Beneath the Truth

by Meghan March

  I left the house and walked down the long driveway to the gate, pressing an inside button that sent it sliding to the side. Once it closed behind me, I knew it was the right choice.

  I couldn’t have her today, but that was going to change too. I knew what I wanted, who I wanted. But first, I had to get answers and sort out this disaster I called a life.

  So I pulled out my phone to call for a ride.

  * * *

  Four hours later, I walked into a place I hadn’t been to in over a year. The fact that the inside of Voodoo Ink hadn’t changed a bit gave me some comfort, but the massive guy with the man bun and covered with tats sure as hell wasn’t Con Leahy. I knew they’d hired someone else, but I didn’t remember the guy’s name.

  Either way, it didn’t matter because the man I was here to see was in the other chair, not moving a single facial muscle as the tattoo machine permanently marked him. Like always, stepping into this shop made me itch for something new, but that wasn’t my purpose today.

  Rix’s silver eyes landed on me as I stopped outside the room he occupied. “Figured you’d be tracking me down sooner or later.”

  “What else have they figured out?” I didn’t bother with an intro. Rix wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why I was here.

  “Can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it. If you were in my shoes, you’d be demanding answers.”

  Rix looked at the artist. “We clear here, Bish?”

  He nodded. “We sweep regularly. With Eden’s dad being nosy and shit, we don’t much have a choice.”

  I blinked and stared at the man. I couldn’t name another tattoo shop on the planet that regularly swept for bugs . . . at least, I assumed that’s what he was talking about.

  Rix’s silver eyes locked on me. “You’re lucky Bishop’s girl is a mob boss’s daughter, and he’s up on security protocols and shit.”

  I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Voodoo Ink had never been your average tattoo shop. Why start now?

  “What can you tell me?”

  Bishop lifted the tattoo machine and wiped away the excess ink with a paper towel, and Rix stretched before settling back into place.

  “Not much. There’s a rumor going around in the department that there’s still a dirty cop among us. I’m starting to wonder if shit’ll ever be right even after . . .” He trailed off, but I knew what he wasn’t saying.

  Even after the department was clear of Hennessys.

  “Who?” The question came out with more force than I intended. If there was still a dirty cop on the city’s payroll, that meant there was a chance my dad could have been set up. Slim chance, but a chance.

  “Hell, Hennessy, if I knew that, I would’ve already arrested his ass so we could finish cleaning house. Everyone’s on edge, looking at each other like their partner could be the one.”

  No police department should be running that way. I knew what it was like to have people constantly look sideways at me when I had a badge. Before my dad’s role had been uncovered, my brother had been killed in the line of duty and fingered as a dirty cop working for the cartel. If I’d let that lie—let my brother forever be known as dirty—I never would have found out that it was my dad who was on the take, and that his fuckup had gotten his own son killed.

  For the first time since I’d pulled up at the scene at my folks’ house, I wondered if my father could have wired the house and pressed the button to blow it all to hell. Maybe he couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing he’d killed his son any longer.

  I didn’t want to believe any of it.

  “What do you think, Rix? You think my dad did it?”

  “Wired his own house and planned to blow it up?”

  The part about taking out the guys coming to bring him in made my gut twist, but I gave Rix a curt nod anyway, even though I wanted to rage that there was no way in hell my dad could have done it. What stopped me? I remembered the mother of a serial killer screaming that her baby boy could never hurt anyone, despite the fact that he’d been caught with seven bodies in his deep freezer.

  No one ever wanted to believe that someone they loved could do awful things, but the sad reality was that they were wrong. And if my dad did this, what did that say about me? What was I capable of?

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get to see the file, and without that, I’m not gonna speculate.” Rix shifted in the chair as Bishop moved on to another part of his arm, and met my gaze with a serious glint in his. “But knowing how bad the captain needed to close that case, it wouldn’t surprise me if they took shortcuts and found a convenient scapegoat.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time politics outweighed justice,” Bishop added.

  “But then again, your pop wouldn’t have been the first cop wanting to avoid prison bad enough to do something stupid and crazy.”

  I wanted to put my fist through Rix’s face for suggesting it, but I knew he had a point. “Either way, I’m not letting this go.”

  “Didn’t figure you were, but you might not like what you find.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing that he was right. “I owe it to my family to find the truth.”

  The creak of a door opening shut me up, but when Con strolled up the back hallway and around the corner, the stiffness in my spine faded.

  “Never thought I’d say this to a cop, but I missed seeing your face around here, Hennessy. Really sorry about your loss.” The sympathy on his face was genuine.

  I didn’t have to point out that I wasn’t a cop any longer. Everyone here knew.

  “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “If you need a throwaway to take care of business, I have a guy that could hook you up,” Con said.

  Life without a badge never ceased to amaze me. What had always seemed so black and white before was all sorts of gray now. And how did I know this? Because I already had an unregistered pistol I could toss if I needed to.

  Rix scowled at him. “Why would you say that shit in front of me? I know I was deep cover for a long fucking time, but I’m still a cop. You keep that shit to yourself until I get out of here.”

  Con looked sideways at Rix. “You want that tat finished? Then you’ll shut the hell up and not comment on what I say in my own damn shop.”

  The two men eyed each other, the mutual respect obvious.

  “Where’s Delilah when we need her to tell you to just get your dicks out and compare?” Bishop said with a laugh.

  Con looked around. “Where the hell is Delilah?”

  “No clue. Probably getting her cards read. She doesn’t have an appointment until three.”

  “Maybe her reading will tell her to get her ass back to work,” Con said. “I’m grabbing last night’s deposit and I’m out of here. Got kids to prep for at the gym.”

  It still amazed me that Con, the guy who didn’t used to care about anything but avenging his parents’ murder, had stuck with his pet project and made it into something that impacted hundreds of kids’ lives. It probably helped that his woman was at his side every step of the way.

  “Good seeing you, Con.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “You too. If you need anything, we’re here for you. You’ve done me more than one solid, and I owe you. Just say the word.”

  I tucked that offer away, not about to turn it down. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t be a stranger. If you decide to bail on NOLA again, at least let us know so we can throw you a going-away party. The girls love that shit. Any reason for a party, right?” Then he disappeared down the back hallway.

  After a few more minutes of me asking Rix questions that he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer about my dad’s case, I headed for the front door. Before I could reach it, a woman entered with a familiar cloud of black hair swirled around her shoulders.

  Valentina Noble.

  Wait, scratch that. Valentina Hendrix.

  “I thought you were working this afternoon, not getting a tattoo?” she sa
id as soon as she walked in the door, completely blind to anyone but Rix.

  One more reason I knew she picked the right guy—he was all she saw. It hadn’t taken me long to realize things had worked out the way they were meant to. I was glad my feelings for her didn’t go any further. Seeing her so happy, it was one thing I could be proud of—that I hadn’t tried to come between her and Rix when it was clear that they were strangely right for each other.

  “Who told you?” Rix asked.

  “Who do you think?”

  “Eden,” both Rix and Bishop said at the same time.

  Rix shot Bishop a look. “You told your girl I was coming?”

  The bearded guy shrugged. “Might’ve mentioned it.”

  “Duchess, you’re gonna turn around and walk your ass back to your gallery and pretend you never saw me here.”

  Valentina crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, really? Because that’s not at all what I’m planning.”

  Bishop lifted the tattoo machine away from Rix’s skin and slid his stool back so the man could lever out of his chair and stalk toward his wife.

  “Yeah, really. Because you don’t want to ruin my surprise.”

  Valentina’s eyes went soft as she looked at him, and there wasn’t a hint of envy running through my veins. No, there was something else entirely, and it didn’t have anything to do with her. It was all wrapped up in wanting a certain redhead to look at me the way she used to.

  It wasn’t until Rix stopped two feet away from me that Valentina noticed me standing there.

  “Oh my God, Rhett. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see—”

  Rix wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “Don’t bust the man’s ego, duchess. He already lost the most incredible woman to walk the earth.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Stop it. That’s not very nice.”

  “Never said I was nice. You knew that.”

  Valentina rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Rhett. I wish I could’ve been at the funeral, but—”

  “It’s fine.” I stopped her before she could say any more.

  She reached out a hand and laid it on mine, squeezing it tight. “Know that we’ve all been thinking about you. If there’s anything we can do at all . . .”

  “Appreciate it. I better get going.”

  When Valentina released her grip on my hand, Rix shook it next. “Take it easy. I’ll let you know if I hear anything I can pass along. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”

  “I’m not making any promises.”

  My day looked like it was heading straight for the crap hole, but on my way to the car, I caught sight of Heath holding the door of one of my favorite oyster restaurants open for his dad. He must have seen me before I saw him, because he was already waving me down.

  “Hey! You eat?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then come on. I’m buying.”

  Maybe today was looking up. I could tell him that I wanted to see where things could go between Ari and me, and the last roadblock stopping me from making a real move would be gone.

  I followed him into the restaurant, working out what I should say, but as soon as I saw a flash of red hair, I knew that wasn’t in the cards. But it could wait, because Ari’s whole face lit up with a smile when she saw me before she could school her expression.

  Yeah, this is happening.

  12

  Ariel

  I didn’t expect to see Rhett again so soon. Even more than that, I didn’t anticipate that his eyes would soften when he saw me like I was a welcome sight. This morning, part of me wondered if he was trying to get away from me as quickly as possible after our . . . um . . . run-in. Yet only hours later, his expression said he wouldn’t mind if I were on the menu.

  To every guy who has cursed women for giving off mixed signals, screw you. Guys are worse than women on every level. Just when I decided I was well and truly over Rhett Hennessy, he sucked me back in with a single look. And some groping. And rolling around on the floor of the gym. But how was I supposed to act now?

  Too bad there wasn’t facial-recognition software out there to interpret mixed signals. I pulled out my phone to make a quick note to check into the concept and brainstorm commercial applications.

  All through lunch, I forced myself to keep up with the flow of conversation instead of disappearing into my own head like I would have done under other circumstances. Being fully engaged instead of distracted, I noticed two things. First, my dad’s forgetfulness was worse than I’d realized. I’d flown him out to California to see me three times in the last year, and it had never been as apparent as it was now.

  He’d asked the waitress twice where his order was, and that was after he’d devoured a plate of fried oysters. I was glad he was staying with Heath, because I was concerned about his ability to function by himself. I added another note to my list to research doctors for blood work and cognitive testing as soon as possible. Dad would bitch, but we needed to know if this was the gateway to dementia. I wasn’t leaving Louisiana until we had answers, which meant I needed to get Esme and Erik on the phone to sort things out for an extended absence.

  The second thing I noticed was that my brother had taken a turn for Crazyville. He asked Rhett about his plans for staying in town, and when Rhett said he didn’t know yet, Heath shocked the crap out of us both.

  “Flounder has that rental place for at least a week. You should just crash with her. I’m sure she wouldn’t care.”

  I choked on a sip of water, and all the noise in the restaurant seemed to go silent as my heart pounded while I waited for Rhett’s response. Using only my peripheral vision, I studied him as subtly as possible. He seemed as stunned by the suggestion as I was.

  “Where’s my dinner? I ordered an hour ago,” my dad said.

  This time, I didn’t try to explain, but continued holding my breath, waiting for Rhett to speak. I counted the seconds as they passed, all twenty-seven of them.

  “I’ve got a hotel.”

  “But she’s got tons of room, and you could hit that kick-ass pool. Might as well make your trip back a little better by enjoying it.”

  Rhett didn’t have a chance to give a definitive answer because my father stood up and yelled across the restaurant.

  “Where’s my damned dinner?”

  Heath and I shot to our feet to calm Dad down, and the conversation was over.

  13

  Rhett

  Stay with Ari? What was Heath thinking?

  I still had no answer when I left the restaurant and headed out to deal with the less pleasant part of my day.

  The image of Ari’s wide gray eyes and sleek curtain of red hair stayed firmly fixed in my mind as I pointed my Jeep in the direction of my parents’ house, hoping I could get a better look at the scene in the daylight.

  When I arrived, I found the street had been cleared of debris, but crime scene tape still wrapped around the lot that used to hold my childhood home. Three black-and-whites were parked along the curb, and members of the crime-scene unit were crawling all over the rubble. I ducked under the tape, but a uniformed officer I didn’t recognize stopped me before I made it six feet.

  “Sorry, sir. You can’t be here.”

  “This is my parents’ house. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Knowledge flashed across his face. I might not have known who he was, but he sure as hell knew me.

  “Mr. Hennessy, you need to step back.”

  Mr. Hennessy. It sounded so foreign even now. I’d been Detective Hennessy for enough years that it was strange to be addressed as anything else.

  Arguing with him wouldn’t gain me any ground. I didn’t have a badge, and the law wasn’t on my side, so I tried a different tack.

  “How long before you clear the scene? I need to start figuring out cleanup and disposal.” I had no idea if my parents’ insurance would cover it or if I’d be looking at massive debts to split with my brothers, but it needed to be done.

  “I couldn’t say, sir. Th
e department will let you know as soon as you’re able to have access. In the meantime, I would suggest that you leave this to the professionals.”

  The last part was a dig, and it burned just the way he’d intended.

  “Thanks for nothing.” I turned away from the uniformed punk, wondering if I’d ever been that big of a prick. Probably.

  Instead of giving him the satisfaction of watching me get in my car and drive away, I headed to the house across the street. I might not have a badge anymore, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t canvass the neighborhood for information. Eyewitness statements might be notoriously unreliable, but skipping out on taking them wasn’t an option. Occasionally there was a single nugget of information that could change the trajectory of an entire investigation.

  “Oh my goodness, Rhett Hennessy, is that really you?” Mrs. Thurman greeted me at the door with a warm smile. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you around. Do you have any idea when all those police officers are going to let Minnie back into her house?”

  Minnie Myers had lived on the other side of my folks for as long as I could remember.

  “I’m not sure, Mrs. Thurman. They wouldn’t give me any information either.”

  “I swear, there aren’t any good cops left anymore . . .” She trailed off, probably because she assumed it was a sore subject with me. She was right.

  I also noticed she didn’t ask about the Sampsons, and I knew why. About ten years ago, Mr. Sampson decided to have a neighborhood party and didn’t invite Mrs. Thurman. The grudge had lasted an entire decade with no signs of fading. Her dedication to it made me smile to myself. It was good to know some things in the old neighborhood hadn’t changed.

  “They’ve been going through that pile of brick piece by piece. I’ve been watching them for days, and I can’t see that they’ve found a single useful thing. Sure, they’ve put stuff in baggies like it meant something, but it looks like a whole lot of nothing. No one lit up and jumped around like they’d found the answer they’re looking for.”