Silenced Memories (Hidden Truths)

by Brittney Sahin

  “Sorry,” he muttered before sitting up as well. “I guess we fell asleep.” He stood up and walked toward her window. “How are you?” he asked, gazing out at the city.

  “My father is on his way here. He plans on taking me home.”

  Michael spun around to look at her. “No way. You’re safe here. If I had my way, I would cuff you to the bed—in a non-kinky way, of course—to keep you safe. And I will do that if I have to.”

  She stared at him with parted lips. She stood up and approached him, standing but a foot or so away.

  His voice softened a fraction. “Kate, I don’t think going back to New York will make you safe. In fact, that seems to be exactly what your stalker wants. If he wants you back in New York for some reason . . . maybe you’re safer staying here.”

  She didn’t want Michael to see her with bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks. “I don’t know where I will be safe—maybe nowhere. But my father is an attorney; he knows people who can protect me.” She paused, and her shoulders sagged. “But I’m so angry at him for lying to me all these years. I just don’t know if I can face him right now.” She looked down at the floor, afraid to process her feelings. Her life had been a lie.

  “Can I ask what he said to you?”

  She ran her hands up and down her thighs, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. “He didn’t say much of anything other than he was taking the first flight here—without my step-mom, of course. But it’s strange, huh?”

  Michael reached out and touched her cheek, cupping it with his palm.

  She took in a deep breath and looked up into his eyes. Her eyes were watery, the color of the Gulf of Mexico on a summer day. “I don’t know who killed my mom, or if it’s the same person who is after me, but I kind of want it to be the same person.”

  He stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowing.

  “I—I need it to be the same person because I want to bring my mother’s killer to justice. I have a better chance of finding her killer if he has already found me.”

  Michael released his hand from her cheek. “It sounds to me like you want to be bait.”

  “Not bait . . . not any more than I already am.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “I have to find who killed my mom.”

  Michael stared at her and rubbed his hands over his face. “Fine,” he said and cleared his throat. “We’ll find your stalker and your mother’s killer—even if they’re two different people. But I will never use you as bait.”

  She swooped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’ll stay here, then.”

  “Well good, because I wasn’t about to let you leave anytime soon.”

  ***

  Michael slid off the barstool when he saw Kate approaching. She looked refreshed and energized after her shower. She had applied a little mascara and lip gloss and had thrown on a pair of blue jeans and a pink, Victoria’s Secret T-shirt. He groaned. Like he needed a reminder that beneath her T-shirt were breasts that were better than those of any model he’d ever seen or touched. Irritated by the feeling of desire that had sprung up on him, he forced his thoughts to her stalker. “You look better.”

  “My dad sent me a text. He said he couldn’t get a flight until early tomorrow morning.” She approached the fridge and opened it. “I texted him the address of the hotel where I was staying before. He thinks I’ll be meeting him there at eight. He has no idea about you.” She peeked around the fridge door. “Could you meet him instead? I can’t face him.”

  “Of course.” He preferred to have a one-on-one with her father anyway. “I’ll push my meeting until a little later.”

  “I’m starving. Mind if I ransack your fridge?”

  God, it was wonderful to be around a woman with an appetite. He was so used to dating models—had he ever seen a woman eat bread and butter before, aside from his sister? No—not one who looked like Kate.

  Was there anything he didn’t like about her? He was trying to think of something as they finished their food. “You amaze me,” he said.

  She finished her last bite of bowtie pasta and looked up at him. “What?”

  He hadn’t meant to say that, but couldn’t turn back now. “You just amaze me.” And that was all he would say. He stood up and grabbed a bottle of cabernet. “Want any?”

  “Sure.”

  He avoided her gaze while he poured the wine.

  “While you were in the shower, I spoke with Jake.” He had to talk about something unpleasant, and now might as well be the time. At least it would distract him from his desire to pull Kate into his arms and kiss her until her problems melted away.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “He asked me to email him the guest list of the ball. He’s going to see if any of the guests had a connection to your mom.”

  “Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t think it was relevant, but I met someone at the ball who knew my mom. He told me I looked just like her. They were classmates.” She opened her eyes and looked up at Michael. “I’m sure he has nothing to do with my stalker. I mean, we don’t even know if there is a relationship between her murder and what is happening to me.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Yeah. He gave me his business card.”

  “Okay, I’ll let Jake know.” He sipped his wine. “Jake also got the official police report of your mother’s case while we were sleeping earlier, and he’ll visit with one of the detectives who was on your mother’s case tomorrow. He’s retired, but he is going to see if the detective remembers anything.”

  “Wow. He moves fast.”

  “Like I said, he’s one of the best.”

  “Thank you for doing this for me. I feel like I have totally disrupted your life. I don’t understand why you are helping me.”

  He set his wine glass down on the kitchen island and moved toward her. He noticed her flinch. He took her glass and set it on the counter, and reached for her face. He cupped her chin and tilted her head up to face him. “You don’t need to thank me, and I don’t want anything in return,” he said in a low voice. “I’m helping you because I care about you.”

  She bit her lip and her gaze averted to his mouth. “Why do you care about me? Even before you and I, um, hooked up, you wanted to help me. I just don’t get it. Is it because you were in the military? You have some desire to help people in need?”

  He would lose his control if she didn’t stop staring at his mouth. He let go and took a step back. He didn’t trust himself. “I like you, Kate. You know I do. I can’t help but care about your safety.” He rubbed his forehead and grabbed his wine. “But I shouldn’t want you the way I want you. It’s selfish of me to still want you, especially now. Especially after the day you’ve had. But damned if I do.” He poured the remaining contents of his glass down his throat and swallowed.

  “I’m going to call Connor and have him come over.”

  “What? Why?” She moved closer to him.

  “I need to go out. I can’t be here right now.” He didn’t trust himself at all. And, although he hated the idea of ladies-man-Connor spending the evening with Kate, he knew it would be worse if he spent any time with her.

  “I thought we were going to come up with a plan.”

  “Jake’s working on the plan. Don’t worry.” He reached for his cell and left the kitchen before he could change his mind.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, following him into the living room. “To a bar? A club? To find someone else who will relieve your lust?”

  He jerked around to face her. Instead of replying, he strode past her and to his bedroom to change.

  ***

  Michael brought the Jack and Coke to his lips and stared in a daze at the row of liquor bottles that lined the wall. The bar was dead. It was a Monday night, after all, and closing time was in fifteen minutes. He was on his fourth drink, and he was still unable to digest his feelings for Kate. The last few days had taken him by surprise. Kat
e had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else had. He was trying to keep his wall up, but she was like a sledgehammer. All she had to do was smile.

  He’d thought he would get her out of his system once they slept together. But he only wanted her more. He’d never done drugs before. But for the first time in his life, he felt like he could understand the dilemma that drug users faced. Once they felt the high, they wanted more of it. They knew it was wrong. They tried to stay away. But when temptation was near, their mind would ignore the sin and only remember the pleasure it could bring.

  Kate was becoming his drug, and he couldn’t trust himself around her. He was growing weak.

  He’d faced terrorists eye to eye. He’d gone to bat with men who strapped bombs to their chests—and yet, he couldn’t be in the same room with Kate without needing her so much that it risked his self-control. What was happening?

  He took a sip of his almost empty drink and tried to remind himself of all the reasons that a true relationship was not an option for him. The memories came hurling back with such force that he almost spit out his drink. He shut his eyes and bit back the pain that was now gathering like a storm in his chest. He reached into his pocket and threw a few twenties on the counter.

  His legs felt heavy as he exited the bar and walked the few blocks back to his place. When the elevator doors opened, and he entered the living room, he saw Kate curled up asleep on the couch, with Connor sitting beside her. An action flick was playing on the television, and Connor appeared engrossed in the movie. He jumped up when he saw Michael.

  Irritation crawled across Michael’s face, and his eyes darkened. Had something happened between the two of them? Why did Connor look guilty? He pushed the jealous images from his mind and nodded his thanks to Connor.

  As soon as the elevator doors closed and Connor was gone, Michael reached for Kate and picked her up in his arms, trying not to wake her. He carried her down the hall and to the guest bedroom, staring down at her, mesmerized by the sleeping beauty in his arms. Relief struck him upon noting she was still in her jeans and had not put on one of her flimsy nightgowns for Connor to see. Gently, he laid her on the bed.

  “Oh, Michael.”

  Hearing his name, even mumbled, caused him to stop in the doorway.

  She was dreaming. About him.

  His breath caught at the sight of her lying in bed. He wanted to join her, to make her dream a reality.

  She rolled to her side and her hands slipped into a prayer position beneath her face. Her lips parted, and she sighed.

  ***

  “David Adams?”

  The man was not who Michael would have expected. He knew David Adams was a powerful defense attorney in New York City, but he wouldn’t have pegged him for a shorts-and-wrinkled-T-shirt kind of guy. He decided that Kate’s looks must have come from her mother—her father had dark cropped hair, brown eyes, and a plain, oval face. Something about him screamed lawyer, though—or maybe it was just that Michael didn’t trust lawyers, and he definitely didn’t trust Kate’s father, who had lied to his daughter all her life.

  Maybe he had his reasons, though. Michael would be sure to find out.

  “Michael Maddox?” David closed the distance between them but didn’t meet Michael’s extended hand. “Where’s my daughter?” He looked around the busy lobby of the hotel and back at Michael.

  “How’d you know who I am? I didn’t think Kate mentioned me.” Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of his black business pants and trained his attention on David’s brown eyes, trying to get an accurate read on his character.

  “Doesn’t everyone know who you are?” He echoed Michael’s pose. “Besides, you’re the reason my daughter is here, right? She planned your event. And I want her to come back to New York.”

  “You don’t even know what’s going on,” Michael said with a deeper than normal voice. “We need to talk. I’ll take you to my office.”

  “I have no intention of going anywhere without seeing my daughter. This is her hotel, correct?”

  “It was. She’s staying at my place now.”

  David took a step back from Michael and removed his hands from his pockets. “What the fuck is going on?” His tan faded, replaced by bright cheeks.

  Anger? Fear? Michael tried to understand the emotions that were radiating from David’s body. “Kate’s in danger.” And that was all he had said before he made for the exit, assuming that David would follow.

  “I want to see my daughter,” David demanded as he trailed after Michael.

  Michael spun on his heel and motioned toward his Audi. “Get in. I’ll explain.”

  David exhaled deeply and shook his head, but followed instructions.

  As soon as Michael was behind the driver’s wheel and pulled out into traffic, he spoke. “Kate has a stalker. Someone began following her the minute she arrived in Charlotte. It looks like he is trying to scare her away.” He glanced over at David out of the corner of his eye. He was pressing his palms against his knees and staring out the passenger window. “I called in a favor from a friend of mine in the FBI. He told Kate about her mother’s murder.”

  David looked over at Michael as they stopped at a red light. “I told her not to come to this city. I told her.”

  “My friend in the FBI doubts the stalker is connected to her mother’s murder, given that the police think Elizabeth’s murder was the result of a burglary, but he wants to pursue every possible angle.” He pressed on the gas pedal and tried not to accelerate too much. His anger over David’s lies burned deep.

  “I didn’t want her to find out. I didn’t want her to know that her mother was shot. Do you blame me?”

  Michael pulled off to the side of the road and parallel parked a few blocks from his office. He looked over at David, studying him, but found himself unable to get a read on the man. Had he lost his touch? “It’s between you and Kate as to why you lied, but I need to know if you think there’s a chance that there’s a connection between her mother’s murder and her stalker.”

  David looked like a man who had just lost a child. Or a wife. Sadness replaced his hollow stare and the muscles in his face sagged, as though gravity had just become heavier. “I don’t think there is a relation.”

  “Why did you run away from Charlotte when her mother died? Why did her grandparents abandon their home—sadness? Or fear?”

  David straightened his slouched shoulders and wet his dry lips. He wondered if Kate received her nervous energy from her father. How could a powerful attorney be so weak? Maybe it took having a child to understand what David was feeling.

  “Tell me the truth,” Michael said with a flash of warning in his voice.

  “I just don’t know if her mother’s murder was premeditated.” David rubbed his forehead. “Her mother, Elizabeth, told me that she felt like she was being followed. She couldn’t prove it, though, and I—a pre-law student to the core—demanded evidence. I wanted to help her, but I said that without proof there was nothing to go on. Soon after she told me that, she died.”

  “What did the cops say?”

  “Same as I said to Elizabeth. Without proof . . .” He shifted in his seat and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. His hand fumbled inside before retrieving a folded photo. He handed it to Michael.

  It was a headshot of Kate’s mother, Elizabeth. The photo was creased in the middle and worn at the edges, the color faded, but the resemblance between Kate and Elizabeth was astounding. Michael studied the photo and touched the necklace in the picture. The white gold chain was simple, but the pendant in the middle was exquisite. He didn’t know much about jewelry, but he guessed that the center diamond was, at least, two carats, and there were also small diamonds encrusting the large stone.

  “That was her grandmother’s necklace—the one the killer took.” David’s brown eyes grew dark. “Where’s Kate? I need to see her.”

  “Right now, she doesn’t want to see you.” He was beginning to feel sorry for the guy. Would h
e have done the same thing if he had been in David’s shoes? Would he have silenced the past?

  “I need to protect her.”

  “I have that covered.”

  “I’m her father.” David slammed his hand against the dashboard as he glared at Michael.

  “I’ll talk to her. I’ll see what I can do.” He opened the door and got out of his Audi. “Check in to a hotel, and I will call you later.” Michael opened the trunk and retrieved David’s small suitcase. “Can I hang on to this photo for a bit?”

  “Yes,” he answered as he met him on the sidewalk and stared at Michael, disbelief etched in the lines of his face.

  “Here’s my number.” Michael handed him his business card. “I will call you this afternoon. I promise.”

  David knitted his eyebrows together as he took the card. “I have to see her. Please, tell her I’m sorry.”

  Michael nodded and walked away, uneasiness building into a full storm that swirled inside him, threatening to break free.

  ***

  “Michael met with your father earlier, and he’s at a meeting right now. He’ll fill us in when we see him later,” Connor said, peering up from his newspaper. “I made coffee. The real kind of coffee. I didn’t know how to use his fancy schmancy gadget.”

  Kate tried not to feel disappointed by the fact that Michael wasn’t there. It was after nine, anyway. She was the one who’d asked him to meet with her dad because she was too cowardly to face him, but she wished she and Michael hadn’t left things the way they had the night before. Had she needed to be so crass? The thought of him with another woman had caused her mouth to spew out such filth without first checking with her brain. She groaned.

  She had hoped to apologize when he came home, but she never saw him. He’d probably been the one who put her in bed, though, so he had come home . . . if only briefly. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t slept with someone—well, had sex with someone, because in Michael’s words, he did not ‘sleep’ with women. But he’d napped with her yesterday. Did that count for something?

  She wished she was capable of having casual sex, if only with him. Just thinking of his muscular physique, gorgeous bone structure, and the deep but silky tones of his voice sent her body spiraling out of control.