Surviving the Storm Read online

  Surviving the Storm

  Rachael Brownell

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Imperfect Love Story

  About the Author

  Also by Rachael Brownell

  One

  Johnathan

  The moment she said the power went out, I knew something was wrong. Pulling up the cameras on my phone, I find two of them are still working off battery power, but I don't know how long they'll last. The batteries in those micro-cams are tiny and I've never changed them. The idea never even crossed my mind.

  I jump back and forth between the camera in the kitchen and the one outside my office, trying to move the cameras to get better views. When that doesn't work, I know I need to jump in my car and head the six blocks from my father's building to the house.

  "I have to go," I tell Stacey, pulling my dick from her mouth with a pop.

  "I thought we had all night?" she coos.

  I should have chosen the other one. If her name hadn’t been Monica, I might have. She had a great rack and was more my type. Stacey's voice is a little high pitched for me. As long as she's not talking, everything is perfect. It's when she opens her mouth I get irritated. Even when she moans, I want to smack the shit out of her. Last time I came really close but instead shoved her discarded shirt in her mouth to muffle the sounds.

  She didn't seem to mind.

  "You thought wrong."

  Stepping into my pants, I tuck in my shirt as I snag my keys off the table, and I'm out the door without saying goodbye. I'm going to have to come up with a good reason I was able to get back to the house. I told Amelia they closed the bridge, and I'm sure they will, but they haven't announced it yet.

  The closer I get to the house, the brighter the street lights seem to be. In fact, as I slowly pass my neighbor’s house, I notice their front porch light is on. So is the street light next to our driveway, yet there's nothing but darkness enveloping our property. That's my first clue that something isn't as it appears.

  Slowly approaching the gate, I'm not surprised to find it's been pushed open slightly. Enough for a person to fit through but not a vehicle. Alarm bells start ringing in my head, and I immediately reach for my phone to check the cameras again.

  They're both clear. No sign of Amelia or anyone else.

  I park outside the gate, slip through the gate and then inside as silently as possible. As soon as I step into the hallway, I hear voices. One of them belongs to Amelia, the other to the one man I never want in my house.

  Peering around the corner into my room, I watch as Amelia and Ayers stand side by side, staring at the bed. Are they contemplating a roll in the sheets? I can't imagine that's on their agenda. And if it is, they're in for a rude surprise.

  I'm about to interrupt their party when Ayers finally speaks.

  "That's my sister."

  I can hear the sadness in his voice. I caused that. The pain. The uncertainty. It's been torturing him for almost a year now. I've been torturing him. I could tell him where she is but not without admitting guilt, and that's not something I plan to do.

  Stepping inside the room, I reach into the top drawer of my dresser and pull out the handgun I keep hidden behind my socks. The soft click when I release the safety echoes through the silent room, followed by the even louder click as I load a round in the chamber.

  "Having a good time?" I ask.

  Amelia jumps, placing her hand over her heart as she turns to face me. Aside from lifting his head, Ayers doesn't move. Lightning flashes outside the window, and I can see him glaring at me in the reflection.

  Whatever he had planned, the reason he was here, I've ruined that.

  "Detective Ayers," I begin, lifting the gun and keeping it pointed at his head as he turns around. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

  "I happened to be in the neighborhood and saw the power go out. Thought I'd offer her a ride to town."

  "What a coincidence. You just happened to be close when you live thirty minutes from here? You just happened to see the power go out? I have a feeling, Detective Ayers, there is nothing coincidental about your presence here tonight. In fact, I feel like it was a planned visit. Maybe you even had help."

  My eyes slide to Amelia's. Her beautiful hazel eyes look black in the darkness of the room. They're wide open, glistening with the hint of tears and filled with fear, as they should be. If she had any part in this, she's going to have to pay the price for her defiance.

  "She had nothing to do with this," Ayers states firmly. "She has no idea why I'm really here. I was using her to get what I wanted, and if you hadn't miraculously made it home, I would have found what I was looking for."

  "And what is that exactly?"

  "Proof."

  "Is that what this is about?" I ask, feigning surprise. "You still think I had something to do with your sister’s disappearance? I really wish you would move on. I don't know anything, and the police have searched my house. I wasn't even in town when it happened."

  "So you claim."

  "It's not a claim. That's the one thing you have proof of, remember? Or do I need to call your partner and have him reread his statement to you again."

  I should just shoot him and move on. He broke into my house. He wasn't invited. Amelia would have to go along with the story or I'd kill her as well. I could claim he killed her so I killed him.

  Then again, I do like to watch him suffer.

  Maybe I'll just shoot him in the foot or take out his knee cap. Say the gun accidentally went off.

  Garcia would cover for me. He'd be able to vouch for the fact Ayers has been stalking me, harassing me since his sister disappeared. I'm sure the entire department knows how obsessed he is. It's not much of a stretch for them to believe he broke in here.

  Instead, I lower my gun to the floor but keep my finger on the trigger just in case. If he charges me, I won't hesitate to shoot.

  "His statement is bullshit, and you know it."

  "A bold statement for someone who trusts their partner. You'd think his word was worth something to you. Apparently not."

  "When it comes to you, I don't believe a word he says. You've brainwashed him."

  Ha! The thought makes me laugh, but I hold back my smile.

  "He works for me, Ayers. He's not brainwashed. He's only around to provide security when I travel. You act like we're conspiring against the world."

  "Something deep down tells me you're trying to."

  This time I do laugh. I let it all out. He's moving further and further from the truth with every step he takes. The funny part is he thinks he's getting closer. He has no idea how wrong he is.

  "What do you want from me?" I ask as my laughter dies, the room falling silent except the pounding of rain against the windows.

  The storm is picking up. We should really leave, get off the island. If it intensifies any more, it could become a tropical depression, and then all hell will break loose.

  "I want you to allow me to search the house. To prove my theory is correct. If I don't find anything, I'll leave you alone. For good."

  It's tempting, to allow him to search for clues when I know
he won't find any. Too tempting. Maybe he knows more than he's letting on. More than he should.

  Glancing at Amelia, I search her face for any sign she's been helping him. All I see on her face is confusion and fear. Clearly she knows less than Ayers does.

  "If that's what you want, fine. Search the house. There will be rules, though."

  "Like what?" There's a hint of irritation in his voice. I expected to hear excitement or happiness, but neither are present.

  "If you damage anything, you'll pay for it."

  "I promise to be on my best behavior. Anything else?"

  How do I keep him out of my office? I don't think I can.

  "Yes. Once you're finished, you go back to the station and clear my name. Close the case once and for all."

  And accept the fact that you have no clue what happened to your sister.

  I want to say it, to rub it in his face, but I keep it to myself. I'll let him think he has a chance of finding something for now.

  "Deal."

  "You have thirty minutes," I state, stepping aside and waving him out of the room.

  Amelia is two steps behind him, but I don't let her get far.

  "Where do you think you're going?" I ask through clenched teeth as I grab her arm and pull her close.

  "To get a flashlight," she stutters, holding back her tears. I can smell her fear.

  Good.

  She should be afraid of me. Maybe if I strike enough fear in her, she won't step out of line again. If she does, she can disappear as well. She and Monica can become the best of friends.

  Amelia rushes out the door the moment I release her arm, the pitter patter of her bare feet fading as she runs down the hall. A loud crack of thunder echoes through the house, and when the lightning flashes, I catch sight of what Amelia and Ayers were staring at when I walked in on them.

  Approaching the edge of the bed, I admire the picture. Monica's smile was infectious. I remember that day like it was yesterday. We were as happy as we'd ever been. The island brought a sense of peace to me that I didn't know I had. Having just announced my run for reelection, my stress was beginning to build and my temper was short.

  Not with Monica, though.

  She made me smile. She brought out the best in me. For her, I wanted to be a better man than I thought possible. She made me want to dissolve all the bad business deals I had made and get on the straight and narrow. To live up to the promises I made constituents instead of doing the exact opposite of what I said I was going to.

  She was amazing, in so many ways. Until one day she wasn't.

  That was a dark day for me. I didn't want things to turn out the way they did, but I had no choice. She was going to expose me. I wasn't worried about my reputation or the downfall of my career. I was worried about my life.

  If she exposed me, she would expose the entire company. People you don't want to mess with. Dangerous cartel members. People who kill people for no other reason than they feel like it.

  I would have been at the top of the hit list, and I wasn't ready to die. It was me or her, and I chose me.

  When I saw her in my office, attempting to move my bookcase on the cameras, I knew she was onto me. That happened to be the first trip Garcia wasn't on with me. He stayed home, sick, but that didn't stop me from calling him.

  He was closer.

  He could go to the house and put a stop to whatever she was up to.

  And he did just as I asked.

  Just as she was about to take a crowbar to the side of my bookcase, he showed up. Pulled her out of the room and stopped her from finding evidence that would destroy my career. My life.

  She put up a good fight, busting his lip open during the struggle. It made the entire story plausible.

  Once he ensured me they were on the plane to Houston, I made the call to her parents, asking if they'd heard from Monica. I feigned panic and concern as I stared at the picture Garcia had sent me of her. Her eyes were filled with fear and bloodshot from crying. Streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. Her sleek and shiny hair was messy, looking as if it had been days since she had washed or combed it.

  She probably thought he was going to kill her. And I bet she wishes that's what he had done.

  No. For her defiance, I decided it was best to give her to the people she almost took down. She could stay with them, see what life was like on the other side.

  It's too bad, really. She was an amazing woman. An incredible fuck. Wild and kinky between the sheets. Hell, she taught me a few tricks.

  There are days I wish I could have one more night with her. To slide deep inside her one last time. To see her face as she reaches her climax, her bottom lip dropping open and her eyes rolling back. It was a beautiful sight, her getting off.

  And now there are plenty of lucky bastards who get to see that look, if she's still able to come, that is. I'm sure she's gone numb to the constant fucking. To the different men slipping inside her whenever they feel the need.

  Sex trafficking isn't a joke. Once you're sold, it's over for you. Those women are only kept alive so men have someone to fuck. The sick bastards. It's good business, though. I make a shit ton of money for looking the other way and helping ensure no one is stopped at the border.

  I'm paid even better money for finding the girls. Monica wasn't the first I sold them, and she won't be the last. She was my biggest payoff, though. Not only did it solve my problem to sell her but it made the bosses really happy. Whoever is at the top of the chain, that's who she's with. That's who she works for.

  Taking the picture in my hand, I trace her lips with my finger. A smile creeps onto my face as I remember what it felt like the first time she wrapped those luscious lips around my cock. I almost lost my damn mind and came in less than a minute.

  Amelia is a close second place, but Monica will always be my favorite. That's why I couldn't kill her. It would have hurt me as much as it would have hurt her.

  Two

  Amelia

  His presence scared the shit out of me. He was at the office. Thirty minutes away. He shouldn't have been here.

  Then there was the gun.

  Another surprise.

  Where did it come from? Why did he have it?

  Of course, in my state of shock, all I could do was stare at it. More to make sure he didn't pull the trigger than anything else.

  So that's what I did.

  Watched and listened as he went back and forth with Micah.

  I replayed every moment I've spent with Johnathan, searching my mind for clues that could have prevented me from being here right now, caught in this situation.

  He seemed so genuine and kind. Always wanting to take care of me. He holds me at night while I sleep. He's shown me nothing but love and devotion.

  The man standing in front of me is not the same man I met that first night. He's not the man I fell in love with. The man I married.

  He's a monster. I could see it in his eyes.

  The evil. The hatred. The laughter at everything Micah's said.

  His eyes smiled with delight. He knows what happened to Monica, and keeping it from Micah brings him a sense of pleasure.

  He's sick. A con man.

  I married an impersonator.

  He's been pretending to be a stand-up guy. A leader with good intentions. Someone who cares about others, who cares about me.

  That's not who he really is at all. He doesn't give a shit about me. I'm only here to improve his appearance. To cover for him when he needs me. To make sure people see him one way and one way only.

  The way he wants them to.

  I knew it the moment I turned and saw him with the gun. The evil inside him was shining through. The need for control. For power.

  It was like a bright light was shining down on our relationship, and I was finally able to see it for what it really was. A façade.

  To cover up who he really was. To keep that side of his life out of the spotlight and hidden.

  It made me feel like a fool. He t
ricked me into seeing a side of him that didn't exist. Into marrying him when I shouldn't have.

  And all of that made me angry. Angrier than I've ever been.

  He's fooled everyone, including me. The difference between me and his constituents… I'm stuck with him. I married the bastard. I guarantee he's not going to let me leave. Not on my own terms. That wouldn't be good for his image.

  Not that I give a fuck anymore.

  A shiver runs up my spine at the thought of being stuck with him for even another moment, let alone the rest of my life. Pulling myself back to the present, the moment of truth has arrived.

  Johnathan's going to let Micah look around.

  Right here. Right now.

  I don't believe it. It's surreal.

  If Micah can find what he's looking for, maybe he'll get the closure he needs. There's no doubt in my mind Johnathan had something to do with his sister's disappearance.

  How involved? I'm not sure. I can tell he's hiding something, though. Which means so is Garcia.

  From the moment I met him, he gave me a weird vibe. Like he was trying to appear one way when that's not who he really is. He's not just a bodyguard or a cop. It was something else. The blank stares. The silent expressions.

  Garcia is a mystery to me. For a reason.

  He has secrets. He's done things he doesn't want people to know about.

  It makes me wonder how involved he was in Monica's disappearance.

  If he was truly out of town with Johnathan, his level of involvement could be minimal as well. Still, if Johnathan did anything to her, Garcia knows about it, which means he's lying to Micah. Lying to his partner.

  Covering up murder.

  Another chill runs up my spine as I watch Micah leave the room and head in the direction of Johnathan office. I'm not surprised he'd start there. I'd do the same thing. If there's anything in this house that might link Johnathan to his sister’s disappearance, it's in that room.