Wicked Lies

by Lora Leigh

  God, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Cord wasn’t supposed to check her background to the extent he had, and Jazz shouldn’t have had friends capable of linking her mother to Gunny, and Gunny to the missing Kendra “Kenni” Maddox.

  The fact that it had happened had her off balance, teetering between the need to run and the need to fight. Ten years of her life were gone, she couldn’t get those back, but the thought of running, of being someone’s prey for another ten years, was too much to bear.

  She wished with all her heart she could believe the grief she’d heard in Cord’s voice when he’d told Jessie that the person who once told him to “mind your manners please,” was the best of all of them.

  Her desperation, her own grief at losing her family, had her searching for reasons, excuses, anything that could allow her to trust in her family again.

  That trust was gone, destroyed in a single night, she reminded herself. Until she found out who had been sending Kin to kill her, then she didn’t dare trust any of them.

  After Cord drove away from the house, Kenni returned to the kitchen and listened to the plans Jazz and his friends were putting together to reveal who wanted her dead.

  Kate and Lara had driven out several minutes after Cord’s departure, leaving only Zack, Slade, and Jessie to discuss who could be suspects and who couldn’t. The fact that her brothers weren’t on that list but her father was sent agony piercing her heart.

  “Why Dad and Luce and not Cord, Deacon, or Sawyer?” she asked, her voice low as she pulled Jessie’s list to her and began going over it.

  “There was no reason for your brothers to strike out against you or your mother, Kenni. But your father married within eight months of your mother’s death,” Jessie answered gently. “Luce’s name is on there because she stood to inherit the maternal trust that passes down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter—the trust your mother’s great-great-grandmother set up. With your mother’s death, Luce and her daughter Grace moved up to inherit. I believe it passes to them at the end of this year?” Jessie asked curiously.

  Kenni could only shrug. “It’s not really a big thing, though. Some profits from real estate mostly. According to Mother it didn’t add up to much.”

  “The rumors that your father and Luce were slipping around behind your mother’s back can’t be discounted, either. Was there any merit to them?” Slade spoke up, the compassion in his voice noted, but ineffective against the pain radiating inside her.

  “Mom knew about the rumors before her death,” she breathed out wearily. “She and Luce argued over it before we left, but Momma didn’t believe Dad was actually having an affair with her.”

  Her mother had loved her father, though. Loved him desperately, with everything inside her. The thought that her father may have betrayed that love had helped to destroy the foundation of everything she had believed in as a child.

  Her mother may not have believed it, but her father’s marriage to Luce had certainly given others reason to believe it.

  As for Luce, she’d always been such a quiet, easily led personality, but her loyalty to her mother had never been questioned. Then again, Vinny Maddox’s loyalty to his wife hadn’t been questioned, either—just his fidelity.

  She pushed the list back to Jessie before turning to Jazz. “I need to go home and get my things at least,” she told him, lifting her gaze to his and meeting the blue fire in it unflinchingly.

  His brows lowered broodingly. “It’s too dangerous, Kenni.”

  “I really don’t give a damn, Jazz.” The retort was delivered without anger. “You’re pushing too hard, too fast. Don’t do this right now.”

  The tension in the room ratcheted up by several degrees, and as she stared into his gaze she could see he had every intention of refusing. As though she were a child too weak to defend herself, too stupid to know she was in danger.

  “You know—” Rising to her feet, she faced the men coolly. “—I’m still alive, ten years after the order went out to kill me. I believe I can survive a trip home to collect my things. Or.” A mocking smile tipped her lips. “You will find out exactly what a bitch I can be.” Her gaze locked with Jazz’s again. “Is that what you really want?”

  “It’s too dangerous, Kenni…”

  She didn’t give him a chance to finish. Turning on her heel she stalked from the kitchen. She wasn’t some damned china doll he could set on a shelf and expect to stay there. Gunny had taught her to take care of herself if he’d taught her nothing else.

  She couldn’t afford to leave the little house she rented unprotected for long while her laptop and the DVR for her cameras were still hidden there. She couldn’t take the chance that someone would search the house and find either. She needed to get to them first.

  It was a damned good thing she knew where Jazz kept the spare set of truck keys.

  She’d found them by accident the day before, taped beneath the drawer of his nightstand. Okay, so it wasn’t so much by accident as it was by snooping. She’d actually been searching for a weapon when she’d found the keys.

  She wasn’t exactly dressed for what she was planning. Sandals weren’t the most desirable footwear for climbing from a balcony, but she’d had to run with greater vulnerabilities before, she was certain. She just couldn’t think of a particular instance at the moment.

  She didn’t give him and his friends time to consider what she might do. Going straight to the bedroom, Kenni moved to the balcony. There was a very narrow portion of the balcony invisible from the television room—and hopefully from Marcus and Essie’s sight.

  Sliding over the side she balanced for a moment on the edge before turning, gripping a rail, and lowering herself as far as possible. Wrapping her legs around the support post and working herself to the edge of the patio, she dropped to the ground, flattened herself against the side of the house for a moment, then ran for the front drive.

  Jazz’s truck was still parked where he’d left it. The door was unlocked and the motor running, thanks to the remote, before she reached it. She jumped in, adjusted the seat for her shorter stature with hurried movements, and within seconds was speeding along the gravel road. She’d warned him she could turn into a bitch, and he hadn’t listened. Maybe next time he’d shut his mouth and open his ears.

  After hitting the main road, Kenni didn’t stay on it long. A quick turn along a hidden path and within minutes she’d reached one of the spots she’d chosen to hide a survival pack. Weapons, especially several of the survival knives she preferred, along with snug black pants, T-shirt, and boots that laced to her ankles were packed inside the old army backpack.

  Within moments she was dressed and back behind the wheel of the truck. The wide path wound along a parallel course to the main road without coming within sight of it. Several miles from town she hit a shortcut. If Slade and Jazz were following her, and no doubt they were, she’d still manage to beat them to the house by several minutes.

  Easing the truck into the alley behind the house, Kenni cut the engine then jumped from the cab and worked her way along the border of brush and miniature trees that grew along the privacy fencing between her rental and the neighbor’s home.

  She was in the back door within a minute and staring around the shadowed kitchen in disbelief.

  It was trashed.

  Fuck.

  She had the laptop and DVR carefully hidden, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been found. She had to have both to access the recorded feed and learn who had accessed the house and what they had done.

  Small handguns were tucked at the small of her back and her ankle, obvious places to search. A six-shot derringer was tucked in the upper cup of her bra, a KA-BAR between her shoulders, and a mini bowie knife in the bottom of her boot.

  She slid the baby Glock at the small of her back free. Moving across the room, careful to avoid the scattered cereal thrown over the floor. Just in case whoever had trashed the house was still there. The early-warning crunch of cereal against the floo
r would alert anyone who might be there waiting for her.

  Holding the weapon close to her thigh, Kenni made her way across the kitchen to the doorway.

  The house was laid out with no hallways; it was one of the reasons she’d chosen this particular rental. Looking from the kitchen doorway into the large living room also afforded her a view of the open bedroom door.

  The living room was completely demolished, more so than the kitchen. There went her security deposit. Holes had been punched into the living room wall, following the camera wires through the room.

  Dammit.

  Slipping along the wall, careful not to brush against it, she made her way to the bedroom. Pausing, she lifted the weapon to her shoulder, bent low, and slid into the room.

  It was empty. Except for the holes punched into the walls, wires pulled free, and clothes strewn around the floor. Clothes that were sliced, ripped, then dropped carelessly to the hardwood.

  Moving to the largest hole in the wall she stared at it with narrowed eyes. The decoy DVR was gone, but the copper clip leading from the crawl space beneath the floor to the decoy was intact. The main DVR was still in place.

  A faint, almost imperceptible crunch of dry cereal had her moving. Rolling beneath the bed, the Glock held ready, nearly holding her breath, Kenni waited.

  “Fuck, Cord, either Jazz’s little teacher forgot to clean house—for about six months—or some asshole came calling.” Amused, Deacon didn’t bother lowering his voice.

  Kenni wanted to close her eyes, wanted to let that voice take her back to a time when fear hadn’t been her constant companion and her brothers had been larger than life.

  “My guess, some asshole came calling,” Sawyer replied. His voice was so serious, so somber.

  She didn’t remember a day Sawyer had been somber when she was younger. Like the others, he was once carefree and so filled with fun.

  “Do we know who the asshole is and why he felt the need to throw her cereal all over the floor?” Deacon asked at the sound of more cereal crunching beneath careless feet.

  “It’s a damned good thing we weren’t trying to sneak in,” Cord growled at that point. “Would the two of you shut up for a minute and let me think?”

  “I don’t know, Cord, that would be a hell of a long minute if you asked me,” Deacon informed him. “We might bust waiting.”

  “I might bust both your damned heads if you don’t shut the fuck up anyway,” Cord snapped as he stepped into the bedroom.

  Dark, scarred leather boots and frayed denim filled her gaze as he paused at the bottom of the bed. Behind him moved two similar pairs of boots and denim.

  “She had cameras,” Sawyer stated, his voice lower now.

  “Had being the operative word,” Deacon inserted. “What the hell was she up to that she had the entire fucking house wired for video and audio?”

  “She was scared,” Sawyer said softly, almost too soft for her to hear, and the compassion in his voice had her throat tightening.

  Cord moved then.

  Following the sight of his boots as he moved around the bed to the other side of the room, she mouthed silent curses. Dammit. Dammit.

  Hunching next to the wall where the decoy DVR had been torn from it, he remained silent. She couldn’t see what he was doing, had no idea what he was seeing.

  Sawyer left the room quickly a second later, followed by Deacon. The sight of them departing left her with a very bad feeling.

  A very bad feeling. One she didn’t like at all.

  Slowly, he turned, the boots shifting by a few inches. He was staring at the bed, she could feel it.

  Son of a bitch, he knew she was there.

  Silently, just in case he looked, she slid the weapon into a tear in the box spring’s lining and continued to wait. The silence was tense, filled with her fear and his patience.

  “You coming out, or do I have to drag your ass out?”

  She remained quiet and completely still. Maybe, if she was lucky, he wouldn’t look.

  “I saw the other cable,” he said softly. “Sawyer and Deacon have gone after the DVR, Ms. Mayes. What will we find when we watch the video on it?”

  Fuck!

  “Cord.” Jazz entered the room, his voice filled with anger.

  Oh God, he would tell Cord, just as he’d threatened. He’d warned her not to run. He’d warned her he’d tell her brothers, and Jazz didn’t make threats he wasn’t prepared to carry out.

  Kenni’s head turned quickly, eyes widening at the sight of Deacon and Sawyer’s boots scuffling just a bit in front of Jazz’s.

  Cord rose slowly, remaining silent for long moments. No doubt giving Sawyer and Deacon one of those disappointed looks he gave them whenever they were caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

  “She’s under the bed,” Cord said then. “I was just inviting her out.”

  “Yeah, I bet you were.” Jazz didn’t sound in the least pleasant.

  “Jazz, we’re going to have to talk about this,” Cord stated coolly.

  “I have nearly two more weeks, Maddox,” he growled. “Get off my ass, will ya?”

  Two more weeks? Someone had Jazz on a deadline? That was shocking.

  “After this, you think I’m giving you two more weeks?” Cord’s bark of laughter had Kenni wincing. She knew that sound, and it had never boded well.

  “Fuck off,” Jazz ordered, the hint of anger that escaped in his voice had her tensing more than Cord’s knowledge of her presence. “You and these brothers of yours.”

  This wasn’t going to be good. Three against one? Where were Slade and Zack?

  “They didn’t find what they were looking for, either,” Jazz promised him. “But I’d say Zack has.”

  Kenni laid her head against the floor and shook it slowly. Having Zack find it was much better; at least then Cord wouldn’t see or hear anything he shouldn’t. But still, dammit, it belonged to her and she bet dollars to doughnuts she wouldn’t be watching it first.

  “Ms. Mayes.” The voice was no longer way above her. It was floor-level with her.

  Kenni lifted her head slowly, eyes narrowing to meet the dark emerald green of the eldest Maddox brother.

  For a second, time fell away. She was ten again, staring back at him from beneath his bed after searching for the birthday present she was certain he must have bought her.

  Smiling back at him nervously she forced herself not to speak, certain anything she said would only give her away.

  “Would you like to come out and join us?” The gentleness in his voice was frightening. Cord wasn’t a gentle-voiced type of person.

  “Now.” It was Jazz’s tone that spurred her to move.

  Rolling from beneath the bed she rose to her feet and kept her gaze on the floor. She didn’t dare look up at her brothers. It had been too many years. Too many lost years spent never knowing if they wanted her home or wanted her dead.

  Besides, the color of her eyes would be an immediate giveaway. If she didn’t get out of there, she was dead meat, one way or the other. Because if he didn’t kill her—which she doubted he would actually—Cord would no doubt strip her flesh from her bones with his fury.

  “I’m ready to leave now.” Clearing her throat, she lifted her gaze to Jazz.

  He was furious. The blue of his eyes was brighter than ever, his expression so hard it could be stone as he stared back at her.

  “That all you came for?” he asked, nodding to the location where the dummy DVR had sat.

  “Yes. If Zack has the main device then I’m ready.” She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear as it fell free. She’d get the rest of it later.

  “Go to the truck, Slade’s waiting for you,” he told her, his gaze moving back to her brothers.

  “Without you?” Oh, she just didn’t think so. She wasn’t giving him a chance to talk privately to her brothers for anything.

  His brows lowered, his expression warning now. “Pretty much.”

  She smiled sweetly. �
�No.”

  For a moment she was certain he would retaliate, that he would tell her brothers who she was and destroy any chance she had of learning who had killed her mother and hunted her for ten years. At the very least she expected him to attempt to force her to leave or to call in Slade and Zack to carry her out.

  Instead his gaze narrowed, those heavy lashes shielding whatever emotion might linger in his eyes.

  “Sure this is how you want to handle this?” he murmured softly.

  “What’s there to handle?” She shrugged as though nothing were riding on the answer. “I simply prefer to know what’s going on rather than sitting in your truck wondering what’s being said.”

  If he was going to tell them who she was, then she would be there to at least glimpse any guilt that might flash in their eyes.

  “We’re going to talk later.” The slightest quirk at the side of his lips paired with a flash of aroused anticipation sent a rush of warmth speeding through her body.

  Damn him, he just had to go and get all sexy and remind her of what it had felt like to be possessed by him. She wished she’d thought of it first; maybe she could have rendered him speechless for a moment instead of the other way around.

  “You can talk all you like, that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen,” she shot back, flipping her hand toward him as her chin lifted just enough to shoot him a killing look.

  Cord shifted at her periphery, and it was all she could do not to turn and watch him.

  She wanted to see his face, wanted to look in his eyes long enough to see if he was her brother or her would-be-assassin.

  “Cord,” Sawyer murmured, demanding his attention, the dark somberness of his tone nearly pulling her gaze to him.

  She had to get out of there before she ended up giving in to the need her heart ached for rather than the caution her head demanded.