His Secret Read online

  The brothers all had the same eyes, different shades of blue, but the same shape and intelligence. Now, I saw something else in them that was the same.

  Hope that they might finally have a reason.

  Fear that they might never get justice.

  Thirty-Three

  Blake

  I was back in Boston, and this time it was completely voluntary. We’d all left together yesterday afternoon, thanks to the company jet, then spent the rest of the day making phone calls.

  Now, it was just past nine o’clock on Wednesday morning, and my brothers and I were standing outside a house in Midtown, hoping this woman really did have what she said she did.

  The door opened, and an older woman with silvery-blue hair stood there. She gave us each a cool look and then stepped aside, motioning for us to come in. She might’ve been in her seventies, but she looked like she could handle herself, which was probably why she wasn’t afraid to invite four strange men into her home.

  “Mrs. Hilly,” Slade said, “thank you for seeing us so quickly.”

  “I’ve been waiting for fifteen years for someone strong enough to take down Andre Greene.” She pointed to an ancient-looking sofa. “Sit.”

  We obeyed immediately. As I sat, I wondered if she’d been a drill sergeant in a previous life. Either that or a teacher. She had that sort of natural authority.

  “Would any of you like tea?” She eyed each of us as if daring us to ask for anything else.

  We all politely declined. As much as we appreciated what she was doing for us, none of us wanted to spend any longer here than we had to. We’d waited far too long to see justice done as it was.

  “My late husband, Rudy, worked for GLP back when Horace Greene ran it. Believe it or not, he started in the mailroom right out of high school and worked his way up to department head. He spent eight years taking night classes to get his accounting degree, using GLP’s continuing education scholarships to pay for most of it.” Mrs. Hilly walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out what looked like a journal. “Rudy worked under Horace’s son as well, and then Andre Greene took over. Andre was nothing like his father or grandfather.”

  The tone of her voice told us all which of the Greenes she’d admired, and which she hadn’t. It seemed that Andre hadn’t made many friends anywhere.

  “Rudy headed the financial department,” she said, holding the book out to Jax. “Within a week of taking over, Andre fired sixteen people, and then hired three new ones. Usually, Rudy did the hiring for his department, but Andre hadn’t given him the chance. It became a habit over the years, Andre getting rid of people Rudy had hired and replacing them with workers who reported directly to Andre.”

  The more I heard about this guy, the less I liked him. Even if he wasn’t responsible for the crash, I hoped we could find something to put him away.

  “One evening fifteen years ago, Rudy came home upset. At first, I thought he’d gotten fired, but that wasn’t it. He said he’d started to notice that things weren’t adding up in a few places. They seemed to be simple mistakes at first. Inventory for janitors and maintenance not matching money spent. He began looking into things – doing his job, mind you – and that’s when he found bigger discrepancies.”

  How could something from fifteen years ago help us with what had happened twenty-four years ago? I wanted to rush her along to get to the point, but my gut told me to be patient. We’d get there. Better to get things right than get them fast.

  “Most of the companies GLP had worked with in the past to double-check findings and to do quality assurance had been changed to businesses Rudy had never heard of. There was more like that. Inspectors he didn’t know. The deeper he dug, the more he uncovered.” Mrs. Hilly sat down in the chair across from us and twisted her fingers in her lap. “He went back nearly thirty years and found lump sum payments to people and businesses that didn’t exist. He still felt too loyal to the company to go to the police right away, but he refused to look the other way too.”

  She paused, lost in her thoughts of the past. Slade, as always, knew the right thing to say. “He sounds like a great man.”

  She gave Slade a wobbly smile. “He was.”

  I made a mental note to ask Slade how he did that. I had a feeling my relationship with Brea was going to be full of times when I stuck my foot in my mouth. It’d be nice to know how to smooth things over.

  “The long and the short of it is that Rudy managed to track down a few important facts, including a memo from around twenty-five years ago that advised all staff that they weren’t allowed to speak with Chester Hunter, that he was a reporter determined to slander GLP’s good name. Since he had a name, Rudy decided to track Chester down, but he found out that he was too late. Later that night, after he told me about the accident, he said that he’d checked the dates of the memo and the accident against the financial records he’d copied. A large payment had gone out to one of those fake names, and he thought Andre might have hired someone to take care of the journalist.”

  Even with what I remembered and the things my brothers had already found out, a part of me still hadn’t completely believed that the crash hadn’t been an accident. Those doubts were gone now.

  “Rudy knew he’d gone as far as he could, and the police needed to take matters from there, but before he could find someone he trusted enough to give them the evidence, he had a heart attack. We’d known about his heart for years, but I still hadn’t been ready for it.” She gave us a sad smile. “He hung on long enough for me to say goodbye, and for him to tell me to hold on to everything. It would be my protection if Andre ever found out.”

  “What made you decide you could trust us to do the right thing?” I asked.

  “Because I’ve been watching you boys for years. I didn’t know how much you knew about what had happened, so I never approached you, but I did leave instructions with my attorney that he personally hand you the information if I died before you asked for it.”

  “Thank you,” Jax said. He looked down at the journal he held and then back up at Mrs. Hilly. “We really appreciate all you’ve done, but there’s one more favor I need to ask of you.”

  “Tell the police that I’m available to make a statement at any time,” she said matter-of-factly. She stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some baking to do. I take fresh bread and cookies to the elderly every Thursday morning.”

  As we left the house and walked toward Jax’s car, Slade said what I knew we were all feeling.

  “It’s time to hand this over.”

  “I’ll call Bartholomew and have him meet us at the station,” Jax said.

  This was it. Once we gave the police what we had, it would be on them to follow-up. There was always the possibility that these detectives would get the same sort of pressure as the ones had in the past, but we had something now that they didn’t then. Brothers who didn’t give a damn about making them look bad or pissing off people in high places. Brothers who had friends in all sorts of places. We would do whatever it took to get justice for our family. Even if I had to move back to Boston to do it.

  Thirty-Four

  Blake

  I didn’t think I’d ever prefer a city over the open space that I called home, but I had to admit, I was enjoying my time back in Boston. Brea and I had flown out two weeks ago, and I’d loved being able to show her all the places I’d gone when I was a kid. Even if that had been the only reason for being here, it would’ve been worth it, but there were two important reasons we’d joined my brothers and their significant others.

  Andre Greene had been sentenced yesterday.

  The information we’d provided the police had given them enough to lead them to a man named Darius Mclean. The man with the black boots. The one who’d messed with our car and caused it to crash. The one who’d walked over to the car, not caring about any of us inside, and stolen a disk from my dying father.

  He’d made a plea deal in exchange for the possibility of parole. The word of a mur
derer wouldn’t have been good enough alone, but Darius had been smart enough to know that his business would most likely lead to jail. He’d kept all correspondence, as well as a copy of the disk. It was all the cops needed to arrest Andre.

  The trial had lasted seven days, and the jury had taken less than ninety minutes to convict Andre of hiring someone to kill my father, and for the unintentional deaths of my mother and sister. He’d also been convicted of embezzlement, reckless endangerment, and a few other crimes that had to do with his business practices. A reporter asked one of the jurors if it had been difficult to come to a unanimous vote. The juror had said that the only reason it had taken as long as it had was the paperwork involved for each of the crimes.

  We’d all gone to the sentencing, but none of us had spoken when the judge had asked. Instead, we’d sat right behind Andre and held on to the pictures of our family.

  Altogether, the judge sentenced him to one life sentence, plus a total of one hundred and thirty-two more years on top of that. Even with good behavior, he wouldn’t be up for parole until he was well over ninety.

  It had been an intense, emotional day, which was why Jax had invited us all to the opening of Pothos, the BDSM club we’d invested in. Jax hadn’t needed the money, but he’d wanted us to have something we were all a part of. He’d run it, of course, and the rest of us could be as involved as we wanted. With Cai and Slade having moved back to Boston, they’d probably spend more time there than I would, but I planned to visit often. I was grateful that none of them had been upset when I’d told them that I didn’t want to move back to Boston. They’d all told me that I should follow my heart, and if that meant staying in Wyoming, then so be it.

  “You look amazing,” I said to Brea as she came out of the bathroom.

  Scarlet and tight, she was going to get a lot of attention tonight. Too bad. She was mine.

  Like always, that made me smile.

  We were staying with Jax and Syll, and it had been strange at first to have Brea in my former bedroom, but I was glad to be here instead of at some hotel. Even if Jax did tease both of us about the amount of noise we made. It’d been worth it to see Syll smack the back of his head and tell him to behave.

  “Thank you,” she said, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from the clingy silk.

  “I’d kiss you, but I have a feeling that if I did, I’d end up against the wall and we’d be late.”

  “We can’t have that,” she said with a smile. She stretched up to kiss my cheek.

  By the time we arrived at the club, the rest of my family was there, waiting for us before they went inside. There was already a line at the front door, and I had a feeling that the boulder of a man who stood in front of it was going to earn his keep tonight.

  Staff were already busy at work, making sure everything was perfect. A couple looked nervous as they glanced at Jax, but most were relaxed, chatting, clearly at ease. That was important. If the staff acted cagey, then anyone new to the life might not feel comfortable coming back. The staff was as important as the décor.

  Before I could get a good look at things, the side door opened, and a couple walked in, both smiling. She was in her late twenties, with golden blonde curls and dark eyes. He was older, probably by five or six years, with dark hair and serious muscles. Both were extremely attractive, even more so when they smiled, and I wondered who they were.

  “Carrie, Gavin! I’m glad you guys could make it.” Jax held out his hand, and both shook. “Everyone, this is Gavin and Carrie Manning.”

  It took me a moment to remember why I knew those names, but by the time Jax had gone around and given all our names, I’d remembered.

  They owned Club Privé, the hot BDSM club in New York that was so popular, all my brothers and I had gone to it at least once even though we’d never talked about it with each other. It’d been that club that had given Jax the idea for Pothos, though he’d gone with the name of the Greek god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire for his club name.

  “I love your club,” Slade said with a smile. He put his arm around Cheyenne and pulled her tight against his side.

  I liked her. I liked Syll and Addison too. Each of the women were different, and they were all perfect for my brothers. They balanced each other just like Brea balanced me. While I had no plans to move here, I did want to spend more time with my family.

  Something I never thought I’d say.

  “Carrie and Gavin’s club gave Jax the idea for Pothos,” I said to Brea.

  “It’s a sex club, then?” she asked.

  I nodded. “A nice one too.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been there.”

  I grinned at her. “I have. It’s where I realized I liked this stuff.”

  “Carrie and Gavin both generously gave me advice on various stages of getting things up and running,” Jax continued. “Something they hadn’t needed to do.”

  “Especially since you hit on my wife the first time we all met,” Gavin said mildly.

  Everyone looked at Syll.

  “It was before we met,” Syll said, leaning against Jax. “He already told me about it.”

  Jax grinned, an expression I was still getting used to seeing on his face. “See, guys? Be honest with your women, and you won’t end up in the doghouse.”

  “Your women?” Syll looked up at him.

  “Uh, I think that’s doghouse talk, Jax,” Slade said good-naturedly.

  “The place looks great,” Carrie said, easily diffusing things. “I love what you did here. A modern twist on ancient Greek culture.”

  That started a whole discussion between the two couples, and it wasn’t really anything I was particularly interested in. Judging by the look on my other brothers’ faces, they weren’t either.

  “I think we should grab a drink before the doors open,” Slade said.

  Cai tapped him on the back to get his attention and Slade winced. Cai frowned. “Seriously? I barely touched you.”

  “I got a new tattoo,” Slade said. He looked down at Cheyenne, and all of us could see the love in his eyes. “Chey designed it just for me.”

  “That’s romantic,” Addison said with a long sigh. “I heard you’re quite the artist.”

  “Thank you,” Cheyenne said softly.

  Slade looked around the group. “How about that drink?”

  “Do you want a drink?” I asked Brea.

  Her cheeks flushed. “No, but I’d like to take a walk around. Explore.”

  One look in her eyes told me she didn’t want to check out the moldings and flooring. We’d been playing with toys a bit more over the last couple months, and she’d enjoyed everything we’d done so far.

  She tugged on my hand, so I leaned down to make it easier for her to whisper in my ear.

  “I’m not wearing anything under my dress.”

  Shit. I went instantly hard.

  “Jax, mind if we check out one of your rooms?” I asked without taking my eyes off the beautiful woman beside me.

  “Go for it,” he said. “Key cards are behind the bar. Make sure you lock the door if you don’t want anyone watching…or joining in.”

  I looked down at Brea, and the thought of anyone seeing her naked, seeing her flush, seeing the look on her face when she came…fuck no. “I’ll lock the door.”

  A few minutes later, I was doing just that.

  “Wow.” Brea stood in the center of the room and slowly turned, taking it all in. “That’s a lot of toys. You don’t have this many.”

  “That’s because I’m the only one using them. This room is for lots of different people who like different things.” I walked over to the wall and gestured to a huge strap-on. “Like this, for example.”

  Her lips quirked up. “Does that mean you’re not into anal?”

  I nearly choked on a laugh, and then the sound died in my throat when I realized it was a serious question.

  I swallowed hard. “You want to…fuck me?”

  She laughed and shook her
head. “Not like that. Well, not unless you want me to.”

  I crossed over to where she was standing and slid my hands over her hips and up to her breasts. “Not something I’m into…for myself anyway.”

  She licked her lips. “Does that mean you’re interested in fucking my ass?”

  My hands dropped to said body part. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “There’s a bench to your right. Bend over it.”

  She moved to obey, anticipation crackling around her. Any doubts I’d had about her wanting to do this disappeared.

  I moved over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Sandalwood scented lube. Who knew.

  I picked it up and moved over to where Brea was waiting. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  “You don’t need to try so hard,” she teased. “I’m a sure thing.”

  I flipped her skirt up, and I saw that she’d been telling the truth about not wearing underwear. I went down on my knees and palmed her ass, squeezing the firm globes, massaging with my thumbs as I pulled them apart.

  “If you change your mind, just say butterfly, and I’ll stop.”

  She nodded. “I’ll remember, but I won’t need it. This wasn’t some impulsive decision. I’ve been planning this for a while.”

  “Really?”

  She looked back at me. “You’re not the only one who likes to try new things.”

  Fuck. I loved this woman.

  “If that’s the case…” I leaned forward and licked her from clitoris to anus, grinning when she gasped. “Stay still. I’ve got to make sure you’re nice and wet.”

  She tried – she really did – but I had a talented tongue, and I put it to good use. I teased her clit until she was on the edge, then moved to her pussy, licking around and inside. When I went back to her ass, she tensed up, but she didn’t stop me. I probed the muscle with the tip of my tongue, then pushed inside.