Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Backatcha, Tyler, for a doctor.” He reached around her to start the water. While it took the ancient hot water heater forever to warm up, he made use of the time.

  His mouth ravaged hers.

  Slanting a look down at those dark eyes, he lowered his head, slicking his tongue along her breasts. “Love these,” he muttered. To prove it, he took a rosy peak into his mouth, savored it until it grew rigid.

  Her nipples already throbbed from his sucking motion. By the time her head lolled back in a sated state, he picked her up, stepped into the tub under the spray.

  Quinn already wanted him inside her.

  Dropping her to her feet, he began an assault on her mouth again.

  Between wet kisses, emphasizing each word, Quinn told him, “You’re such a dirty boy, Brennan. Let me take care of that.” She began to soap his rear end.

  “Good. ’Cause I plan to get a lot dirtier.”

  They took turns soaping each other while hands and fingers massaged, kneaded, explored slick and wet skin.

  “Now, Reese,” And with that she reached down, started working him into her. She climbed aboard, rode him hard and fast. Her eyes glazed over with white hot light while blasts of silver burst through her.

  He leaned her back against the tile, slipped his hands under her bottom and gripped her hips. With that, one deep thrust after another, he drove them drowning into bliss.

  Later, as they toweled off, Quinn told him, “Remind me not to do that with you standing up again. My legs are shaking. I think I saw stars.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You would,” she mumbled, but returned his grin with one of her own.

  She had no intentions of sharing any more than that. It had simply been sex, nothing more, she reminded herself as she crawled between clean, crisp sheets, and fell exhausted into slumber.

  CHAPTER 13 Book 3

  Even though the slap stung, it had been well worth it.

  Quinn hated her stepfather, Ross, with a passion that came from knowing how the man looked at her each and every time he got within ten feet.

  It had been that way now for a couple of years.

  She hated the looks he gave her almost as much as she hated the way he smelled. He had fat, chunky fingers that always seemed to be wet and sticky when he touched her.

  Not that she let him get close enough to touch her very often.

  But sometimes at meals it was difficult to avoid him passing her a dish where his fingers might invariably linger for a little too long.

  Ever since she’d starting getting a chest, Ross Jennetti had become an even greater nemesis than he had been before. It got so bad at one point she’d taken to putting the chair from her desk in front of her bedroom door at night when she slept.

  She also kept her ever-present, trusty softball bat at the side of her bed where she could get to it just in case Ross ever got past the first line of defense. A propped-up chair, after all, wasn’t much of a deterrent to ward off the advances of a determined, six-foot-one inch man.

  That’s why there were nights she merely dozed, especially when Ella lit out for parts unknown and left her alone in the house with only Jennetti as her guardian. During those times it was left up to her to see that she never ended up spending much time in the same room with him for very long.

  It was even more important that she never let Jennetti get inside her bedroom.

  Even if it meant taking a slap, a slap was better than the alternative.

  That’s when she got into the habit of using a sharp tongue as a weapon. Slinging insults at the guy seemed to keep him at arm’s length. Even if it meant a slap across the face.

  Most times it worked.

  But tonight, she woke to find him standing over her, a hand to her mouth. She fought to reach the titanium bat, but felt the sting of another slap before his hands held her shoulders down, pinning her to the bed.

  She could handle the slap, but his body on top of hers made it difficult to breathe. She bucked. She kicked because Ross wanted to…

  Reese came awake at the sound of Quinn flaying about in bed next to him. Once again she didn’t seem to be awake but dreaming.

  Or was it a nightmare?

  Thrashing and turning her head to and fro, she was fighting an imaginary combatant. Her head bobbed and weaved as if she were in a fight for her life. Her body primed to take a blow.

  “Baby, come on now, wake up. Quinn…”

  He took a right jab to the jaw. Her ferocity and determination to land another punch had him capturing her arms. Not fully awake, he wasn’t quick enough to dodge another shot to the chin.

  Finally he straddled her. “Quinn, come out of it. You’re dreaming, honey. Come on, wake up.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Reese. Reese. You aren’t…get off of me! I can’t breathe!”

  “Not until you promise not to whack me again. You were dreaming.”

  “What? I… I…” She tried to erase the image of Ross on top of her and his sweaty hands gripping her legs. “Bad dream.”

  “No kidding. How often does it come back to you?”

  “Too often,” She breathed out and scooped hair out of her face, a face beaded now with perspiration. She hadn’t yet realized what she’d admitted.

  Still fog-brained, still shaky, she mumbled, “Water. I need some water.”

  He got up, went into the bathroom, turned the faucet to cold, and soaked a washcloth under the tap. On the way back to the bed, he dug into the gear they’d brought for a bottle of water.

  By the time he handed off the cool compress for her face, Quinn was sitting upright, the sheet draped over her crossed legs.

  As she wiped the sweat from her face, he uncapped the water.

  “When did it happen?”

  He did his best to sound calm even though he was anything but. He saw her swallow hard before chugging down half the bottle. She took several deep breaths as if buying time.

  He waited what seemed like an hour, as an old-fashioned clock on the nightstand ticked off the loud, eternal minutes.

  “This is one reason I never let guys spend the night.”

  “Never?”

  “No. I’m careful no one is ever around to…see me like this.”

  “You’ve been reliving this for what…? Ten years? Longer? When did it happen?”

  “First time, I was thirteen.”

  Reese sucked in a breath. A child, she’d been nothing more than a child. He wanted to hit something, preferably the bastard who’d touched her. But that wouldn’t do either one of them any good tonight.

  Instead, he gritted his teeth. “And you never told Kit and Baylee.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No.” She thought she saw disappointment on his face and tried to explain. “Look, the first time I was so ashamed. I thought they might no longer want to be friends if they found out.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to take the chance.”

  “You know differently now though.”

  “Yes, but back then I was still awed by the fact that they were my friends. They were the only two people in the world that really mattered to me. I didn’t want them to…to be disappointed in me or embarrassed for me.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was tempted to move closer, wrap her up, but judging by the look on her face, she needed some space and some room to breathe. Finally giving up the secret she’d been holding back for so long had to cost her dearly in terms of emotions.

  It wasn’t lost on Reese that to share what had happened showed a remarkable sign of trust on her part. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of it now, he was.

  “And the second time?”

  “The second time, I was a little stronger, a little bigger, and bloodied his nose. I was three weeks shy of my sixteenth birthday. I got out of there that night, packed up some clothes and spent two weeks living in the cabana house over at Baylee’s until I got a job in a coffee house and found my own place to live with some money I’
d been squirreling away for emergencies.”

  “Baylee and Kit didn’t ask a bunch of questions or want to know details of why you chose then to finally bolt and get out of there?” Knowing those two women, he couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t want to know every aspect, every detail.

  “As far as they were concerned, Ross had simply slapped me for the last time and fed up, I lit out on my own. He’d done it before. This time, I had bruises on my arms from his hands so they just assumed he’d pushed me around again, got more physical. I let them assume. It wasn’t that difficult to pull it off.”

  “And it didn’t come up during three years of therapy?”

  “I talked about the slaps and the verbal arguments, sure, which were all true. I just left that part out. How did you know? Was there something I did when we…made love, when we had sex…?”

  He gave her an incredulous stare. “Don’t be ridiculous; you were perfect in every way.”

  “Then how…?”

  “Honestly? Your passion for becoming a pediatrician clued me in, that’s one. And you’re so filled with drive and ambition enough to push yourself toward that goal. The fact you left home at sixteen, that’s two. A lot of kids do that after something traumatic happens. Those two things were both big red giveaways for me.”

  “Come on, Reese, there has to be more. Tell me, I can take it.”

  This time he did move closer. In fact, he crawled back in bed, pulled her into his chest. He brought her chin up so that she could meet his eyes. “Now you listen to me, okay? There is nothing in you that told me. After hearing Kit’s story that day at the hospital, I had my suspicions about all three of you. And when we went out to dinner the other night, I felt you were holding something back from Kit and Baylee, something that had to be major, something you were obviously ashamed about. It was a guy feeling. That’s all.”

  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You do realize you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Now, I do. But back then…”

  “No buts. Quinn Tyler is an amazing woman. Look at all you’ve overcome, missing so much school in those early years, somehow managing to make it all up to graduate high school at sixteen. Then you go on to college, not just any school but picking a tough one like UCLA, finishing med school, getting into a residency program. There are people who had all the advantages, all the privileges, and haven’t accomplished half of what you have, Quinn—and in record time.”

  “I was determined.”

  He laughed out loud. “Honey, you were a freaking superhero. My dad would’ve loved you.”

  “Parents tend to love doctors. It’s just that I’m not in this for the money.”

  “I know, honey. You look exhausted.” He stroked her back, kissed the top of her head. “Do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Try not to think about it anymore tonight. My chin can’t take it. You’ve got a helluva left jab.”

  For the first time since wakening, she laughed. “I’m sorry I belted you.” Sensing he wanted to say something else, she cocked her head and asked, “What?”

  He leaned his head back on the headboard. “You’ve been harboring this terrible secret all on your own. It’s weighed you down for years. Now that it’s out in the open…”

  She grabbed his arm. “You aren’t planning on telling Kit and Baylee, are you? You can’t.”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t my story to tell. If you decide to continue to keep it locked inside, promise me you’ll think about talking to someone, professionally.”

  “Reese…”

  “Hear me out. You’ve been carrying this around so long, somehow feeling guilty over something that wasn’t your fault. Even after all these years, you’re still blaming yourself.”

  When she started to object, he added, “Don’t deny it, you are.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Think about it.”

  “Thanks for being here tonight. You made it better somehow.”

  “Good. Now get some sleep, unless of course you happen to want the hat trick portion of our evening’s entertainment.”

  She flashed him a grin. “You read my mind. I guess one of the perks of letting someone hang around is access to the hat trick.”

  “Oh, yeah. Access isn’t a problem.”

  She giggled. “Most men would be freaked out right about now and want to bolt for the door.”

  “It’s time you realized, Tyler. I’m not most men.”

  After making love again, after he was certain she’d fallen asleep, Reese crawled out of bed as silently as he could without waking her. He grabbed his cell phone and snuck downstairs. Despite the fact the time on his phone read eleven-fifty, one-handed, he brought up his contact list. When he got to Jordan Donovan’s number, he hit the call button and waited for an irritated voice to come on the line.

  “Christ Jesus, this better be important. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Sorry. I need you to find a man for me by the name of Jennetti, Ross.” Reese spelled both names.

  “What the hell did this Jennetti do that it couldn’t wait eight hours until morning?”

  “He hurt someone I care about. Look, on this matter, you don’t share what you find with anyone, not Jake, not Dylan, got it?

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. How long have we known each other?”

  “Just find the man.”

  “Do not do anything stupid, Reese Brennan.”

  “Me? I gave up doing stupid stuff after law school, remember? You know all my stupid stuff anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, I also know you. You don’t call in the middle of the night unless it’s—very—personal. What else can you tell me about this guy?”

  “I know for a fact he’s no longer living at his last known address in Beverly Hills.” That little nugget he’d done on his own after learning Kit’s story and that of Baylee’s.

  “Checked on your own, that tells me this is close to home. Okay, I’ll take it from here.”

  Having passed the baton to Jordan, Reese headed back upstairs, confident he knew the consequences of an adult male who engaged in unlawful sex with a minor, even if it had occurred more than ten years earlier.

  Every criminal lawyer in the State of California knew that Section 261.5 of the California Penal Code, otherwise known as California’s Unlawful Sexual Intercourse Law, provided for prosecution in the event of statutory rape on a case by case basis, depending on the nature of the crime and the situation.

  In other words, there was no statute of limitations on statutory rape per se. A good district attorney could weigh the seriousness of each violation, take into account the age of the victim in ratio to the age of the offender and make the determination whether or not to prosecute even after a decade had passed.

  And that meant Ross Jennetti might still be held accountable under California law.

  Unfortunately for Jennetti, Reese Brennan had no intentions of abiding by the law.

  CHAPTER 14 Book 3

  Shortly after midnight, Nick Tyler’s eighteen-passenger Gulfstream touched down at LAX without much fanfare. As pilot who had flown his own planes now for almost fifteen years, he taxied the sleek corporate jet to a private hangar at the end of a deserted stretch of tarmac and throttled back the engine.

  The jet came to a stop.

  Usually he didn’t mind spending time in L.A. even if the place was so different from home. But this time, he wasn’t looking forward to the stay. He had little choice in the matter though. This had nothing to do with music or recording or shooting a video.

  This trip was personal.

  He should have come to her years before now. Decisions he’d made a quarter of century ago had him cornered now and there was no way out. At this stage in his life, he was at a crossroads.

  It was past time to do the right thing.

  He’d known there would come a day, maybe a judgment day, when he had to face the daughter he’d never bothered get
ting to know. But he’d supported her all this time and that had to count for something; maybe a huge checkmark in someone’s plus column.

  She had to appreciate that, didn’t she?

  No one could say that Nick Tyler hadn’t done the right thing, owned up to his responsibility. Hadn’t he seen to it that Quinn had been financially provided for all these years? What could she possibly have against living in luxurious Beverly Hills anyway, with all the materialistic trappings that place had to offer?

  His one lone passenger, his attorney and lifelong friend, Gerald Baines, stood up in the luxury cabin and stretched his back.

  “Long flight, jetlag here we come,” Nick remarked. “The body’s not as young as it used to be, Gerry. Back when I made these long flights it was no big deal but now...”

  In a nice, slow brogue, Gerald replied, “We’re not as young as we once were, that’s for sure. Insomnia is the least of our problems right now, Nicky boy. We’re in it now, mate. We’re out of Cork for sure, definitely out of our depths. They’ll feed us to the wolves I bet. There’s still time to turn tail and make it back home without anyone knowing we’ve been about.”

  Nick shrugged. “We’ve discussed it now for several thousand miles. I’d like nothing more than ignore her as you suggested, but I can’t put this off any longer, Gerry. My conscience won’t allow me to keep doing that. I’m surprised you didn’t mention this Reese Brennan’s earlier query—the e-mail he sent. If he hadn’t e-mailed me direct…”

  Gerry smiled broadly and explained, “I suppose I didn’t want to bother you with the past. That includes this lawyer fellow, surely trying to come at us from another angle altogether, make us feel sorry for her for whatever reason. They all have one, you know, and it always centers on the pounds and pence. Mark my word, he has his eye on your money, as does she.”

  “According to the e-mail he sent, it’s nothing like that.”

  Baines wasn’t buying it. “History tells me this is no different. But as your barrister and best mate, I had to point out the loophole, didn’t I? For once this is a part of your life I don’t envy. You’ve no responsibility to do this, you know. But you’re a good man for traveling so many miles to straighten the young lady out.”