Beneath the Truth Read online




  Beneath the Truth

  Meghan March

  Contents

  Beneath the Truth

  Copyright

  Notice

  About This Book

  1. Rhett

  2. Ariel

  3. Rhett

  4. Ariel

  5. Rhett

  6. Ariel

  7. Rhett

  8. Ariel

  9. Rhett

  10. Ariel

  11. Rhett

  12. Ariel

  13. Rhett

  14. Ariel

  15. Rhett

  16. Ariel

  17. Rhett

  18. Ariel

  19. Rhett

  20. Ariel

  21. Ariel

  22. Rhett

  23. Ariel

  24. Rhett

  25. Ariel

  26. Rhett

  27. Ariel

  28. Rhett

  29. Ariel

  30. Rhett

  31. Ariel

  32. Rhett

  33. Ariel

  34. Ariel

  35. Rhett

  36. Ariel

  37. Rhett

  38. Rhett

  39. Ariel

  40. Rhett

  41. Ariel

  42. Ariel

  43. Rhett

  44. Ariel

  45. Rhett

  46. Ariel

  47. Rhett

  48. Ariel

  49. Ariel

  50. Ariel

  51. Rhett

  52. Rhett

  53. Ariel

  54. Ariel

  55. Rhett

  56. Ariel

  57. Rhett

  58. Ariel

  59. Rhett

  60. Ariel

  61. Rhett

  62. Ariel

  63. Rhett

  64. Ariel

  65. Rhett

  66. Ariel

  Epilogue

  Preview of Ruthless King

  Also by Meghan March

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Beneath the Truth

  Meghan March

  Copyright © 2017 by Meghan March LLC

  Kindle Edition

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Editor: Pam Berehulke

  Bulletproof Editing

  www.bulletproofediting.com

  * * *

  Cover design: @ Sarah Hansen

  Okay Creations

  www.okaycreations.com

  * * *

  Cover photo: @ Vadymvdrobot

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  * * *

  Visit my website at www.meghanmarch.com.

  About This Book

  I used to believe there were lines in life you don’t cross.

  Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. Don’t steal.

  Until I learned people don’t always practice what they preach.

  I turned in my badge and gun and walked away from everything. Then I got the call no one wants, and I’m back in New Orleans.

  What I don’t expect is for her to be here too.

  Another line you don’t cross?

  Don’t touch your best friend’s little sister.

  She’s always been off-limits.

  Too bad I don’t follow the rules anymore.

  * * *

  Beneath the Truth is the final book in the Beneath series, but may be enjoyed as a standalone.

  1

  Rhett

  Get home right the fuck now.

  After the last year, I had become a pro at ignoring texts and calls. When you walked away from everything and everyone you knew, it was a skill you honed until it was sharp enough to slice the bullshit from your life.

  Before my world fell apart, I was all about my brothers in blue. Nothing was more important to me than family, honor, and justice. And then betrayal ground those rose-colored glasses beneath its boot heel until my old way of life was nothing but dust.

  My life was different now. No badge. No brotherhood. And what the hell was justice, anyway?

  All I cared about was collecting fees from my PI clients. I didn’t get involved, didn’t let myself get invested. I turned it all off and did the job. No more. No less.

  I looked at the screen of my phone again, and the gallon of coffee I’d downed to keep me awake to finish this case churned in my stomach with the burger I’d eaten.

  This text was different, especially considering the sender. My gut said so, and since that was the one thing I still trusted, I tossed my camera aside and started my Jeep. Mrs. Higgins could wait to find out if her husband was cheating on her.

  For the first time in a year, I was going back to New Orleans . . . the city I’d left behind without looking back.

  * * *

  Just under three hours later, I slammed on the brakes, unable to get any closer to my childhood home. Blue, red, white, and orange flashing lights lit up the night sky like a jacked-up carnival. Police barricades blocked the road, and I threw my Jeep into park.

  Where the fuck is the roof?

  I flung open the door and charged out of the SUV, shoving my way into the crowd of gawkers.

  Holy shit.

  A fist gripped my heart and squeezed until I thought it might explode.

  Where the hell is the house?

  In place of the home I’d lived in from kindergarten to the age of eighteen was a pile of smoldering rubble.

  Where the hell are my folks? A cage closed around my lungs. Fuck. No.

  I elbowed my way through to the police barricade, gripping the top of it to vault over, but a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.

  “Thank fuck you made it. Didn’t know if you would come when you didn’t answer.”

  I didn’t tell Rix the only reason I came was because he was the one who had texted me. It didn’t matter now.

  “What the hell happened? Where are my folks? Jesus fucking Christ.” From the complete devastation, I had to assume an explosion. Gas line? Shit.

  “Your ma’s with your aunt. She’s fine.”

  I tore my gaze from the rubble to meet his silver one. The sympathy there had me bracing myself for the hit I sensed coming.

  “Your dad . . . I’m sorry, man. So fucking sorry.”

  I was wrong. It wasn’t just a hit, it was a wrecking ball that leveled me. My knees hit the pavement and I covered my face with my hands.

  “Nooooo!” My roar sounded like a wounded animal as it echoed in the night, and everything around me ceased to exist for long, dark moments.

  Pain and regret clawed at my insides. Organs shredding. Bones shearing. Too much. With superhuman effort, I reeled it all in and shut it down. Forced myself to go numb. Blocked out the agony.

  Compartmentalization was a skill I’d learned early in my career, and right now, it was the only thing that would save me from completely breaking down in the middle of the street.

  Don’t think about it. It’s a
case. Just like any other.

  I scraped my palms along the rough asphalt to steady myself before pushing up to my feet as if I hadn’t just been devastated by the news.

  “What happened?” I ground out the words from between clenched teeth.

  “So sorry.” Someone else said the words and gripped my shoulder before releasing and moving on.

  I didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. I didn’t care. This wasn’t about me. It was about the case. A year of focusing on denial in my little cottage in Gulf Shores came in handy for once.

  “We don’t know with one hundred percent certainty yet—”

  I glared at Rix. “Spare me the bullshit. Tell me what your gut says.”

  Rix nodded and his expression tensed. “Warrant was finally issued for your dad’s arrest. Two officers were on the way here to pick him up. Gave him a courtesy call out of respect to let him know they were coming. They might’ve exaggerated about how far away they were. His car was parked in the alley behind the house, and it looks like he was jamming it with important stuff. Family pictures, the cat, shit like that. They pulled up and before they could get out of the car, the ground shook and the house imploded.”

  Implosion? That took a whole separate set of physics than an explosion. Which meant there was no way in hell it was an accident.

  My mind flipped to all the things I’d learned over the years about ordnance. “Was the house wired?”

  “That’s what it looks like. This was no accident.”

  His words echoed my thoughts. This definitely wasn’t an accident. And it was no secret my dad was an explosives, demolitions, and incendiaries expert from his army days.

  He wouldn’t do this. Would he?

  He wasn’t cold-blooded enough to wire up his own house and take a chance that something could happen to Mom. Was he?

  You also didn’t think your dad would turn out to be a dirty cop.

  The pain from earlier snaked out, a new variation this time, and I crammed it back down.

  It’s a case. Only a case.

  “When will they know for sure?” It was a stupid question because I already knew the answer.

  “This investigation won’t be a short one.”

  “I need to see my mom. Need to know she’s okay.”

  “I swear, she’s okay. She was out for dinner with your aunt.”

  “Did she see this?”

  Rix shook his head. “No, they didn’t let her come back here. The officers told her they’d bring her when it was safe.”

  “My brothers?”

  “I think your mom called them. I figured you still weren’t answering the damned phone, so I decided to get your ass back here the only way I knew how.”

  No one ever knew where Rome was, somewhere down in Central or South America, but Rock was only a few hours away by plane in Vail. He’d get here quickly.

  I scanned the chaos for the coroner’s van, but it was nowhere in sight. “They already take . . . the body?” I forced out the words as bile rose in my throat.

  The body. My father. The dirty cop who had been under investigation for the last year, and the reason I’d turned my back on my career, my family, and the only city I’d ever called home.

  “Yeah. They’ll be doing an autopsy.”

  I nodded, forcing myself to be clinical. “What’s the theory?”

  Another voice broke into our conversation.

  “You know he can’t tell you that.” My old partner, Mac Fortier, held out a hand and I shook it. “So fucking sorry for your loss. We’ve missed you, but this sure as hell isn’t the way we wanted to see you again.”

  Mac and Rix were probably the only people here who could say that and mean it. I’d fought to stay in the department for as long as I could after my oldest brother had been killed in the line of duty and then fingered as a dirty cop. Dad had retired almost immediately after Robin’s funeral, and I didn’t realize until later it was to hide his guilt.

  When I released Mac’s tight grip, I stared at a house that used to hold too many secrets. “You think he did it on purpose? To take out the people coming to bring him in?”

  Neither replied. That was answer enough.

  “You better make goddamned sure they don’t screw up this investigation.” My warning was for Mac. Rix wouldn’t have jack shit to do with it since he was on the gang task force.

  “You don’t even need to say it. I won’t let it go until we have answers.” Mac was like a bulldog when he had a lead, so I took him at his word.

  I tore my gaze away from the pile of rubble. “What a fucking disaster.”

  Turning back to my Jeep, I walked away. After all, that was what I was best at these days.

  2

  Ariel

  “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” The priest’s voice carried through the morning air as we said good-bye to Ronan Hennessy.

  I’d been to my fair share of police funerals over the years, but today’s bore no resemblance to the others. No rows of uniformed officers paying their respects. No bagpipers playing a lament. No twenty-one-gun salute. Only a small crowd gathered in front of the mausoleum, fronted by three men holding up their mother with their strength.

  The Hennessy family had doubled as my own for most of my childhood. Dad was on the force with Ronan, and Rebecca was the most motherly figure in my life, since I lost mine before I ever had her. Then there were the Hennessy boys . . . all of them larger than life. Dark blond hair, devastating grins, and brilliant green eyes.

  My gaze zeroed in on Rhett like it always did, against my will after five years of distance. I refused to admit the slam of my heart against my chest had anything to do with the crush I used to have on him. I’d grown up, gotten over him.

  I shifted on my heels and let my gaze trail across the mourners, basically focusing on anyone and anything but Rhett. Now wasn’t the appropriate time.

  A pall hung over this funeral that had nothing to do with the normal somberness of the occasion, and you could see it in the uncomfortable posture of the mourners. Dirty cop who potentially committed suicide by blowing up his own house while his former subordinates were on their way to arrest him wasn’t exactly the final chapter anyone aspired to, and it broke my heart that this was how Ronan would be remembered.

  I couldn’t reconcile it with the man I’d known. The facts I’d pulled from the media and my own curious search of the police department computer network sounded like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster rather than reality. And no, I refused to call indulging my curiosity “hacking,” because it was so basic and benign that anyone with YouTube access could have done it.

  Mrs. Hennessy’s head bowed, and Rock, the oldest now that Robin was gone, pressed tissues into her hand so she could dab at her tears. Rome, the youngest, who looked nothing at all like I remembered, stood at her back, and Rhett seemed to keep her upright with his grip on her other arm. Mrs. Hennessy had named her boys after classic literary heroes. Rock was short for Rochester from Jane Eyre, Robin for Robin of Locksley, Rome was short for Romeo, and then there was the man named after the infamous hero of Gone with the Wind . . .

  Rhett Hennessy.

  I could have kept a journal of his facial expressions in high school, because I was that girl. Okay, so I had kept a journal of them, but that was only because I had a slightly OCD list-making tendency. Like that list of his favorite things. And then the one with the reasons he would make the perfect boyfriend to my fifteen-year-old self.

  I glanced around to make sure I hadn’t actually said any of that out loud. Sometimes I did that too. I blamed that on living inside my own head too much. No one here needed to know how completely infatuated I had been with Rhett, bordering on creepy stalker status. It had taken me years to grow out of that crush. And yes, I did grow out of it, thank you very much.

  The pang in my chest as I watched Rhett wrap his arm around his
mother’s shoulders was truly out of sympathy. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the years hadn’t just aged him, they’d perfected him, even with the worn-around-the-edges look he had going on today.

  My mind wandered as I murmured along with the group prayer. Rhett’s sharp green gaze hadn’t landed on me yet, which was no surprise. He had never seen me; I’d always been invisible. The buzz cut he wore all through high school had grown out, and I was pretty sure its current shagginess stemmed from neglect rather than from a nod to style.

  His body had changed as well. He was still about six feet tall, but his frame’s former lanky youthfulness had been replaced by a solid man. The tightness of his suit coat looked like he’d had to force his biceps into the sleeves because they’d grown since the last time he’d worn it.