Buried Lies

by Brittney Sahin

  My hand went to my mouth. “Oh my God. That’s the Matthews Tech logo on that box.”

  “There’re more of these images. Another one in Islamabad, Pakistan. Two more in Syria,” Sean said. “I almost missed these. The pictures were filed under vacation photos 2016.”

  “I know you feel guilty about encouraging the deal with Connor and Declan, but I hope these images help you see the light,” Blake’s voice cut through me.

  “When were they taken?” I asked.

  Sean answered, “All in April.”

  “Connor’s father was still alive and in charge. You can’t pin that on Connor.” I felt some strange need to defend him.

  “And Connor is continuing business as usual,” he shot back. “He told you he’s making the deal.” He gaped at me, his blue eyes piercing mine as his lips twisted into a scowl.

  “Whether Edward knew his weapons were going to terrorists is questionable. But I do know Connor would never turn weapons over to terrorists. He’s only agreeing to Declan’s proposition because he thinks it’s good for the company. Connor spent years in the Middle East fighting terrorists—there’s no way he’d supply them with weapons to turn a profit.” I had my own issues with Connor, but they were mine to have. I wasn’t about to ruin his life just because he broke my heart.

  “I know what you’re thinking. The answer is still no.” Blake’s biceps flexed as his arms crossed over his chest.

  I was gathering my thoughts when Sean cleared his throat at an obnoxious level. “I’m surprised Declan has incriminating photos of the exchange on his computer.” Sean looked at me, his forehead pinching together with concern. He was trying to redirect the conversation and avoid what was about to be a shouting match. “If Konstantin found out he had these pictures, he’d blow a fuse.” Sean slid his laptop on the coffee table in front of us.

  I looked back at Sean, ignoring Blake. “You think he’s keeping the pictures in his back pocket in case the Russians ever tried to screw him over?”

  “All I know is that if these images ever got leaked to the government, there’d be major issues between the U.S. and Russia. The photos could also be used to make sure Edward never backed out of the arrangement,” Sean said.

  “This is bigger than we thought.” I knew we’d uncover something eventually, but I honestly never thought our investigation would relate to terrorists. We couldn’t let Connor get any deeper. I pushed to my feet and folded my arms. “So our local Russian mob boss, Konstantin, is working with General Zhuravlev. And Declan is the middleman between Matthews Tech and Konstantin.”

  “Destabilizing the Middle East means continued war, an increase in defense spending, an increase in rebuilding efforts . . .” Sean rattled off the domino effect.

  I nodded. “Makes sense. Reid Enterprises has been turning a huge profit by winning projects in Iraq to rebuild the infrastructure. And the Russians want a reason to push into the territory. It’s been looking like a new Cold War these last two years, with the Middle East as the age-old playground between Russia and the U.S.” I touched my neck and tilted my head back, thinking.

  “Konstantin helped Declan rescue the crumbling Reid Enterprises,” I added. “In exchange for the help of the Russian mob, Declan had to do something for him. Apparently, that something was to get his hands on weapons.”

  “Which is where Matthews Tech fits in,” Sean finished. “I did some research. Matthews Tech was almost in the same situation that Reid Enterprises was in a few years back. As of last summer, their financials were frightening. Edward Matthews was on the brink of closing down.”

  “And the Saudi deal saved the company and made him a fortune.” Wow. Edward Matthews had made a deal with the devil—well, with two of Lucifer’s imps. “We have Konstantin on camera meeting with Declan several times. We have an obvious connection between Declan and Konstantin in relation to their partnering on some clubs and restaurants, and now we have these photos. This is good.”

  There was hope, right? I had something to cling to, didn’t I?

  “Illegally obtained, they mean nothing.” Blake finally joined the conversation. He had remained a bystander in the conversation between Sean and me until now, which suited me just fine. It annoyed me how much Blake wanted to peg Connor as an enemy. “The photos aren’t enough. We need to catch the deal in action.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath and released it through my nose. “Shouldn’t we bring Homeland or the CIA in on this? Now that we know we’re dealing with arms sales to terrorists on foreign soil?” I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I’ll get in touch with a contact of mine in D.C. We need to follow the weapons to the end point and bring down anyone connected to the pipeline,” Blake answered.

  Yeah, including Connor?

  “I really don’t think Connor’s a bad guy.”

  Both Blake and I turned to face Sean.

  Sean shrugged his shoulders. “I made a few calls, and—”

  “You did what?” Blake barked out.

  “Sorry, when we discovered Connor’s involvement I asked around.” Sean took a step back from Blake.

  It was nice to know I had Sean on my side, but Blake was right to be upset. If Sean’s calls tipped anyone off . . .

  Blake turned away from Sean, but I had a feeling he wasn’t quite finished with him. “Olivia, you know what you have to do,” Blake’s shrill voice gave me the chills.

  Great. His anger was back on me.

  “I don’t want to discuss this issue further.” Blake pointed to the picture of the EMF gun in his hand. “Make sure the exchange happens, and we can finally end this and bring them all down.” Blake moved directly in front of me, his eyes focused on mine, drilling into me. “Do it, Olivia. Prove to me I didn’t make a mistake by bringing you on this case.”

  ***

  Connor

  A call from Declan interrupted the text I was sending out to my friend Ben, in Vegas. “Hey, Declan.”

  “Are you into MMA, by any chance?”

  Why the hell was he calling me about mixed martial arts? “Um. It’s okay. I guess.”

  “Well, I’m friends with John Jackson, and he’s swinging by around lunch time to square off with me in the ring. Feel like stopping by? I own a gym a few blocks from The Phoenix.”

  I had no interest in spending time with Declan, nor did I care to meet some famous fighter. What was his angle? As much as I wanted to tell him to go to hell, I knew I needed to keep up with the act if I wanted to find out the truth about whatever shit storm my father had fallen into before he died.

  “Connor?”

  I glanced down at my Omega. Half past eleven. “Be there in an hour. Just text me the location.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe we can talk a little business while you’re here, too.”

  Of course. Why else would he want me there? “Sure. See ya.” I hung up the phone, finished my text to Ben, and stared at the stack of paperwork on my desk. God, I just wanted to shift it over about two feet, and let it fall into the waste basket.

  The vibration of my phone alerted me to a text. And then another. The address from Declan and a message from Jake.

  Thank God. Jake had asked me to call him on a secure line.

  “Good or bad news first?” Jake. Always to the point.

  I stood up and clutched the phone to my ear. “Good news.”

  “The good news is I got my hands on the bank video cameras, and I was able to see your father, along with his driver, at the bank on the sixteenth. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, though, so I’m not really sure what else, or who else, to be looking for.”

  I grumbled. “Okay. Well, I have news, myself. My father’s lawyer gave me a letter at the reading of the will. I never opened it and shoved it in the glove compartment of my Jeep. After you and I talked last, I went to grab it, wondering if my father revealed anything to me. I vaguely remembered the envelope having some weight to it. Maybe he left the key and code to the safe deposit box in there? But th
e letter’s missing. I have to assume it was stolen.”

  “Someone’s been watching you since your father’s death?” Jake exhaled. “Did you check with Mason? Did he get a letter, too?”

  “Mason said his was a basic apology letter.”

  “Then why do you think your letter had anything more in it?”

  “Because Mason’s my younger brother, and he’s in the middle of a tour of duty. My dad wouldn’t lay anything heavy on his favorite son, not with him already in harm’s way in the Middle East.”

  “Okay . . . Well, did anyone have access to your car?”

  “There’s one person who had the keys to my Jeep, and I think there’s something going on between her and Declan. Can you look up a Lauren Tate? She’s the director of sales here at the company. I checked her file. She’s only been with the company since September—a month before the arrangement started between Declan and my father. And before that, she was getting her MBA. Kind of interesting that she’d go straight from college to a job as the director of sales, right?” I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “I’m new to this and all, but she needs experience for a position like that. Hell, all the other directors at the office are at least forty and have well over ten years of business experience.”

  “Well, shit,” he drawled. “I don’t know why your father hired her, but I think it’s safe to assume she’s part of this in some way or another.” Jake was silent for a moment. “When did she have access to your Jeep, though?”

  “Last week.” The night I bumped into Olivia.

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “If someone saw you put the letter in the Jeep after the reading of your father’s will, you really think they’d wait several weeks to snatch it? That’d be too risky. How would they know you didn’t open it before you put it in there? Or that you wouldn’t open it later . . .”

  I lowered my head. He had a point, but what’d that mean? My chest tightened as I thought about various possibilities. “You think someone had eyes on me inside the lawyer’s office?” I tried to remember the building. The people inside. But my father had just passed away, and I wasn’t exactly paying attention to every man and woman I encountered that day.

  “Where’d you go after you left the lawyer’s?”

  My fingers twitched on my desk, and my mouth edged open. “Gambling in Atlantic City.”

  “Your father passed away, and you went gambling?”

  “I sound like a horrible person, but I don’t deal with things that well, and I was pissed at my father for dying—leaving before we ever had a chance to make amends. We’d barely spoken to each other in the decade since I’d left New York.” Jake didn’t know the full scope of my relationship with my dad. No one really knew, not even Mason.

  I could hear him breathing on the other end; he was probably not sure what to say. Jake was never good at dealing with feelings. His or anyones. “I have to assume it wasn’t Lauren. Someone probably took the letter while you were at the casino. But I’ll still look into her and let you know what I find. I’ll be in town tomorrow.”

  “You’re coming here?” I walked to the window, holding the phone tight to my ear. Dark, threatening clouds were gathering in the sky.

  “Yeah, there’s more that I meant to tell you before we started talking about the letter. And it’s the reason why I want to come.”

  I forgot all about the bad news Jake had previously mentioned having. “What is it?” I asked with a flicker of worry coloring my voice.

  “Well, the thing is, your father’s driver booked a flight the day after your father died—to El Salvador. I looked at the flight manifest. He never made it on board.”

  My skin prickled with worry, and my heart rate kicked up a notch.

  “I made some calls. There are a couple unidentified bodies that match the description of Tyson, but most of them didn’t check out when the detectives got a look at his photo. One said his John Doe was in pretty bad shape—too hard to guarantee it’s Tyson based on the picture. But he went out on a limb to say it’s a possible match.”

  “Damn.” I sat back down, needing to comprehend what Jake was telling me. “You think it’s him? You think Tyson was murdered?”

  “I don’t know, but if it is him, I’m betting both your father and Tyson were killed.”

  I shook my head. “But he died of a heart attack.”

  “You and I both know that it could have been a drug-induced heart attack. They didn’t do an autopsy, right?”

  “No.” Why would they? My father had a heart condition. “No one had any reason to think foul play.”

  “True.” There was a long pause. “Have you packed up your father’s personal belongings?”

  I hadn’t even set foot in my father’s penthouse on Park Avenue. Mason and I had agreed to put in on the market once I got around to packing it up. Neither of us wanted to live there. “I haven’t gone yet,” I said, feeling almost embarrassed to admit it.

  A foreign pain poked my core, and the sensation grew until it transformed into a loud noise in my head. Like a banshee howling, followed by the words, “He’s dead.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the eruption of sadness.

  Where had that come from? I still hadn’t shed a tear since his death, but I was on the brink of losing it. I could feel it. And if my father was murdered . . .?

  “We should swing by there tomorrow. Was your father on any medicine?”

  I shook off the layers of emotion that weighed me down. “I assume. He had a minor heartache two years ago and had a stint put in.”

  “We can check for pill bottles. Someone may have swapped his pills. I doubt they’d put something in a drink because they wouldn’t be able to guarantee he’d consume it. But if your dad took pills on a regular basis, that’s definitely a start.”

  “It could also be a waste of time. If someone swapped his pills, they wouldn’t leave evidence behind.”

  “How’d your father get to the hospital? Who made the call? Who found him?” Jake rattled off questions, and I had to take a second to wrap my head around all of it.

  “I don’t know.” I never thought to ask. “I’ll find out when we go to his place tomorrow.”

  “I’ll also take another look at the bank cameras. It sounds more like there’s a connection between the bank and your father’s death. We can work on getting a court order for the box when I come. The only drawback with that is it will alert anyone who has been keeping tabs on you. They might take some sort of action if they think you’re going to get that box open.”

  There had to be something damn near awful in that safe deposit box if my father and Tyson were killed for it. If I tried to open it, would they come after me? I could handle it if they did, but I also didn’t want to blow my chance of uncovering whatever craziness was going on. “Let’s hold off on doing that for now. We’ll save opening the box for when we know more about what’s really going on.”

  “We can monitor the bank cameras from here on out, in case someone shows up trying to get access to the box,” Jake suggested.

  “No one should be able to get the box open, even with the key and code. Only Mason and I are capable of opening it.” I tilted my head back. When I took over my father’s company, I expected paperwork and boring meetings, not to be caught up in the middle of shady deals and a murder investigation.

  “You okay?”

  No. Nothing about this was okay. My father was dead. My ex-girlfriend—I hadn’t mentioned that part to Jake yet—was either in league with the enemy or was about to get caught in the crossfires. I opened my eyes and glanced at the text that popped up on my cell. Ben was still coming up empty, so it seemed. “Thanks for your help, man.”

  “Connor, this is what we do. We have each other’s backs. Always.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Olivia

  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I increased the speed on the treadmill and ran harder. Faster. I couldn’t make it early eno
ugh to meet Bobby to spar in the morning, but I still needed to get in a workout. What a mess I was in.

  My mind drifted to my conversation with Blake, and I jabbed again at the arrow button, increasing the speed once more. My feet slammed hard against the black rotating fabric as possible outcomes danced around in my head.

  I couldn’t keep the truth from Connor. I couldn’t spin more lies.

  If Blake found out I told Connor the truth, I could lose my job, which didn’t scare me. What terrified me was the idea of not putting Declan and Konstantin behind bars. If Connor didn’t sell the weapons to Declan, then Declan would just go to someone else.

  There’d never be justice. Only more death.

  I almost tripped and fell off my treadmill as my mind dipped into dangerous waters.

  The thought of Connor behind bars flipped my stomach. Something had changed between us last night. Whatever anger he had with me, and I for him, had weakened.

  We’d come so close to sharing my bed. Strange pangs of regret pulled at me. Of course I knew it was absurd to feel that way. It should’ve been the other way around.

  My chest was near exploding from the intense run. Just as I tapped the buttons on the treadmill to slow down, I caught sight of Declan. It was lunchtime—his workout time. I was in no mood to talk with him. He’d probably press me about Connor if he saw me, and I was already getting that from Blake. I didn’t need two bossy men in my life pushing me where I didn’t want to go.

  I hopped off my treadmill and started for the locker room, hoping Declan wouldn’t spot me, but he turned my direction just outside the doors that led to the private arena.

  Ugh—eye contact made. There was no escaping him now. He beckoned me from across the room, and I rolled my eyes as I made my way to him. “Hey, Declan.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice was smooth as silk, and it creeped me the hell out.

  “Oh, well I was just heading to the showers.” I folded my arms across my chest, but realized I probably looked angry or bitchy, so I dropped my hands back to my sides.