Secrets and Lies Read online

  Secrets and Lies

  by

  Capri Montgomery

  Copyright © 2011 Shunta Montgomery

  All Rights Reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  Publisher’s Note:

  Secrets and Lies is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, event or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Special Thanks

  Thank you, Barb, for catching the mistakes I missed. Your assist with editing has been wonderful.

  Thank you to my friend, U.S. Air Force Colonel Susan Cardin-Hoffdahl, who entertained my questions about military men. Thanks for your expertise on special ops, and Navy SEALs. I’m still using all the information you took the time to help me understand.

  A special thanks to Theresa Anne Sheheen for your expertise on military emergency medical procedures. I hope I got it all right, but if I didn’t, mistakes are mine and mine alone.

  And, last, but not least, thanks to all of my readers for showing your support for my work by buying and reading my books.

  Books by Capri Montgomery

  Returning Sheba

  Saints and Sinners

  The McGregor Affair

  Dream Walker

  The Geneva Project

  The Admiral’s Daughter

  Dangerous Obsessions

  Watch Over Me

  Educating Australia

  The Thirteenth Floor

  Ride a Cowboy

  And Many Others…

  Coming Soon:

  Keep a lookout for Fahrenheit, book six in the Men of Action Series.

  Prologue

  Thena had gone into the confines of the room she used to escape the stress of her more hectic days, trying desperately to escape the stress of this day. She didn’t think she would have a visitor inside her oasis, but Thomas had proved otherwise. Apparently he wasn’t content with just being the PI; he was now her self-appointed bodyguard. How was he going to find out who had killed her mother if he was dead set on protecting her at every turn.

  “I don’t need a bodyguard in here,” she said with her eyes closed and her head lulled back against the wall. “I’m really not so stupid that I can’t sit down without screwing things up, you know?”

  “I never thought you were stupid. As for the bodyguard part…well, I beg to differ.” His voice was low, seductive even. The tone was arousing and disarming at the same time. He was the one who said he wanted to keep things professional. He was the one who assured her there could never be anything more than a business relationship with them. It wasn’t fair for him to arouse her with just one look, one word. He didn’t have the right to make her want him when he had no intentions of ever giving himself, his heart, to her.

  Chapter One

  Thomas McGregor sat at his mahogany wood desk, looking at one of the most beautiful black women he had ever seen. She was gorgeous beyond belief. Smooth brown skin that reminded him of a sultry mix of light and dark brown sugar. Her skin looked silky and delicious; he wouldn’t mind sliding his tongue up her long, slender legs. She had below shoulder length reddish-brown hair that curled and framed her high cheekbones perfectly. Her eyes were a deep set ebony tone, but when the light hit her features in just the right way he could see the flecks of chestnut brown in them.

  Her voice was intoxicating, sultry, and when she said her name he immediately thought of how he could call that name out in agonizing pleasure all night long. Thena; original just like her.

  It wasn’t just her beauty that had him wanting to take this case. He was intrigued. A mystery worth solving was right in front of him, possibly dangerous, which was always a lure for him. He didn’t know how he could turn it down. He knew he needed to. He was finally making progress on his own investigation. Until he found Victor Sabian, the man responsible for the death of his team, for the steal plate in his head, there was no way he could move on with his life.

  He had nearly died that day, over in Afghanistan fighting for his country, only to be betrayed by one of his fellow countrymen. He had lost most of his recollection of the months leading up to the assault, but when he started getting those memories back he started to get them back in waves. He could remember their screams, the sounds of gunfire and explosions. They were ambushed, outnumbered, and they had paid dearly for it.

  He had clear memory now of the woman who had saved his life. He knew long ago who had called for help. Because of her he had been taken to Bagram Airfield, to the Craig Joint Theater hospital. If he hadn’t made it there he wouldn’t have even had a chance at life. They did all they could there before having an aero medical evacuation crew fly him to Ramstein Air Base in Germany and then transporting him by ambus to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. She had refused to leave his side, and amazingly enough, nobody had been able to pull rank and make her stay behind. She had been there when he woke up. Her eyes dark, her skin smooth, her touch soft. He had thought she was one of the nurses, but she hadn’t been wearing a uniform. She had simply smiled at him and said, “now that you’re awake I guess I can go.” And she had left. The doctors told him later she had refused to leave until she knew he was going to wake up. She hadn’t left a real name. He knew that because the first thing he did when he was back stateside and on his feet was try to find her. He hit a dead end every which way he turned. He knew then that she was in-house government, maybe an agent, maybe something more. She didn’t exist, but she was real and he was determined to find her. It took him a few years, but he found her. She was in Hawaii, definitely out of the government game, with her own bodyguard firm.

  He needed answers, and though limited, she had provided some for him. She had been over in the Middle East on an assignment, a kill ordered by their government—at least that’s what he deduced from her words. While she was there she heard information about a setup, though she didn’t know the details of who was behind it, she did know who was being hit, and where. She tried to get to them, to warn them, but she wasn’t in Afghanistan. She had to get transport to them which meant she had come too late. They had already pulled out of camp. By the time she arrived at the ambush everything was over, everybody was dead, except him. If she hadn’t come he, too, would have died.

  “I was the Angel of Death until you came along,” she said. “After that day I wanted to save lives, not take them. I guess you can say we both saved each other.”

  He had heard about an op with the code name Angel of Death. He had assumed it was a man, but he had been wrong. He knew the stories, knew the terror the name alone sparked within the government circles, and here she was, this petite female, looking innocent and harmless.

  She had sworn him to secrecy, and he had willingly agreed. She had saved his life, and he had no intention of being the cause of her losing her new life. She wanted a new start, she would have one.

  Over the years things came back in massive pieces, some of it was convoluted, mixed up in the timeline, and other parts were clear as day. He remembered Sabian giving the order for them to roll out to the location that he had assured them was the safe zone for them to drop the package. He remembered that there were only eight people who knew what they were carrying and to where. He knew that six of those eight people were now dead, two alive—himself and Sabian. Thomas knew he wasn’t the traitor, he was sure of that. So that meant Sabian was responsible for th
e death of his team, for the men who served diligently and gave their lives trying to protect their country. They had been betrayed.

  From the evidence Gavin had started to gather, and from what Thomas could remember, he knew, without a doubt, that it was Sabian. Recent memories made him one hundred percent sure, and he wanted justice. Gavin had taken things to the right people, or so they thought they were the right people, years ago and they had refused to do anything. He tried again himself, just four years ago, and the politics in Washington still hadn’t changed. It was time for him to take things into his own hands. He wanted justice. If the government wouldn’t get justice for him then he would get it for himself.

  “Will you please take my case?”

  Thena’s words brought him back to the present. Should any of his new leads pan out he wanted to be ready to leave at any moment, but at the same time he had to pay his bills and eat. Having money saved didn’t mean he wanted to blow through his savings when he could be working. And beside that fact, she needed his help. Her life was in danger. How could he turn his back on her plea?

  “Case taken,” he nodded. He watched the visible ease in her shoulders and the slow exhale that left her lips.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now tell me about this attempt on your life.”

  “Well, I was leaving the site last night—”

  “Site?”

  “In addition to the contracting business, I design and flip houses. I take about three…well if I were a lawyer it would be called pro bono cases I guess…so it’s about three pro bono houses a year. I buy them, usually at five to fifteen thousand dollars and if they’re salvageable I gut them out and fix them. If they’re not then I tear them down and start over on the lot. Then, once they’re finished I rent them out to people who are getting back on their feet. My friend runs Twist of Fate; it’s a program to get people back on their feet after ending up jobless and homeless. I built her a place three years ago out of one of the houses I bought for practically nothing. She keeps about six individuals there at a time. She gets them off the streets, helps them locate employment and I help with housing. Three houses a year go up for rent to the people staying at her house so that they can move into more permanent residents once they have secured a job. I keep the rent at about three hundred a month. They pay utilities. Once they’re on their feet and can move they move and somebody else moves in. Unfortunately there’s higher demand than what I have to give. And I’m not rich so I can’t exactly give more than I do. It helps that I know everything about construction, building, electrical, and some plumbing, because of working with my dad as I was growing up. What he didn’t teach me an old…friend…did.”

  Thomas noticed the hesitation, which told him the friend was definitely more than a friend. Why that bothered him he wasn’t sure. She was just a client, like any other client, and he couldn’t let that fact slip his mind no matter how sexy she was.

  “When my dad died I took over his contracting business. That was about six years ago now. I was twenty-three at the time and everybody thought it wouldn’t work, but those men really respected my father, and I guess by extension they respect me as well.”

  He could see the hint of sorrow in her eyes, thinking of the father she no longer had in her life. Twenty-three; that was rather young to take on sole ownership of the family business, especially one in construction, but she had done it. He imagined her age and gender probably made dealing with clients a little more difficult.

  “Of course I’ve always loved the architecture and design of buildings. I hated cookie cutter houses and I always said when I grew up I’d make something different. Taking over my dad’s business curtailed my dream a little. I planned to have my own architectural firm, but now I have the contracting business with a small hint of architectural work mixed in. I have a few clients who come to me to design and build their homes, but most already have the home plans drawn up, or they just want remodeling. I send the employees out to those, and occasionally I step in to help. But on the pro bono cases I work on them myself. I have to keep overhead low. I have a friend who helps out once or twice a year, and some of the people who have gone through Twist of Fate are skilled workers so they help. I’ve even hired a couple of them. Anyway, I guess that’s a lot of detail just to tell you that I was leaving the construction site when somebody tried to run me down.”

  Her voice was so matter of fact that he wondered just how disturbed she was by the occurrence. Most of the women, hell, even some of the men, he knew around town had a tendency to panic about things of that caliber.

  “Thena,” he leveled his tone. If she wasn’t taking this seriously he wouldn’t hesitate to lecture her about it. “You do realize that’s serious; right?”

  “Of course,” she pushed a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “It’s just that I’m more concerned with what happened with my mother. I don’t care about who tried to run me down. That is, I don’t want you to work that case.”

  He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool. When she walked into his office he had been all set to tell her no. She had told him about a dead body they had found on one of her construction sites. Then she told him that the woman was perfectly preserved. Eventually she got around to telling him that the woman looked just like her, only older, and that she knew it was her mother who had gone missing when she was ten years old. The woman had been adducted from the hospital parking lot after her shift. He made a mental note to himself to do research on the case. A doctor going missing had to make the news…but he didn’t remember the case. Why would he? If Thena was ten at the time then he was thirteen. At thirteen he was too busy tagging along with his older brother, Gavin, to worry about the news.

  He virtually had to pry the information out of her. She had come to his office and then she wanted to clam up. He had looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Lady, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on.” Once she told him he understood her dilemma. This was personal. It wasn’t just about some dead body. This was about her mother. This was about closure.

  For him it was going to be about more than that. She might not realize it, but she needed protection; she needed his help. He wouldn’t let anybody hurt her. She said she didn’t want him working the case from the angle of who had just tried to kill her—tough. He was going to look into both whether she wanted him to or not. In his book it was probably, if not definitely, related to her mother’s murder.

  “So, Mr. McGregor; how much is your fee?”

  “Thomas,” he practically ordered. He hated when people called him by his last name—most people anyway…especially beautiful women. “Two fifty an hour.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Oh,” she lowered her eyes to the floor. “Wow…that much…”

  He watched her nibble on her bottom lip as if trying to figure out if she could afford him. “If it’s a problem—”

  “No…no problem.”

  He could tell it was indeed a problem. Just how exactly was she planning to pay his fee?

  “I can get the money.”

  Get the money—that meant she didn’t have it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was going to have to do to get it. He shifted his ink pen between his fingers. “Look, I’ll run a tab. If I get answers for you then you can pay the full amount in affordable installments; that won’t put you out,” and he meant that in every possible sense of the word. “If I don’t get answers for you then your case is on the house.” He never made a deal like that. He wasn’t sure why he was making it now other than the fact that he was probably thinking with the wrong head.

  “I should pay you something for your time up front. I can give you two thousand today…if you’ll take a check. And I’ll pay you weekly if you want. It would probably be better for you.”

  He shrugged. “A check is fine.” He watched her pull out her checkbook. Normally he only took cash or bank checks. He didn’t have time for bad checks that some people felt compelled to pass off. Cash up front
was more his motto. At least cash was a sure thing and he didn’t risk putting in the work only to find out he wouldn’t be getting his money anytime soon. For her he’d take a check. She looked honest. He trusted his gut on this one and his gut was telling him he had to help this woman or she would be dead within days. He still had connections on the force. He would make some phone calls and see what he could find out come morning.

  She tore the check from her checkbook and slid it across the desk to him. “Please don’t wait to cash that,” she said as he tucked the check in the file folder he was creating for her case.

  “Planning to spend the money?”

  “No. I just balance my checkbook every morning and if that check stays outstanding then it will make the process harder.”

  “I don’t know many people who balance their books every morning.”

  She shrugged. “Better to balance than to bounce.”

  She was right on that count. Compared to the time she would spend balancing her checkbook daily, bouncing a check would cost her more in bank fees, not to mention creditor fees, than daily balancing would cost her in time.

  Thena couldn’t believe her luck. She had literally ripped his phone number out the telephone book and called right away requesting he see her the same day. The secretary had pretty much put her off, but she assured her it was an emergency, that it couldn’t wait. The urgency in her voice must have rung clear because the woman put her on hold for two minutes before coming back and telling her six o’clock sharp was her time slot. If she wasn’t there on time then she could forget about showing up.

  She was determined to be on time. She was early actually; as she often was when she had appointments, but this time she was nearly an hour early because this was too important to risk getting stuck in traffic. She needed help and his ad in the phonebook made him sound honest and dependable. Former Boston PD SWAT team member, that’s what his ad had listed as credentials. She had to trust him. It didn’t hurt that he had been smart enough not to advertise with his picture. She wouldn’t have called him if he had gone the route of the other ads that had a big picture of some guy professing to be the best. How could anybody get away with following people if their picture was plastered all over the place?