The Illicit Revealed (The Illicit Series Book 2)

by Brittani Marí

  She had valuable information. The reason she met with the detective could help everything go away. I needed to know.

  “You’re playing with fire, shy girl. You don’t want to go this route.”

  She stood and brushed past me. The sheet fell from her petite frame as she walked toward the bedroom. I thought our conversation was over until she turned back to me. Her nipples erect, every curve she was blessed with on display. She was playing a dangerous game with a man who was raised solely to cheat. A man familiar with finding any way to win.

  “Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go take a shower. While I’m in there, I would recommend you watch the news. It might be useful to you.”

  I almost ignored her snide comment, but the last part caught my interest. Calvin had told me the same thing. I turned toward the small TV in the kitchen, noticing it was already on. How had I not seen it when I walked in? I barely ever used it, sometimes forgetting it was even there. The headline quickly pulled me in. I walked closer and turned up the volume. A man with graying hair was talking, the other people sitting around the oval table remaining quiet.

  “We’ve just been informed there is video footage of Mrs. Johnson being taken from the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. It’s also been brought to our attention that her husband, Alek Johnson, is offering a million-dollar reward for her recovery.”

  The woman who sat across from him, her expression filled with concern, started to speak.

  “I know I was the first to say Alek Johnson should’ve known his way of doing business would eventually catch up with him, but I never imagined somebody would be desperate enough to take his wife as collateral.” Her expression quickly changed to determined. “I think that now would be the time for him to come clean about whatever’s going on.”

  The gray-haired man chimed in again. “I have to agree with Mrs. Randall. I think we all have heard similar stories. It’s very rare that hostage situations have happy endings. Let’s just hope this one is different.”

  I continued to stare at the TV as a commercial came on. I struggled to see a way out of the mess beginning to develop. I never considered the aftermath of Mia’s kidnapping. Never considered it would be seen as a hostage situation and broadcast on live TV. However, I knew they were grasping at straws. My men were professionals. Whatever was on that video wouldn’t prove anything.

  I began to wonder what Mia got out of it. She had been aware of it the entire time I stood in front of her. She must have turned it on when she first went into the kitchen.

  They had practically labeled the kidnapper as the person who attempted to kill Alek, insinuating he took her to punish him. They had it all wrong. What they assumed was far from the truth.

  When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pulled it out, Calvin’s name on the screen.

  “I’ll be on my way shortly, Calvin,” I answered sternly.

  Phone to my ear, I made my way into the walk-in closet in the bedroom. I heard the shower running, picturing Mia inside. Her body wet. Her hair damp. Her defiance tempting me to join her.

  Calvin remained silent for a few minutes, but eventually spoke. “Judging from your tone, I guess you’ve seen the news. Considering everything going on, you don’t need this added to your list, and you surely don’t sound as well rested as before.”

  I didn’t feed into his sly attempt to rile me up as I pulled on one of my suits. Instead, I answered calmly. I couldn’t lose my cool. I had to figure things out. “I’ve seen it. However, it doesn’t—”

  He cleared his throat. “Although I would love to discuss recent events, that isn’t the reason I called you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He sighed. “I just received word that Justin is being released.”

  I swallowed, struggling to hide my disappointment. “I guess he finally gave up the name of the person who framed him.”

  He cursed. “That’s the crazy part, Wes. He chose to give them information about us instead.”

  I wanted to pretend I was shocked, but I wasn’t. When I visited him jail, Justin had shown signs of turning against us. I had tried to convince him to tell the truth, but the whole time, he plotted to bring his own family down because he felt betrayed. He must know his careless actions had consequences. I should’ve been more focused. I should’ve paid more attention.

  “How much has he told them?” I asked, adjusting my suit. After stepping into a pair of loafers, I casually made my way back into the living room.

  Calvin’s response was filled with anger, hurt, and disappointment. I could tell how Justin’s betrayal had affected him.

  “Enough for them to visit the hotel. Enough for them to question our father. I just can’t believe he would do something like this. I know he’s done some vile things in the past, but turning against his own family? What would he have to gain?”

  I thought about it. I never considered Justin actually provided the police with information to suspect illegal dealings happening in the hotel. I just assumed his reckless decisions led them to us. My father never once hinted at what was going on. What would Justin gain from turning against his own family? It would make many people wary of him, but then again, those types of things were usually overlooked.

  I didn’t want to say too much. After all, we only had assumptions at this point, and those never did hold any weight. We needed more information before we labeled Justin a traitor. We needed the motive behind it.

  “I think we should hold off for a minute concerning Justin. I have a feeling there’s another side here.”

  Calvin laughed. “I want to believe that, too, but—”

  “Listen, we can’t believe everything we hear. If we did, we would’ve been enemies a long time ago. Although Justin can be a handful, I doubt he would stoop this low.

  “I’ll see you in an hour, Calvin. We have a lot to discuss.”

  I hung up the phone and picked up my keys, starting for the door.

  “Were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

  I stopped and swallowed, looking over at her. Her hair was damp, and she was wrapped in a white towel that barely covered her body. Even with no makeup on, she was beautiful. This woman would be the death of me. I prevented myself from ripping the towel off her and taking her again. Our previous conversation stopped me. I needed to keep my distance.

  “I thought you were in the shower. I have some errands to run.” I started toward the door again.

  “What am supposed to do while you’re gone?”

  I turned back to face her, giving her a troubled look. “There’s the TV, and the kitchen’s stocked. The cook will have dinner ready for us around seven. I should be back by then.”

  Her gaze held mine, her aggravation apparent. “What about my purse and my phone?”

  I tried to keep my attention on her face. “Everything is safe. You know I can’t give you your phone right now, Mia. You’ll get all your things back in due time.”

  She raised her arms to her sides, the towel almost slipping away. “So I’ll be stuck in here for God knows how long without a phone or anything...”

  I turned to face the door, gripping the doorknob in frustration. I slowly turned it, refusing to look at her. “I have to go, Mia. You have around-the-clock security, and no one on my staff will harm you. If I need to speak with you, I’ll call Michael. If you need me, you can do the same. He’ll get me on the phone immediately.”

  As I walked out, I heard her say something, but didn’t stop to listen. It would only prolong the conversation, which wouldn’t be good for either of us because nothing would change. I had enough on my plate already. I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  My youngest brother had turned against us. Unfortunately, I knew this story didn’t have two sides. The way we had heard it was probably accurate. I feared being faced with the proof of his betrayal.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  THERE WAS A CERTAIN point in your life when fear consumed you. No matter how stron
g you might appear, it didn’t take away that feeling. It was buried so deeply that you were the only one aware of it.

  I felt that fear every day. It always nagged at me, but I would push it down, act as though it weren’t there. The longer it simmered inside me, the harder it became to conceal it. The harder it became to pretend.

  ***

  I heard the door shut on a soft click, realizing the reality of my situation. No matter how I thought about it, it always led back to one single word. Hostage. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t have any form of outside communication because that would give me the ability to escape.

  As I walked into the bedroom, I considered my options. What could I do? What power did I have? I was the captive of a man who proved to have countless resources, staff, and security. I was helpless against someone I quickly realized was in the same league as my husband. I had underestimated Wesley, and the question I had to consider was what did he want from me?

  I didn’t buy his explanation about my safety. The instant the words left his mouth, I knew they were only said to placate me. He almost told me more but stopped himself. He had every intention of leaving me in the dark.

  However, that only made me question him, along with so many other people in my life. It also made me doubt every moment we shared. I started to look at him differently, regardless of the tortuous and delicious things he did to my body. I quickly learned that the man who kidnapped me just might’ve been there all along. He just distracted me with the qualities he wanted me to see, not the ones that showed who he really was.

  I made my way into the bathroom, reflecting on the advice Detective Anderson gave me. The hints. The clues. He made me realize I needed to open my eyes wider to see what was going on right in front of me. Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around exactly what he was getting at. His reference to me walking into the lion’s den and ignoring all the warnings along the way let me know he knew of Alek’s secrets. Were there more? Was he trying to insinuate that Alek had something to do with my past? If so, how could I have missed it? How could I have ignored something so important? Was it possible that I married someone who had something to do with the destruction of my family?

  My current situation proved I wasn’t the best judge of character. I was being held hostage by someone I thought was different, but he quickly proved to be the same as the man I belonged to. Charming. Dark. Controlling.

  So yes, it was possible Detective Anderson’s words, or warnings, were trying to lead me to a certain conclusion. If I couldn’t trust my husband, whom could I trust? If Alek were involved with the people who fought so hard to prevent us from discovering the truth back then, I might just be safer being Wesley’s hostage. Because I knew if Alek found out the truth, found out my real identity, being his wife wouldn’t matter. I would just be another situation in need of handling.

  Detective Anderson was trying to tell me something important, but he kept everything vague. Why would he feel the need to do that if he weren’t being monitored? Why else would he seem uncomfortable? At times, he even appeared to regret being there.

  Those insights stoked the fire to my already burning curiosity. Made me take a closer look at my perfectly structured life. What had I missed? What wasn’t I seeing? I considered the people in it, around it. Their faces. Their secrets. Could a person really differentiate the truth from a lie just by glancing at someone? Was it possible to know from their body language if they were loyal? If they had your best interests at heart?

  The answer came to me instantly. No, you couldn’t. In the world I was born into, people smiled to your face while secretly plotting a way to stab you in the back. My world didn’t help or defend you, assist in seeing the good or bad in someone. It was built against you. It was built for you to fail.

  The realization of what I already knew made me painfully aware that every minute that ticked by brought me closer to just that. Failure. It was something I didn’t like to think about. I would never accept it. I had already suffered far more than any person should. I couldn’t accept defeat. If anything, I deserved some type of explanation why my life had been taken from me. Why I had to find my mother in such a horrible state.

  The mental image wouldn’t allow me to forget. It only faded away long enough to come back more vividly. Each time, the pieces mended closer together, but I could never solve the puzzle. It was too jumbled. The only things I could remember from that night were the feeling of knowing something wasn’t right when I walked through the back door, the man with the mask over his face, the gun pointed at me… My mother, the blood…

  I braced my hands on the sink. I wanted to forget so badly, but the dreams, the flashbacks wouldn’t allow it. For months afterward, I was triggered by every little thing. That night was one that refused to be forgotten.

  I turned on the faucet and splashed water over my face, trying to rinse away the memories. But when I glanced into the mirror, the surreal resemblance to my mother startled me, reminding me of a conversation I never understood…until now.

  The conversation suddenly started to make sense. She was trying to convey something to me. I just wasn’t old enough to understand back then. Before she lost her courage, which occurred years before her murder, my mother relayed a special message to me. The real me, not the fabricated version that led me down a dangerous path. One involving men I realized couldn’t be trusted. Men who held secrets, motives.

  It was before her obsessive drinking. Before she developed a dark outlook on life.

  We were in the sunroom of our vacation home in the country. My father stayed in the city because of work, claiming the commute was too long and it just made more sense for him to stay behind. Judging from my mother’s tone when she talked to him on the phone, I knew she didn’t believe him. She had learned about his secret life and the infidelity that came along with it. Things were already strained between them. The tension in the air conveyed that things were getting worse. Still, she played her role, never voicing her opinions about anything.

  She sat in her oversized chair, while I listened to my music in one of the others. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her keep glancing at me, so I removed my headphones and looked her way, waiting. Even though it was something I didn’t do often, I felt the need to pay attention.

  She turned toward the large windows in the room, watching the sun set, then quickly focused back on me. She took a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in her hands, tears forming in her eyes. Her unexpected words, a warning tone in them, caught me by surprise.

  “Don’t let them win, Alyssa. You can make your way through the manipulation by pretending to be naïve. You can even go as far as letting them think they’ve won. But in your heart, in your mind, Al, you should always be the winner. You should always put yourself first.”

  Her eyes bored into mine with sadness, regret.

  “If you don’t keep that mentality, you’ll only fail, just like so many others. I know you’re stronger than that, Al. I know you can do better.”

  She had finished off her coffee, casually wiping away the tears. The worry disappeared from her expression and our day carried on like normal.

  Whenever I think back, I realize that was one of our best times together, even though it was impacted by the truth of our reality. Even though it had begun slipping its way inside our life, breaking it down piece by piece. I should’ve known my mother was hurting. I had seen the light starting to fade from her eyes, but she fought it. Deep down, though, she knew she was one of the ones who’d lost. Someone she didn’t want me to be. That was why it was important to her to share that knowledge. She wanted me to know before she lost the courage to relay it.

  I studied myself in the mirror. The resemblance to my mother was still there. The feeling I ignored her wisdom and let her down didn’t sit well with me. I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t give in to it. I was strong enough to fight through Alek’s manipulation, keeping my sanity intact no matter how hard he tested my patience. Playing the naïve wife role,
obeying my husband without question, masked my true feelings, which was necessary in order to blend in with the other women who ran in our circle. The knowledge Alek might’ve had something to do with my past made me realize I might need to change my tactics, and the only way I could do that was by getting away from Wesley. I needed a plan. I needed to figure out a way to escape. Immediately.

  I heard a knock at the front door, startling me. Should I answer it? The only things I had to wear were the bedsheet and my clothes from yesterday. Neither seemed appropriate. Looking around, I felt myself relax when I spotted a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I put it on and cautiously walked into the living room as I tied the belt.

  I jumped, letting out a little shriek when I noticed a woman sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen.

  She quickly stood. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She held up a couple bags. “Wesley told me to drop this off. Clothes. Size four, right?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. Did this woman not realize I had been kidnapped? Did she not know I was forced to stay inside the condo, unable to even walk outside?

  I gave her a weary look as I accepted the bags she held. I rummaged through them, satisfied with her choices. I hadn’t worn jeans and t-shirts in a while. Being the wife of a judge didn’t really allow me to wear casual clothes, unless I was working out. In those instances, I was rarely in public.

  Judging from the smile on her face, I had a feeling she didn’t know what was going on. I assumed she was in the dark, just like me.

  I gave her a small smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  As I studied her more closely, I noticed how stunning she was. The tattoos covering her arms would’ve been distasteful to some, but in reality, they magnified her beauty, as did her striking blue eyes. She was nothing like me. This woman clearly had her own opinions. It pained me that I couldn’t be that way, too. No matter which way I turned, I would always belong to someone. My father. My husband. Now Wesley. I would always have to abide by their rules, never able to be my true self. Sadly, after being someone’s property for so long, I had started to lose myself.