Ending Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 3)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “As far as they were concerned, Ross had simply slapped me for the last time and fed up, I lit out on my own. He’d done it before. This time, I had bruises on my arms from his hands so they just assumed he’d pushed me around again, got more physical. I let them assume. It wasn’t that difficult to pull it off.”

  “And it didn’t come up during three years of therapy?”

  “I talked about the slaps and the verbal arguments, sure, which were all true. I just left that part out. How did you know? Was there something I did when we…made love, when we had sex…?”

  He gave her an incredulous stare. “Don’t be ridiculous; you were perfect in every way.”

  “Then how…?”

  “Honestly? Your passion for becoming a pediatrician clued me in, that’s one. And you’re so filled with drive and ambition enough to push yourself toward that goal. The fact you left home at sixteen, that’s two. A lot of kids do that after something traumatic happens. Those two things were both big red giveaways for me.”

  “Come on, Reese, there has to be more. Tell me, I can take it.”

  This time he did move closer. In fact, he crawled back in bed, pulled her into his chest. He brought her chin up so that she could meet his eyes. “Now you listen to me, okay? There is nothing in you that told me. After hearing Kit’s story that day at the hospital, I had my suspicions about all three of you. And when we went out to dinner the other night, I felt you were holding something back from Kit and Baylee, something that had to be major, something you were obviously ashamed about. It was a guy feeling. That’s all.”

  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You do realize you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Now, I do. But back then…”

  “No buts. Quinn Tyler is an amazing woman. Look at all you’ve overcome, missing so much school in those early years, somehow managing to make it all up to graduate high school at sixteen. Then you go on to college, not just any school but picking a tough one like UCLA, finishing med school, getting into a residency program. There are people who had all the advantages, all the privileges, and haven’t accomplished half of what you have, Quinn—and in record time.”

  “I was determined.”

  He laughed out loud. “Honey, you were a freaking superhero. My dad would’ve loved you.”

  “Parents tend to love doctors. It’s just that I’m not in this for the money.”

  “I know, honey. You look exhausted.” He stroked her back, kissed the top of her head. “Do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Try not to think about it anymore tonight. My chin can’t take it. You’ve got a helluva left jab.”

  For the first time since wakening, she laughed. “I’m sorry I belted you.” Sensing he wanted to say something else, she cocked her head and asked, “What?”

  He leaned his head back on the headboard. “You’ve been harboring this terrible secret all on your own. It’s weighed you down for years. Now that it’s out in the open…”

  She grabbed his arm. “You aren’t planning on telling Kit and Baylee, are you? You can’t.”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t my story to tell. If you decide to continue to keep it locked inside, promise me you’ll think about talking to someone, professionally.”

  “Reese…”

  “Hear me out. You’ve been carrying this around so long, somehow feeling guilty over something that wasn’t your fault. Even after all these years, you’re still blaming yourself.”

  When she started to object, he added, “Don’t deny it, you are.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Think about it.”

  “Thanks for being here tonight. You made it better somehow.”

  “Good. Now get some sleep, unless of course you happen to want the hat trick portion of our evening’s entertainment.”

  She flashed him a grin. “You read my mind. I guess one of the perks of letting someone hang around is access to the hat trick.”

  “Oh, yeah. Access isn’t a problem.”

  She giggled. “Most men would be freaked out right about now and want to bolt for the door.”

  “It’s time you realized, Tyler. I’m not most men.”

  After making love again, after he was certain she’d fallen asleep, Reese crawled out of bed as silently as he could without waking her. He grabbed his cell phone and snuck downstairs. Despite the fact the time on his phone read eleven-fifty, one-handed, he brought up his contact list. When he got to Jordan Donovan’s number, he hit the call button and waited for an irritated voice to come on the line.

  “Christ Jesus, this better be important. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Sorry. I need you to find a man for me by the name of Jennetti, Ross.” Reese spelled both names.

  “What the hell did this Jennetti do that it couldn’t wait eight hours until morning?”

  “He hurt someone I care about. Look, on this matter, you don’t share what you find with anyone, not Jake, not Dylan, got it?

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. How long have we known each other?”

  “Just find the man.”

  “Do not do anything stupid, Reese Brennan.”

  “Me? I gave up doing stupid stuff after law school, remember? You know all my stupid stuff anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, I also know you. You don’t call in the middle of the night unless it’s—very—personal. What else can you tell me about this guy?”

  “I know for a fact he’s no longer living at his last known address in Beverly Hills.” That little nugget he’d done on his own after learning Kit’s story and that of Baylee’s.

  “Checked on your own, that tells me this is close to home. Okay, I’ll take it from here.”

  Having passed the baton to Jordan, Reese headed back upstairs, confident he knew the consequences of an adult male who engaged in unlawful sex with a minor, even if it had occurred more than ten years earlier.

  Every criminal lawyer in the State of California knew that Section 261.5 of the California Penal Code, otherwise known as California’s Unlawful Sexual Intercourse Law, provided for prosecution in the event of statutory rape on a case by case basis, depending on the nature of the crime and the situation.

  In other words, there was no statute of limitations on statutory rape per se. A good district attorney could weigh the seriousness of each violation, take into account the age of the victim in ratio to the age of the offender and make the determination whether or not to prosecute even after a decade had passed.

  And that meant Ross Jennetti might still be held accountable under California law.

  Unfortunately for Jennetti, Reese Brennan had no intentions of abiding by the law.

  CHAPTER 14

  Shortly after midnight, Nick Tyler’s eighteen-passenger Gulfstream touched down at LAX without much fanfare. As pilot who had flown his own planes now for almost fifteen years, he taxied the sleek corporate jet to a private hangar at the end of a deserted stretch of tarmac and throttled back the engine.

  The jet came to a stop.

  Usually he didn’t mind spending time in L.A. even if the place was so different from home. But this time, he wasn’t looking forward to the stay. He had little choice in the matter though. This had nothing to do with music or recording or shooting a video.

  This trip was personal.

  He should have come to her years before now. Decisions he’d made a quarter of century ago had him cornered now and there was no way out. At this stage in his life, he was at a crossroads.

  It was past time to do the right thing.

  He’d known there would come a day, maybe a judgment day, when he had to face the daughter he’d never bothered getting to know. But he’d supported her all this time and that had to count for something; maybe a huge checkmark in someone’s plus column.

  She had to appreciate that, didn’t she?

  No one could say that Nick Tyler hadn’t done the right thing, owned up to his responsibility.
Hadn’t he seen to it that Quinn had been financially provided for all these years? What could she possibly have against living in luxurious Beverly Hills anyway, with all the materialistic trappings that place had to offer?

  His one lone passenger, his attorney and lifelong friend, Gerald Baines, stood up in the luxury cabin and stretched his back.

  “Long flight, jetlag here we come,” Nick remarked. “The body’s not as young as it used to be, Gerry. Back when I made these long flights it was no big deal but now...”

  In a nice, slow brogue, Gerald replied, “We’re not as young as we once were, that’s for sure. Insomnia is the least of our problems right now, Nicky boy. We’re in it now, mate. We’re out of Cork for sure, definitely out of our depths. They’ll feed us to the wolves I bet. There’s still time to turn tail and make it back home without anyone knowing we’ve been about.”

  Nick shrugged. “We’ve discussed it now for several thousand miles. I’d like nothing more than ignore her as you suggested, but I can’t put this off any longer, Gerry. My conscience won’t allow me to keep doing that. I’m surprised you didn’t mention this Reese Brennan’s earlier query—the e-mail he sent. If he hadn’t e-mailed me direct…”

  Gerry smiled broadly and explained, “I suppose I didn’t want to bother you with the past. That includes this lawyer fellow, surely trying to come at us from another angle altogether, make us feel sorry for her for whatever reason. They all have one, you know, and it always centers on the pounds and pence. Mark my word, he has his eye on your money, as does she.”

  “According to the e-mail he sent, it’s nothing like that.”

  Baines wasn’t buying it. “History tells me this is no different. But as your barrister and best mate, I had to point out the loophole, didn’t I? For once this is a part of your life I don’t envy. You’ve no responsibility to do this, you know. But you’re a good man for traveling so many miles to straighten the young lady out.”

  Emerging from the plane, the tall and lanky Nick Tyler walked down the steps and snorted. “Yeah, I’m a bloody saint. I’m here because this Brennan chap says she’s in some sort of danger. I’ll see what it’s about and be better for it.”

  Out of habit from dealing with years of paparazzi, overzealous fans, and just plain stalkers bent on getting close to him, he took in the dark surroundings.

  A poorly lit hangar beckoned.

  The slightly built Gerald, a good foot shorter than Nick, was still skeptical. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but if you sleep on it tonight and decide in the morning to make a break for it, head home to Ballybrack, I’m in your corner.”

  “If only we could, Ger,” Nick said, slapping his friend on the back. “If only we could.”

  As the two men stood outside on the tarmac and watched as the ground crew pulled the jet into the hangar, there was no entourage, no media present, and no fans waiting for them in the luxury lounge.

  And that was fine by Nick Tyler. He’d made this trip not for publicity’s sake but because he needed to see her.

  There had been a time in his life when he couldn’t take ten steps outside his front door or go out for a bloody cup of tea without being hounded by someone or other who wanted a quote about this or that or wanted his bloody autograph.

  Oh, he was still an icon, make no mistake. But over time and with age, his mega success had been replaced by the likes of other, younger bands that had put their own mark on the music business just as he once had.

  But tonight, he carried his own suitcase.

  Casually and with ease, he threw his laptop bag on his shoulder and walked through the lounge. Looking out through a huge plate-glass window, he spotted the waiting limo that would take them to their hotel.

  Thanks to his personal assistant, he wouldn’t be trying to maneuver around L.A. traffic on unfamiliar streets.

  Even in the dark he could sense he was in a heavy populated area of L.A. The night sounds of summer so different here than his own quiet Ireland farm. As a commercial jet rumbled overhead, it briefly drowned out the hustle and bustle of traffic noise coming from somewhere in the distance.

  The limo driver waited at the curb, holding the passenger door open. Nick headed that way, followed by Gerald.

  An uneasy feeling hit his stomach. Surely his daughter would understand what he had wanted to achieve, what he had wanted to carve out of the music industry, what had infinitely been more important than she had been.

  At least for once, he hoped he could explain it to her in person.

  Quinn woke wrapped around Reese like a clinging vine. It was a first for her. She hadn’t been kidding the night before. She never let men spend the night in her bed. She’d known for years what might happen if she did.

  And the first time she had let a man stay over, the dream surfaced and ruined everything.

  She’d been caught up in the moment, caught up in Reese. She’d let down her guard. Now, this man knew the darkest part of her past, a chunk she’d kept hidden away even from Baylee and Kit.

  Looking back, when she’d been thirteen, she’d been so afraid they would take one look at her and guess what Ross had done to her. When that hadn’t happened, she’d pretended it had never taken place. For two years it had worked. And then…it had happened again.

  She shook her head, did her best to ward off those old feelings of anxiety. She rolled over to stretch and Reese snaked out an arm to bring her back into his body.

  The first thing Reese saw was Quinn’s black curtain of hair draped across his chest.

  The bright morning sun filtering through the window fell on that long mane of hair just so, and for some reason, poetry popped into his brain. “One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.”

  Quinn’s eyes bugged out. “What manner of man quotes Byron so early in the morning?” She planted a kiss on his mouth. “'She Walks in Beauty’ no less?”

  “It’s your hair, all that black glistening in the light. I’ve had a thing for your hair since that first night I saw you swaggering down the corridor in your white doctor’s coat looking so—hot. Yeah, it was the ponytail and how I imagined it draped over me in bed. Kind of like it is right now. You have incredibly sexy hair.”

  She whooped with laughter. “Whoever heard of sexy hair? I knew that you’d have to be eloquent for court, but where do you come up with this stuff? You’re an absolute wonder, you know that, Reese Brennan?”

  “I know. It’s about time you came to your senses in that department, become a fan.”

  “And create more of a monster? No way. You’re confident enough without me feeding your ego.”

  “Aw, you’re such a hard ass.”

  She ran a hand down his body. When she got to his lower belly, she stated, “Mmm, something else is hard.”

  “The question is what do you intend to do about it?”

  “Hmm, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

  Later, standing in the kitchen, Reese had just poured his first cup of coffee waiting for Quinn to finish getting dressed and was about to take a sip when his cell phone rang. He sighed and stepped to the back door to take in the view. He let himself enjoy several more seconds of blissful solitude and took in the glistening, calm water of Avalon Bay. Maybe after all this was over they could take some time off and enjoy more of what the Island had to offer.

  Reluctantly, he left the peaceful outdoor view and went over, picked up his ringing cell phone.

  “Reese Brennan,” he stated as he leaned over and automatically got out his laptop from the bag he’d brought.

  “Mr. Brennan, is it? This is Nick Tyler. You e-mailed me about my daughter, Quinn, sent one e-mail to my attorney first and then sent another one to me. The last said there was no need for me to make the trip to America after all.”

  To Nick, it sounded funny saying those three little words, “
my daughter Quinn,” to a complete stranger, but what choice did he have? “Your last e-mail said to disregard the earlier one to Mr. Baines. Do I have that right?”

  Taken aback by the caller, Reese had to think fast. “That’s correct. It isn’t necessary to come after all. We have the situation well in hand now and it was premature of me to alert you to any type of problem.”

  “But that’s just it, Mr. Brennan. I have made the trip over to America to see my daughter. I’d like you to set up a meeting between us.”

  Reese stuttered at the knowledge the man was in L.A., especially when he looked up and saw the daughter in question, who still looked rumpled from their bout of morning sex, stroll into the kitchen.

  She took the cup of coffee out of his fist and drank deeply. “Mmm, who are you talking to at this hour of the morning, Brennan? Sheesh, you are a workaholic, so dedicated you’re on the clock, worse than me.”

  Reese did his best to ignore her and get rid of the father she didn’t know he’d contacted behind her back. “Uh, uh, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. As I said, the situation is under control now.”

  Nick frowned. Maybe Gerald had been right. Maybe this was some kind of scam. “Look, do you know Quinn Tyler or not? If this is a ruse of some sort I’m in no mood to be played. My own attorney discouraged me from making the trip. But I’m here now and if you know Quinn I insist on seeing her.”

  “Could I get back to you on that?”

  “For chrissakes, are you telling me this is a bad time or what?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. This is a very bad time to talk right now.”

  “Fine. But if you’re playing me…”

  Reese cut him off. “I assure you my e-mail was genuine.”

  “So you can set up a meeting? Can you do that?”

  “Yes. When would be a good time for you?”

  “The sooner the better, this has been a long time coming. Would this afternoon work for you?”