The Complete Secrets Series

by LK Shaw

  Phebe’s face was pale and her forehead gleamed with a slight sheen of sweat. She looked like her meal could come back at any minute. She swallowed hard.

  “Would I need to testify against the Russian if he’s brought to court?”

  Her voice came out thready and petrified. Considering what he’d done to her, I couldn’t blame her.

  “If it came down to him going to trial, then yes, you would most likely be asked to testify considering he held you captive for so long. Your testimony is a powerful piece of evidence, Phebe.”

  “I understand.” There was an uneasy tremor in her voice that had me wanting to comfort her, but knowing it wouldn’t be prudent. She was a witness, and I needed to remember that.

  “Hey,” I said, needing her attention on me. “Don’t think that far ahead. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, let me speak to the defense on Monday and give him time to confer with his client. I also need to talk to my boss and see what type of offer we’re going to make. Until then, you and I will work on getting you fully deposed. I know we’ve talked a lot already, but we need to get your full official deposition. You’ll need to come into my office for that. I promise, though, everything will be okay.”

  My verbal reassurances were the best I could do.

  A few days later I brought Phebe into my office where she gave her official deposition. She’d been pale and withdrawn, and I could tell it was difficult for her, but she handled herself well. Our court reporter, Lucille, took down the entire thing and we added it to our growing pile of evidence, which included bank statements and video and audio surveillance. She then sent a copy to the defense attorney.

  Almost every day for two weeks now, I’d grilled Phebe on her testimony, preparing her for anything Bronson would throw at her. I didn't take it easy on her even though it went against every one of my protective instincts to see her in tears. But, she persevered and answered all my questions and counter questions like a pro. She recounted the abuse, the threats to her and her unborn child's life, as well as her eye witness testimony of drugs and money being exchanged. She hadn't been witness to the money laundering, but her testimony regarding the night she'd been drugged was compelling.

  Recounting her time spent in captivity had been the most difficult for her. I don't think she told me the entirely of it, but I did get names including that of Dragomirov and his apparent right-hand man, Dmitri. Phebe wasn’t able to provide a last name.

  Connor had called his FBI friends, Crocker and Morgan, and they'd sent over photos of some of Dragomirov’s henchmen for Phebe to identify. For any that weren't identifiable, they sent a sketch artist in for a rendering. They wanted to run some facial identification software to try and discover their identities.

  I could see the stress had started taking its toll on Phebe. Her security detail at the safe house reported hearing her cry out and, more often than not, scream at night. They said the sound of her cries of agony punched them right in the gut. After the nightmares would wake her, they often found her roaming the back yard at all hours of the night, either too afraid or too wound up to go back to sleep. During the day, her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circle and bags under them. The only consolation was that she was still forcing herself to eat, even though I knew she never ate much.

  I couldn't help but admire her. My eyes would follow her as she trekked around the yard in her bare feet. I knew emotionally she was hurting, but she didn’t let that scare her. She was keeping herself together, although I knew she was hanging on by a thread.

  I was drawn to her, but nothing could come of it. I didn’t have it in me to trust another woman that much. Neither of us were ready for anything more than that anyway, especially Phebe. I didn't know if she ever would be, even if it were something I wanted to pursue. There were so many things wrong with it. I pushed the attraction aside and vowed to maintain a strict lawyer slash client relationship. I ignored the voice inside my head that said otherwise.

  Phebe

  Today was another weekly session with Dr. Parrish. It had become easier to talk to her about things, even if I still kept certain things locked away. I wasn’t ready to disclose everything. Not yet, maybe not ever. Some memories were too awful to recollect.

  “I’m proud of the progress you’ve been making, Phebe.” Dr. Parrish beamed at me. “You’ve been using the breathing exercises I gave you and the panic attacks don’t seem to be lasting as long. Which is great.”

  “Thank you. It’s been challenging when the memories start to overwhelm me, but I’m determined not to let them win.”

  “That’s a great attitude to have. It’s what’s going to make your recovery a success. It’s difficult to meet our memories head on, but it’s the most effective way of breaking them down and beating them.” She smiled as she jotted down whatever it was she was always writing in her notepad.

  “I’d like to delve a little deeper today into your relationship with Vlad. There are some things I’d like to explore more.”

  I cringed at the sound of his name. As well as the mere thought of talking about him. I hated this part of therapy.

  Hesitantly, I asked. “What kind of things?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  I stared at her with incredulity as I ground out, “I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me. Never.”

  Her eyes surveyed me. “I’m not referring to him.”

  I was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “You have to forgive yourself. Otherwise, you’ll never fully be free of him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “From what you’ve told me, when the abuse first began, he used his friend to ‘initiate’ you, for lack of a better term. After that your training was rough, abusive. You were given to not only Dmitri, but also the guards, in hopes of beating you into submission. Yet, you never faltered. You fought against the abuse. But then, things changed. Vlad changed tactics. He stopped letting Dmitri and the guards use you. Instead, he turned your body against you. He was gentle, coercive, kind. You were his pet, his toy. And your body enjoyed the things he did to you, even if your mind continued to fight.”

  I sat in stony silence as she spoke. I didn’t want to think about that. It was over and done with. However Dr. Parrish continued as though I’d given her permission.

  “Our bodies are built for pleasure. It doesn’t matter what our minds want. If someone takes the time to learn our body, no matter how hard we try, it’s going to react. It’s human nature. It’s not your fault. Your choice was taken from you. Which means, you have to forgive yourself. Only when you do so, will you truly heal.”

  “It’s not that easy.” I snapped.

  “I understand that,” she said, patiently. “It’s going to take time for you to truly understand. That’s what I’m here for. To help you realize that there are things beyond your control. You’re the one who has to learn to forgive yourself. I can only give you the tools to do that. Whether you use those tools or not is up to you.”

  I looked away from her. I stayed silent as I stared blankly at the diploma hanging on the opposite wall. I was done talking about this.

  “Just think about what I’ve said, Phebe.”

  I nodded brusquely.

  “Now, let’s talk about the future. Where do you see yourself in the next year?”

  That was the problem. I had no idea. I had no family to speak of, and the only true friend I had was Muriel. There were the ladies at The Haven, but they had really only been colleagues. I felt lost. I had money in the bank so I knew I could start over somewhere, but then what? My photography, which I wasn’t ready to begin again, was my only income. Eventually, those resources were going to tap out, especially if I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a camera again.

  “I don’t know.” And the thought terrified me.

  “Do you see yourself beginning a new relationship with anyone? I’m not talking in the near future either. But someday, eventually?”

  I
hadn’t thought about it. Donovan’s face flashed through my mind, put I quickly shut the door on that. I just shrugged.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.”

  “Many rape victims go on to lead healthy sex lives with their future partner. It takes time, patience, and trust, but it happens more often than you think. There will be times when the memories come back without warning. Flashbacks are going to happen, but that’s when you lean on your partner. He will help you get through the trying times. I’m only saying, don’t rule it out.”

  When I didn’t respond, she continued.

  “I also want you to consider your photography. It is a huge part of who you are, and it’s important for you to not forget about it or push it away. You might even consider going to school. Take some photography classes. Enhance your craft.”

  Damn, she was really pushing all of my buttons today. First with talks of him, then relationships, then my photography?

  “I told you I’m not ready for that.” I snapped, irritated that she wouldn’t let go of this. Of any of it.

  “I understand, but I also told you during our first visit, that I was going to push you a little, especially when I felt you needed pushing. You can’t remain stagnant for the rest of your life, Phebe. I’m not saying you have to make plans for the future this immediate second, but at some point in time, you’re going to have to rejoin the land of the living. You can’t stay at Connor’s forever. You’re going to have to pick up the pieces of your life and start living them.”

  I sighed, knowing she was right, but hating the fact. “I know. I’m just scared. I don’t know when I’ll be ready.”

  “You’ll know when it’s time. Just don’t close the door on the opportunity when it presents itself.”

  We finished our session and I left her office with so much to think about. The future scared the shit out of me.

  Vlad

  “You make serious mistake, my friend. Do you know what happens to those who cross me?” I demanded, with a deceptive amount of calmness, of the traitor in front of me, the smell of fear permeating the air.

  “Vlad—” Underwood’s words were effectively silenced by the gun digging into the back of his head as he knelt on the floor at my feet. At last, he understood how much trouble he was in.

  “I ask, you answer. Understand? Don’t try to fuck with me.” I lifted the gun and stepped in front of my soon-to-be-former associate. I squatted down so we were eye level, my hand hanging between my knees, the weapon in it in full view. I waved it nonchalantly, carelessly, around. With eyes full of terror, he vigorously nodded.

  “What did you tell them?” I inquired, not really caring.

  He swallowed hard before answering. “I told them how the drugs were being smuggled into the country and where the women were being sent.”

  I nodded, already knowing the answer to my question.

  “Now, where is my grushka?” This was the real reason I was here.

  “I don’t know. I swear. I tried finding her, but no one has seen her. She hasn’t shown up at the shelter and the women there said she hasn’t tried to contact them. Wherever she is, she’s well hidden.”

  I studied him, assessing his answer. I believed him. Not that it mattered, because he would soon discover the repercussions of betraying me.

  “I believe you,” I said as I lightly patted his cheek.

  Underwood sagged in relief.

  I stood, fluidly straightening from my crouched position. “She can’t hide forever. I find her.”

  “Dima.” I gave a short nod, before I strode past him and toward the door..

  “No, wait, plea—” Underwood’s words were cut short as the muffled sound of the bullet leaving its chamber rang out. The thud of his body hitting the floor echoed throughout the room. I exited the house, Dmitri’s footsteps falling behind me. I hadn’t lied. I would find her.

  Phebe

  Six weeks later and I still wasn’t any closer to answering Dr. Parrish’s question about where I saw myself in a year from now. What I did know was ever since she’d brought up future relationships and having a partner to lean on to get me through the painful flashbacks, I couldn’t stop myself from studying Donovan. There was just something about him that drew me in. He was always taking care of me, like making sure I was eating enough; which I totally was, given the amount of weight I’d put on since meeting him. He always asked if I was getting enough sleep and if the nightmares were getting better.

  It was nice to have someone to look after me. Kieran had never thought about my needs like that. My current situation was a sharp contrast to how I’d spent the last eight years of my life. I could almost get used to it. Except when I thought about what happens during a relationship. The kissing and touching. Then, it wasn’t so nice. Even still, I couldn’t keep my eyes from watching him.

  What was even more disconcerting was that I’d catch him staring at me all time with an indecipherable expression. I wasn’t sure if he was fighting an attraction to me, which I was terrified to even think of, or if he was withholding more bad news because he didn’t want to tell me. I thought about my own reaction to him. I wasn’t ready to do anything about this uncontrollable attraction I kept feeling. In fact, I didn’t know if I ever would be.

  I also thought about how she said I needed to find something to occupy not only my mind, but my time. I wasn’t ready to pick up a camera. In order for me to take pictures, I needed to find the beauty in things, and right now I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. My mind was tangled up in all the ugliness buried inside me. I’ll admit though, I was starting to get bored. I’d never been one to sit still. I’d read most of the books Bridget had brought over to me, and she wasn’t set to bring me a new batch from the library until the end of the week. Instead, I’d starting trying my hand at cooking after I asked for a recipe book. Donovan stopped by almost every evening to update me on the progress of the case.

  Kieran had accepted a plea bargain in exchange for turning over State’s evidence against the Russians that would send him to prison for fifteen to twenty years with the opportunity for parole after only eight years. It hardly seemed fair given all his crimes, not the least of which included what he’d done to me, but there was nothing I could do.

  After the first meal I’d cooked, I’d offered some of it to Roger, who I finally forced myself to begin talking to. He seemed like a nice guy, and I thought it was a step in the right direction toward recovery. I couldn’t paint all men with the same brush as Kieran or him. It wasn’t fair to any of them. And they were stuck here just as much as I was. Besides, after all the silence in that cell, I was finally ready for some noise. I still got claustrophobic in the house and spent more time outside than in, but at least I was making an effort to rejoin the land of the living, as Dr. Parrish called it.

  Both Donovan and Roger were good sports about trying my kitchen experiments. When Kieran had been home, we ate a lot of takeout. He was a picky eater and hadn’t wanted to try anything I might have attempted to cook. When I was growing up, I’d lived on macaroni and cheese. It was simple and quick and inexpensive, especially since my mom and I lived on food stamps. It was nice to be able to cook for someone else. I was discovering how much I enjoyed it.

  I’d just finished putting the last layer of cheese on my lasagna and was about ready to pop it in the oven when Donovan walked into the kitchen, a somber expression on his face. Instantly, I knew whatever he was about to tell me was bad. He sat in his usual spot at the bar, silently observing me as I closed the oven door and turned on the timer.

  I placed the potholder on the counter and took off my apron, hanging it from the hook on the wall. I sat down next to him and broke the silence.

  “How bad is it?” I couldn’t help the tremble in my voice.

  “I’m not sure how to tell you this.” His shoulders were rigid as he ran his hands through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Just say it.” I pleaded, hating being kep
t in the dark.

  Donovan sighed in defeat. “Underwood is dead.”

  “Wh—what?” Surely, I hadn’t heard him right. Kieran couldn’t be dead.

  “I’m sorry, Phebe.”

  I repeated his words over in my mind, breaking down each syllable in an attempt to process them. My entire body went numb and black spots danced in front of my eyes. I blinked rapidly to clear them from my vision, but it didn’t help.

  “Phebe!” Donovan’s panicked voice sounded as though coming from a tunnel. His face appeared in front of me and my vision began to clear as I focused in on him. He’d moved from his chair to squat in front of me.

  “He’s dead? How? When?” The words came out in a whisper.

  “Apparently there was a home invasion a few nights ago. The police are calling it a robbery gone wrong. They found Underwood shot to death in his office. His safe had been cleaned out and the house ransacked.”

  Something in Donovan’s tone caught my attention. “You don’t believe that do you?”

  He slowly stood and returned to his chair, turning it around and straddling it. “No, I don’t. Based on the information I got from Webber, Underwood had been shot at point-blank range in the back of the head. Execution style. That was no regular home invasion no matter how much the perp tried to make it appear so.”

  The numbness had finally worn off and now my body was twitchy. I needed to move, and I needed fresh air. I stood from my chair and headed toward my sanctuary. Donovan followed right on my heels. My emotions were so screwed up right now. I hated Kieran, I truly did. But then I remembered all the good times we’d had before he’d turned to dealing. He’d been the father of my child. And for a short period of time, he’d been my love. My first love. I wanted to grieve for him, but I wasn’t sure if I could. Not after what he’d done to me. But then I felt guilty for not grieving “properly”.