Allegiance, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Marilee Brothers
Allegiance
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Mick fights a grin
but continues to ignore me and directs his comment to Billy. “Guess it’s no secret I’d like to spend time with Mel. Just wanted to make sure it’s okay with you.”
I can’t believe this. Twice in one night. First, Darrell wants to know if I’m up for grabs. Now, Mick is asking Billy if I’m on the auction block.
Billy also acts like I’m invisible. “Are you saying you want to date Mel? I’m not sure how I feel about that. She might not be ready to…”
“Stop!” I yell. “Do you see me? I’m right here. In this room. And the two of you are acting like mongrels fighting over a steak bone. Let’s get one thing crystal clear. I’m nobody’s steak bone. All I want is for both of you to leave so I can heat up a bowl of noodles in the microwave, take a shower, and go to bed in a man-free environment. Got it?”
Since they’re both obtuse, I look around the room for something to throw. Finding no missiles, I settle for the broom propped in the corner of the room. I grab it like a baseball bat and begin swinging it at both men. “Out, get out!”
They both run for the door. Mick is laughing his butt off. Billy keeps looking over his shoulder, saying, “Wait, wait, we need to talk.”
I slam the door and lock it, thankful I’m alone.
Praise for Marilee Brothers
“This book totally surprised me, with twists and turns I didn’t see coming…a touch of humor and great characters…the start of a really good series. I can’t wait to read Book #2.”
~Patricia Lewin, Author
~*~
“AFFLICTION was a clever little mystery, romance with an aspect of the supernatural thrown in for good measure. I’m really curious what life will bring to Mel next.”
~ What’s Beyond Forks?
~*~
“…loved the stepfather, and…his brother as he leads a motorcycle gang…I will read more from this author.”
~Shannon B, Netgalley
~*~
“…Very interesting…Loved the ending of the story but hopefully there’s more…with Mel and Billy…”
~Paula DeBoer, Netgalley
~*~
“…an interesting book. I like the main character…the author made her a strong independent woman…I am interested…to find out what happens with Destiny and everyone else.”
~Danielle Montgomery
Allegiance
by
Marilee Brothers
The Soul Seekers Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Allegiance
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Marilee Brothers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Kim Mendoza
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1203-3
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1204-0
The Soul Seekers Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my wonderful, supportive husband,
thank you being my number one fan.
You always have my back.
Chapter One
Billy asleep is a feast for the senses. The sheet covers only the lower half of his body. One arm, bicep prominently displayed, is tucked behind his head. I breathe in his familiar scent. Motorcycle leathers. Gasoline. Minty toothpaste. His chest rises and falls with gentle exhalations. Thin cords from his ear buds snake across the pillow and attach to his cell phone on the bedside table. Music helps keep his nightmares at bay.
I reach out a hand, tempted to slide a finger along the springy auburn fuzz bisecting the center of his muscular chest and trace it to where it terminates, south of the thin, cotton sheet. I stop short of touching him. He worked late last night and needs his rest.
I stand next to the bed and gaze down at him. His eyelids twitch but do not open. Is he dreaming? About what? What I really need to know is about whom? Especially when I notice the bulge stirring to life beneath the sheet. You’d better be dreaming about me, buddy boy.
I lean down to drop a chaste farewell kiss on his forehead. A split second later, I’m flat on my back, pinned to the bed and Billy the Kid grins down at me like a naughty little boy. He rips out his ear buds and pulls the cord free until the music washes over us. It’s a rock and roll tune, a blast from the past.
“Hey, baby,” he says. “Wanna dance?”
Before I can form an answer, I’m swept off the bed and twirled around until I’m dizzy and laughing uncontrollably.
He sets me on the floor and pulls me tight against his body. “You sneaking out on me, Minnie Mouse?
I manage a weak, breathless protest. “I’m supposed to meet Steve at 9:30 a.m. I need to get going.”
He cups my face between his palms and brushes his lips across mine. “You sure about that?”
“Well, um…”
My body says bring it on.
My brain chimes in, promptness is overrated.
****
As I’ve done every day for the last few months, I drive slowly past the home of Eddie Morgan, the lying bastard who traded his baby daughter for a shiny new pick-up and, more than likely, murdered his wife, Dani. She was my best friend and the reason I now live in 3 Peaks, Oregon. What do I hope to see? Eddie in handcuffs as a couple of muscular cops perp walk him to their cruiser. Instead, I jam on the brakes and lower the driver’s side window.
Scuzbag Eddie is pounding a For Sale by Owner sign into the patchy, neglected lawn of his front yard. I make no attempt to conceal myself. Actually, I want him to know I’m stalking him. A tad over five feet tall, I don’t appear intimidating. But Eddie knows—and I know—looks can be deceiving. I’ve been labeled a nosy bitch along with other choice words. Sticks and stones. It’s the result that counts.
Eddie glances over his shoulder, flips me off and returns to his task. For all of approximately two seconds, I try to decide whether or not to fire off a new zinger.
“Hey, Eddie, you moving away? I’ll miss our little visits.”
He turns and bristles, hands on his hips. “Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll call the cops.”
I flash a big, toothy, fake smile. “Great idea. I’ll wait around until they get here—see if they have any new evidence linking you to Dani’s death. Sound good?”
His shoulders slump and he whines, “What’s your problem, Mel? I didn’t kill my wife. I loved Dani.”
This strikes me as so preposterous, I don’t bother to answer. I zip up the window, pull away from the curb and reach for my cell phone. Fortunately I have my Homeland Security buddy, Mick, on speed dial. Creeping down the residential street, I wait for him to answer. Or not. After three rings, I hear him growl, “Now what, Mel?”
“Eddie is selling his house. Maybe he’s leaving town. You need to nail him right now.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, something you haven’t nagged me about every day for friggin’ forever.”
Like I said, sticks and stones. “I know he’s guilty as homemade sin. Since when is it legal to sell your child?”
A heavy, exasperated sigh zips through the cell towers and blasts my left ear. “Look, Mel, we
I bite my lip to keep from swearing at him. “We both know how that turned out. Come on, Mick, how much time and effort has your agency put into investigating that rat bastard Eddie? Time’s running out. Just saying.”
He sighs again. “I work for Homeland Security. Though I fervently wish we had the manpower to devote to your friend’s case, a little issue called terrorism seems to be taking up all our time. Eddie Morgan is a local problem. As I’ve told you many times before, your best bet is the 3 Peaks Police Department.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m real popular with them.”
Because of my actions—even though they were for the greater good—one of 3 Peaks P.D.’s top officials had seen fit to blow his brains out with his service revolver.
“What about lover boy? Can’t he help you?”
“Billy’s only been on the force a short time. I don’t want to push it right now.”
“Hmmm.”
“Alrighty then, catch you later, my former friend, Mick.”
His boom of laughter causes me to pull the phone away from my ear. Still, I clearly hear his words. “And I’ll catch you the next time I’m in Bend. How about dinner?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
He says, “Do you?” and clicks off.
Well, damn. Mick has a knack for zeroing in on a person’s weakness. Like, when you have a rough spot on the edge of a molar and your tongue can’t leave it alone.
William Henry McCarty, aka Billy the Kid, successfully completed counseling for the PTSD he suffered while serving in the Middle East. He’s now a detective with the 3 Peaks Police Department. Unfortunately, the job throws him into daily contact with his former girlfriend, evil temptress Candy Talbot, the blonde beauty who, in my humble opinion, has but one goal: to get Billy back into her bed.
As if my life isn’t complicated enough, Billy and I have another little problem—namely, my ability to read souls. He knows I can tell if he’s lying when I look directly into his eyes. And lately he’s been avoiding my gaze. Did he actually look into my eyes this morning? I think about it and decide he didn’t. Granted, I couldn’t have cared less at the time. Billy is very good at distracting me.
My poor brain is on overload, so I decide to think about it later, especially when I notice my car is running on fumes. Yes, Honor Melanie Sullivan now has a car. It’s a relatively new development and a relatively old car. An ancient, mustard-colored Toyota Tercel, it came complete with a multitude of dings and scratches. Despite one hundred and seventy-five thousand miles on the odometer, she runs like a top. Because of the disgusting color, I got her on the cheap. Billy calls her Old Yeller. Wanting to stay on her good side, I call her Buttercup.
My next goal is enough money for the first and last months’ deposit on an apartment of my own. For now, I’m still living in unit Number Ten at Nick’s Place, a combination sports bar and motel where I earn my keep waiting tables. I no longer have to clean rooms since I insist upon Nick withholding part of my salary for the room rental.
Praying I’ll make it before the engine sputters and quits from fuel deprivation, I cruise slowly to my favorite mini market with the cheapest gas in town. The Gas and Grub. Despite the Americanized name, the Gas and Grub is owned by a Muslim family named Ayoob. The patriarch of the family, Bibi, runs the place assisted by his wife, Saarah, multiple sons, daughters, nieces, nephews and cousins. Today, I am greeted by Yasmin, Bibi’s daughter, whose luminous sherry-colored eyes reflect the purity of her soul. When I hand my credit card across the counter, she smiles. “Hello, my friend. So nice to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Yasmin. Love the streak in your hair. Very cool.”
Most of Yasmin’s brown hair is covered with the headscarf befitting a woman of her faith. But some loose tendrils have slipped from the scarf revealing the honey-colored streak.
She leans across the counter and whispers, “Papa does not like it, but what is done is done.”
I offer her my fist to bump. She runs my credit card, glances out the window and freezes. I follow her gaze and see a white heavy-duty pickup with the Rockin’ R Ranch logo on the door. A man with a cowboy hat sits behind the wheel. A lanky young guy wearing a backwards ball cap jumps out of the passenger side and begins filling the tank. He turns until his back to the driver and peers through the window of the mini mart. He spots Yasmin and gives her a quick grin. I get the impression of gleaming white teeth in a handsome tanned face. Color rises in Yasmin’s cheeks.
“He’s a cutie pie.” I say. “You know him?”
Yasmin’s eyes widen and her face pales. She signals me by jerking her head to the left. Bibi rises up from behind a display of potato chips where, hidden from view, he’d been stocking shelves.
Oops.
Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he joins Yasmin behind the counter. “I’ll take care of this,” he says, pointing at the pick-up. “You finish what I was doing.”
“Yes, Papa,” Yasmin says. With downcast eyes, she hurries to obey him.
I follow her and whisper, “Sorry. I hope you’re not in trouble.”
When she lifts her gaze to mine, I see her eyes brim with tears. “It’s complicated. Papa is what you call old school.”
I feel Bibi’s gaze drilling into the back of my head. I scribble my cell phone number on the gas receipt and hand it to her. “Call if you want to talk.”
She stuffs the receipt into a pocket and whispers, “Tell Riley hi from Yasmin.”
I map out my route to Buttercup so I can check out the Rockin’ R Ranch pick-up truck. Beneath its logo, I spot the words Red Ridge, Oregon. The man in the driver’s seat wears dark sunglasses, but I’m picking up what he’s sending. It’s the old I’m checking you out vibe. Guess I’m right because as I draw closer, he tips his hat to me. Nice to know chivalry is not dead. I walk past his open window. He leans out and hollers, “Hey, Riley, check the air in the left rear tire.”
I slow down as the kid replaces the gas nozzle in the receptacle. I murmur, “Yasmin says, ‘Hi.’” He glances over at me, and I get the full force of his mega watt smile. He sobers quickly. “Her dad’s inside…right?”
“Yep.” I keep on walking. Thanks to me, Yasmin is now in trouble. Better not risk getting Riley in hot water too. I rev up Buttercup, gaze into the rearview mirror and shake a warning finger at the image of myself staring back. “You will not, I repeat not, become the conduit between two star-crossed lovers. Do you hear me?”
My head nods in agreement.
My heart says we’ll see.
Chapter Two
I’m still fuming about Eddie as I stomp up a flight of stairs and into the office I share with my bio dad. The name of our business is CyberSecure Plus and located in downtown 3 Peaks. We share the second floor with two other businesses, McMillan Management (no clue what they manage) and a company called Confidential Inquiries run by a woman named Louise Goodhart.
Strangely, the idea for CyberSecure Plus came from Homeland Security agent, Mick. Yes, that Mick. He told us there were a multitude of businesses, including law enforcement, who would happily fork over money to find out if someone is lying. And, yes, we can tell when someone is lying. With one hundred percent certainty. Our business does not advertise. We depend on word of mouth across law enforcement agencies, legal firms, and offices whose specialty is screening future employees.
My newly discovered, newly out-of-the-closet father, Estafan (Steve) Delgado, is sitting behind his desk. I don’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, I place my hands on my hips and announce, “Asshole Eddie has his house up for sale and Mick won’t help me.”
Unperturbed, Steve glances over the top of his newspaper and points at a table holding the coffee maker. I perk up when I spot a carton of assorted doughnuts. We haven’t known each other long, but Steve knows what makes me happy. I fill a mug with black coffee, grab a maple bar, and plop down on the wheeled office chair parked against the wall.
He watches me slurp coffee and inhale my pastry before he says, “Let it go, Melanie. Too much time has passed. Sometimes the bad guys win.”
The CyberSecure part of the business is owned by Steve. I’m not actually sure what he does, but it involves software designed to keep one’s online personal information safe from hackers. Because of our shared experience helping solve a human trafficking/baby-selling scheme, we took Mick’s advice and launched the Plus part, which is, in the truest sense of the word, unique. I know of no other like it. We briefly considered calling it CyberSecure and Stuff, but Steve said we wouldn’t be taken seriously with Stuff in the title.
