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TRUTH REVEALED
(Untitled)
PROLOGUE
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Paris in July was the last place Emmett wanted to be.
The afternoon air was sticky hot and smelled like body odor and pastries. Place de la Bastille was packed with tourists; their cameras flashed in the shade cast by the surrounding buildings. A large group of protesters marched on the opposite side of the square, their lilted French chants echoing in the air as their hand-written signs bobbed above the crowds’ heads.
Emmett leaned against a brick wall outside of a patisserie. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes darted from face to face, memorizing everything.
The smell of chocolate wafted through the open door next to him. His mouth watered, but he ignored it.
He glanced at his watch. Where was she? It was ten minutes past the hour. He’d been very specific in his instructions. Three o’clock on the dot –
Who was he kidding? She’d never been on time since the day he met her.
Emmett shifted, scanning the crowd around him in annoyance.
Those pastries smelled amazing. When she deigned to show up, she would probably love to share one with him. The thought almost made his lips twitch into a smile as he pushed away from the wall.
Just one…
His phone buzzed. Emmett pulled it out of his pocket.
A text lit up his screen.
I’m here. Meet me around the corner.
Finally. Emmett cast one last look at the patisserie and then weaved his way through the crowd toward the alleyway around the corner. Nobody appeared to follow him.
Good.
He removed his sunglasses and slid them into his pocket. Under his shirt, he felt the comforting weight of his gun. He’d been sternly instructed not to use it. Paris was too hot after the attack the week before. It was vital that he avoid drawing attention to himself.
He didn’t mind. He hadn’t slept in a week; he could use the break.
A lunch date with the beautiful woman who should be waiting at the end of the alley would be a good start.
Where was she?
Emmett stopped. The skin on the back of his neck prickled.
The alleyway was empty.
Some sixth sense – one that had saved his life many times before – prompted Emmett to reach for his gun.
A black van squealed to a stop ahead of him, blocking the alley’s exit. The door slid open and three men in masks piled out. Metal glinted in the afternoon sunlight.
They had guns.
Emmett dove behind a trash bin just in time to hear the spray of bullets hit the metal. The men shouted at each other, but it didn’t sound like French. Thanks to the buzzing in Emmett’s head, he couldn’t interpret what language it was.
Screams sounded from the crowded square behind him. Terrified people would come running down the alley any second.
He needed to end this quickly, before innocent people got hurt.
During a second’s break in the spray of bullets, Emmett peeked over the metal and took several shots. A grunt sounded as one of them went down, but he was forced to take cover again when the remaining two men started shooting.
Emmett muttered a curse. His cover had remained solid for months now. How had they found him?
She could be turning the corner any second. If she walked in the middle of this, she was likely to get shot.
Or worse… Taken.
It was time to call for backup.
Emmett returned a few more bullets, forcing the men in the alleyway entrance to scatter for cover. He pulled out his phone. One quick call and backup would be minutes away. He was confident he could hold them off for that long.
Amazingly, nobody had come running into the bullets’ path yet. Maybe they were smart enough to run the other direction –
White hot pain shot through his body.
Emmett slammed back against the dumpster. His phone clattered to the ground.
He looked down in shock at his left shoulder, then up at the men approaching from the opposite end of the alley.
They were less than ten yards from him, but he could already tell the bullet had missed his heart.
Terrible shot.
They would regret not killing him on the first try.
Emmett swung his gun up, but it was yanked from his hand before he could get off a shot.
He was surrounded.
No wonder he hadn’t seen any innocent people running this direction. The men had blocked off both ends of the alley after Emmett entered.
The men yelled in that strange language again – it definitely wasn’t French. What was it?
One man – the one who had taken Emmett’s gun – shoved him to the ground.
Were they going to shoot him from behind? That was just low.
Emmett blinked at the shattered screen of his cell phone, just inches from his face.
Shock was already starting to set in. His brain wasn’t moving nearly fast enough.
Was she here yet? Had she seen what happened and wisely ran away?
Hopefully she was safe.
Emmett grunted as his hands were yanked behind his back and bound together.
Finally, reality caught up with him.
He hadn’t told his handler where he’d be today – after all, he deserved a little R&R after the week he’d had.
Nobody knew his location.
How had these men found him?
She couldn’t have betrayed him. They’d been through too much together.
But the U.S. government had failed her… failed both of them. She was angry, like he was.
She was a willowy brunette with a penchant for breaking the rules. Apparently, now she had broken the biggest one of all and revealed his identity to the enemy.
The men hauled Emmett to his feet and shoved him forward. He barely felt the shock of pain as they threw him into the back of the van and sped away.
Her beautiful, treacherous face flashed in his mind’s eye.
Ryann. She would pay for this.
CHAPTER 1
The Oyster & Thistle Restaurant was the closest thing La Conner had to fine dining. It was an older building with weathered wooden shingles and green trim. Thanks to the big windows in front, Emmett could linger outside and casually keep an eye on the dining room where his mother and Dr. Thomas Malcolm sat.
By all appearances, Thomas Malcolm seemed unassuming. He was a tall man with graying brown hair and glasses. He and Mary talked and laughed while they waited for their dinner to arrive.
But appearances could be deceiving. Emmett watched his eyes, his hands, the way he moved while he talked to Mary. Years of experience and training had taught him to pick out the small mannerisms that pointed to personality disorders. If this man was narcissistic, psychotic, or manic, Mary may not see the signs before she got hurt.
It was hard to tell from a distance, but the man seemed normal. Nevertheless, Emmett’s skin prickled. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Was it the way Dr. Malcolm was so interested in what Mary had to say? Or was it the way he reached forward and held her hand, as if they were already an item?
When he leaned forward to kiss her over the table, Emmett cursed.
Before he could stop himself, he was inside the restaurant and standing next to his mother.
Mary glanced up at him, shocked, and moved to stand. “Emmett, what are you doing here?”
Emmett ignored her. He focused his heavy gaze on Dr. Thomas Malcolm, who didn’t look pleased at his interruption. “I’m Emmett Erickson, Mary’s oldest son.” Emmett stuck out his hand. “And you are?”
Dr. Malcolm smiled tightly and shook Emmett’s hand. He had a firm grip. “Mary’s told me so much about you. I’m Dr. Thomas Malcolm. Nice to finally meet you.”
“A doctor. Hmm. My mother said you’re a surgeon. What type?”
“Heart surgeon,” he said. “Over at Island Hospital.”
“Charming.” Emmett gave the man a once-over. He wasn’t quite as tall as Emmett was, and although he appeared fit, he definitely didn’t have the muscle mass to indicate that he worked out often. “I’m sure my mother told you what I do, so I’ll get right to the point. If you have anything to hide, anything at all, I will find it.”
“Emmett,” Mary gasped from behind him.
“And if you hurt my mother in any way, there will be nowhere you can run. Understood?”
Thomas Malcolm’s eyes hardened. “I assure you – “
“Emmett!” Mary’s voice was sharp. She grabbed Emmett’s arm. “Please excuse us for a moment, Thomas.”
Emmett narrowed his eyes, never breaking the man’s gaze as he allowed his mother to tow him away. He didn’t turn to face her until they were out of sight near the front door of the restaurant.
Mary’s cheeks were splotchy red. She let go of Emmett’s arm and looked him in the eye. “I have never been so embarrassed,” she said in a voice like a thousand daggers. “That man was kind enough to take me to dinner. He has been a perfect gentleman. I did not raise you to treat another person that way.”
“I understand you’re angry, but – “
“Oh, son, I’m not angry,” Mary said. “I’m furious. You will apologize to Thomas and promise not to bother him again. Come on, let’s go.”
Emmett didn’t move. “I’m trying to protect you. You don’t even know him. How can you be sure that he’s a good person?”
“How can I assume he’s not without even giving him a chance?” Mary turned to look at him, and suddenly she just looked tired. “I can’t begin to know what you’ve been through, honey, but you have to know that this isn’t right. I know you’re worried, but this isn’t the way to express it. I raised my son to do better. Until you can honor that, I don’t know what to say to you.”
She left Emmett standing at the entrance to the restaurant, feeling like a complete fool.
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* * * * *
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By the time Emmett got home, it was close to ten o’clock. His house sat just outside of town. It wasn’t the Fort Knox that Chance had built, but it was comfortable. Emmett didn’t bother with a perimeter alarm system, but he did have one on the house itself. It helped him rest easier at night, knowing he’d have some warning if someone tried to ambush him.
Dimly, he acknowledged how outlandish that line of thinking was. Most people didn’t worry about being ambushed in the middle of the night. Most people didn’t check their doors and windows multiple times a day or check for tails while they drove.
Most people hadn’t been kidnapped and tortured for days by enemies of the government.
Paris had really messed him up.
Maybe Mary was right. His behavior wasn’t normal, but it was part of him now. He took care of his family. He looked out for their safety. It was his responsibility to make sure nothing happened to them.
Take care of them, son. They need you.
Those were the last words his father spoke to Emmett before he passed away.
If Emmett didn’t look out for them, who would?
He locked his truck and walked up the front steps, shoulders heavy with the weight of the world. It was a familiar feeling; his whole life had been a series of heavy burdens and responsibilities. Most of the time, he carried them without complaint, but lately they felt as if they were going to crush him.
Emmett was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice that his porch light was off. He didn’t catch the movement in the shadowy alcove near his front door.
Something hard slammed into his nose.
Emmett staggered back. His instincts kicked in and he brought his hands up to defend himself against his attacker. He blinked hard, trying to see through the haze of tears radiating from the pain in his nose.
No further blows came.
A foot swept his legs out from underneath him and he found himself flat on his back, staring at the extinguished porch light.
Emmett laid still, shaking his head like he was dazed. When his attacker stepped close, he grabbed the man’s ankles and brought his feet up, throwing the man over his head. He heard a soft “whoomph” as his attacker landed on his back a few feet away. Before he could move, Emmett had him pinned to the ground.
But there was a big problem.
The body underneath Emmett was definitely not a him.
“Hey there, handsome,” a soft voice gasped. “I was going to say you’ve gotten rusty, but that’s clearly not the case.”
Emmett froze. He knew that voice. But it was impossible.
She was supposed to be dead.
He let go and swiped a hand over his eyes, blinking down at the woman underneath him.
“Ryann?”
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