Uncovered by Truth (24 page)

“My mother?” I ask quietly. “Why would she be in the hospital?” One glance at
Bryce
tells me this isn’t good. His eyes are closed in resignation.

“Someone broke into their home and assaulted her. She’s okay, but has been in the hospital for a few days to monitor her condition.”

I feel like all the air has been sucked from my body. No, this can’t be happening. “Did you know?” God, please say no. But before he even responds, I already know what his answer will be.

His eyes open and look at me with nothing but regret. “Yes.” My feet start carrying me forward on their own accord, and before I can stop myself, my palm lands on the side of his face. The sound of the smack is deafening as everyone falls silent. He looks back at me with tears in his eyes.

“No, don’t look at me like that! You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself, you bastard!” My fists fly up and pound into his chest over and over.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His remorse cuts through my blind rage as I continue to push and hit him.

“No, you’re not! You’re sorry you got caught. I hate you!” I scream at him. He doesn’t move to protect himself or block any of my punches. He takes it all and that just infuriates me more. I’m vaguely aware of someone’s arms wrapping around my waist from behind. They lift me up and start taking me away from him. I thrash around violently, trying to get loose. I’ve lost all touch with reality and the only thing I can see is anger, hurt, betrayal.

Heartbreak.

“Ma’am, you’re gonna have to calm down or we’ll be forced to handcuff you for everyone’s safety.” I stop fighting against his hold on me. My chest heaves up and down from the exertion. He releases his hold on me and turns me around to face him. “I’m Agent Turner. Why don’t we take this to the station, and you can see your mom when we’re done, okay?” He’s talking slowly, like I’m a scared child or something. I open my mouth to respond, but can’t form any words. My throat is raw from screaming, so I simply nod.

BRYCE

IT’S BEEN FIVE long days since I’ve seen Elizabeth. Five days since everything came crashing down and I was powerless to stop it. In that time I’ve been unable to think about anything other than her. So here I am, in my car on my way to see her. It’s about a three and a half hour drive from my place in Norfolk, Virginia to her house. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost turned the car around. Call me a chicken-shit, but the fear of rejection is real. I’m not sure if I can take it.

The media has hounded her relentlessly, which also worries me. It didn’t take them long to get wind of Cal’s death and the details around it. All of them are dying for the exclusive scoop on what exactly happened.

Bastards.

It seems like an eternity, but I finally turn down her street. As I get closer, I realize my original plan to walk up to her door isn’t going to work. News vans and reporters line the street and are camped out waiting for her. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. All I want to do is see my girl, and now I have another hurdle to jump over. I resist the urge to roll down my window and tell all of them to get the fuck out of here. Maneuvering around them, I pass her house. Looks like I’ll have to do this the old way.

Parking the car down on the street that runs along the back of her property, I get out of the car and look around. When I’m confident all is clear, I continue forward. I run down the side of someone’s house, and through their backyard that butts up against Elizabeth’s. There’s a large privacy wall, but it’s not going to stop me. With a little effort, I scale it and hop over to the other side. Checking my surroundings, I stay low and jog through the yard and up to the back door.

Standing here, hand raised and ready to knock on the door, I pause. Man, it’s crazy how unpredictable life can be. I think back to that first day when I was walking up her driveway. I had no idea this is how it would all end up. I came here to do a job and that was it. Now here I am, terrified to knock. God, when did I become such a pussy?

Taking a deep breath, I do my best to steady my nerves as I knock three times. An army of butterflies take flight in my stomach waiting for what feels like forever for her to answer the door. Moments before she does, I’m so anxious to see her, I start bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation. The door opens slowly, and while she’s just as beautiful as ever, the look on her face steals the breath from my lungs. And not in a good way. A cold, scowl marks her flawless features and she looks anything but pleased to see me.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” I start. I have intimate knowledge of this woman, so why the hell is a simple greeting so damn awkward?

“Agent Daniels,” she replies harshly.

“You can call me Bryce.” I hate how formal that sounded coming from her lips. It’s like we’re strangers.

“I’d prefer not to. What can I help you with?” She purses her lips together, seeming annoyed by my presence. Damn, it’s clear she despises me.

“Uh, yeah. Um . . .” I stutter, “I just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.” Smooth, Daniels. That didn’t sound lame or anything.

“I’m great.” Her walls are still firmly in place and they aren’t budging. She’s shutting me out and has no intention of letting me back in. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to be on the receiving end of her cold demeanor.

“Can I come in so we can talk?” My hands go into my pockets to keep from fidgeting.

“No.” She doesn’t elaborate. Just shuts me down. I look down and something catches my eye inside the door.

“What’s with all the boxes? Are you moving?” I ask.

“Yes,” she states. Again, no explanation, just confirmation that she’s leaving.

“Why?”

“There’s nothing keeping me here anymore. My husband is dead and I’m free to go wherever I want.” She shrugs nonchalantly like she hasn’t just kicked me in the balls.

“Where are you going?” I know I sound desperate, but I don’t care. She can’t leave.

“Does it matter?” She sounds like a robot and I hate it. I want to pull her to me and never let go. The need to remind her how great we were together is so strong I have to take a few steps back to keep from touching her.

“Look, I think you’re under the impression that I used you to gain something with this case, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Elizabeth, don’t you see that I couldn’t tell you?” I reach my hand out to touch her, but think better of it.

“I wanted to so many times and the guilt from lying constantly ate at me, but I wasn’t willing to risk your life. So if that makes me a lousy piece of shit, then so be it. But I won’t apologize for doing what I did to keep you safe. You can’t ask me to do that.”

Her green eyes stare into mine, the intensity between us is palpable and I’m waiting to see which one of us gives in first. “I believe you,” she says quietly. That one sentence sends hope soaring through me. “But I can’t be with you,” she finishes. And just like that, I completely deflate shattering into a million pieces.

“Why?” I choke out.

“You made me realize that I don’t have to settle for someone who isn’t honest with me. You had been lying to my face the whole time. You’re good at it. How am I supposed to be able to tell what’s real and what’s not if we got back together?” She can’t tell that I love her? That my feelings for her are real? I start to speak up, but she keeps going, further crushing me.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not settling and making exceptions for anyone anymore. I deserve more than that. I deserve a man who will be upfront with me and not make me question his motives. Because now I question yours. You say you didn’t use me to get to Cal, and a big part of me feels like you’re telling the truth, but our time together will forever be tainted by your lies. I spent too much time being in the dark with Cal, and look where that got me.” She shakes her head as she says, “I won’t do it again. I just can’t.” Her eyes cast downward to hide the tears pooling in them.

I can’t breathe. My lungs physically won’t take in any oxygen. My body feels like it’s failing me as what she said sinks in.

She thinks my lies are no better than Cal’s.

She might as well have ripped my heart out and stepped on it with her stiletto. My mouth opens and closes, trying to think of something to say, but the overwhelming feeling of utter destruction shuts out all coherent thoughts.

Finally, I find my voice. “The fact that you just compared me to that monster speaks volumes. To put me on the same level as Cal . . .” I trail off, shaking my head. I don’t even try to hide the emotion that’s probably written all over my face.

“Alex, that’s not what I meant. I me—”

“My name’s not Alex, it’s Bryce,” I cut her off. I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret. I don’t say another word as I turn around and leave the way I came. Part of me holds out hope she’ll stop me, but she doesn’t. With each step I take away from her, I go dead inside. Completely numb.

ELIZABETH

I MISS HIM.

I can’t help it. As much as I try to tell myself that I hate him, I don’t. He doesn’t make it easy either. Every day for the past two months he’s called or emailed me. I had to deactivate my account two weeks ago to keep from responding. My head tells me I need to forget about him, that he lied to me and will only hurt me more down the road. But my heart says I’m a fool and should talk to him. So far, my head has won.

My phone rings.
Speak of the devil,
I think to myself. It’s Bryce.

It’s so weird to call him that when I’ve always known him as Alex. It makes him feel like a stranger, and maybe he is. I never gave him the chance to show me who he really was, but I had to protect myself. When I made the decision to leave Cal, I vowed I would never be someone’s doormat. I would demand respect and be treated as an equal. Bryce’s secret identity slapped me in the face. I felt like an idiot and was taken completely off guard. To keep my promise to myself, I had no choice but to walk away from him.

After I gave my statement to the FBI, it hit me hard that I’d killed someone. When it happened, I didn’t give it much thought. I think I was in shock and running off pure adrenaline. Even though Cal was a horrible man and was going to kill Bryce, it was still hard to deal with. It would’ve been nice to have someone who understood, someone who could relate to what I went through.

Someone like Bryce.

My phone rings again and I huff in annoyance. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. I’m afraid one of these days I’ll cave. Looking down, I see it’s my mother.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer.

“Have you seen the news?” she asks.

“No . . .” I draw out.

“Cal’s mother committed suicide.”

“What?” I’m beyond shocked. I quickly find the remote and turn on the news. Sure enough, there it is. “Hold on, I’m watching it now,” I tell her.

“This just in. Grace Fitzgerald, the mother of the late Senator Callahan Fitzgerald, has killed herself. Reports say that she hung herself in the bedroom of her mansion,” the news anchor says.

My hand goes to my mouth. “Oh my God.” I continue listening.

“As you know, Senator Fitzgerald is at the center of a huge corruption investigation linking him to the Los Malvados Cartel. He was shot and killed by his wife, Elizabeth Fitzgerald. No charges were filed against her and the DA ruled it a justifiable homicide. It is not yet clear why Grace Fitzgerald took her life, but sources close to the family blame it on the investigation. They claim that the embarrassment was too much for her to take and speculate that’s why she ended her life. We’ll keep you posted as more updates roll in.” I turn the television off.

“I can’t believe she’d do that,” I say.

“Yeah, I thought it was shocking too.”

The news report left out something, though. It took the district attorney a month to investigate Cal’s murder and clear me of all charges. I was a nervous wreck the whole time, afraid his family’s influence would push them to charge me with murder. Once that was closed, Cal’s attorney contacted me and his mother and said we needed to be present so he could read his will. To my surprise and his mother’s horror, he left everything to me except the steel company.