Deadly Secrets

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by Lisa Phillips


  Had the blackmailer found her? Or Aaron Jones, the man who had killed the senator? This guy could be another associate of the blackmailer’s. Had he sent an entire army after her?

  Cold moved through her and she shivered, still sitting there on the floor.

  “My goodness.” The words were drawn out. A man’s voice. He crouched in front of her, and she settled on that craggy face. The owner.

  “I’m okay, Bill.”

  He frowned. Yeah, she didn’t believe her either. He said, “Mary already called an ambulance. Can you stand?” He wore striped pajamas and slippers, an open robe over the top like a coat.

  Emma struggled to her feet and sucked in a breath. She placed a hand over her ribs and winced. “Ouch.”

  Bill was frowning still.

  Flashes of memory raced through her mind like a photo gallery. The senator’s face. The feel of the trigger under her finger, the squeeze. The pain. Seeing his face on the front of a newspaper. Dead.

  Hearing her name on a news report.

  Wanted for questioning.

  The sheriff’s car pulled into the parking lot. Emma took half a step back.

  Bill patted her shoulder. “The sheriff will take care of you. And I’ll take a look at your door, see if you need new locks. Or a deadbolt. Okay?”

  She nodded, though she hardly comprehended what he’d said. She watched the sheriff walk over for a few seconds, then turned and stepped inside her room. Flipped the light on.

  The bed was rumpled. Clothes had been pulled out of the dresser. The mattress was square with the box spring. It hadn’t been moved, which meant her savings—and her secrets—were safe. The person who’d come here wasn’t a cop. But what did he want? It felt like Aaron Jones was toying with her.

  First, she’d felt like she was being followed, and now this? What did he want?

  The sheriff of this county was a different story. She’d never met him. Had no idea what to expect.

  Her mind flashed again, overlaying a picture of that man right before he’d run. The diner. That was where she’d met him. He had come in and ordered breakfast this morning. It was a shame he was one of Jones’s associates, because he’d had a nice smile. Obviously it was fake. Nothing but trying to feel her out, see what she knew.

  Before they killed her.

  Emma leaned against the open door and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Trying to figure out what on earth she was going to do next. This had all been about taking the power back. Confronting the senator over events long past. Finding strength to do the right thing, and finally having control over her own life.

  “Ms. Stevens?”

  It took her a moment to remember that was the name she’d given Bill and his wife, Mary, when she’d booked the room. Emma opened her eyes. “You can call me Ellie, Sheriff.” Like she was just another regular, everyday witness. A victim of a break-in.

  “Would you like to sit?”

  She nodded and made her way to the wood, upholstered chair. Kind of like a doctor’s waiting room seat. If the appointment had been in 1967. It squeaked when she settled onto it. She shot the sheriff a smile, and he asked her what had happened. She told him about the man in her room, unable to keep the shake from her voice. He didn’t need to know that it was about more than just tonight.

  It was to her advantage that he hadn’t yet had the occasion to run her photo through any database. The news report of the senator’s death and her involvement hadn’t spread nationwide. Yet. Another story had broken days later, and hers had been buried. No doubt people were looking for her—good and bad people.

  “Ellie?”

  She blinked and looked up. “I’m sorry?”

  His eyes softened. “You might want to think about talking with someone. It’s not a bad thing to seek out counsel, even if you don’t think you need help per se.” He gave her a soft smile and pulled out his wallet. “My wife is licensed.” He handed her a business card. “I know firsthand that talking things out can help.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. It was a particular kind of man who could admit he’d needed help in life. She could admit, at least to herself, that counseling may be worthwhile. But did she have the time for it? Emma hardly knew what would happen day to day, as had been evidenced by tonight.

  Did she want to talk to someone?

  Her mind flashed again, an image of that man. Not because she wanted to talk to him—even with that nice smile of his. “I saw someone.”

  The sheriff took half a step closer to her and nodded. He patted her shoulder. “I’m sure Bill and Mary can move you to another room if you’d like. Help you sleep better.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Outside. Right after he ran away. There was a man.” She waved toward the sidewalk in front of the room and tried to get her brain to cooperate. “He was in the diner this morning.”

  “Was he the man inside your room?”

  She didn’t know. Not for sure. “He ran away right after I saw him.”

  “Any idea who he is?”

  She shook her head. “He paid in cash, and he never told me his name. But he’s new in town.” Newer than her, at least.

  “I’ll talk to Patch. See if he can help me out.”

  Emma nodded. “Please.” Her boss at the diner was a former biker—though, he’d never say “former” so she figured it was like being in the Marines that way—and he knew everything that happened in the diner. He’d even commented on the man who’d come in. The one she had seen tonight, outside her room.

  Was he really an associate of Aaron’s? Emma shivered. Either way didn’t matter. They had found her. Which meant she had to move on, get out of town, keep running. Before they decided she wasn’t needed anymore.

  And they killed her.

  Chapter 3

  Mint pumped his arms and legs and chased after the guy fleeing from Emma’s room. The man’s body type matched the description of Aaron Jones that he’d been given, but he wouldn’t know if it was that same man unless he got a look at the face. They’d been looking for Jones for weeks. Since he’d been implicated in the kidnapping of Senator Rachel Harris. Something the whole team took personally.

  Double Down was fully invested in bringing down the blackmailer. And Aaron Jones was likely a party to whatever operation was in play.

  Mint rounded a corner two seconds after Jones—if this really was him—and stopped. Turned around. Looked up and down the street.

  Empty.

  Not even the sound of a car engine, or footsteps fleeing. He even held his breath for a second just to be sure.

  Aaron Jones was gone.

  Mint wanted to kick the hubcap of the closest car, but denting private property wouldn’t get rid of his frustrations. It would only add to them. Mint checked the whole area to make sure Jones wasn’t simply hiding somewhere. When he was satisfied the man had given him the slip, Mint made his way back to the motel.

  He approached from the opposite side and headed for his truck. He settled in the front seat but didn’t start the engine. The sheriff’s car was parked outside Emma’s room. Was she all right? He didn’t like the fear that had been in her eyes when she’d looked up at him.

  Pain. Terror.

  He didn’t like that she felt those things. Not when he’d also known those, echoed down to the core of his being. And he hated those feelings. Had spent years trying to exorcise them by being as strong as he could. As fast. As lethal.

  He wanted to help her, as much as it was unwise to see her as anything other than a witness. Mint wasn’t there to make her feel better. He was only there to find out what she knew about the blackmailer who’d been involved with Senator Rachel Harris’s kidnapping.

  It had been a complicated situation, but Rachel Harris was all right now. And Alexis—her best friend who had taken the fall for her instead of bowing to the dictates of the blackmailer—was on her honeymoon with Mint’s newest teammate, Bradley.

  Mint’s team consisted of six men and one woman. Mint had the
feeling that the boss, Steve Preston, might have had a thing with Rachel at one point. But if they did, it wasn’t public knowledge. Rachel and Bradley were siblings, twins in fact. And Alexis had been part of their tribe for years.

  Mint had observed the whole thing from a distance, until Alexis had been shoved into a bank with a bomb strapped to her. Then he’d been pulled in, on the job as part of the operation. He’d injured his shoulder, and Alexis had insisted on taking care of him—out of guilt. Too bad her brand of “care” involved being all up in his space. Gushing about how she was so thankful.

  An ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Dread moved through him and his fingers went to the door handle, before he even realized he’d made a move to get out. No. He didn’t have the right to see if she was okay, and he never would.

  Mint didn’t want to consider what it was about her that caused this reaction in him. Dwelling on all that wasn’t going to make his life easier.

  Mint turned the brightness on his phone screen all the way down and called his boss. It was late on the east coast, but Steve never minded interruptions. That was the nature of their business.

  His boss answered, “Preston.”

  “It’s Mint.”

  “I have caller ID.”

  “My mother taught me it’s polite to introduce yourself.”

  Steve was quiet for a second. “She really do that?”

  “Of course not.” She’d left before Mint could walk, and he didn’t even remember her. Still, he didn’t want to have a ridiculous conversation. “Jones was in her room tonight.”

  “He get anything?”

  “No. There’s an envelope under her bed, and he wasn’t carrying it when he ran off.”

  “What envelope?”

  Mint said, “Don’t know. Didn’t have time or the tools to get it open. But it’s covered in blood, and she’s keeping it with her run money and her driver’s license.”

  “Not smart. Anyone could find that.”

  “Anyone?” Just because Mint had found it didn’t mean “anyone” else would. His attention was half on the call and half on Emma. She sat in the ambulance now, and he was twisted in his seat trying to see her. The woman didn’t want to be checked out, but was complying anyway.

  “Mint.”

  He blinked. “Yeah?”

  “I said, Perkins went through her bank accounts.”

  Perkins was their female team member. “She didn’t find a transaction that might explain the envelope, but Emma Burroughs takes out cash a lot. Could be she paid for something with folding money. In which case, we’ll never trace what it is.”

  “I can try a second time,” Mint said. “Get into her room and see what’s in there.”

  “It’s your call, but don’t wait too long to nail her down about what happened. We need to know what she knows about the blackmailer.”

  Mint wasn’t actually convinced she knew the identity of the person who had blackmailed Bradley’s sister. None of them were. Not really. Maybe she didn’t even know a blackmailer existed, and she’d simply walked in on Jones and Senator Sadler having a showdown.

  Mint said, “I actually have a feeling she’ll run after this. He was in her room.”

  “Freaked her out.”

  He nodded, even though Steve couldn’t see him. “At the least.” He watched her climb gingerly out of the ambulance, one arm across her ribs. “Injured her trying to escape.” His free hand curled into a fist, and he thought about slamming it into Aaron Jones’s smug face.

  The ambulance pulled away. She talked to the sheriff for a few more seconds, then shut her door. Mint waited, watching the room. He wasn’t about to head back to his own and get drawn into this in a way that would handicap his ability to do his job here.

  Sitting in his truck, watching, made this feel more like what it was. Business.

  “She’s our best lead right now.”

  “I know.” Mint wasn’t going to let the team down. Double Down, the private security and investigations business Steve ran, were professionals. Mint had been part of the team since he got out of the Army Rangers a few years back. He hadn’t enjoyed that time in his life. It had been more about discovering who he was and making amends with himself for that. Still, the man the Rangers had crafted him to be was a man he respected. Maybe even liked.

  Who he was now was more about using those skills on a local level, for a man he admired far more than any commanding officer he’d had. Steve had been to the edge of death and back. There was no one else he wanted to work for.

  “I’ll get what we need.”

  “I know you will, Mint.” Steve’s voice was filled with confidence. “And take care of Emma. That’s the real reason I sent you on this mission, despite your being done with Alexis’s cookies and brownies and cake because she was so grateful you saved her and didn’t die.” Steve chuckled. “But I know you won’t let Emma down now.”

  Steve hung up. The unspoken words hung in the air even after the call ended. He watched from the truck, but Emma’s light never turned off.

  Mint wasn’t the kind of man who let an innocent get caught in the crossfire. That might be noble, but it wasn’t always the way the military wanted to operate. Sometimes there were casualties and that had been unacceptable as far as he was concerned.

  That story went farther back in his history than Mint was prepared to travel. He needed to concentrate on the now, and not let the past breathe down the back of his neck. That never led anywhere good—not for him, or the people around him.

  Half an hour before sunrise, Emma ducked out of her room, backpack over her shoulder.

  She was running.

  **

  Emma walked across town to the diner, chin tucked in a scarf at her throat. Hands in her coat pockets even though she had gloves on. She wasn’t sure where she would go after she got her last paycheck from Patch, but it had to be somewhere. Anywhere. A place she could disappear into the crowd once again, hoping Aaron Jones wouldn’t find her.

  She said, “Hi,” to an older man she’d served a few times, who was walking on the street. It seemed a shame to leave this place. She’d come to like it here, especially the motel owners. And Patch.

  The front still had the CLOSED sign out, so she went around back. There were only a few minutes until the diner opened for breakfast. Patch should be here.

  Emma’s shoulders clenched and she shivered. She glanced both ways, feeling like someone was watching her. Was it Aaron? She studied the area around her. Cars in the tiny lot behind the diner. The alley. The streets beyond. Then she went inside.

  All she needed was her take for the last few days since payday, and then she could get lost. Surely Patch would understand her need to be away from here.

  Okay, so there was no way he would understand.

  “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?”

  She nearly smiled at his gruff voice, but couldn’t allow it. Emma stepped into the kitchen. Patch stood at the huge metal counter, taking a swig from a mug of coffee—what he called his “drug of choice.”

  “Hi.”

  “Not your day to work the early shift.”

  She swallowed. Nodded.

  “Trouble found you?”

  She stared at him.

  “I can give you what I owe ya, but trouble is just gonna keep coming.” He paused, looking at her with a knowing expression she’d never seen to this extent. “Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I be able to convince you to stay, Emma?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him there was no way he would convince her to stick around and put everyone’s lives in danger, not just hers. Then she realized he’d just used her real name. “You…”

  “I don’t run a diner cause I can’t do nothin’ else.”

  It took her a second to process what he’d said. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I would never.”

  “I know that, darlin’. It’s why I like having you around, even kno
wing the trouble you’d bring with you.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  He laid his cup down. “I know you think that. And if you gotta run, I got brothers all over who owe me favors. Could keep you safe. Hidden.”

  “Brothers?”

  “The kind that ride bikes and wear leather.”

  Protection from bikers? That sounded scary, even while she figured it could potentially also prove her safest option.

  “But for right now, Kerri didn’t show up. I already called the motel twice. Didn’t know you weren’t there.” He gave her a pointed look. “Need you to work the early shift.” He was back to being the tough boss of a small town diner. “After that, I’ll pay you, and you can decide what you want to do.”

  She stared at him, her mind going back and forth between the fact she’d faced down an intruder last night—and had bruised ribs to show for it—and how much she appreciated Patch taking a chance on her. Especially considering the trouble she had on her heels.

  “How did you know I was in trouble?”

  One bushy eyebrow rose. “I can smell it.”

  She frowned.

  “That, and you asked me to pay you in cash. You have no references and no cell phone.”

  So, she wasn’t super good at this “under the radar” stuff. It wasn’t like she’d ever done it before.

  He said, “Go flip the sign and get changed into your uniform. Make your choice later.”

  Apparently he was done talking. Time to work. Emma smiled to herself as she dumped her backpack in the office and quickly changed before she flipped the sign to open.

  When she unlocked the front door, a dark figure filled the windows and cast shadows inside. She sucked in a breath. He opened the door before she could even think to bar it. By the time she grasped the wood, it was too late.

  He was inside.

  He looked down at her, far taller now that he was standing, not seated, at one of her tables. “I’ll take some coffee,” he said. “After that, we’ll talk about me keeping Aaron Jones away from you long enough for my team to bring him down.”

 

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