out.
She stared at the sunny yellow wall. Tried to make a mental list of all she had to do. She couldn’t think. A moment later, she heard Brady’s voice through the monitor. Soothing and kind, like a father would be.
Like the father Johnny would never have.
What should she do? Run now? Try to find the treasure and hope Julien didn’t track her down while she searched? She needed to focus on figuring out what her next move should be. But she already knew. She lifted her fingertips, touched her lips, and blinked back fresh tears.
She heard Brady return but couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from that yellow wall.
Brady cleared his throat, and she turned to see him cradling Johnny in one arm. With his opposite hand, he patted the baby’s back. “You okay?”
“It’s not time for him to eat.”
“He had a dirty diaper. I bet that’s what woke him.” He sat in the chair beside her, then shifted the baby to look at his face. Johnny’s eyes were closed. “See, he’s back to sleep already.”
She watched them, the way Brady’s large hand cradled little Johnny’s rump. Brady stroked Johnny’s face, brushed a teardrop from his tiny cheek.
This was what she’d been searching for. She’d gone to New York, to Europe, to Africa, married a man she barely knew, all in a quest for something she’d had all along, right here at home.
Someday, a long time from now, when she’d found a new place to live, a shack in an obscure village in some remote jungle, she’d huddle over an old stove and cook cornmeal mush and watch her son grow up. And this would be the moment she’d remember. Of everything she’d lost—her career, her family, this house, the wealth—it would be this image, Brady cradling her child, that would stay with her. Losing her life with Julien, losing all of it, was nothing. Losing this. That was everything.
Thirty-Five
Brady looked at her tear-stained face, saw the terror in her eyes.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You have to go. If he gets any inkling of that”—Rae waved her hand toward the other room—“of what just happened, he’ll make you wish you were dead.”
Brady didn’t care. Hadn’t he been dead for years already? Hadn’t he only half lived, half loved, half existed since Rae left? By staying with her, he was putting himself in danger. That didn’t matter. He put himself in danger every time he pinned on his badge. Sure, he was safer in Nutfield than he’d been in Boston, safer than in Afghanistan. But safety was an illusion. He wasn’t afraid to put his life on the line. He wasn’t sure if that made him brave or stupid or just incredibly stubborn, but there it was.
So it wasn’t fear of dying that held him back now. It was her.
He looked into the face of Rae’s child. Jean-Louis, she’d called him. A beautiful child, and Brady had fallen in love already. And when he glanced at Rae again, he admitted the truth. He hadn’t fallen in love with her, because he’d never fallen out of love with her.
Rae was the only woman for him. All the women since had been poor substitutes. But could he throw away everything he’d fought for to be with her? A few days before, all he’d wanted was to stay in Nutfield forever.
And what for? To catch burglars? To put drug dealers behind bars? To fight for the chief’s position? Once, that had been all he’d wanted. Yes, Nutfield was home. But why was he back? To protect his fine town? Or was that just his excuse to drop out of life? To cocoon himself. Drugs and knives and guns, no problem. But could he risk his heart again?
Rae wiped a tear from her cheek while she watched him. Did she really think he’d just walk away? Could he, when all he’d ever wanted was to be by her side?
No.
He would stay with her, die with her, if that’s what it took. And based on what he’d learned, that was probably the future they had coming. So be it.
Rae reached for Johnny, but Brady held him closer.
She dropped her hand on the table. “You have to go. He’ll kill you if he knows we were together.”
He laid his hand over hers. “I can live with that.”
She glared at him. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I heard every word you said.”
“Brady.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She blinked. Shook her head. “No. He’ll... No. That’s a bad idea.”
“Because you’re afraid for my life, or because you don’t want me?”
She looked at their joined hands, swallowed, and pulled hers away. “I don’t want you.”
He chuckled and felt his first real smile in a long, long time. “I don’t believe you.”
Thirty-Six
If Julien didn’t get out of this hotel soon, he’d go crazy. He couldn’t stand the confined space, the high-rise. He needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed to find Rae and Jean-Louis. Now.
He needed a diversion.
He grabbed the flash drive he’d brought from Paris and slipped it into the USB port on his laptop, then perused the files. He’d been gathering evidence to use against Geoffrey if the need ever arose. Geoffrey was a thug, and not a very smart one at that. Julien didn’t want to use this information, but he would if it were necessary. Proving to Papa that Geoffrey was holding out on him ought to convince Papa that Julien was the better choice to lead the company.
Thank God Rae hadn’t gotten into his safe. If she’d found this, she could have taken down the whole organization. Julien had been a fool to gather this stuff against his own brother. If it fell into the hands of the authorities, it would ruin Geoffrey. It would ruin his father too. Julien wouldn’t be immune to the investigation, either. No, this was for his father’s eyes only.
Would Papa thank him, or destroy him?
It wasn’t worth the risk. Julien selected all the files, then hovered over the delete key. He should delete it all.
Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.
A knock sounded on his door.
He closed the program, files intact, and slipped the flash drive into his pocket. He crossed the room to open the door. Hector. “Well?”
“May I come in?”
Julien stepped aside, and Hector passed him.
“I got a message from Qasim. You remember him?”
Julien closed the door and turned. “Works with Carson, yes?”
Hector stopped at the table. “Worked.”
What else could possibly go wrong?
Hector ran a hand over his bald head, offering a rare glimpse of frustration. “Qasim identified Carson’s body this morning. He was found last night in an alley in Marrakesh.”
Julien swore in French. “That’s where he met with Aziz?”
Hector nodded once, and Julien blew out a long breath. “We’re sure it was t
hem?”
“A poker chip was found in his pocket.”
Aziz’s calling card. Always the thousand dollar value, as if he had money to burn. The man’s arrogance knew no bounds.
So Julien was in a war, but with whom? With Aziz alone, or was Geoffrey involved? Would his own brother turn against him? Had they teamed up? And if so, what did Aziz have to gain?
Money. And power.
Julien stroked the smooth edge of the flash drive in his pocket. He had ammunition of his own.
He didn’t bother to ask about leads. No one would pin Carson’s murder on Aziz or his men. Who would dare? Aziz’s tentacles had gripped too many in power. He’d expanded beyond diamonds, joined the drug trade. That’s why he’d wanted to give Julien drugs in exchange for the weapons, but Julien had refused. He didn’t consider opium currency.
But Geoffrey did.
If Julien weren’t careful, his would be the next body found with a bloody poker chip. He blew out a breath. “Is Geoffrey involved?”
“Qasim is learning all he can, and I’ve called in a few favors. We should know something soon. If you would stop being so stubborn—”
“You’ve made your opinion clear. What about Rae?”
“Farah has done some research and doesn’t believe the reporter will be persuaded by money. She can’t find any leverage to use against him.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We grab him.”
It was risky, but Hector was right. Julien opened the door. “Come up with a plan, quickly. We’re running out of time.”
Hector walked out, and Julien snatched his phone from the desktop and paced to the window. Papa had called earlier, again. He was far too involved in this deal.
Julien thought of Carson. Dead. Julien hadn’t anticipated that. If he were in Tunis, he’d visit Aziz himself. Just walk right into the man’s desert compound and have a chat. Aziz wouldn’t dare hurt him, not if he wanted to survive Alejandro’s wrath. If it was war the man wanted, Julien would oblige, but surely they could reach an understanding without it coming to that. Assuming Geoffrey wasn’t whispering in the old man’s ear.
Convenient Lies Page 16
