Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (37 page)

My heart stops beating when I see my name lit up in the sky. Then there’s the message that follows:

SAMANTHA

MARRY ME?

I move forward to the railing of the boat as I stare at the words and I’m so distracted that I don’t even realize Matthew isn’t behind me holding me anymore. Briefly I wonder whether I read those words correctly or if perhaps they were coincidental and some other woman named Samantha has just received the best marriage proposal ever. I glance over my shoulder to search for Matthew to ask his opinion, but he’s not there. He’s at my left, down on one knee, and holding a ring box. I gasp and my hands fly to my mouth and my eyes water.

“I realize we both still have a lot to learn when it comes to relationships,” he says quietly, looking up at me with shining eyes. “But from the first second I laid eyes on you, I knew my life would never be the same and that I had to have you. The best decision I ever made was the day I sat in Chet’s Diner and waited for your shift to end so I could ask you to have coffee with me. I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of doing and there is nothing in this world I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, Samantha?”

A strangled sob escapes from my throat and I’m not sure I’m capable of coherent speech, so I nod jerkily. He gives me the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen as he removes the ring from the box and slips it on the third finger of my left hand. Getting to his feet, he wastes no time crushing our lips together in a kiss that at once takes my breath away and breathes new life into me. I’m in absolute shock, but manage to return his fervent kisses until he pulls away and pulls me against him even tighter and buries his face in my neck.

“I love you,” he mouths against my skin.

“I love you too,” I choke out.

The moment is suddenly broken by the unmistakable beeping of his phone. My shoulders slump as he pulls away to take the phone from his pocket.

“Really?” I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

He only grins as he taps out a reply to a text message. “Trust me, it’s worth it,” he assures me, gesturing for me to look out towards where the fireworks had been going off. We wait silently for several minutes, the only interruption being the occasional kiss pressed to my neck and ear.

When the fireworks resume, I laugh out loud.

SHE SAID YES!

And it’s followed by an image of a smiley face. I turn around to face my fiancé—giddy at the thought that I can call him that—to find him grinning proudly. “And just how did you manage to pull this off?”

He shrugs, walking forward to press me against the boat railing. “Made a few calls before coming home. Called in several favors. Most of the town is in on it.”

“What would the message have been if I’d said no?” I ask curiously, tilting my head to the side.

With a mock heavy sigh, he shakes his head sadly. “I believe it would have been along the lines of ‘Matt is back on the market,’ followed by ‘Sam needs help moving out.’”

I giggle, hoping he knows the thought of saying no never even crossed my mind.

“Incidentally, we have tonight alone, and tomorrow I fully expect a stream of visitors at the door to congratulate us,” he informs me.

“Is that so?” I ask. He nods, grinning again. “How shall we spend the remaining hours of the night, then?”

A sexy smirk in place, he lowers his mouth until his lips are hovering just above mine. “I’m sure we can come up with something...”

-------------o-------------

There is no part of me that doesn’t hurt or feel as though it’s on fire. Even something as simple as breathing is incredibly painful. I can’t lift my arms or my legs, nor can I move my head. Though when I try, despite the pain it causes, my eyelids open. I’m not sure why my eyelids hurt, but I’ll figure all that out later. My brain and memory are fuzzy as I try to work out where I am and why I’m there. I have a vague recollection of being at home—or more specifically, Matthew’s home—and watching television before deciding it was bedtime. The uneasiness I remember feeling suddenly returns as I recall finding a folder full of photos and information in Frank’s office and all the panic I felt afterwards.

As my vision begins to clear, I’m no closer to knowing where I am or what brought me here, but I take in my surroundings slowly. Bright white walls and ceilings. Very comfortable bed. A sterile scent that one only finds within a hospital. I’m in a hospital. Makes sense. Using what little strength I can gather, I look down at myself to see a white blanket pulled up over my chest, my hands resting on top of it. I’ve got an IV in my right wrist that’s connected to what I desperately hope is a pain medication drip. Just as I think it, I feel my body beginning to float with the unmistakable high of painkillers and it’s now easier for me to look around and move what few muscles
can
move at this point.

I’m not alone in the room. A blurry figure is standing in front of a very large window overlooking the night sky. I’d guess the figure is male and that he’s not a doctor, given he’s dressed in t-shirt and jeans, and his phone is pressed to his ear. He’s speaking in a low voice so I can’t make out the words, but something about the voice sparks a memory, one that makes me feel floatier than any
medication could ever manage. Being on the boat with Matthew the night he proposed. How incredible he made me feel. I close my eyes and let myself linger in those good feelings for a few minutes.

As the residual feelings from the memory begin to fade, I know if I let myself I could fall asleep again immediately. I’m not quite ready for sleep yet, though; my eyes
open and are still locked on the man at the window who is still on the phone. With my brain telling me not to be stupid, that I would know the identity of this man anywhere, I try to work out the clues.

He turns away from the window and our eyes meet, and my happy haze is fading. No. Fucking. Way. I’m hallucinating. It’s the drugs and the memory. Not real. No possible way. I gasp as my memory finally returns fully. The power outage. Intruders. My desperation to get to Tyler before something happened to him. The man in the hallway carrying my son. The boat, a woman, gunfire, pain... and Matthew. Matthew coming to our rescue. Matthew standing just off the boat looking positively livid to find Tyler and me the way he had found us. I remember thinking then that it was my brain playing tricks on me, trying to comfort me when I need comfort most. Is that what this is now?

“What...” Matthew says into the phone, staring directly at me, his eyes wide as he swallows hard. “Yeah, I’m still here... Listen, I’m going to have to call you back.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before ending the call and slipping the phone into his pocket, never once breaking our gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“Hurt,” I croak, unable to come up with anything else.

He flinches at either my word or my voice. Perhaps both. “I’m sure the doctors can increase your pain meds if you need it,” he tells me softly, approaching the bed.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I inform him, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up and if I was more in tune with the world, I’d notice the amusement that crosses his expression. “True enough,” he agrees. “It’s way past visiting hours. But I’ve put enough money in this place in the last day that they’ll pretty much let me do whatever I want.”

I shake my head, wincing at the pain the slight movement has caused. “You can’t be,” I say. “You’re dead.”

The light in his eyes dulls considerably. “I assure you I am very much alive,” he says. “And there is a lot I need to tell you, but I’d prefer to do it when you’re a little less...” He searches around for a polite word to describe my current state.

“Drugged?” I suggest.

He chuckles, nodding. “Yes, exactly.” His brow furrows slightly, his eyes on my right hand and I watch as though in slow motion as he tentatively reaches out to touch me. In that moment, I know despite my drugged state and blurry memory that he is real, that he’s not a figment of my imagination, that he’s not dead. And in the next, I remember the thing I should be most concerned about right now.

“Tyler!” I try to sit up, crying out in pain as a sharp pain rips through my chest.

Matthew is on his feet, shushing me, calming me, murmuring comforting words to me, and trying to get me to lie back again. “He’s fine, Sam,” he assures me. “Perfectly fine. He’s down the hall in a pediatric room with Claire. Everything’s fine.”

“He’s okay?” I ask, settling back against the pillows. “He wasn’t hurt?”

Even now I sense his hesitation. “He fell into the water,” he says cautiously. “But I got to him in time.”

“He can’t swim!”

“I noticed,” Matthew says dryly. “That will be remedied.”

“I want to see him.”

I know you do. But it’d probably be better if you waited until a doctor has looked you over. Besides,” he says, glancing at his watch, “he’s probably fast asleep by now.”

A door opens and a doctor walks in. I’m not sure how they were alerted that I’m awake without Matthew informing them, but I also don’t know why that seems to be among my concerns at the moment. Reluctantly, Matthew releases my hand and steps away from the bed as a couple nurses enter behind the doctor and assist in giving me an examinat
ion. Throughout the entire exam, even with lights pointed into my eyes and answering questions and feeling pokes and prods from the doctor testing my reflexes, Matthew’s concerned gaze never leaves me.

Once they finish, Matthew sits back down again and scoots up closer to the bed. “They’re going to bring you something to eat soon,” he murmurs to me. “I’ll make sure there’s something better here for you in the morning.”

My brow furrows at the words. “You won’t be here?” I ask drowsily. The merciful doctor increased the strength of my medication and it’s already taking effect.

He smiles softly at me. “I will be,” he says. “I’m just not certain whether I’ll be around for breakfast. Apparently coming back from the dead causes a whole hell of a lot of red tape...”

“Thought you weren’t dead,” I murmur, my eyes closing despite my attempt to keep them open. I want to keep looking at him.

I hear his soft chuckle. “I’m not,” he insists. “Sleep now, Sam. There will be plenty of time for talking later. As much time as you want.”

I hum again in contentment as I feel his lips press gently against mine, and then I’m completely unconscious again. I don’t know whether it was a dream, but if it was, I don’t think I want it to end.

I sat at Samantha’s bedside for most of the night until my back ached. After making a mental note to donate additional funds to the hospital to provide more comfortable chairs for visitors of patients, I reluctantly left her room. The doctors promised to keep me updated on her progress; so far her progress has been sleeping off the effects of the pain medication. Claire sent me a text an hour or so ago to let me know she’s awake and she and Tyler are keeping her company. I hesitated with my response; it may seem selfish, but I wanted to ensure Claire didn’t slip up and mention the pregnancy to Samantha. I don’t know how she’ll react to the news and I want to be at her side when she finds out. Though now that I’m thinking about it it’s more likely that a doctor or nurse will bring it up while they’re checking her over.

Maybe it’s best that way. She can have time to adjust to the idea before seeing me again. And I need time to think about how I’m going to react to whatever decision she makes, whether it is to stay with me and allow me to take care of her, her child, and our son or if it involves leaving me again to be with Tom fucking Saunders. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from making the latter decision, but in the end it is her choice and I will support that choice.

In an attempt to distract myself, I’ve gotten involved in the investigation of what happened the other night and who the culprits may be. Leo has been cooperating fully with the investigation
. Between him and Marcus, I’ve been as brought up to speed on the developments. The men who were captured have refused to cooperate with authorities. They’re being tightlipped to the point we can’t even get them to tell us their names. The current theory is that they’re merely hired thugs who were kept in the dark about the entire situation.

In other words, they’re completely fucking useless.

Our only hope is the surveillance footage taken from my home. With all the cameras, certainly there would be some glimpse as to how these people got through my security, killed three of my guards, and kidnapped Samantha and Tyler. Again, though, we’ve reached a dead end. Someone has hacked into the heavily encrypted CCTV feeds and erased the footage. All we have to go on is a van pulling just out of sight of the main road and four men dressed in black from head to toe making their way silently towards the front gates of my home. We’re not even certain they’re the men captured.

“What the fuck is going on around here?” I growl, staring at the black computer screens.

Marcus sighs and leans back in his chair. “No security is 100% full proof, Matt,” he tells me quietly. “With enough chipping, an experienced hacker can get into whatever takes his interest. As I recall, you managed to hack your high school computer systems when you were fifteen.”

Leo snorts a laugh at the memory. I wave away Marcus’s words. “They weren’t exactly what you would call high-tech, though,” I argue, gesturing at the computer screens. “And I’m sure as hell not the first computer geek to try and change the grades of his fellow students.”

“Maybe not,” Marcus agrees. “All I’m trying to say is even with your skill, your security measures can be dismantled.”

“There’s always a way to backtrack it,” Leo suggests. “Figure out where the original hack came from, trace it right down to the location where it was hacked.”

Marcus nods his agreement. “Only problem with that is with technology being what it is, the hack could be from an IP address in Antarctica when in reality the hacker is just down the street. Matt, have you had a chance to ask Samantha about the woman?”

I shake my head. “No,” I answer. “Not yet. She wasn’t exactly what we could call lucid last night.”

“What about Tyler?” Leo asks.

“He’s six,” I remind him. “His memory isn’t the greatest.”

“No, but he can still give us a clue into who might be behind this,” Marcus says thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised the things kids tend to remember even under duress. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen someone convicted because of the testimony of a child...”

“I’ll ask him,” I say firmly. “I don’t want my son interrogated.”

“Of course,” Marcus tells me in a placating tone. “In the meantime, we’re keeping an eye on Frank Marone’s business. He’s been very conveniently absent since the other night and right now, he’s the prime suspect behind this.”

Leo’s brow furrows. “You think Frank kidnapped Sam and Tyler?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” Marcus tells him. “But he could be the mastermind behind this whole thing. Or one of them. A few of the local shopkeepers have been questioned and a few have mentioned seeing people coming and going in the dead of night.”

“That’s not news,” I say darkly. “That bastard’s got his hand in some really illegal shit, even if I can’t prove it.”

“Well, it is news, since at least one person has witnessed a woman wandering around the building.”

Leo and I sit up at the exact same time. “Who’s the witness?” I ask quickly.

Marcus checks his notes. “A Bonnie Harris,” he says. I look at Leo, a smirk playing on his lips. “I take it you know her?”

“Yes,” Leo says. “And if anyone’s gotten a good look at the people coming and going from Frank’s, it’s Bonnie.”

“We’ll talk to her ourselves,” I tell Marcus. “She trusts us. She knows us. She’ll tell us whatever we want to know. I’m not sure she really trusts law enforcement.”

“Why?” Marcus asks curiously.

I shrug. “Just how she is,” I say fondly. “She’s also not one to be intimidated by anybody.”

“I’ll give her call later,” Leo says, still looking at the blank computer screens with a brooding stare. “You should get back to Sam. She’ll probably need another round of reassurance that you’re back from the dead.”

“Hilarious,” I say, deadpan. “Another zombie joke and you’ll be out on your ass.”

Leo snorts a laugh, but doesn’t look the least bit threatened as I stand up.

“Keep me posted. I want to know every last detail that comes up,” I instruct both Marcus and Leo. “I’ll be in contact later.”

Ignoring their insistences that I just relax with my family for a change, I leave the room and go about gathering a few things for both Samantha and Tyler. Until she’s released from the hospital, our son will be staying with Claire. And since I don’t know how long that will be, it seems necessary to pack him a bag. Looking around my home, I never really considered it a possibility that this would be an unsafe place for my family. Security gua
rds. Cameras. Electrified fencing. I’ve made this place a fucking compound that most federal institutions would be envious of. And yet it wasn’t enough. I’m reminded of the apparent leak from inside my circle of acquaintances. I’m still no closer to discovering the identity, but I think I’m starting to zero in on a few key suspects. It’s not a list I like and I hope to God I’ve never been more wrong about something in my life, but something tells me I’m right at least about the list itself.

I make my way out of the house and down the long stone staircase to the driveway, tossing the two backpacks worth of clothes, books, games, and toys into the backseat. Just as I’m about to get in the driver’s seat, a voice calls my name. I look up and sigh at the sight of Marcus walking down to greet me.

“New information so soon?” I ask sarcastically.

“Not exactly,” he says, standing in front of me as I lean against the side of the SUV. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hoffman, since we’re still looking into a few things.” I immediately begin to glare at the insinuation; Marcus holds up his hands as if in self-defense. “I’m just saying there are things some people don’t need to know just yet.”

Crossing my arms, I square my shoulders. “And what things might those be?” I ask coldly.

“You’re under investigation, Matt,” he tells me bluntly. Immediately my defensive stature falters. “For the plane crash. Unless you’ve forgotten, people died that day. People I know you at least cared about in some capacity. The fact that you knew there was a problem with the plane when you assisted the pilot in the preflight checks, yet you didn’t tell anybody makes you an accessory in conspiracy. Now, I know why you did what you did,” he holds up a hand to stop me from speaking, “and I understand completely the threat that you were facing, but this isn’t just going to go away, Matt. With you seemingly back from the dead the families of those who were actually on the plane will want answers. Luckily I’ve been able to keep your reappearance low-key, but people are going to start to notice you’re alive when you go back to work. And I know you well enough to know you’re not just going to stay holed up in your house until this blows over.”

My head falls back to rest on the car. “Fuck,” I breathe.

“Exactly,” Marcus says grimly. “Like I said, I’ll do what I can, but I don’t know what that might be.”

“I appreciate it,” I say quietly and sincerely. “I’ll cooperate with the investigation, of course. Whatever needs to be done. Whether that is monetarily or... whatever.” I don’t want to say it aloud, but I’m not stupid enough to believe this sort of investigation won’t lead to jail time—or worse. I could lose everything. Which means Samantha and Tyler could lose everything. I can’t let that happen...

“I’ll let you be on your way,” Marcus tells me in an uncharacteristically kind voice. “Just keep your head down for a change and everything will be fine.”

I snort skeptically, knowing he doesn’t even believe his own words, and get into my car, more eager than before to get to the hospital.

-------------o-------------

As I enter Samantha’s hospital room, I smile at the sight that greets me. Claire and Tyler are here—Tyler in his mother’s bed, resting his head against her chest—and Samantha repeatedly presses little kisses to his head and looking as though she has no intention of ever letting him go again.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Claire announces, grinning at me.

Samantha turns, her eyes widening just as they had last night when she saw me standing in her room. The look on her face can only be described as joy and bliss at the realization that what she presumed to have been a dream is real. “Hi,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

“Hi yourself,” I say just as quietly, dropping both backpacks against the wall and crossing the room. I ruffle Tyler’s hair a little as I lean down to press a lingering kiss against Samantha's forehead, trying to
further convince her that this is very far from being a dream. “You look better than you did last night.”

“It’s not nice to tell a woman she didn’t look nice, Matthew,” my sister says sternly, a teasing smile on her lips.

I roll my eyes at Claire, but sit in the chair across the bed from her. “How was breakfast?” I ask Samantha.

“Much better than hospital food,” she informs me, her eyes taking in every detail about my face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I also brought some things for you—books, pajamas that give a bit more modesty than hospital gowns.” A smile crosses her face. “And I brought a bag for Ty for when he’s released.”

Her smile falters.

“I already told her I’ll be taking him back to my place,” Claire says. “She’s resistant to the idea.”

I smile at Samantha sympathetically, understanding the feeling of not wanting to let a person out of my sight lest something happen to them. “He’ll be fine,” I assure her quietly. “I promise.”

Hesitant though she obviously is, eventually she nods, which Claire and I assume to mean she’s okay with Tyler leaving the hospital without her. Claire and I try to curb her attention with our usual sibling bantering, even though we keep it somewhat tame with Tyler in the room. It’s not until we get her laughing until her ribs hurt that we realize her ribs actually are hurting and those tears streaming from her eyes we thought to be tears of laughter are real tears that we realize we’re not helping her. I reach across Tyler and press the little button beside Sam’s arm and within a few minutes, she’s relaxed again. I shoot Claire a pointed look and she seems to understand immediately.

“I should get back home and make sure my kids haven’t killed my husband and burned down my house. I just got new carpeting; can’t risk it,” she tells us matter-of-factly. Samantha chuckles, but looks slightly wistful. “Tyler, you want to go play at my house?”

Tyler looks hesitant for a moment, glancing at his mother who gives him a forced tight smile of encouragement. Apparently that’s all he needs to make up his mind. He makes a big show of kissing Samantha and half-listens to her telling him to behave before sliding off the bed and taking Claire’s hand. As they leave the room, they grab the backpack with Tyler’s things and Tyler turns around to wave at Samantha and me, leaving us gobsmacked and speechless with two words. “Bye, Daddy!”

It might be a little melodramatic, but those two words have knocked the breath right out of my body. I’ve never heard
that word
directed towards me before and I can’t deny how much I enjoy it. So much so that my eyes are actually watering and I’m staring at the door considering chasing after Tyler to hug him. I resist for the moment, turning back to Samantha who is staring at the door with as much surprise as I am.

“Did he just call you...” she whispers, dragging her eyes over to meet mine.

I nod silently, trying to figure out how she feels about that. “Is that okay?” I ask quietly.