Crime wasn’t her life choice, but instead of saying that she focused on the small handgun Alison held and prayed she sounded sure of herself. “Nothing, Mom. Galen’s ex wanted me to leave him.”
Alison cocked her gun. “It’s time to make a choice, Natalie.”
Her mother moved slightly away. Natalie didn’t mention that her mother was a cop for thirty years now and with luck her mother surprised Alison, giving them a way to escape.
She pressed her hand to her heart. “What choice is that?”
Alison let out a small laugh and pointed the gun at her white-faced and weaker than normal mother. “You stay and marry Galen like you planned but lose your mother in the process. Or you come with me. Quietly.”
Her mother sent her a look that said, “don’t worry” but Natalie wouldn’t let her mother fight this battle. Her mom took another side step closer to Alison without alarming her, but then said to Natalie. “Don’t worry about me at all, sweetie. Just go on the patio. Now.”
The sweetness in her voice was laced with the tough cop. Under normal circumstances, her mother was more than capable but now? Natalie hugged her waist, her white dress poofed around her hips, like a princess, but her lips thinned as she shook her head. “Mom, I can’t leave you here.”
Alison cocked her head toward Natalie. “And she’s not allowed.”
The opening was all her mother needed. She tackled Alison and had her gun in her hand in a fraction of a second as she used all her police training to grab Alison’s hands behind her back. She signaled for Natalie to hand her a satin tie that she’d disgarded for her dress. Her mother used it to tie Alison’s hands and like the warrior she had always been, all signs of weakness disappeared with her cop training. “You don’t tell my daughter what to do.”
Her mother was once again her hero.
Alison tugged her hand, bewildered, and tried to pull away from Ana. “I thought you had cancer.”
Her mother stared at Natalie while she clearly had Alison in a lock. “It doesn’t take away my skills. Natalie sweetie, call security now and tell Rafe to hurry.”
Natalie’s pulse still zipped, but she rushed toward her vanity and hit the panic button alarm on the phone Rafe installed. She returned to her mother’s side. Mom handed her the guns while Natalie asked, “Mom, are you okay?”
Her mother let out a sigh. “I’m stronger than you and your father give me credit for. I don’t have time for cancer and it’s not going to beat me.”
“Clearly,” Natalie said while the door opened, and Galen’s brother-in-law came in with four of his security team.
Immediately they helped her mother. “Rafe, don’t let Galen come in here. We’ll start the wedding a few minutes late.”
Once security had Alison, her mother waved her hands in the air and said, “You need to tell me all about the Perez family.”
Natalie pointed toward Alison who was being escorted out. “You just took out the one paying them. I’m sure I’m fine and I can marry Galen now without any more threats.”
Her mother tucked her gun under her dress, with her body and shoulders still tight from the adrenaline that must have rushed through her. Natalie immediately thought her mother almost looked like her old self which was perfect. She needed her mother.
And yes, they still needed a few answers, but the physical threat was done. Now she could marry the man she loved without stress or fear.
She dialed the hair and makeup ladies to come and soon the room was abuzz with pre-wedding activity again. Her heart still raced from all the activity, but once the hair and makeup ladies returned for touchups, so did a sense of normalcy and fate. The touch-up made sure she looked flawless which was exactly how she wanted Galen to see her. Now nothing stood in their way.
Galen and Natalie finished their first dance at the reception as the sun went down. Natalie still glowed from happiness and Galen could breathe. She was smiling, no, beaming at everyone, as if nothing had ever been out of control. He clearly owed her mother for teaching her to be strong and level-headed as well as saving the wedding.
As they held hands and made it back to their table, Rafe walked over and quietly told them both, “Galen, Natalie, I have some answers for you that you might want to hear.”
Natalie put her hand on his back and leaned closer, but Galen turned toward her and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even blink. He wrapped his arms around her waist once they stood and waved at everyone. The moment they escaped, they walked into the house, toward the small library nook where they could be alone.
Rafe crossed his arms the second the door closed and told them, “So there is no child from Alison. She’s admitted under exam she lied to get you to investigate the claim and possibly stop the wedding—she didn’t expect you to speed up the ceremony.”
Galen’s shoulders relaxed. He’d raise his own children, hopefully, with Natalie for years to come. What he’d said to Alison at 18 was so different from how he felt now.
Natalie gently nudged his arm and he turned toward her as she asked Rafe, “Why though? That’s what I want to know. Why did she come back suddenly and threaten me?”
Rafe met Galen’s eyes for a moment but then he turned toward Natalie and said, “She’s been stalking Galen for the past year, hoping to find her opening to return to being his wife. She lost the money your father left her in a few bad business ventures and her family is estranged now.”
Natalie asked, “So she wanted Galen or his money?”
“Both,” Rafe said. “We have video from searching her house proving how long she’s been after Galen. When she realized you were the biggest threat to her goal, Natalie, she set out to get rid of you. She was furious how Galen reacted to you losing your wig.”
Natalie laughed. “Wow, that wig again.”
Galen smiled at the image of Natalie taking that wig off. Hopefully she packed it, but for now he felt lightness growing in his chest. He had everything he ever wanted. He had a lovely wife, a happy home and a future. Everything he never thought he wanted was now happening.
Rafe then answered, “It probably kept you off her radar for most of the time. She knew you were lying to Galen for at least the last six months, but didn’t make a move against you because she understood it was for work. Apparently she didn’t expect Galen’s reaction.”
“She was cute once I uncovered the disguise.”
Natalie blushed.
However the idea of some boy or girl out there that was his child that he hadn’t raised replayed in his mind. He swallowed and asked, “Sorry to interrupt but just to be sure, I have no child out there in the world.”
Rafe put his hands in his pockets. “Not from Alison.”
Then life was great. “Perfect. Natalie and I need to get back to the wedding—thanks, Rafe.”
In her white dress, she looked like an angel, which she already was. Loving her was natural and easy. They returned to their table next to the strawberry vanilla cake. As he held her seat for her, he asked, “Natalie, are you happy?”
“I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” She winked which only caused the lightness to grow brighter in his chest. He didn’t need anyone else because Natalie made him feel alive in ways he’d never experienced.
She then leaned closer to him and whispered, “Let’s cut the cake and get out of here.”
He offered his hand, but once again she stood on her own, showing her independence. “Are you ready for your first trip overseas?”
They picked up the silverware with their initials engraved on it as she said, “Yes, Paris is going to be amazing though the stop in New Orleans for the wedding night at your old house sounds wonderful.”
“I love you, Natalie. You light up my life.” People gathered to take their picture cutting the cake.
She spoke loudly, like she didn’t care who heard her, “I love you too, Galen Morgan.”
Then she smooshed cake into his mouth and onto his face, leaving cream everywhere, even g
etting it on his gray tuxedo.
Everyone cheered, but instead of letting her go, he smooshed a piece in her face, letting the cream cover her flawless makeup.
She laughed hysterically, and somehow, that made her even sexier. He didn’t care who saw them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the cake off her lips so he could taste her.
For once his life was perfect. He grabbed another slice of cake and led her toward their bedroom.
Natalie came out of their honeymoon suite and stared at her sexy husband who lounged on a king-sized bed that overlooked the Seine. He’d brought her around for weeks showing off some of his favorite spots.
Now she leaned against the door and coughed, to get his attention. Once he looked at her she sighed and said, “My period is here, my love. Just as I told you and everyone.”
He rose from the bed, showing off his hard, muscled body and stretched. “I believed you.”
She shook her head but walked over to him. “Still, text your brother and tell him.”
He met her at the bathroom door and tugged her closer. “After we see the Eiffel Tower. He can wait a few hours so I can enjoy this moment with my wife. It was first on your list to see and we haven’t done it yet.”
“Then we’re off.” She motioned for him to clean up and change.
Instead he kissed her hard and made her body ache to be with him, again and again, and he picked up the wig she’d packed, handing it to her.
So he wanted to relive that moment again where she took it off, and she complied. Her heart was high in her chest. Nothing else mattered. Life was better with Galen Morgan and she couldn’t be happier. And she put on the wig as his gaze glazed with hunger for her.
THE END
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Secret Crush Preview
John Morgan loaded his Colt M4 Carbine assault rifle as he studied the mansion nestled in the Georgia hills. After a year of digging for information, Frank Hudson was about to be arrested.
His skin prickled as his team moved into position. He frowned and adjusted the rifle by the strap across the back of his FBI wind jacket so he had his hands free.
His cell phone buzzed in his jeans' back pocket. John checked it fast, surprised to see his brother's number. He turned off the ringer, deciding to call Peter once the mission ended. It had to be important for the heir apparent of the House of Morgan to call the spare son. John swallowed and shook his head. Normal families didn't call themselves a dynasty or the House of anything.
With his gaze narrowed, John focused on his job—to arrest his father's associate. Frank was dirty, and he might know more information about John's father, Mitch. Every arrest brought John one step closer to the evidence he needed against the man who'd raised him.
John tipped his chin and nodded at the four men set to break through the door.
His primary team and the local police burst into the house. John stayed back, gun ready, in case an associate of Frank's ran outside.
Agent Wolfson shouted, "FBI. Freeze."
John gestured for more men to enter the house.
No shots were fired.
Just as the surveillance read, Frank Hudson had been home with his wife, Beatrice, and his two adult daughters, Serena and Serenity, who were all used to the best in life and funded through money laundering. Women's screams rang in the air as the last of the law enforcement filled the house.
John tugged his baseball cap over his sandy blond hair and went inside with the third wave to ensure that Frank was in handcuffs.
John lowered his head so Frank might not notice who'd brought him to justice as he rushed in the door. He'd prefer to let the guys who didn't personally know Frank handle the arrest. John's moment would come later, during the interrogation at the station as he let his six foot two frame intimidate from the door.
He'd wasted too much time already. Mitch Morgan had killed his own daughter, John's sister, and he would prove it. Frank's arrest would help Victoria rest in peace, despite what Mitch had done to her.
John clenched his jaw. Unlike Mitch, it had been easy to learn about Frank, his habits, his quirks, his schedule. John's shoulders were tight as he turned into the living room.
Two team members stood over the older gentleman kneeling on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, with tears in his brown eyes. He cried out to the other agents, "My lawyer will hear of this."
John scowled and shook his head. Frank was done, bringing John one inch closer to learning how deep the House of Morgan had buried itself.
He'd spent a year on this case, on his mission to bring down all of his father's connections. It was airtight. Frank Hudson's charity had laundered money to thicken his wallet. The older man gazed into John's eyes. "John Morgan, is that you?"
So much for waiting. John's spine straightened as he towered over the prisoner. Being the second son in the House of Morgan, who looked like Mitch, meant he'd always be recognized. He took off his cap and stilled. "Yeah, Frank. It's me."
"Why would you do this to me?"
John wouldn't give Frank any clues on this investigation for his lawyers to use. His body tensed as he slammed his fists on the coffee table. "Why did you break the law?"
The old man pleaded in a warbling voice, "John Morgan, I'm friends with your father. That should mean something." He said it as though he expected leniency, for John to look the other way. He imagined his father, twisting his ring as he waited for someone like Frank to bow to his hand.
The House of Morgan owned everyone and everything. His father taught him to never let emotions interfere with business. He chose to ignore how the women all sat in the dining room and focused on his target. John shrugged. "Who isn't a friend with dear old Dad?"
"I'll speak to Mitch, right after I speak to my attorney."
John's mouth curled into a sneer. Perfect. His old man should know he was one step closer to uncovering his crimes. Then he turned on his heel. His footsteps echoed on the polished mahogany floors as John stepped out of the house and into the shadows of the trees outside. He'd interrogate Frank later.
He went to his car and started it up, driving to the local headquarters to report that Frank Hudson was in custody.
His brother's face played in his memory as John made the second turn onto I-285. What had Peter wanted? They hadn't spoken in years.
John's phone vibrated in his back pocket. He reached behind him and stared at Peter's name, again, as he placed it on the console. A coldness inched up his spine. Truthfully, he had no words to say right now. Peter was his father's right-hand man and could be guilty. He could also not be. He clenched the phone. If he didn't answer, he'd spend forever analyzing what Peter might have to say. "Hello."
"John."
Peter's voice struck at some deep memories he'd rather avoid. The back of his neck pinched. Peter had chosen Mitch's life. I shouldn't have answered. "Peter, I'm busy."
"Whatever you're doing can wait."
Once again Peter Morgan thought he could order him around. His left eye twitched. His older brother's forceful answer burned like acid through him. No one told him what to do. He sighed. "No, my life can't wait."
"Dad's dead."
John stepped on the gas and his car took off at high speed. "He's what?"
He took his foot off the accelerator and pressed his lips together. At least no other car was near him on the freeway.
John's heart raced as Peter spoke with crisp syllables. "Dad is dead."
Adrenalin shot through him, electrifying his body. He steadied the wheel. "I don't care."
"I don't either."
No? Peter expected to be next in line and to inherit the entire House of Morgan. Then just as fast as the storm of emotions set off inside him, his body temperature cooled. Peter was too much like their father. John didn't trust him. He'd keep his words and sentences short. "So why are you calling me?"
"You should be at the funeral."
/>
John rolled his eyes as he turned off of the 285. "Why? So you can pretend we have a family?"
"Victoria would want us to be together."
John's breathing hitched at the sucker-punch. Their dead baby sister deserved better than her name in the mud. Though he didn't need to say so, he did anyway. "Vicki's dead."
"I don't know how that happened."
John rubbed his forehead. Peter had to stop this conversation, now. No words could change any of the past. "You do, too. Dad did something to her. It's his fault."
"I don't know anything other than my sister died while I was away in grad school. You're my only brother."
What did their shared DNA have to do with the question? John's entire body stiffened—he needed to know the truth. "Peter, did you help Dad kill Vicki?"
"No, and if you have proof Dad did, then share."
John hesitated. There had never been any proof, just unanswered questions that were buried with a closed casket. Their father's death changed everything. "I'm working on it."
"Then you're too late. We're all that's left of the House of Morgan."
John let out a sigh. Peter was right, as he'd never learn the truth now. Then he swallowed back his bitterness. "You'll go straight to hell if you covered for Dad."
"I'm not involved. I loved her too."
Peter had been silent, distant, and even during childhood, always with their father, except when he took the heat for whatever John or Vicki had done. John lifted his chin, threw his baseball cap into the backseat, and turned his car into headquarters' parking lot. "What's the point of coming to the funeral? Dad and I had nothing to say to each other."
"You're not disinherited, despite how you intended to arrest him. Dad didn't care and even hoped you'd forgive him."
He parked the car, resisting the urge to check his hair in the rear-view mirror. All that mattered right now was booking Frank Hudson.
He shook his head. He'd never forgive, and Peter should never have, either. "How could you?"
"I never said I did. I never said anything."
Secret Date Page 16
