99 Lies
Page 1
DEDICATION
For my husband and children, who were there
with me every step of the way.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Now
10 Days, 16 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
9 Days, 12 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
9 Days, 2 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
8 Days, 10 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
8 Days, 1 Hour Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
7 Days, 18 Hours Earlier
Genesis
7 Days, 17 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
7 Days, 16 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
7 Days, 13.5 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
7 Days, 12 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
7 Days, 10 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
6 Days, 23 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
6 Days, 21.5 Hours Earlier
Maddie
6 days, 13 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
6 Days, 10 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
6 Days, 8 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
6 Days, 4 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
6 Days, 2 Hours Earlier
Maddie
5 Days, 12 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
4 Days, 4 Hours Earlier
Genesis
4 Days, 1 Hour Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
3 Days, 21 Hours Earlier
Maddie
3 Days, 13 Hours Earlier
Genesis
3 Days, 7 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
2 Days, 13 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
2 Days, 9 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
1 Day, 12 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
1 Day, 4 Hours Earlier
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
13 Hours Earlier
Genesis
5 Hours Earlier
Maddie
1.5 Hours Earlier
Genesis
Maddie
Now
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
Maddie
Genesis
1 Week Later
Maddie
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Rachel Vincent
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
NOW
I push my way into the kitchen, expecting to be stopped. I’m wearing a twenty-thousand-dollar custom gown and four-inch heels. I obviously do not belong in here, but no one even looks up from the plates they’re preparing or the trays they’re loading. They don’t have time to notice me.
Thank goodness.
Determined, I lift my skirt to keep from dragging it or tripping over it and follow the fleeing woman down an aisle on the right side of the kitchen, careful not to bump into anything or anyone in the bustling, steam-filled room. She takes a left at the end of the aisle, and I see her in profile.
Then she opens a door and disappears.
My skirt forgotten, I race after her and throw open the door. The hall is dark after the brightly lit kitchen, and I can’t see much beyond the threshold.
My pulse races as I step into the hallway. It’s time to finish this.
From the darkness, I hear a pistol cock.
“Good evening, princesa.”
10 DAYS, 16 HOURS EARLIER
I have no choice.
MADDIE
Lights flash in my eyes. Ambulances. Helicopters. Rescue boats. They paint the night in bursts of red, blue, and bright white. The cacophony is so overwhelming that it’s lost focus. I hear it all as if there’s cotton stuffed in my ears. As if it’s all very far away. As if I’m not really here at all.
There’s sand in my boots. In spite of the sensory overload, that one sensation remains clear and focused.
I stare out at the water, trembling, though the night is warm.
Someone wraps a blanket around my shoulders. It’s a metallic Mylar panel crinkling every time I move as it reflects my own body heat back at me.
Something brushes my shoulder, and I turn to find Luke standing next to me in the sand, staring out at the water as helicopters and boats pull people from the remains of my uncle Hernán’s cruise ship, the Splendor.
There are bodies in the water. I can’t distinguish them from the rest of the wreckage, but knowing they’re there feels like having a terrible secret.
Knowing how they got there feels like telling a terrible lie.
Rescue boats keep bringing people to shore. The ones who are breathing go into a waiting ambulance or into the triage area set up in a tent. The ones who aren’t breathing go into the long line of still figures on the beach. Each one is covered, and I wonder where all the blankets came from.
There are so many bodies.
“What happened?”
I turn to find Penelope Goh on my left. She stares out at the water, clutching a Mylar blanket around her shoulders, and she sounds stunned. Lost.
She, Domenica, and Rog fled the terrorist base camp in the first boat. They were gone before the Splendor exploded. That was an hour ago.
That was a lifetime ago.
“Maddie.” Pen nudges me. “What happened?”
I look around for Domenica and Rog, but I don’t see them. Maybe they went to the hospital.
“Sebastián blew up the cruise ship,” Luke says, and for a second, I feel a bright, terrible wash of relief, because he’s told the lie for me. But he doesn’t know it’s a lie—that Genesis had the detonator. That makes him innocent. “Or maybe it was Silvana,” he says. “I don’t know who pulled the trigger.”
Every second I spend not correcting him is a lie of omission. Which makes me guilty. But I have no choice.
Family first.
“Why were there bombs on a cruise ship?” Pen frowns at the water, her voice hazy with shock. “I thought they were on submarines.”
“So did we.” Luke’s hand finds mine, and it’s shockingly warm. Or maybe I’m just cold. We thought they were going to transfer the bombs to a cargo ship. Not a cruise ship full of passengers.
My eyes water, and the line of blanket-draped bodies blurs in front of me.
“Ms. Goh? Ms. Valencia? Mr. Hazelwood?” We turn to see a wom
an in a suit and shoes wholly unsuited to the beach heading toward us in the sand. Despite the late hour, her hair is neatly pinned in a perfect bun low on her head. She shows us a badge: FBI. “I’m Agent Moore. Would you please follow me?”
Luke studies her badge, as if it might be fake. “The FBI can’t operate outside of the US.”
“We can with permission from the host country, and Colombia seems eager to cooperate on this matter.” She puts her badge away and gives us a grim nod. “The medical crew has cleared all three of you. I’m here to take you home.”
Home.
There were moments over the past couple of days when I thought I’d never see home again. I should be relieved. I should be ecstatic. Instead, I am numb.
“The missing persons’ report lists several other American citizens who disappeared with you, but we haven’t yet made contact with Holden Wainwright, Genesis Valencia, or Ryan Valencia.” Agent Moore’s gaze narrows on me as we head for the water. “Genesis and Ryan are your siblings?”
“Genesis is my cousin,” I tell her.
Agent Moore pulls a notebook and a small pen from her pocket. “And do you know where they are?”
“They’re still in the jungle. They didn’t make it out.” The reality is a bit more complicated than that, but this truth is enough for now.
“You should be out there looking for them!” Penelope shouts, tears standing in her eyes, and all across the beach, people turn to look.
“Ma’am, we already have agents out there, working alongside local law enforcement. I will let them know immediately that we’re still missing three of the hostages.”
“Two of them.” I cling to the numbness, holding it in front of me like a shield. “Ryan was shot during the kidnapping. He’s buried at the army bunkhouse where we were taken.”
Agent Moore’s step falters, the only sign that she’s shocked by my brother’s death, while rescue workers are still laying out the other casualties in a long line on the beach. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Agent Moore?” I ask as we climb into the small boat she’s been leading us toward, where a Colombian soldier is seated behind the wheel. “Where did they take Indiana? What hospital?”
She frowns and looks at her notebook again. “Indiana?”
“He . . .” I push through the numbness, trying to think. “There was another guy in our boat. One of the hostages. He hit his head during the explosion and lost consciousness.”
“There was a lot of blood, and his breathing was irregular,” Luke adds. “One of the EMTs was working on him on the beach, but we lost track of him when they started pulling people from the water.”
“And his name is Indiana?”
“I don’t know his real name,” I tell her. “That’s just what we called him.”
She scans several pages of handwritten notes. “Ms. Valencia, I don’t have anything here about another missing American. Do you know if his parents filed a report?”
“I’m not even sure they knew he was here. He’s not in high school.”
She shrugs as Luke helps me onto the boat. “It’s possible he was mistaken for one of the cruise ship passengers. We’ll get it sorted out. For now, let’s get you all home.”
As our boat takes off down the shore, carrying us away from the nightmare of the past few days, I hold Luke’s hand and stare back at the helicopters and rescue boats still lighting up the dark waters of the gulf, pulling screaming people from the water.
Their nightmare has just begun.
I love her.
GENESIS
“We thought you might like some company.” The sound of Sebastián’s voice makes my stomach churn. If I’d eaten anything, I’d be vomiting all over the floor, but I haven’t been fed since they locked me in this dark, empty room. Since hours before the other hostages escaped the jungle on a speedboat stolen from a terrorist.
I know better than to answer. Instead, I sit in the grimy corner, deciding exactly how I will disable him when he comes through that door.
I’m the only one left, and I have no idea where I am.
A metallic squeal cuts through my thoughts, and I recognize the front door of the cabin as it creaks open. I scoot toward the front wall and peek through the crack in the boards. The front door stands open, but outside the cabin, there is only a yawning darkness.
The sun isn’t up yet. I can’t have been here for more than a few hours—unless I was unconscious for a full day.
“—your filthy hands off me. Do you have any idea who I am?” a familiar voice demands, and I sit up straight, suddenly alert in spite of hunger, exhaustion, and a concussion that makes the world spin every time I turn my head.
Holden.
Minutes before the rest of us fled the terrorist base camp toward the beach, Holden had grabbed a gun, shot a guard, and run off into the jungle. Abandoning the rest of us as we fought.
I knew he wouldn’t make it out of the jungle on his own. My ex has the survival skills of a brain-damaged kitten. Still, in spite of everything he’s done to me, I’d hoped he would get away, if only to deny that victory to Sebastián. And to his boss—my uncle David.
“We know who you are, mano,” Sebastián tells Holden at the front of the cabin. He’s in his element. In power. In control. “And we hope your semiprivate accommodation is to your liking.”
Holden struggles as they drag him toward my room—I recognize his ugly grunt of effort and the scrape of shoes across the floor. Sebastián slides back the dead bolt and I stand, fighting nausea. My moment has come. But when he opens the door, light from the front room blinds me. I blink, and his pistol comes into focus.
I know how to take the gun from him. I’ve trained for this very moment, thanks to my father’s paranoia full knowledge that his illegal activities were putting my life at risk. But my thoughts refuse to focus. I can’t fight Sebastián while I’m weak from hunger and exhaustion, and unsteady from the concussion.
Holden stands in the doorway. His shirt is torn. Dirt streaks his face, and I can smell him from across the room. A night in the jungle has not been kind to my ex-boyfriend.
A man I don’t recognize shoves Holden into the room with me. He stumbles, then catches himself against the rough wood plank wall. The door slams shut behind him, and the dead bolt scrapes home again. I am alone with Holden for the first time in a week.
The last time we were alone, there was a bed, and flattering lighting, and an open bottle of expensive vodka.
“We could blow off the Bahamas and just stay here.” Holden kisses his way down my left side, and I arch into his touch. “Naked.”
I squirm as his lips trail over the point of my hip, drawing goose bumps to the surface of my skin. “Why would I spend spring break in your pool house when my dad’s private jet is at my disposal?”
“No one ever comes in here. It’d be like our own private island,” he murmurs against my stomach. “Besides, you’ve been to the Bahamas a dozen times.”
I shrug. “So we’ll go somewhere else. Name your pleasure.”
“This is my pleasure.” He grabs my hips, and his sexy growl makes my pulse leap in anticipation. “Tell your dad you’re going to Cartagena to see your grandmother, and he’ll be relieved that you actually shacked up with me all week, safe in Miami.”
“Or we could actually go see my grandmother.”
He lifts himself to frown down at me. “I am not going to Colombia.”
Holden blinks, and for a second, I’m not sure he can see me in the dark. Then his brows furrow and his gaze gains focus. He pushes away from the wall. His palms are full of splinters—I know that from experience—but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s preoccupied with the greater insult.
Sharing a room with me.
He turns and pounds on the door behind him. “Sebastián! I want to talk to your boss!”
“This isn’t the Ritz, Holden,” I snap at him. My head is killing me, and I want him to stop shouting. “They’re not going to give you an
upgrade.”
Finally he turns, and I can feel his scowl. “What, they didn’t have a jaguar to throw me in with? Sebastián is a sadistic bastard.”
“Agreed. But there’s no one else for them to put you with. Everyone else got away.”
“So what happened? You trip over your ego and get left behind?”
“Speaking of left behind, how could you do that to Penelope?”
He’d slept with my best friend for the same reason he’d hooked up with all the girls who came before—because he could. But Penelope had thought they had something real. Until he’d run off into the jungle without her.
“I didn’t leave her. She just stood there blinking like an idiot.”
“She was in shock.” Because he’d just shot someone right in front of her.
“I was going to come back for her. I love her.”
I roll my eyes. “Joke’s on you. She got out, and you’re stuck here with me.”
Holden sinks into the corner farthest away from the one I’ve claimed. “I’d rather die of malaria.”
“At least we agree on something.” I’d rather he die of malaria too.
9 DAYS, 12 HOURS EARLIER
We want Holden back.
MADDIE
Lydia Reed leans forward in her chair, legs crossed at the knee and tilted to one side to preserve the flattering angle for the cameras. Studio lights glint off her perfectly styled blond hair. “We only have a few minutes left. So, tell me, how have your lives changed since you were rescued from the Colombian jungle?”
I glance at Luke on my left, but he’s still staring at the camera as if it might grow a mouth and bite him. He was surprisingly adept at surviving in the wilderness, but in front of the lights and TV cameras, he looks young and lost.
Penelope should be used to this, yet she sits on Luke’s other side twisting her fingers into knots. Waiting for me to answer.
She used to have guts. She’d have to, to perform backflips across a four-inch plank of wood in front of an audience of millions. But she seems to have lost some piece of herself in the jungle.
What she actually lost was one hundred ninety pounds of entitled blond asshole. Twenty-eight hours after we’d left the beach with Agent Moore, the Colombian army had yet to find any sign of Holden—or Indiana, for that matter.
“Well, first of all, we weren’t really rescued.” I turn back to the host and smile for the camera. I’m getting through this interview by channeling Genesis. My cousin has many flaws, but she knows how to stare down a challenge. “We rescued ourselves. We stole two speedboats and headed along the coast until we found help.”