Dirty Little Lies

Loudon, Tennessee

Why was she still here?

The beauty of the place she had always thought of as home, the peace of the tree-shrouded mountains that surrounded it, and the murky depths of the river bordering it weren’t so peaceful now as they had once been. Pristine green grounds surrounded her uncle’s two-story white-and-red farmhouse. Horses grazed in their fenced-in pastures, and a hint of fall lent a bite to the late-evening air.

This was home.

She’d been raised here, feeling secure and loved despite her mother’s often abrasive, less-than-affectionate personality. In all the years she’d understood that her mother bore her no love, Grace had nonetheless felt as though she belonged.

Until now.

Now she just felt spooked, as though she were being watched. Like a deer sensing itself in a hunter’s sights.

Dammit, she didn’t need this.

Staring out at the Tennessee River as it drifted lazily past the Maddox farm, Grace admitted to herself that she wasn’t exactly certain why she was still here. She’d been packed and ready to leave on the day of her mother’s funeral. After all, what right did she have to be in her uncle’s home when it was her mother who had destroyed that uncle’s life? Lucia had had her own sister, Uncle Vince’s wife, Sienna, murdered. She’d tried to murder his daughter. She’d lied, murdered others, and for so long had worked to destroy not just the family, but everyone they protected.

Grace hadn’t been certain where she was going at the time and leaving wasn’t what she wanted. She’d wanted to make things better for her family, for the friends who had suffered. A family that pleaded with her to change her mind. To stay. To remain despite her mother’s crimes.

Her uncle Vince and his three forceful sons, Cord, Deacon, and Sawyer, weren’t exactly easy to fight against. Like the mountains themselves, they were immovable, shadowed, and often treacherous when encountering the enemy.

She wasn’t the enemy, though.

Was she?

Rubbing at her arms against the chill wind blowing off the water, Grace tried to tell herself that her mother’s crimes weren’t her own. No one knew what Lucia Maddox had done except the family. Lucia’s crimes had been dealt with quietly to preserve the secrecy of the government-backed militia her uncle headed. The one Lucia had tried to destroy.

Her mother.

She was the daughter of a traitor.

Yeah, that one was going to look really good on her résumé, wasn’t it?

It sure as hell hadn’t helped matters when it came to the man she’d been certain would finally decide to become more than just a friend. But Zack Richards had pretty much been MIA whenever she was around after Lucia’s crimes were revealed.

Big surprise.

Quiet, intense. An accountant. As different from her military family as one could be.

“Miss Grace?”

Grace whirled around from her view of the river to stare up at one of the farmhands her uncle Vince employed. A stable hand standing six feet with a rangy build and brown puppy-dog eyes. Longish brown hair fell over one eye, giving him a boyish look.

“Hey, Richard.” She smiled up at him before heading back to the farmhouse.

Rich was nice, unassuming, but something had her spooked regardless. So spooked that suddenly she just wanted to be in the house, surrounded by her uncle and cousins.

“I’m sorry about your momma,” he said softly as they moved into the backyard.

From the corner of her eye, she watched the large Rottweiler Zack had given her the year before lurking in the leafy bushes to Rich’s right. For once, the dog wasn’t jumping around, chasing moths, or trying to get the stable hand to play.

The unusual behavior from her normally rambunctious pet made Grace’s nerves tingle. She hated feeling so frightened. The last eight weeks had been hell, and she wasn’t in the mood for the nerves that jumbled inside her at the oddest times.

“Thank you, Rich.” She nodded, reminding herself that she knew this man, she’d been raised around him. Hell, he’d helped her cousins teach her to drive when she was just sixteen.

“Miss Grace.” His hand settled on her arm heavily, drawing her to a stop as her heart began to beat fearfully.

“I’m sorry, Rich.” She shook her head apologetically. “Cord’s waiting on me—”

“No, Miss Grace.” His hand tightened around her arm, restraining her, his face filling with regret. “Mr. Cord’s in the stables with his brothers. No one’s waiting for you.”

A glint of metal, the blade of a knife, gleamed from his other hand as Grace felt panic set in. “Rich?”

At the whisper of his name, the look on Richard’s face shifted from regret to grief. “I’m so sorry, Miss Grace,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Just tell me where the files are, and I’ll let you go. I promise.”

Files?

This was a nightmare. He wanted files? Even if she knew what the hell he was talking about, he wouldn’t let her go. He’d gone too far for that.

“What files?” Play along. She could play along with this just for a minute, just until she could find a way to escape him.

“Miss Grace, helping your momma was a really bad idea.” He sighed again, muscles bunching in his arm above the knife hand. “The files have been gone this long … nothing’s hurt if they stay hid, I guess.”

He was going to kill her.

Sweet Jesus, he was actually going to use that knife on her.

“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind, Richard James?” she burst out, sheer incredulity snapping through her. “I never helped Luce so much as change a lightbulb. Get your head out of your ass and let me go.” She jerked her arm and for a second, just a second, she thought he’d actually let her go.

His hold relaxed, pain contorting his features just before resolve filled his eyes.

Yep, he was going to kill her.

Grace twisted in his grip, obviously surprising the farmhand as her foot swept out and connected with his knee while an ear-piercing scream left her lips. At the same time, her Rottweiler, Magnus, gave a vicious snarl a streak of fiery pain lacerated her thigh.

She was damned if she’d make it easy for him!