The Truths We Seek, page 1
THE TRUTHS WE SEEK
THE SECRETS WE KEEP DUET
PART TWO
LILY WILDHART
The Truths We Seek
The Secrets We Keep Duet - Part Two
Copyright © 2023 Lily Wildhart
Published by Bright Lights Publishing Ltd
Lily Wildhart has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as Author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, record, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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The Truths We Seek/Lily Wildhart
CONTENTS
CONTENT WARNING
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
CONTENT WARNING
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
COMING SOON
About the Author
Also by Lily Wildhart
In the words of Mother…
Who you are is not where you’ve been.
CONTENT WARNING
This book is a dark, 18+, mafia, why choose romance.
It contains scenes and references of abuse/sexual assault, assault and suicide that some readers may find triggering, along with graphic sex scenes, cursing and violence.
CHAPTER ONE
MEYER
ELEVEN MONTHS AGO
My phone buzzes across my desk for the third time in a row while I look at the accounts for the club and try not to launch my computer across the room. I fucking hate doing the books, but I also don’t trust anyone enough to let them handle it and not screw us over.
Sighing as I scrub a hand down my face, realizing I’m not going to be able to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me until I get more caffeine in my system, I close the document and take a deep breath. I flip my phone over when the buzzing stops and notice Tommy’s name on the screen. That’s unusual, we’re not due to check in for a few weeks.
It starts to buzz again, so I swipe across the screen to answer. “Four fucking tries. Good thing nobody’s dying, Kid.”
A laugh escapes me. Not many people would dare call me “Kid”, let alone speak to me like that. “Oh, people are dying, just no one we give a fuck about. What’s up, Old Man?”
He guffaws down the line. “I swear to God, if you little shits don’t stop calling me old…” He pauses and I can’t help but wonder who else he’s talking about, but before I can ask, he starts to speak again. “I need a favor.”
My forehead creases as I frown. Tommy never asks for anything. Hasn’t for a long time. He hates owing people, despite the fact that he’ll literally bend over backwards for the people he cares about. Not that he cares about many people; I can probably count them on one hand.
Which means whatever this is, it’s important, meaning it’s enough to make me nervous.
“What’s up?”
“The girl I told you about that I’ve been helping?”
“I remember,” I confirm. He’s mentioned her a few times. Hasn’t gone into the deep details, but for Tommy to go out of his way for her the way he has means there’s something about her that’s special. “What about her?”
“I need you to put her somewhere safe. I’ve tried doing it her way, the small-town way, but you and I both know that disappearing in a small town is never going to last long. She needs resources I don’t have—”
“But I do. Who exactly is she running from?” I ask, curious.
“Her ex.”
“Husband?”
“No, just a piece of shit that roped her in and beat her until she didn’t think she deserved any better.” My jaw clenches at his words. There are few worse cowards in the world than the ones who beat women to make themselves feel like men. “He nearly killed her, but she woke up. She ran. Except he’s a cop.”
“Fuck,” I say with a sigh. That explains why it’s been such a thing moving her. “I can help. Send me her file, and don’t pretend you don’t have one. I’ll put a plan together. How long do we have?”
“She got his little package today so she’ll be on the move tomorrow. I’ll be sending her your way. She’ll get there late tomorrow night, I imagine.”
“Plenty of time,” I respond with a laugh.
“Telling me you’re not up to the challenge, Kid?” I can hear the bullshit grin in his voice and I shake my head.
“Fuck you, Old Man. Why aren’t we just handling the ex?” I ask, curious. Seems a much simpler solution.
“One, he’s a cop, likely to bring too much heat. Two, she doesn’t want it. Says she doesn’t want to be that person. She has a lot of demons she’s running from, I think not killing him keeps some of them at bay.”
I nod, not that he can see it. It makes sense in a fucked up kind of way, but I’ve never been one to disobey a lady’s wishes… well, not unless I have to anyway. “Send me her details. I’ll get it sorted out and let you know the plan asap.”
“You’re a good kid,” he says, and I laugh again. “Catch you later. Say hi to Angie for me.”
I shake my head as he ends the call. I am not saying hello to my mother for him. He can deal with that shit show on his own. The trapped girl, I’ll help, but his weird love triangle shit, whatever it is, with my mom? Not a chance.
My email from Tommy pings a second later. I click on the notification and download the document he sent. Without even reading, I hit print. This blue light shit is giving me a headache, I need paper.
God, I sound like my mom. I’m getting fucking old.
The machine whirrs, printing off page after page, and my curiosity piques further. How does one girl require so much information?
I grab my phone and send Harper a message asking her to bring me up a cup of coffee. I really need to get an espresso machine in here. I have the bar, but it’s too early for whiskey. Her snarky response makes me laugh, but I know she’ll bring me the coffee whether she bitches about it or not.
The printer stops as the door to my office opens. Harper struts in, face like thunder, but a cup of coffee in her hand. “Coffee,” she snarks, putting the cup on the desk, then stands, arms folded, hip cocked, glaring at me. “Anything else you need, Your Highness?”
“A back rub wouldn’t go amiss,” I tease, smirking at her. She rolls her eyes and huffs.
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m so attached to you assholes.”
I grin wide at her as I grab the coffee and lean back in my chair. “You love us. We’re amazing. You’d be bored without us.”
“Uh-huh. Seriously though, anything else before I go back and finish the stock count?”
I shake my head before taking a sip of the apparently-scalding-hot coffee. “Nope,” I hiss, blowing out air to try and cool my burned tongue. “You’re an asshole.”
“You asked for coffee,” she says with a shrug before turning on her ridiculously high stiletto heels and leaving my office, slamming the door behind her.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose and taking a deep breath, reminding myself that women are necessary for this business to work. Harper is a good worker, she’s loyal, and she’d never betray us. Even if she does bitch and moan all fucking day long.
I trust her. That’s rare in my world.
The door opens again and I open my eyes, about to ask Harper what sassery it is she forgot to spew at me before, but lock eyes with Hunter instead.
The smiling blond jerk strolls into my office like he doesn’t have a care in the world and drops into the chair opposite my desk. God knows I love him like a brother, but if he puts his feet up on my desk one more time, I’ll cut the fucking things off.
It’s like he can see my train of thought because he leans back, stares at me, smirks, then winks and leans forward rather than kicking his feet up.
See? Jerk.
“What’s got you so cheery?” I ask, despite knowing he’s just a cheerful bastard ninety-eight percent of the time.
“Just got my dick sucked, I am living the good life. Who knew being single was so good?”
I drop the smile on my face and deadpan. “No one. The girls sucking your dick want more from you and you’re going to have to deal with the fallout of it soon enough.”
“You’re a stick in the mud. I know that you haven’t stayed celibate since—”
“Don’t start with me, Hunter.” I get up and head to the printer, hitting reprint before dropping the giant stack of paper in his lap. “Not today. Read up.”
“What’s this?” he asks, his face turning serious as he leans forward and flicks through the pages. “Quinn Summers, twenty-seven, nearly twenty-eight. She’s stunning, but why am I reading what looks like a personnel file?”
“Tommy needs our help.” I tell him as I replay the quick version of my call with Tommy before picking up the re-printed file and starting to read myself.
By the time I’m finished, my headache is worse from the tension in my jaw alone and I want to take out this sorry excuse of a human.
“Why aren’t we just dealing with the ex?” Hunter asks, his expression not far from mine. I tell him what Tommy told me and he rolls his eyes. “That’s bullshit.”
“I agree, but for now, we’re going to help her hide. We didn’t fill the bar position yet, right?”
He shakes his head. “No, why?”
“She looks like she’ll fit in here. We can put her in the tower, you’ve still got your place there. You can keep an eye on her.”
“That I can,” he says with a wink.
“Don’t be a dick, and stop thinking with yours.”
“She’s hot, and reading these journal entries Tommy somehow got—totally not asking if she gave them up willingly—I feel like I know her already. The struggle, the sadness, the darkness, but the light that shines through anyway.”
I nod, agreeing, trying to tell myself that I can’t be half in love with someone from reading about them alone. Life doesn’t happen like that. But reading about her, the notes in here from Tommy, the extensive medical records, the pictures, some of the therapy notes—though they’re sparse, and that’s being generous—it’s like I’ve seen something that I know lives inside of me.
Our stories might be different, but I understand that darkness. The feeling of a tainted soul. The thought that you’ll never be good enough, questioning your worth, smiling, despite the fact that inside, you’re falling apart.
Something in that, in her words, in her eyes in the many pictures in here… something in all of that feels like a jigsaw piece connecting with an empty space in my soul.
I sound like a fucking crazy person, even if it is just inside my own head.
“But I’ll keep my dick in my pants and I’ll watch out for her. Does Rory know yet?”
“Does Rory know what?” I look up as the door to my office opens again as the man in question enters the room. Hunter turns and gives him the file he has in his hand.
“This,” Hunter says as Rory takes the papers and moves to lean against the wall.
“Who is she?” Rory asks, and I find myself repeating the conversation with Tommy again. I watch him as he reads her files and I know the minute he reads the line I did, the one that made me connect with her.
‘I’ve never thought of myself as a monster, but I continue to find myself surrounded by them. So maybe I am a monster, just one who doesn’t see it. Maybe I deserve this life, the punishments I receive, because I am a monster too. Except I’m the worst kind, because I don’t even see it.’
“When does she arrive?” he asks, looking me dead in the eye.
“Tomorrow,” I tell him and he nods.
“Dario has been dealt with for now, but we need to keep an eye on him. I’ll watch for her tomorrow. Did Tommy say how she’s coming into town?”
“Not yet.”
“Let me know and I’ll be there to make sure she isn’t followed.” He pushes off the wall, drops the papers onto my desk, and leaves.
And just like that, I already know that this girl might be coming to us as a favor, but she’s going to be so much more than that.
So much more.
CHAPTER TWO
MEYER
NOW
The fake laugh falls from my lips at the senator’s terrible joke and never have I ever been more thankful for my phone ringing. “Excuse me a second, gentlemen.”
I pull my phone from my pocket, stepping away from the group, my eyes scanning the room for Quinn. I can’t see her, but then, I don’t see the other two either.
Hunter probably has her pinned against a wall somewhere.
I laugh at the errant thought as I answer the phone. “Two seconds,” I say as I head out the back of the hall into the crisp air of the evening, the noise of the room disappearing in an instant. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Marino?”
A shiver runs down my spine and I stand a little taller. “Speaking, who is this?”
“Mr. Marino, my name is Shelley, I’m a nurse here at Shorefront Emergency room. We have you listed as the next of kin for Mr. Tommy Miller. He’s being taken into surgery now and we need to go through some details with you.”
Wait, what? Shock makes me freeze for half a second before anger and confusion settle inside of me, writhing like two snakes at war. “What do you mean, surgery?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were contacted. Mr. Miller was shot this evening, he’s in critical condition and has just gone down to surgery. As this is a private facility, we wanted to contact you immediately.”
“He was shot?” Someone needs to give me more fucking details.
Shit, Quinn. I need to get her and get to Tommy like, now.
“Yes, sir, do you have a minute—”
“Do whatever is needed to keep him alive, money isn’t an issue. Keep him alive.” I put the phone on speaker and text Rory and Hunter, telling them to meet me at the entrance now.
“We will endeavor to do our best. You should know he had lost a lot of blood before the ambulance got to him—”
“I understand, just do what you need to. I’m on my way.” I disconnect the call and head back inside, ignoring the people that call out to me. I head toward the table, finding Rory sitting there, standing as he reads his phone. He looks up, sees me, and nods, pausing until I get there.
“What happened?” he asks as he grabs his jacket off of the back of his chair while I grab Quinn’s bag from under her seat.
“Tommy’s in the hospital. He was shot. We need to get there, now.”
He nods, pulling his phone from his pocket. “David, good, get to Tommy’s place. Find out what the fuck is going on and report back.”
Without waiting for a response, he ends the call.
“Where the fuck is Hunter?” I grunt as I check my phone again. I told him to meet me at the entrance, so I’m being unreasonable, but I do not like not knowing what’s going on.
We reach the entrance and find the media presence has all but disappeared, off getting food before people leave, most likely, but Hunter and Quinn aren’t here.
Rory checks his phone and pales.
“What the fuck now?”
“It’s Quinn. She’s not here.”
My phone pings the next second and Hunter’s name is on the screen.
Hunter
Help. Bathroom.
My brow furrows, but my feet are moving before I can say a word. I slam the door to the bathroom by the entrance open and the world tilts for a second.
