Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani))

by Alers, Rochelle

  “Do you have something against guns?”

  He blinked as he slowly chewed and swallowed the potato with obvious delight. “No.”

  “Do you know how to use one?”

  Propping his elbow on the table, Jason gave Greer a lengthy stare. “Yes. Why are you asking me about guns?”

  “I just need to know if you’ve got my back in case of an emergency.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t need a gun to protect you, unless the other person has a firearm and I don’t.”

  “Please don’t tell me I’m dating a superhero.”

  “Close enough,” Jason countered with a broad grin.

  “Are you Bruce Wayne masquerading as Batman?”

  “I wish. I have to admit wearing black leather is the ultimate fantasy.”

  Greer scrunched up her nose. “That sounds kinky.” Jason winked at her while at the same time flashing a wolfish grin. Whenever he smiled at her like that, he reminded her of a powerful predator intent on making her his next meal.

  “Don’t knock kinky until you’ve tried it.”

  She flashed a sexy moue. “How do you know I haven’t?”

  Jason’s smiled vanished. “Are you talking BDSM?”

  Greer’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect O. “No! That goes beyond kinky.”

  He managed to look sheepish. “I had to ask.”

  Bracing an elbow on the table, Greer cupped her chin on the heel of her hand. “Tell me about your grandmother. Is she still alive?”

  * * *

  Jason leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the woman sitting across from him. He found it odd she knew more about him than he did her. He’d been more than forthcoming about himself and his family; he knew her age, that she was divorced, had graduated college, her uncle owned Stella’s and she’d admitted to being a Southerner.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know about Marguerite-Joséfina Diaz Cole if you tell me who Greer Evans is.”

  Greer seemed more than ready to respond to Jason’s request. “You know my age and that I’m a twin.”

  “What does your brother do?”

  “He’s a cop.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No. He is a cop. We grew up in Silver Spring, Maryland, because Mom and Dad worked for the government. Last year they sold their condo and moved to a retirement community in Virginia. My brother and I attended private schools, and we spent our summers here until our last year in high school. I went to Georgetown University while Cooper was accepted into Brown.”

  “How did you meet your ex-husband?”

  Greer compressed her lips into a hard line. She looked like she was regurgitating bile. “Are you familiar with the name Lawrence Hill?”

  Jason shook his head. “No. I can’t say I am.”

  “He’s the senator who resigned last year when he was caught on tape attempting to seduce his opponent’s wife.”

  “I remember reading something about that,” Jason confirmed.

  “Well, I had the misfortune of marrying his son.”

  “Are you saying like father like son?”

  “I wish. If my ex had been unfaithful, I would’ve been able to deal with it and move on, but Larry was a closet psycho. We dated a few times in high school, but our relationship never progressed beyond the platonic stage. I graduated college and got a teaching position in a D.C. middle school. I’d gone out one night with several teachers to celebrate the engagement of a colleague and ran into him. We reconnected and married a year and a half later in a small private ceremony.

  “At that time his father was beginning to dabble in politics, so there were a number of parties and fundraisers that required our attendance. My father-in-law counted on the African-American vote because his son had married a black woman. I was expected to go on the campaign trail with the Hills, so I took a leave from my job, subjected myself to a complete makeover and became a puppet with Larry as the master puppeteer pulling the strings. He selected what he wanted me to wear, and we traveled with a stylist and makeup person. Whenever I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognize myself and I loathed waking up because I knew the day would become a repeat of the one before.”

  “How long were you campaigning?”

  “Fourteen months. We must have stopped in every town, city, hamlet and village in Maryland. Lawrence beat the incumbent in a landslide victory, and I thought it was over. Unfortunately the circus started up again with smaller dinner parties. I wasn’t a wife, but a possession or trophy to put out on display. One day I’d had enough and told Larry I was leaving him.” Greer covered her face with her hands, but not before Jason saw all manner of emotions expressed there.

  Pushing back his chair, Jason came around the table and pulled her to stand. Bending slightly, he picked her up and carried her into the living room. He sat, settling Greer on his lap. She was shaking uncontrollably. “What did he do to you, sweetheart?”

  * * *

  Greer sank into Jason’s body, feeding off his strength. He was the first man she’d allowed to touch and kiss her in seven years. If you let him sour you on men, then he’s won. Bobby’s sage advice had come back in vivid clarity. Larry lost. He had lost her and then he had lost himself.

  “He tried to kill me.”

  Jason smothered a curse under his breath. “How?”

  “He waited until I’d turned my back, and he hit me in the head with the fireplace poker. The first blow stunned me and, when I turned around to defend myself, he hit me again. This time across my chest. I couldn’t breathe, and then I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, broken ribs and a collapsed lung. My mother told me someone had broken into the house and attacked me and Larry. I tried to tell her it was Larry who’d assaulted me, but she told me I was mistaken because Larry had been seriously injured, and he was also in the hospital. The lying slug must have called his mother and father, and together they concocted a story to keep Larry from being arrested. When my in-laws came to see me, they said Larry had been airlifted to a private hospital in Virginia that specialized in head trauma. Supposedly the neurosurgeon had placed him into a medically induced coma to reduce the swelling in his brain.”

  “Did you get to see him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not, Greer?”

  “I didn’t want to see him. His father told the press he’d hired private security to protect his son because Larry had had an altercation with the nephew of an alleged mobster, and the attack was in retaliation for the kid’s arrest. Unfortunately I’d become collateral damage.”

  “Did he have an alteration?”

  She nodded. “A seventeen-year-old kid was pulling out of a parking spot and accidentally scraped the bumper of Larry’s car. Larry got in the kid’s face and he pushed back. Someone called the police, and when they discovered who Larry was, they arrested the boy who ended up losing his license for six months.”

  “Did anyone believe your story?”

  “My parents did, eventually, but that’s about it. I knew what had happened, and after a while, I was tired of trying to convince someone—anyone—that I was telling the truth, and my father-in-law had lied. Once I was discharged, I went back to the house to get my personal papers, and the housekeeper looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost. It was apparent she hadn’t expected me to return. She pleaded with me not to go upstairs, but I ignored her. When I went into the bedroom, I knew why she was so anxious to me keep out. Larry had been hiding there. Apparently he’d had a miraculous recovery or the man in ICU wasn’t my husband. He said he was sorry and pleaded for me not to leave him.”

  Greer’s voice dropped to a whisper when she told Jason that she had decided to try another tactic to get away from him. She promised Larry she wasn’t going to leave if he agreed to them having separate bedroo
ms. He agreed and she moved her things into a spare bedroom. Meanwhile she’d placed a call to her brother to come and get her. When Cooper got to the house and saw for himself that Larry had lied about being attacked, he threatened to kill him.

  “Cooper held his gun on Larry, while I got my passport, birth certificate and social security card out of the safe. My brother made me promise that, if I ever considered reconciling with Larry, that Cooper would kill him. It took months before I could get an attorney to handle my divorce. Once they heard the name Hill, I was persona non grata. Larry stonewalled me every chance he got. He paid a psychiatrist to sign off that he needed to be hospitalized for an emotional breakdown. If he wasn’t playing crazy, then it was chronic back pain where he couldn’t walk without a cane or walker. It was close to three years before he realized I wasn’t coming back. Meanwhile I’d moved in with my parents and went back to school to get a graduate degree. Instead of returning to the classroom, I volunteered as a tutor at a community center. When Larry’s attorney finally contacted mine for a settlement, I told him all I wanted was my freedom and my maiden name. Five months later the divorce was finalized.”

  She didn’t tell Jason that she’d applied to the ATF, and her graduate degree wasn’t in education but criminal justice. She had to undergo an extensive background check, psychological testing and physical training. Her swearing-in as a special agent came a week after her divorce, and she had signed on for undercover assignments.

  Her supervisor had been reluctant to approve the request. After all, she was the former daughter-in-law of a member of congress, but Greer convinced him that she wouldn’t compromise her identity when she showed him photos of herself with the Hills. Frightfully thin with a very short haircut, she looked nothing like the woman sitting in front of him. Then she’d been Jane Hill not J. Greer Evans.

  When Larry had attacked her from behind, she hadn’t been able to fight back. If she had, there was no doubt her years of martial arts training would’ve kicked in and Larry would not have had to fake being injured.

  It had taken a while, but when Senator Hill resigned before he was to appear before the ethics committee, Greer felt a measure of redemption. And Larry—who’d played the crazy card once too often—had a psychotic breakdown, rarely venturing out of the basement in his parents’ home because he believed aliens were watching him. He preferred sleeping on an air mattress because there was no place for the aliens to hide inside as they’d done with a regular mattress.

  * * *

  Jason pressed his mouth to Greer’s hair. “Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?”

  She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “Not all men are like your ex,” he whispered in the fragrant strands. “Men who claim they love a woman don’t hurt them.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. But it’s hard for me to trust a man because I never know when Dr. Henry Jekyll will turn into Mr. Edward Hyde.”

  Jason had no comeback for Greer. He’d had a few quirky girlfriends, but fortunately hadn’t had to contend with stalkers or those who behaved badly in public. He’d dated a woman who was insanely jealous, and he had ended the relationship before he found himself in too deep. Another wanted him to promise never to leave her because all her boyfriends in the past broke up with her after a few weeks. What had saved him from public humiliation or scandal was that he never took any of them to award or red carpet events. He was always photographed with Ana on his arm. It was a win-win for him and Ana. She tended to keep her private life very private.

  Greer stirred and Jason dropped his arms. “Stay here while I clean up the kitchen.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “That’s all right. You cooked, so I’ll clean. Sit and relax.”

  Pushing off the sofa, he smiled down at her. He was surprised that she could still smile after all she’d gone through with her ex. Jason usually didn’t make promises because he wasn’t certain whether he’d be able to keep them. However, he made himself a promise to help Greer overcome her distrust so she could possibly have a healthy relationship with a man. What he didn’t want to acknowledge was he wanted to be that man.

  Chapter 11

  Greer sat on a stool staring at the filter covering the microphone in the sound booth. Jason had selected Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” to sing with the band later on that night. To say she’d been overwhelmed by the size and scope of Jason’s recording studio was an understatement. He’d explained the walls and floors of the basement were constructed with poured concrete, which provided excellent sound isolation. Insulation and interior walls and ceilings ensured that the noise from above would not intrude into the studio. A wall of sliding doors exposed shelves with every instrument in an orchestra, while a bass violin rested on a stand in a corner. Sophisticated sound equipment, two pianos, a computer and synthesizer provided Jason with everything he needed to compose and record his music.

  Jason had also given her a quick tour of his home/office. A massive slab of beveled glass supported by twin wrought-iron sawhorses doubled as a desk. The colors of white, black and gray predominated. A black leather sofa converted into a queen-size bed, and two white leather love seats also converted into single beds. Now Greer understood what Jason meant when he said he had a half bedroom.

  He claimed he’d had the band over for several rehearsals, but they didn’t like having to surrender their driver’s licenses at the gatehouse. So Doug paid a retired farmer a nominal fee to use his barn for band rehearsal sessions instead. Jason’s studio had a bathroom with a shower, a water cooler, minifridge and built-in shelves that were lined with family photos. He’d shown her the restored photograph of his grandparents on their wedding day. The woman Jason had referred to as Abuela was stunningly beautiful, and it was apparent she’d passed her black hair and dimpled smile down to her grandson.

  Her eyes met Jason’s. “This song is as beautiful as it is sad.”

  “It’s perfect for your vocal range. This is one of the two songs I want you to sing tonight.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “It’s another Bonnie Raitt favorite of mine. ‘Silver Lining.’”

  A slight frown furrowed Greer’s smooth forehead. “I’m not familiar with that one.”

  Taking her hand, he helped her off the stool. “Come with me.” Jason led her out of the sound booth and over to the computer where he typed in the name of the song and the artist. He adjusted the volume on a receiver.

  Greer felt as if someone had open a chapter in her book of life to witness the madness that nearly destroyed Mrs. Jane Hill. The lyrics spoke of redemption and a renewal. A sadness filled her chest, and she struggled not to break down. She wondered if Jason had chosen the song because he felt it suited her voice, or was he trying to send her message. The song ended and she couldn’t get out of her head the line about being born with eyes open and now filled with hope.

  She’d been raised both loved and pampered, yet somehow along the way, she’d permitted someone with whom she fallen in love to determine not only her future but also her destiny.

  Being married to the son of a politician wasn’t glamorous nor was it fun. It had been pure torture for Greer. Meanwhile she’d fooled everyone, including her parents, brother, aunt and uncle into believing she was living a fairy-tale life.

  “What do you think?” Jason asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “I’ll try it.”

  “Let’s do this one first because you’re familiar with ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me.’”

  * * *

  Jason knew the song was perfect for Greer because she was still carrying enough pain to connect with David Gray’s poignant lyrics. He programmed the words to appear on the screen in the sound booth, waited for Greer to return to the stool as he took his seat at the synthesizer. All he needed was a guitar, drum and piano. He programmed the tra
ck, raised his left hand, then she inserted the earpiece in her ears.

  Greer’s vocal register was lower than Bonnie Raitt’s and more soulful, and he knew she’d been born to sing blues. She’d admitted to being able to read music because of years of piano lessons, and that was one obstacle neither had to deal with. “I’ll play it through once for you,” he said into the microphone. Greer gave him a thumbs-up sign.

  A chill washed over Jason when Greer sang the opening four words. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he felt the constriction in his chest. Ana had her Justin Glover aka O’Quan Gee aka OG, and Jason had his J. Greer Evans. Justin had the ability to become a crossover artist, singing pop, R&B, rap and hip-hop, while he hadn’t yet explored Greer’s versatility. If she was as good with blues as with R&B, then he had a winner.

  Jason didn’t know whether she would ever allow him to promote her as a result of her psycho ex who may once again try to kill her. With her particular history, he understood her aversion to being in the public eye; yet all his life, he’d been in the spotlight because of his musician father. David Cole had put together a band in his twenties, and Night Mood had played every major U.S. venue before going abroad and touring for months.

  David had finally left the band at twenty-seven to take over as CEO of Cole-Diz International Ltd. when his older brother Martin had run for governor of Florida. Martin had lost the election, but David continued running the company until their nephew Timothy Cole-Thomas assumed control of the family-run, privately-held conglomerate. Jason’s father had set up Serenity Records, an independent label with a focus on discovering new talent. David and his former band mates got together at least once a year to jam and reminiscence about back in the day.

  Jason loved every aspect of music. Listening to it. Playing it. Writing it. Music was a drug—a very addictive drug he never wanted to tire of. There were occasions when he woke to music and went to sleep with it playing softly in his bedroom. Every room in Serenity West was wired for sound. Then there were the times when he wanted absolute silence, just like in the song lyrics in “Silver Lining.” He’d chosen the song not only for Greer but also for himself. It ended and he raised his fisted hand, smiling. He’d recorded the song in one take.