Rhys (Secrets Book 1) Read online

  We’ve built a solid, indisputable case against him.

  If I were a betting man, I’d bet on him attacking tonight, at a time when I’d seemingly be going about my normal day-to-day business, appearing nonchalant while inside I’m silently waiting for him to make his move. It’s like a game of chess—one where I’ll undoubtedly be crowned the winner.

  Working with the FBI, all the pieces are in place. The players are all on the board. Smith doesn’t know it, but he’s about to become the biggest loser to ever play this game.

  Letting my guard down slightly, I finally stopped working out of Threads & Trends nearly a year ago and joined Ryan working out of our office. Averill can thank Justin for my finally relaxing enough to be able to stop working from her store. He convinced her to hire an undercover agent as her newest full-time employee. Smart man, for a hipster-looking douche. He still doesn’t look like he belongs in the FBI; even when he’s in a traditional black suit, he still has a hipster vibe. It must be the beard.

  Knowing her flight left early this morning, we chose to drive into Chicago late last night and stayed at a hotel near the airport. After dropping her off and driving the three hours back, I decide to go into the office for a couple hours.

  My latest case involves a mother of two trying to get away from her abusive husband. With my help, I’ve managed to get her out and into a safe house while her case goes to trial. It wasn’t easy at first because she was resisting the aide, but she admitted defeat after she saw the bruises on her son’s arm from the angry grip of her husband.

  My cell phone rings before I make it three steps from the office door.

  “Gallhagar.”

  “Hey Rhys, Justin here. Smith is on the move. He boarded a plane bound for Chicago this morning. Unless he charters a private plane after landing, I’d place him in our area by six this evening. The good news is, everything is in place. Can you meet me for a late lunch to go over our final plans?”

  Turning around, I start walking back to my truck. “Yeah, where would you like to meet?”

  “If it’s easier, I can come to you.”

  “Nah, I was just walking into my office and am back in my truck now. Name the place and I can be there shortly.”

  He tells me to meet him at the Starbucks where we had our first unfortunate meeting, back on the day my world shifted back into Averill’s. He knows me well enough by now to know I’d have picked a similar place. Pulling into the parking lot, I spy his boring sedan a few spaces from the front entrance.

  Shaking my head at his choice of vehicle, I pull into a vacant spot nearby.

  Before walking over to his table, I go through the line to order some coffee and a panini. I may as well eat like he suggested on the phone. It’s been a long day already and I fear I may not have another chance to eat before shit hits the fan. After placing my order, I take a seat with Justin while waiting for my name to be called.

  He pushes a cup of coffee my way. “You could’ve saved yourself a few dollars if you’d come straight to the table.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “Because it was entertaining to watch you order while I sat here drinking my coffee, tapping my fingers on the lid of yours.”

  “Dickhead.”

  Have I mentioned we’ve become friends? At least enough to where we don’t want to rip each other to shreds when in the same room. We’ve even advanced enough to call each other a few curse names. We’re nowhere near the bro-ship level Brant and myself are at, but he’s become ‘one of us’.

  “Assmunch.”

  Taking the coffee from him, I take a big sip from the cup without checking the side to see what exactly he’s ordered me, and I nearly douse him when I spit the contents onto the table in front of me.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Sugar. So much sugar. Rubbing my tongue with a napkin, I hear my name called from the pickup area. The asshole slipped me his coffee instead of the normal black coffee he ordered for me. When I get back to the table with my order, I flip him off as I’m taking my seat.

  “And you wonder why it was hard for me to trust you. Dick move, man. Dick move.”

  He’s still laughing a few moments later as he’s attempting to go over our plans for tonight, the strategies we can’t screw up. My life depends on these stupid tactics.

  “Stop laughing, or at least laugh it out before we go on. We can’t screw this up. We have a lot hanging on these plans.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Admit it though, it was funny.”

  Shrugging, I can admit it, I guess. It was pretty funny as far as pranks go. He’s learned a few tricks from Brant.

  “Yeah, it was. I’ll give you a win.”

  “Thanks.” He scoots my real coffee across the table. “This one is basic black coffee, I swear, scout’s honor.”

  “Okay, I’m sure I’ll need it with the night we’re about to greet.”

  “No doubt. Smith could be here already. He left early this morning, around eight our time. His eyes must’ve informed him about Averill’s departure. He purchased a ticket and was on a flight as soon as her flight left for Ireland. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be related. She left, he left. He’s coming for you tonight. Whether he knows about me being here remains to be seen.”

  “Should I call Martinelli to warn him? Since he’s flying into Chicago, he could potentially go after Mikey before coming here.”

  The thought of Mikey being a target has crossed my mind more than once, and I’ve given it voice a couple of times. I know he can defend himself, but it’s his family I’m worried about. If I warn them, maybe Saul could protect him until the threat passes. After tonight, Smith won’t be a problem for anyone.

  “I’ve already had someone get in contact with them, and Mikey has been put under surveillance. He wouldn’t allow us to put him under protective custody, but we have agents watching him. It’ll remain as such until we have Smith in handcuffs.” Or a body bag.

  We don’t speak the words, but we both know we’d prefer him to not make it out of tonight alive.

  Nodding, we proceed to go over a few last-minute details.

  How many law enforcement agencies will be involved—three.

  How many officers will be around—a total of nearly fifty.

  How many SWAT team members will be there—thirteen.

  Every single detail.

  When we leave—separately—the sun is kissing the sky goodnight and it’s nearing six. All the pieces are in place, and my phone dings with an incoming text as I’m getting into my truck. It’s Averill.

  Tiger Lily: We’re here. Everything is well. Both flights were good. Checked into the hotel and about to crash, it’s nearly two AM.

  They could’ve taken a direct flight and spent less time in flight, but it was several hundred dollars cheaper to take a connecting flight—four hours longer, but cheaper. The price difference won out for my girl.

  Me: I’m glad you’re both okay and the flights went well. I love you, Tiger Lily, with all of my heart. Sleep well, baby. I’ll see you soon. XO

  Tiger Lily: I love you, Reese’s Pieces. XOXO

  Resting my phone in the cup holder in my center console, I start the truck and head toward my home, praying it’s not for the last time.

  I’m driving myself insane. Absolutely insane.

  I’ve been pacing the living room for hours. Ever since I made it home from my meeting with Justin, I’ve been on edge. Every time I hear a sound, I think it’s Smith come to make me pay. The thing is, it could be.

  I’ve purposely left my alarm deactivated. I don’t want to make it harder on him to have access to me—completely the opposite. I want it to be easy for him to get to me. With Averill out of the house and safely across the ocean, I’ve made myself prey in Smith’s twisted game. Thing is, it’s my game now.

  Before night completely fell, I spied a few of the officers involved in tonight’s trap. They’ve made sure my neighbors are all conveniently awa
y for the night, and unless there’s a passerby, no one but me and law enforcement should be involved.

  Giving up on my pacing, I turn on the television for looks only, muting it completely. My house should appear to be awake, but will actually be silent.

  My new dagger is strapped to me, within easy reach if I need it. I’ve learned a thing or two from Saul. He may have dealt me a raw deal once with his knives, but he did teach me about them. It was unintentional, but I still gleaned a few small details. Before meeting him, I never would’ve been able to tell you the difference between a garden-variety kitchen knife and a combat knife. To me, knives were knives.

  Justin knows about my acquiring the dagger, was with me when I ordered it. He didn’t approve at first, but agreed I needed a way to protect myself against Smith besides my fists.

  A knife it is.

  Smith’s weapon of choice more often than not seems to be strangulation. No way is he getting close enough to me to put me in chokehold.

  Grunting, I stop my pacing altogether and plop down on the couch, still in view of the front window in case anyone should look in.

  The top of my head is visible over the back of the couch. From the outside looking in, I could be any dark-haired dude sitting on the couch, watching the nightly sports recap. To the officers placed around the neighborhood, I’m an ex-mob criminal helping to catch a notorious serial killer.

  I’m jolted awake hours later by the sound of shattering glass.

  Fuck, I must’ve fallen asleep after I sat down. The next thought to register in my mind is the sound of the window breaking in my kitchen.

  He’s here.

  His footsteps are quiet, stealthy.

  If I weren’t positive the noise had come from the kitchen, I’d have no idea which way he was coming from. The sound wasn’t close enough to have been a front window, and besides, he wouldn’t have wanted my neighbors to potentially see him breaking and entering. The back windows leading into the kitchen are what I’d have picked as my point of entry too.

  I’ve never been more ready for a fight in my entire life.

  Months of buildup are finally coming to a conclusion. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since the day I learned he didn’t work alone and survived.

  I can’t wait to show him what is planned for him, what is going to become of the rest of his life. He’s going to serve several lifetimes rotting in prison. He may face the death penalty, depending on the laws of each state he’s convicted in.

  “Pity you never did take me up on my offer. You and I could’ve been such lovely partners.” His gravelly voice still sends chills down my spine.

  “Too bad I wasn’t in the market for a job.”

  “After over a year to prepare something to say, you go with that?” he sneers.

  “Yep.” We continue to contemplate each other from opposite ends of the couch, and then the red dot from a sniper’s rifle sets him off.

  “You’ve involved the police.” It’s said as an accusation, not a question. He doesn’t need my answer to know I have; he can see the red dot as clearly as I can.

  He lunges for me, not bothering to hide the gun in his hand.

  “I. Will. Kill. You.” Each word drips from his mouth with venom as spit gathers at the corners.

  When I smile at his sneer, he takes another step toward me. Noticing a limp in his gait, I smile more broadly. At least I’ve left a lasting impression. I don’t know why he doesn’t take his shot, though I think perhaps it’s because his weapon of choice has never been a gun.

  The red dot has moved from his chest and is now nowhere to be seen. Since he’s on the move, they’re on the move.

  “Put the gun down and fight me like a man, Smith.” I’m all but daring him to do it. He doesn’t know I have a dagger within arm’s reach.

  “You know, I think I will.”

  Dropping his gun on the carpet in front of the couch, he reaches for me, attempting to punch me in the face. Feinting to the right, I dodge his punch, which pisses him off more.

  “When you broke my bones the last time, you cheated. You had help and placed me at a disadvantage. Since you didn’t work alone, I’m not working alone either. Winston, enter.”

  The guy who enters from my kitchen is the damn lurker from Averill’s old neighborhood, the guy we started seeing every-frickin-where after I forced her to move into my house.

  He walks into the room and attempts to grab me from behind. Smith wants him to disable me and put me at a disadvantage so he can leave me for dead—or worse—but I’m not afraid. Not only do I have close to fifty officers working with me, I have my handy dagger.

  “I’ve had enough play time, haven’t you?” My taunt sets them both in motion.

  Smith bends down, reaching for his gun at the same moment Winston grabs for my arms. The moment is all it takes for me to grab my dagger and swipe at Winston, immediately slashing off a couple of fingers. He wails in agony and falls to the floor, clutching his hand in pain.

  The next sound I hear is Smith’s gun firing—only his bullet isn’t aimed at me. It was aimed for Winston. His screams stop as soon as the bullet hits its mark.

  Holy shit. Smith killed him and spared me. Why?

  “He was making too much noise. Besides, you rendered him useless.”

  I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing at all. Using my dagger, I swipe out in front of me, reaching for Smith. I’m still staring at what used to be Winston’s head, now in pieces on my floor.

  I keep swiping until the sound of more shattering glass and bullets hit my ears. The sounds remind me of the battlefield, a place I never wanted to visit again.

  My head is pounding, blood is running down my face, and a police officer is approaching me with his hands in the air. I’m crouched down slightly behind my couch, but other than that I don’t know much. I’m slightly discombobulated, my thoughts fuzzy. I must’ve taken a blow to the head or worse…blacked out. Once the gunfire started I don’t remember a thing.

  “Hey man, as you can see, I’m unarmed. I’m going to need you to drop the knife now. It’s over. Whatever it is…it’s over. If you don’t drop the knife, my fellow officers outside the windows will shoot. They’re in position, I know you’ve spotted them. If you drop the knife and come with me, we’ll get this all sorted out.”

  What knife? He’s acting like I’m not in on the sting…

  Looking down, I see a knife in my hands. Blood is everywhere. Whose blood is on the knife? Averill.

  The taste of copper hits my tongue, my own blood passing between my lips. When did I get hurt? It must’ve happened during all the chaos.

  He’s attempting to read me my Miranda rights. What the hell is going on?

  He continues to begin to read me my rights while I fall to my knees and place my hands behind my back. As he places them in cuffs, I begin to scream. What the fuck is going on?

  “You have the right to remain silent…”

  “Where’s Agent Milks?”

  “He’ll be on the scene shortly,” he answers back curtly.

  “Where’s Smith?”

  “He’s bleeding out on the floor of your living room. No more questions.”

  He pushes me roughly into the back seat of a police cruiser while Smith is cuffed and placed in the back of an ambulance. I’m watching the red and blue lights bounce back and forth across the houses, completely lost in their daze. I’m not sure how long I sit there, but it’s long enough for Justin to arrive and crime scene tape to surround my entire house.

  Averill is going to kill me when she finds out what all went down. It’s a good thing she’s across the ocean and can’t smack me when she receives the news. My girl can hit.

  Justin opens the car door, breaking me from my flashing light-induced daze.

  “Hey, man, sorry about the mix-up. Well, it wasn’t actually a mix-up. Local PD wanted to give Smith the impression you weren’t in on the whole operation, and once they entered and saw Winston, the guys on the
ground didn’t know who killed who.”

  It’s enough of an answer for me.

  “Get me out of these cuffs.”

  “Sure thing.” He dangles the keys in my face, taunting me. “If you can get yourself out of the car, I’ll uncuff you.”

  “You’d honestly make an injured man who’s handcuffed behind his back help himself out of the car? You’re a rude asshole, Agent Milks.”

  “Nah, I just wanted to see your reaction.” He smirks then proceeds to help me out of the car and uncuff me. “How much time are you going to waste before you fly over to Ireland to be with Averill?”

  “Not much, just enough to let her blow off her mad before she sees me—so basically, enough time for me to book a flight and sleep before driving to the airport.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re not going to be sleeping any time soon. We need to get your statement down, after you get checked over by the paramedics. It helps I planted the bug a few days ago, so you won’t have to spend too much time going over the details of what all went down.”

  Leave it to him to have snuck behind my back and planted a damn bug in my house.

  “Wait a minute. Did you, um…hear anything a couple nights ago?” Like us making love… Averill’s moans and dirty words were meant for my ears only.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  Glaring at him, I make my displeasure known. “Justin…”

  “Rhys.” He motions for me to follow him to the waiting paramedic. After getting thoroughly checked over and getting a green light, he ushers me to his waiting sedan halfway down the block. “Let’s get this statement over with. Once we’re done, you can clean up and sleep at my place. I’ll drive you to the airport to meet whatever flight you manage to book.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Getting into his car, we make our way down to the local police department. The sooner my statement is taken, the sooner I can put this whole mess behind me.

  Three Days Later

  As the cab pulls up to the hotel, I see a streak of mahogany a moment before I hear my name being screamed from across the street.