The Truth Read online

  “I’ve always wanted to sleep on the wings of an angel,” she murmured. “Thank you, Mr. Mercer, for being my guardian angel.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. Someday she’d know how much she could trust her instincts, when she realized everything they were telling her was so dead on.

  Mercer had never been more sure and, at the same time, more conflicted about anything in his life. This thing with Quinn was the best, yet most fucked-up relationship he’d ever been in, not that there had been many. In his line of work, being involved could only ever be superficial. But really, was this any different? Was it any less superficial? Maybe for him, but certainly not for Quinn. He’d shown her so little of himself. He was a face and a body who she felt safe with. Otherwise, she knew nothing about him.

  As he lay next to her, Mercer came to a decision. When he got to California, he would have a talk with Paps. He needed his guidance, and if asked, he knew the man would give it to him.

  Mercer woke before the alarm went off, like he always did. He slid Quinn’s arm from around his waist and went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and heat water for tea, if she wanted some. He didn’t have much to eat in the house, but Quinn probably wouldn’t be hungry anyway. More than likely, once he woke her, she’d pad over to her apartment, fall into her own bed, and go back to sleep.

  He checked the time; he had forty-five minutes before Tom would be downstairs, waiting. Just long enough that he could shower and spend a few minutes watching her while she slept.

  He’d just put shampoo in his hair when he heard the bathroom door open. Like hers, his shower was more than big enough for two people, and was enclosed by clear glass. This wasn’t a mistake on her part. Quinn knew full well what she was doing by coming in here.

  His K19 t-shirt was the first to go, followed by her panties. Quinn, with sleep-laden eyes, stood before Mercer, naked, waiting for him to invite her into the shower with him.

  There was no way for him to hide his body’s instinctual reaction to her, no way for him to deny he wanted her. When he reached out his hand, and she put hers in it, he drew her under the water with him.

  —:—

  The breath Quinn had held from the time she walked into the bathroom came out in a gasp when Mercer put his arms around her and brought her naked body flush with his.

  He palmed her bottom with his strong hands, holding her pelvis against his hardness. He brought one hand to her breast and toyed with her nipple as he had the other day. Quinn moaned and felt her knees weaken as her desire for him pooled between her legs.

  Mercer gently pushed her up against the wall and rained the body wash that represented his scent to her over her shoulders and down the valley between her breasts. He ran both hands down her arms, over her torso, and then knelt before her.

  “Open your legs, precious,” he whispered, tapping on the inside of her thighs. With deft fingers, he brought the lather through her folds, and her body shuddered.

  He looked up, into her eyes. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” he told her, and rather than gently resting on them, her fingers dug into his hard muscles.

  When his hands moved to the back of her legs, where she was ticklish, she giggled, but when her eyes met the smolder of his, she stopped laughing.

  Mercer stood and turned her body so her back was to him. Once again he dribbled the body wash over her shoulders and down her back.

  “Put your hands here,” he said, guiding them to the cold tile.

  When she did, his hands resumed their exploration of her body. Once he’d touched every part of her, he put his arms around her waist and drew her against him. She could feel him, harder than he’d been before, pressed against her bottom, and she moaned.

  He reached in front of her and turned the water off, then stretched to grab a towel from the warmer that sat right outside the shower door. He used it to dry her hair, and then ran the plush Egyptian cotton over her arms and legs. He wrapped it around his back and pulled her into his embrace, encircling them in the towel big enough to cover them both.

  They still stood within the confines of the shower, looking into each other’s eyes.

  He brought his forehead to hers. “I’m leaving town, precious. As much as I want to stay right here with you, I can’t.”

  “I know,” she sighed.

  “Do you know how much I want you?”

  Quinn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I can feel it.”

  Mercer took her right hand and rested it near his heart. “This is where I want you to feel it.”

  “I do,” she murmured before he covered her lips with his.

  His fingers wove into her hair, and the towel that had been around them fell to the shower floor.

  It wasn’t just his lips that kissed her, his whole body did. Every place they touched felt like a kiss.

  Quinn heard a ping from the bedroom, and while he stopped kissing her, his fingers were still in her hair.

  “I’ve never wanted to leave less than I do now, Quinn.”

  When she tried to step back, he held her tight. “I’ll be back as soon as I can be.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  8

  Quinn crept into her apartment, hoping not to wake her four friends who were sleeping God knows where. Hopefully, her bed would be empty, but if not, she’d stretch out on any open sleeping space, close her eyes, and will herself to dream of Mercer’s hands on her body.

  He hadn’t let her ride the elevator down with him, but had kissed her soundly at her door.

  Regardless of what insecurities she allowed to creep in while he was away, his promise of keeping in contact with her while he was gone would reassure her.

  Aine was sitting up in Quinn’s bed when she came in.

  “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “Yes and no. I was half awake when I heard the door open.”

  “Where is everyone else?” Quinn hadn’t bothered to look in either of the spare bedrooms on the way to hers.

  “I have no idea. Crashed somewhere around here. I called dibs on your bed, knowing you wouldn’t be back until morning. Although I didn’t expect you before ten, or not at all.”

  “He had an early flight.”

  “Right. It’s coming back to me now. He was leaving town. For work?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “What’s he do?”

  “Um…I’m not really sure.”

  “Is that who he works for?” Aine asked, pointing to the shirt Quinn was still wearing, the one Mercer had agreed to let her keep when she told him it would be almost like having him wrapped around her.

  “He said it wasn’t.”

  “But you don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed as though there was something he didn’t want to say.”

  “Let’s look ’em up.” Aine was out of bed, heading for the kitchen. “Want tea?”

  So much for going back to sleep and dreaming of Mercer. “Uh, sure…if we’re officially awake now.”

  “Hell, yeah, we are,” Aine shouted behind her. “I want to hear everything.”

  Quinn looked up at the ceiling. She’d wanted to keep Mercer to herself for what felt like so long; now though, she felt ready to share him.

  The first time Mercer texted her, Quinn was telling Aine about their morning over a cup of tea.

  Thinking about how to make this morning up to you, he texted.

  She flushed and showed her phone to Aine.

  “It’s like he knew what we were talking about. Is this apartment bugged?” she said to the ceiling. “If it is, Mercer, this is Aine, and I just read your text, so please don’t send Quinn any racy photos.”

  Quinn giggled, but a weird feeling momentarily settled over her. She shook it away as quickly as it came.

  “Come on, let’s Google him,” she heard Aine say as she walked down the hallway back to the bedroom, where she knew Quinn left her laptop.

  “Him, or K19?” she asked.

  �
��Both.”

  Twenty minutes later, they didn’t know anything more than they had when they’d started. There was no record anywhere of a company called K19 Solutions and worse, Mercer Bryant had no internet footprint whatsoever.

  It was obvious that Aine didn’t know what to say any more than Quinn did.

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” she offered.

  Quinn shrugged. “I can’t imagine…”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, he lives in your building. They don’t let just anyone in. Plus, don’t these apartments go for a bjillion dollars?”

  She laughed. “Not quite a bjillion, but you’re right, he would’ve had to pass an extensive background check to even be considered by the board.”

  “I’m ready for the beach. How about you?” asked Aine, changing the subject and heading to the guest rooms to wake up Penelope, Tara, and Ava.

  A couple of hours later, they were on the ferry headed to Fire Island.

  Last night, Quinn had decided not to snivel or obsess about Mercer. Once they were on the island and had said hello to Pen’s dad, she’d put on her bikini and take a nap on the beach. In the meantime, she’d do her best not to think about the man she woke up with this morning—the one whose air of mystery was beginning to trouble her.

  —:—

  For the first five minutes of his flight, Mercer waited for Quinn-related guilt to creep in, but it didn’t.

  Maybe it was his resolve to talk the situation over with Paps that was setting his mind at ease, or it was his own acceptance that what had once been a forbidden fantasy, had become his reality.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see the way she’d looked this morning, naked, and so open to him. Leaving her was as painful now as it had been when they both had to dress and exit his apartment.

  He adjusted his jeans, repositioned himself in his seat, and opened his eyes when he heard Delaney, the flight attendant for the private aircraft, ask if she could bring him anything.

  “I’m good, thanks,” he answered, but neither she nor her gaze left his body. Not his eyes, his body—the part of his body that had just come to life with thoughts of the naked woman he’d been with that morning.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t—”

  “Positive, Del.” He closed his eyes again, willing her away. This wasn’t the first time she’d made an offer for more than food and beverage service, and not the first time Mercer had turned her down. There may have been a time he would’ve considered having dinner with her, and maybe even more, but now it was inconceivable. Another reason he couldn’t wallow in self-hate over his feelings for Quinn; she was the only woman on earth he was attracted to.

  There was a message from Paps, asking Mercer to meet him in San Luis Obispo instead of the house in Harmony. He found the Ducati where he’d left it what seemed like far longer than two days ago, and texted confirmation.

  The airfield was only a short distance from the restaurant where they were meeting, and being on the bike made parking easier, so Mercer arrived before Paps did. Instead of waiting inside, he went into the store next door, which touted local artists.

  “Those are mine,” said a woman behind the counter.

  “Very nice,” he murmured.

  The handmade frames were just what he was looking for. Each had a message etched into the wooden frame, but none were quite right.

  “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Ten minutes later, he left the shop empty-handed, but the artist promised his order would be ready for pickup by the next afternoon.

  “Saw the bike,” said Paps when Mercer joined him at the table.

  “I was next door, buying a gift for Quinn.”

  “I see,” he answered.

  “We need to talk.”

  “You need to talk.”

  He got that right. “Razor said something cryptic last night.”

  “Razor? Nah.”

  Razor rarely said anything that wasn’t.

  “He said history repeats itself.”

  Paps raised his eyebrows. “Did he say anything else?”

  “We were interrupted before he could elaborate. If it relates to Doc and Lena, it’s easy enough to figure out.”

  Paps nodded.

  “What would Doc think?”

  He looked past Mercer. “I can’t answer that.”

  “I’m in love with her,” he blurted.

  His partner nodded for the second time.

  “What Razor said surprised you, but not my confession?”

  “It wasn’t unexpected.”

  “You’re not going to tell me what Razor meant, are you?”

  “I’m not. And neither is he.”

  “If it’s something I should be read in on—”

  “Doc would’ve done it four years ago.”

  Mercer had to concede that point.

  “Maddox Butler was in Harmony this morning,” said Paps, changing subjects. “He saw me.”

  “Where?”

  “He was parked in front of the diner. I was coming back from the warehouse.”

  “Are you concerned about it?”

  Paps shrugged. “Not really, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up again.”

  “Did he recognize you?” Mercer didn’t think Paps and Razor had spent much time with Maddox and Naughton while they were in Argentina searching for Brodie’s crash site, but maybe it was more than he’d originally thought.

  “Seemed more like he saw a ghost.”

  Paps resembled Doc, but certainly not enough that his own brother wouldn’t have known the difference. From that distance, though, Mercer could understand Maddox’s reaction.

  “I can handle things here for the next few days if you want to take a break.”

  Paps sighed. “I’ll go home once responsibility for Barbie is with her next set of handlers.”

  Paps’ family lived outside of Washington DC, in Annapolis, Maryland, not far from where Mercer grew up in Cape Charles, Virginia. Both had spent their summers sailing at either end of Chesapeake Bay.

  Paps owned a Hinckley Bermuda 40, he’d named Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, and Mercer’s family still owned Aurora, the Hallberg-Rassy 42 that his father had commissioned by German Frers in the early nineties. There’d been plenty of smack talk back and forth over the years, but both were considered among the best sailing yachts ever built.

  “I could stand a trip home.”

  “I hear ya, Eighty-eight.”

  “What would you think of establishing contact?” Paps asked a few minutes later.

  “With Maddox?”

  “Naughton.”

  “Sure.” Mercer nodded. That made more sense.

  “They’re walking the property today.”

  “Maddox and Naughton?”

  Paps nodded. “It won’t be long before they discover the caves and Enzo Avila’s hidden barrels.”

  “Yep.”

  “They could assume it’s Hess wine,” suggested Paps, but Mercer shook his head.

  “Maddox will taste it, and once he does, he’ll know it’s too young to have been made on the estate.”

  He knew Paps was skeptical, but any of the winemakers in this region would know the difference. Hell, even Mercer knew enough to study the hue and color transitions to determine a wine’s age. He’d probably know by taste too, although that would be more difficult.

  Paps’ phone pinged, and he read the message on it. “They’re in the caves now.”

  The message had to have come from Sonny Lista, code name Max, a member of the K19 team who’d gotten himself hired as one of Naughton Butler’s vineyard workers at the Old Creek Road property.

  “Enzo Avila is there too. The Butler boys haven’t seen him, and none of them have seen Max,” laughed Paps.

  “What a Charlie Foxtrot.”

  “You were right,” Paps said a few minutes later. “Max reported that Maddox knew right away that the wine
couldn’t have come from the estate vineyards. Their initial theory was that someone who had a bond issue was hiding the barrels there. He also mentioned that Avila practically shit himself when he heard their conversation.”

  The phone pinged again, and Paps studied it. “Well, whattaya know. Guess who else is there?”

  “Calder?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Max says he looks happy as a pig in shit, or a piece of shit in shit.” Paps laughed to himself. “My guess is because he heard the part about someone having a potential bond issue.”

  “It’ll be interesting to see if he makes use of the information.”

  “This confirms our suspicions, Eighty-eight. Don’t ya think?”

  He agreed. There was a reason Calder was in those caves, and it didn’t have anything to do with the wine stored in them, because until today, he had no idea of their significance. That he came back at all was the more important piece of intelligence. “What the hell could be in there?” Mercer said as much to himself as to Paps.

  “Let’s hope whatever it is, leads us to Doc and Leech.”

  Neither of them needed to say it, but Mercer knew Paps hoped it led them to where they’d find them alive, however slim the chance might be.

  “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “Calder is on his way to see Barbie,” Paps said, still studying the phone’s screen.

  “Shit.” They were at least a half hour away. Mercer didn’t know much about Max, but he sure as hell hoped the guy had it in him to protect her.

  “He has backup,” Paps said, resting his phone on the table.

  “Who else do we have on the ground?”

  He rattled off the names of three other contractors Mercer knew nothing about. Later, when he was back at the Harmony house, he’d get up to speed.

  “I’d never leave him on his own,” Paps added.

  “Why not?” He wasn’t questioning his partner’s decision-making capabilities, he just wanted to know more about why he didn’t trust him.

  “You never did ask where ‘Maxwell’ got his code name.”