Buried Lies (Hidden Truths)

by Brittney Sahin

  He whispered, “I called to collect my raincheck.”

  I shook myself free of my daze. “What?”

  He took a step back, allowing me room to breathe.

  “You promised me a fight.”

  “Oh.” Ohh . . . “Now?” I gulped. No one knew I was here. I’d thought we were meeting at The Phoenix, and when he’d texted me to come to the gym, I’d assumed it would be full of people.

  “Change.” There was a sharp bite to his word that made it an order, rather than a request. I didn’t appreciate commands, but I also didn’t want to piss off Declan. I was too close to ending this.

  I glanced down at my jeans and sandals.

  “You keep clothes in the locker room, right?” He sensed my hesitation.

  Shit. “Yes.” I gathered my strength to speak again. “Is there a reason you feel like throwing punches at me right now?” I slipped a smile to my face, forcing myself back into the role I’d been playing for so long.

  My dark hair whirled around to my back, and I straightened as he turned away from me. I watched the angel wings on his back as he crossed the room, which housed one professional-sized boxing ring and two small, side-fighting rings. “I also wanted to talk to you about business, and I thought we could make it more interesting.”

  “Sure. I’ll just change.”

  “You can leave your purse here. I don’t want you getting the urge to play around with your phone.” His eyes darted to mine once I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I don’t have much time.”

  My heart raced, but I obeyed and dropped my purse on the closest bench.

  As I made my way out to the main gym, all of my training screamed: He knows something. Get the hell out!

  I couldn’t leave, though. I couldn’t risk everything I’d worked so hard for, just because my inner voice was a coward.

  My eyes landed on the main entrance just as I pressed against the locker room door. The main door required a key to enter or exit when it was locked. The only way out was the way in which I had come. Even if I wanted to run, I couldn’t.

  A lungful of air, which poisoned my nose with the pungent smell of feet and sweat, did nothing to calm me as I pushed inside.

  I peeled the clothes from my body and grabbed the set of extra gym clothes I kept on hand. My hands trembled as I dressed in tight black pants, a white tank top, and pink sneakers.

  I’d been wanting to hit Declan in the face since the day we met. I’d never forget the first time I interviewed with him. I attempted to use sex appeal in order to get the notorious playboy to hire me. I would never stoop so low as to use my appearance to get a job, but to maintain my cover was another thing entirely.

  With a resume perfected by the FBI, I had carried myself with confidence into Declan’s office. “I’m Olivia Taylor, your next assistant,” were the first words that fell from my mouth. “I throw a killer left hook, work a minimum of ten hours a day, and I do what it takes to get the job done. You need me.”

  Declan had looked up from his computer screen to find me standing just inside his office. His eyes traveled from my silk blouse down to the hem of my tight black skirt, and lower. The way his eyes burned my flesh—the devious thoughts I knew lurked beneath the surface—blossomed in me an instant distaste. I had meant what I said about the left hook, but then I wanted to add, “I’d love to use it on you now.”

  His lips had twitched, and his smooth, deep voice skated over my skin, giving me the chills. “You’re hired, Miss Taylor.”

  I’d been in shock, but when he explained I was the most qualified candidate, I thanked God the FBI had done wonders with my resume.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to myself, studying my image in the mirror. I swept my hair into a ponytail, cleared my mind, and moved with slow steps back to the boxing area.

  As I opened the door, my heart stopped.

  Andrei and Oleg were standing next to Declan, and they were staring right at me. The dynamic murderous duo. I thought about turning around and attempting an escape.

  My eyes darted to the side door, through which I had entered. Could I make it in time if I sprinted?

  “Olivia, I invited two buddies of mine here, as well.”

  “Good to see you again,” Oleg’s deep Russian voice carried heavy across the room and splattered against me like paint.

  What did he mean? Good to see me after meeting for the first time this week, or good to see me again as in, “I killed your sister, and I recognize you.”

  “Hi.” That was all I could muster. I realized I was standing just in front of the double doors. A statue.

  “I mentioned to Oleg and Andrei, here, that you like to spar,” Declan said as I finally started to move.

  Oleg and Andrei’s eyes remained on mine as I approached. Oleg was taller and more muscular than Declan. He had bleached blonde, spiky hair and red, gold, and black ink scrawling from his fingers up to his throat and hairline. Religious tattoos, no less. His sharp nose twitched, and his faded blue eyes widened as I stopped in front of him.

  Andrei was practically a mirror image of Oleg, but with brown hair.

  “Why’s the gym closed?” I ignored his earlier comment.

  “I have business here today.” Declan pulled himself up into the fighting ring.

  “What kind of business?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

  Declan motioned for Andrei to join him. “Are you two fighting?” I asked.

  “No, you two are.”

  Andrei crossed his arms and smirked at me.

  “Andrei’s never fought a woman before. He doesn’t believe a woman can take him on.” Declan smiled at me. The man had the nerve to smirk! A spark roared to life. I moved past Andrei and ducked under the rope. “You really want at me first?” I tried to make light, despite the anger that barreled inside me.

  “I’ll take it easy on you, sweetheart,” Andrei said. He removed his T-shirt to reveal even more tattoos. His chest was a shrine to Catholic holy figures.

  I was pretty sure that even such devotion couldn’t save his soul.

  Declan grabbed two sets of gloves and tossed a pair at both Andrei and me.

  My eyes locked on to Andrei’s, and I raised my gloved fists in the air. Goosebumps traveled across my skin as we squared off. Was this happening? How far would it go?

  Andrei lunged at me, and I bobbed out of the way. He was strong, but I was fast. I danced around his punches, tossing a few of my own.

  “Enough,” Declan said on approach after only five or so minutes. “Is that really all you have?” He angled his head at me and held out his hand to Andrei, requesting the gloves.

  “Andrei might’ve taken it easy on you because you’re a woman, but I’m for equal opportunity.” Declan sneered.

  My mind flashed to Jessie and my hand bunched into a fist at my side.

  “Time to pay up. I’m ready to cash in on that rain check,” Declan said in a low voice before moving with fast feet right at me.

  I didn’t have time to react as his fist connected with my jaw. My head slammed back, and the floor was no longer under my feet.

  I struggled to stand, but couldn’t pull myself up. My vision was blurry as Declan hovered over me.

  “We’re just getting started, Olivia Scott.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Connor

  I exited the Capital James Bank and glanced at the famous bull of Wall Street as I jumped into my Jeep.

  “Is it done?” Jake asked from behind the wheel, before shifting gears and joining the rush of cars on the street.

  “Yeah. I’ll have to swing back by the office later when everyone’s gone. But the plan should work.” I hoped it would, at least.

  “You hear from Olivia yet?” he asked a few blocks later, just as we passed the sushi restaurant Olivia and I had eaten at—well, almost eaten at.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone. “No. I’ve called her five times now. I’m getting worried.”

  “I’m sure she’s jus
t tied up with Declan.”

  Tied up? An image of Olivia in bondage and Declan, the damn devil, wielding some sort of flogger popped into my mind. Bile rose at the thought. “You think the guard will be home?” I needed to snuff the disgusting image from my mind before I crushed the phone in my palm.

  “The other guard said he didn’t work again until Saturday. I’m not sure if it will do us any good, but I’d like to see how much he knows before you walk into the shark tank tonight.”

  “You think he’s on Konstantin’s payroll?”

  “I don’t know, but the man is an accessory to murder. Regardless.”

  Murder. My father, Tyson, Olivia’s sister . . . It was all too damn much.

  And I still hadn’t shed a tear. What was wrong with me? Were my tear ducts broken, or had I hardened into some steely inanimate object, incapable of tears?

  I hadn’t cried since my friend was murdered in Iraq. I should’ve done better recon. I shouldn’t have missed the insurgent.

  “You all right, man?”

  “Just thinking about Jim.”

  Surprise flickered across his face as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Jim Kazanski?” Jake had been on a different mission than me, but he knew Jim.

  We all knew Jim. Funny-as-hell Jim.

  “Why are you thinking about him?”

  “I don’t know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes.

  His hand was on my shoulder as he stopped at a light. “It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was thick and threaded with emotion. “I told Jenny what you said.”

  My eyes popped open. “What?”

  He removed his hand when the light changed. “I know you thought she couldn’t handle it, but I would want to know if I had been her. I didn’t want to tell you at the time—I knew how bad you felt after losing him.”

  “You told her Jim was going to propose?”

  Jake nodded as I studied his profile, his eyes on the road. “Jim said if anything ever happened to him, he wanted me to look out for her.”

  I lowered my head. “Fuck.” A tangle of emotions pulled at me, but my eyes remained clear.

  “I have no intention of delivering any message to your ex, F.Y.I.” Jake parked the Jeep. “You don’t get to die on me.”

  I looked up at my friend. He was the oldest of all my friends—close to thirty-five—and I always felt he had assumed the role of older brother as if a few years made any difference at this age. Still, it was nice knowing I had someone like him in my corner.

  “We’re going to take down the Russian mob, Denzel-style. No worries.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. I couldn’t help it. “Denzel-style, huh?”

  “You know that movie where he took down the Russian mob—like all of it—with a flick of his wrist? We can do that. No problem.” He started for the door. “Hell, we should study that movie so we can learn a few things.”

  “I’m not sure about you, but I don’t need to learn a damn thing,” I joked, allowing his cheerfulness to comfort the sick swell of emotions in my stomach. “We could teach him a few things, though.”

  Jake came around next to me after hopping out of the Jeep. “Sure, buddy. And I’m Arnold.”

  I glared at him. “More like Eastwood, dude.”

  He smoothed a hand over his face and drew his lips into a straight line as he narrowed his eyes, giving me his infamous Eastwood impression. “‘Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while you shouldn’t have messed with? That’s me,’” he quoted in a low, deep voice.

  Reality slapped me in the face as we entered the apartment building. “Come on, man. We have a Russian mob to take down and a girl to save.” It felt good to be my old, carefree self. But I wasn’t sure if that was who I needed to be right now. Being pissed off would more than likely get me or someone else killed, though. I couldn’t be off my game, either way.

  Not when it came to Olivia’s life on the line.

  Jake’s fist tapped the door of the security guard’s home, which sat on the first floor of an older building. The graffiti on the walls and the overpowering odor of urine led me to believe this man hadn’t saved up for retirement when he was younger.

  He’d be a prime target for the Russian mob. Money could buy a lot of things: food, utilities, people . . .

  “Who is it?” The old mans’ voice called out from behind the door.

  Jake swooped his FBI badge up in front of the peephole. I wasn’t sure if it was dangerous to be waving that around, but at this point, I wasn’t sure if it mattered. The deal with Declan was tonight, and after that, all the cards would be on the table.

  The door slowly creaked open. The man’s brows rose and fell as he studied us. “You two,” was all he said.

  The smell of cigars jabbed me in the face as he spoke, and I had to stop myself from choking at the stench. “We need a word.” Jake entered the man’s apartment without an invitation, practically forcing the older man to step back and out of the way.

  We made our way down the narrow hallway and into the living room of the dimly lit apartment. A large flat screen TV dominated the wall, surrounded by one small sofa and an oversized, brown leather reclining chair.

  The man reached for the cigar in the ashtray next to the chair, and he lowered the volume on the golf tournament that was playing on the TV.

  Great. This man had helped criminals in order to chill at home and watch golf on the big screen. I wanted to shout that he’d helped murder my father, but I bit my tongue.

  Jake shoved his FBI badge in his pocket. “Why’d you lie to us when we met with you the other day?”

  The man inhaled and blew cigar smoke off to the side, seeming nothing like the Santa Claus lookalike we’d encountered before. “Why’d you lie? You didn’t mention you were FBI,” he spoke after a beat.

  “That wasn’t pertinent at the time,” Jake answered. “You deleted Edward Matthew’s visitor list from the computer. Why?”

  The man’s eyes flitted to mine for a brief moment. I shoved my hands in my pockets, letting my FBI friend work his magic.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pushed the cigar back into his mouth.

  “How much did the Russian mob pay you to make that list disappear?”

  “Russian mob?” The cigar slipped free from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

  “The two men you allowed up into Edward Matthew’s home are members of the Russian mafia.” Jake crossed his arms.

  The man rubbed a hand over his white beard, put out his cigar in the ashtray and sank into his reclining chair. “Listen, they were on the list.” He held up his hands in front of him as I glowered at him. “Your father,” he looked at me, “put them on the approved list back in April.”

  That was when they’d been released from prison, according to Jake. “If he put them on the list, why were you so quick to erase it?” I challenged, but attempted to maintain my cool.

  “Because he took them off a few weeks later, right before he—um . . .” He frowned at me. “They told me they needed to talk with him, that it was important. They paid me to let them go up.” He snaked a hand around to the back of his neck. “I thought that you might discover they were removed from the list but allowed access. I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

  So my father had the sense to take those murderers off the list. But why would he let them into his home?

  “There has to be more to this story.” I shook my head. “What is it you’re not telling us?” I removed my hands from my pockets and braced the arms of his chair, leaning in, my face close to his stinking, cigar-infused breath. “Tell me, dammit.”

  The man stared up at me with apologetic eyes. I started to open my mouth, but my phone was vibrating. Olivia?

  Jolting upright, I dug into my pocket and clutched my phone. “What the hell?”

  “What is it?” Jake came over to me.

  “Olivia just texted that she’s boarding a plane for Vegas.”

&nb
sp; “Why’s she going to Vegas?” Jake looked at me, the lines of his face pulling together in worry.

  I quickly dialed up her number, needing the answer myself. “Voicemail.” I redialed a few times, only to be greeted by the sweet sound of her voice asking me to leave a message. “She must already be on the plane.”

  “Why would Declan send her to Vegas?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s better she’s not here when this all goes down, but I still don’t like the idea of her being out there. Alone.”

  “Are we through?” the man interrupted us.

  “You got my father killed, asshole. It will never be through.”

  His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He covered his face with his hands, and I didn’t stick around to see what else he might have had to say. “I need to make a call.”

  Once outside, I checked the recent flights out of New York to Vegas and dialed up my friend Ben.

  “Hey, man. I’m sorry I haven’t been any help,” he responded after one ring.

  “You can be of help now.”

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  “Remember Olivia from the club?” I asked, finding that my hand had clenched into a ball at my side.

  “Of course.”

  “She’s on her way to Vegas, and I need you to keep an eye out for her. Make sure she stays safe. She should be at The Phoenix tonight.” I wasn’t sure why Declan wanted her in Vegas when the meeting was a few hours away, but at least I knew she wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

  “She in danger?”

  God, I hoped not. “Maybe. Just watch out for her, okay?” My voice broke.

  ***

  Olivia

  A midnight blackness greeted me. I squinted a few times and moved my hands around in front of me, trying to figure out where I was.

  My skull was going to explode. Something hard brushed against the fingers of my outstretched hand.

  A blinding light flashed on a moment later, and a moan escaped my lips.

  “You’re awake, I see.” Declan’s voice sounded like an echo, surrounding and teasing me.

  I still couldn’t see. I closed one eye and squinted out the other. A sharp and sore throb in my jaw, which shot straight up my cheek and to my forehead, had me closing my one good eye again.