Rhys (Secrets Book 1) Read online

  Releasing the hold I have on her head, I leave my fingers loosely tangled in her hair.

  “Once I can move and think again, I’ll repay you in every way imaginable.”

  “You don’t have to. Trust me, I got off when you did. Hearing you go off sent me over the edge. Hottest sound in the world. You didn’t hear it because you were so damn loud, but I’m all good.”

  My girl is a minx. She’s been holding out on me for weeks now.

  “Tiger Lily, you’ve been hiding something from me.”

  “Huh?” Good, she’s confused. We’ve been living together and having sex for weeks now, and this is the first time she’s given me a blowjob. I’m not complaining, but she obviously loves performing the act if she can get off on merely sucking my cock.

  “You love sucking my cock. Admit it.”

  “From my reaction, it should be obvious.”

  “You’ve been hiding how much you love it.”

  “No, I haven’t. Actually, I don’t like giving head. It’s never been a favorite of mine, and I’ve never attempted to take anyone the way I just did with you. You’re the first, and you’ll be my last. I’ve never gotten off on it either.”

  Her admission makes my heart burst. If I weren’t already in love with her, this would have made me tumble over the edge for sure. She actually makes me fall more in love with her every day. It’s no surprise she’s doing it again now.

  “I love you, Averill. When this is all over, we’ll be married. You’ll make an honest man out of me.”

  “I believe you meant you’ll make an honest woman out of me.”

  “Nah, you heard me right. How about we make honest people out of each other?”

  “Works for me.”

  Placing a kiss upon her lips, I silence any words either of us has to say.

  We don’t come up for air for hours.

  Pulling up to Brant’s condo at precisely seven in the evening, Averill’s gaze seeks out mine. Putting Mystique in park, I reach over to clasp her hand, squeezing gently in reassurance.

  “Don’t be nervous. You’re safe here, just as you were safe all day while we were out in public. I’ve made you stay locked away for too long and now you’re scared of change. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  “No, it’s not that I’m scared, it’s that we’re officially putting our trust into Justin and the FBI.”

  Her concerns echo mine, which is weird, because I’m a lawyer. I should trust working with the FBI in an official capacity. Working with all law officials should come as second nature, but sadly, it doesn’t. I blame Martinelli for my lack of faith—well, mostly. Some of it is because I’ve seen the awful incidents that can happen when people like Smith slip through the cracks. It’s why we’re in this position in the first place—he should’ve been put away for longer as a teen, but his mother chose to defend his actions, and he also got away with insufficient punishment for his later crimes.

  “Let’s get inside. I’m sure one or both of them are watching us from the front window, wondering why we’re waiting out here.”

  Letting out a heavy sigh, she leans over and places a kiss upon my cheek. “Together. We’re in this together, until the absolute end, and afterward.”

  “You better believe it, babe.”

  Opening her door, she slides out of Mystique before I do, and she’s sprinting for the open front door and into Brant’s hug before I make it to the front steps. Do I like how she didn’t wait for me to protect her on the walk in? Hell no, but I do love the fact that she felt comfortable enough to do so. At least she wasn’t scared.

  “Cock gobbler.”

  “Assmunch.”

  Shaking her head, Averill pushes out of Brant’s arms and makes her way into the living room where Agent Milks awaits.

  “I’m unsure what to call you—Justin? Agent Milks? Special Agent?” she asks with her angel soft voice from her place on the couch. She’s taken a seat directly in the middle, leaving room open on both sides of her, for Brant and myself. The subject of her question has taken the only chair available. He must’ve thought we’d all be more comfortable converging this way. I would’ve choose the bar area in the kitchen myself, but it is what it is.

  “When we’re alone like this, Justin is fine. If we’re in public or around my associates, Agent Milks works best.”

  Good to know. Storing the information away for later, I take a seat on the left of Averill, the farthest away from Justin. I may trust him now, but I still don’t like him.

  “Would anyone like something to drink? There’s water, beer, some Pepsi, I believe, and wine. I can grab it before we start going over plans.”

  “I’m good, but thanks,” Averill says sweetly.

  “Coffee?” That comes from me.

  Yeah, I know it’s seven in the evening, but I actually haven’t had much coffee today. The one cup I had after Averill and I finally made it out of the bedroom wore off hours ago. Actually, it wore off around the time we checked in on Kendra to see how the store was running without her for the day. When she finally remembered to call this morning, it was thirty minutes past opening, but she needn’t have worried because her manager already had the store opened for her. Stopping in this afternoon was pointless, but my girl is a workaholic.

  “Sure, I can make some for you, assface.”

  “Brant, honestly,” Averill scolds. She’s embarrassed by our name-calling in front of Justin, but she shouldn’t be. It’s normal for us, and she’s unaware of how a lot of guys’ friendships are. As an observer, I’ve seen bro-ships similar to ours, and they call each other worse.

  “I actually think of our name-calling as terms of endearment for each other.”

  “Ditto.”

  “You two are ridiculous, but I get it. Like I’ve stated before, I guess it’s the same as Tessa and me calling each other ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’. It’s the same as an endearment to us as well. It is weird when you use it in front of new people, though.”

  Brant runs off into the kitchen to make said coffee.

  “Justin is probably used to it. I’m sure he’s heard it all before.”

  From his chair on the other side of the living room, he nods his head in agreement. “I’ve heard worse.”

  “I bet.”

  “Creamer, or no? Justin, would you like some?” Brant calls from down the hallway leading to the kitchen.

  “Black is fine,” I respond.

  “No thanks.”

  About a minute later, he comes strolling back into the living room, two mugs of coffee in hand.

  “Here ya go, princess.”

  Keeping my retort to myself, I grab my mug and look to Justin to start this thing. I’d like to get it all over with, get my girl home, and maybe if we’re lucky we can veg out and watch a few episodes of Arrow before crawling into bed.

  “I’ve brought all the cases I think may be connected to Smith, or Rob, whatever the hell he goes by. I’ve found a few open cases over the last year and like I’ve stated before, I have a gut feeling they’re his kills.”

  “How many total?”

  “Seven, but one of them is Alix, and actually it’s six separate from the two you’ve found. I never thought the second one you pointed out was connected, but now, I do. If you followed that, it makes seven total again.”

  “You’ve found six, plus my two, but take away Alix from mine because he’s a duplicate?” I ask.

  “Yes, in less confusing terms,” he answers.

  Damn. This is serial killer type shit. Deep down, I knew he was a serious killer, but I never wanted to admit it. With finding the two murders in Santa Rosa, I never wanted to admit to myself he was an even worse monster than I originally pegged him to be.

  “Are there any unsolved rapes you’ve found that you think may be connected?”

  We answered his questions last night; tonight it’s his turn to share his answers. It’s why we set this meeting up. He agreed to bring open case files and the official immunity contract fo
r me to sign. If I break it, I’ll serve time. If I keep it, I’ll live as a free man and get to take down a sadistic serial killer.

  “Yes and no. It’s hard to connect them. I have one for sure I know was him, because his DNA was left inside the victim. It’s in our pile of evidence stacked against him. I have two more I think could be connected. No DNA, but the style is similar, and now, of course, we have your case.”

  He’s talking directly to Averill, because she’s the one who asked the last question. It makes me smile at least, knowing he’s involving her and not looking over her presence in this. She’s not an accessory, but a vital piece.

  “Oh, undoubtedly my case can be used. It was never a question about who it was. I knew who attacked me, but at the time I was just concerned with running, not with bringing him to justice. After my stay in the hospital a few towns over, I ran. When I was questioned at the hospital, I lied.” She looks to me, her eyes pleading for me to understand. “But there’s a silver lining—I did have a rape kit done. If any DNA was left behind, it’s on file.”

  “What’s the name of the town you ran to initially?” I’m getting her information, Justin isn’t. I am. She’s mine, and any results should be obtained by us, together.

  “Hayward. We may have to actually go there, Rhys, to get the information.”

  “My thoughts exactly. We could go there next week, if you’d like.”

  We’re in our own world, having this conversation while the other two look on silently. A throat clears, reminding us of the others in the room.

  “I’m positive I could access the information from the office.”

  Brant’s head volleys back and forth like a bobble head doll. It’s funny. Now that I think about it, I don’t understand his part in this. Is he aiding in the case?

  Completely ignoring Justin’s offer, I instead ask Brant, “What’s your part in this, again?”

  “Huh?” I’m not sure if he’s confused by my question or just about actually being asked a question.

  “I didn’t stutter.”

  “We went over this last night, didn’t we?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Averill says from beside me. “When I asked you when you were hugging me, they were talking, and you evaded the question.”

  Interesting.

  “Do you have an answer? Other than being my best friend and his neighbor, what’s your involvement?”

  “You involved me when you nearly beat a serial killer to death.”

  For a moment, I buy it; it’s why Averill was unintentionally involved anyway. It’s a good enough excuse, but it’s only an excuse. It’s not the real reason he’s involved.

  “Look, you’re gonna find out eventually anyway. You may hate me for it now, but you’ll thank me in the end.” He gets up from his place on the couch and begins pacing behind it. “I…uh, I went to Justin a while back. I had no fucking clue he was Smith’s cousin and I didn’t use names, not at first, anyway. He used names before I did.” He not only stresses the word, but points to Justin to make sure I know that’s the he he’s referring to. “When he said his cousin was Rob Smith and he knew exactly who I was talking about, everything knocked into place. In a way, I ratted you out. I didn’t mean to. Like I said, I didn’t use names, but I went to Justin seeking advice, knowing he was FBI.”

  Motherfucker.

  I’m off the couch and grabbing Brant by his shirt collar before he can say another word, and I slam him against the nearest wall before he can take in his next breath.

  “You’re a son of a bitch. What else are you hiding, huh?” To stress how pissed off I am, I slam him against the wall again. It’s all I can do not to punch him and break his nose.

  “Nothing else, I swear.” He doesn’t try to calm me down, only holds his hands up by his head. He’s giving up and going to let me punch him if I need to. It’s not like the fight back in high school, the fight that forever altered my future.

  “Hit me if you need to.”

  Because my girl is here, and because I know he only did it for me, I let him go and return to the couch. He remains against the wall, stunned by the turn of events.

  Instead of acting on my instincts to hit him, I choose to hold my girl instead. Besides, my slamming him into the wall was enough punishment. I know his actions were only done to protect me. If it truly happened the way he said it did, he didn’t use my name to begin with. He went seeking advice and ended up with an offer of immunity for his best friend. It is what it is; it can’t be changed now. Frankly, it’s better than I thought it could be. I’ll be able to sleep better at night knowing my past actions are forgiven, at least in the eyes of the law—the law I chose as a career. It was my warped mind that initially thought I was doing a good thing by aligning with Martinelli, and the small answers I ended up getting revolving around Vinny’s death will have to be enough for me. It’s something I’ll just have to live with.

  “Thank you for the offer to get the records, Justin, but we’ll go obtain them ourselves. Brant, I’m upset with you, but I know your intentions were pure.”

  It’s enough for him. He grunts in response and cautiously makes his way back to the couch, taking his seat on the other side of Averill.

  “Back to the real reason we’re here—Rob Smith is scheduled to leave the rehab facility in three weeks, if he keeps healing as he has been.”

  “He’s healing like normal.” Groaning in frustration, I slam my fist down on the arm of the couch. “I know it would’ve been worse for me if I had killed him, but for everyone else in this room, it would’ve been better.”

  “No, it wouldn’t have been, Rhys. I’d be without you.” She’s right, of course, but I don’t see it as clearly as she does.

  “When I look at it through your eyes, yeah. When I look at it through my eyes, no. A killer is still loose in public. My gut told me he was a murderer. Those rooms in the warehouse screamed of his viciousness. Seeing the man he left broken? It killed me, babe. Hearing him practically boast about raping the man’s wife? It gutted me.”

  Justin is the first to speak. “You’re not a killer, Rhys. You may fly off the handle with your temper, but you’re a protector. Don’t for one moment think it would’ve been better for you to have killed him. He’ll go down for all of his crimes. Have faith. We’ll get him.”

  “Okay, let’s do this. Let’s exterminate this exterminator.”

  Present Day

  For nearly eighteen months, life has been…normal, or as normal as my life can get.

  Averill has been living with me for the last sixteen months, and she’s been my fiancée for a few days shy of a year—am I a lucky son of a bitch or what?

  Thinking back to the day I asked her to be mine forever, I can't help but recall how perfect the day actually was.

  Of course, it was on the thirteenth.

  We were vacationing with my parents and hers near the gulf shores of Alabama. When we eventually flew out to collect the evidence from the hospital she ran to back in the day, she agreed to meet with her parents. She said if I could resolve the issues I had with my father, she could resolve hers. She wanted him to one day walk her down the aisle when we deliver our marriage vows to each other.

  One day after lunch, we took a walk just the two of us, along the white sand beaches. We stumbled upon a wedding taking place on the beach and Averill, being the sexy daring tiger she is, suggested we crash the wedding. I had other plans in mind. While the happy couple recited their vows, I went down on one knee and asked the love of my life to be mine forever. It hadn’t been planned for that exact moment, but I had been planning to ask her while on vacation, so the ring was conveniently in my pocket. She screamed her answer loudly, causing a few guests to turn and glare our way, only to smile when they realized what they were witnessing.

  We did end up crashing the couple’s reception for a while, but left a gift of money in the card box. All I remember is the bride had red hair to rival Averill’s. Where hers is dark with shades of copper, the b
ride’s was a brilliant, fiery red.

  Our wedding date is set for the thirteenth of May next year.

  Averill doesn’t find my quirks peculiar; she finds them charming and embraces them. Since the day back in Chicago when I spilled all my ugly truths to her, she’s fully embraced everything I am. Whether I think it makes me a horrible person or not, she finds a way to put a positive spin on it. The way I put away groceries? She actually likes it. It makes complete sense to her to unpack everything before putting it away.

  Man, I love her.

  She’s truly the yin to my yang.

  She left this morning on a trip to Ireland with Tessa. When I dropped her off at the airport, it was like she left with a piece of my soul. In the past, whenever I heard talk of soul mates, I’d brush off the comments as bullshit. Now, I firmly believe she’s mine. There’s no doubt in my mind, she’s my other half. She completes me. To say I didn’t want her to leave is an understatement.

  Smith hasn’t made his move yet, but he will. It took nearly three months of convincing, but I finally agreed to let her go on the trip, figuring she’d be safe in another country, that there was no way he’d have the audacity follow her. It’s me he truly wants to suffer, and if he’s going to attack, he’s going to wait until my guard is completely down. What better time to make a move than when my Tiger Lily is out of the country?

  My gut instinct is screaming at me, warning me of his impending attack.

  Martinelli has been keeping tabs on Smith as a favor to me, and calls with weekly updates, some weeks more than once. I’ve never let him know about Agent Justin Milks.

  After months of recovery and rehabilitation, Smith left Indianapolis for his home in northern California. He hasn’t made a move to come back to this part the country once, at least not as far as Justin or Martinelli have been able to tell.

  Together, we’ve been working our asses off finding every possible unsolved case we can, researching to see if they somehow, someway, connect to Smith. We’ve struck gold on thirteen cases. My old standby, lucky number thirteen.