Deep Disclosure

  NEW YORK BOSTON

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  A Preview of Deadly Dance

  Copyright Page

  For the Whine Sisters—who keep me sane on

  days when it doesn’t seem possible!

  PROLOGUE

  Walsenburg, Colorado

  I’m telling you, he likes you.”

  “Oh, please, there’s no way.” Lexie stopped at the corner under the streetlight and glared at her best friend. “He never even talks to me.”

  “That’s because he likes you.” Amanda smiled, shaking a finger to emphasize her point.

  “Definitely circular logic,” Lexie said, her heart beating just a little faster at the thought that Mike Kennedy might actually like her. Mike was the captain of the football team and practically the best-looking guy in town. Too high profile for her father, of course, but Lexie couldn’t help thinking how it would feel to be Mike’s girlfriend. She’d be the envy of all the girls, and, well, practically normal.

  “But you want it to be true.” Amanda’s eyes sparkled in the lamplight.

  “Yeah.” Lexie grinned. “I guess I do. You really think there’s a chance?”

  “I’m sure of it.” Amanda reached over to give her arm a squeeze. “You’re prettier than any of the other girls at school. And you’re a heck of a lot more fun. All you really need to do is get out a bit more. I mean, in the six months since you moved here, this is the first time you’ve ever come with me to a basketball game.”

  “I’m not that into sports.” Lexie felt the familiar weight of her guilt settle in her gut.

  “Bull. I saw you at the game, remember? You were having a great time.” Amanda frowned, her expression troubled. “Is there something wrong at home? Something maybe you should tell me?”

  “No.” Lexie shook her head, forcing a smile. “Everything’s fine.”

  “So you’ll come to the party on Friday night?”

  “I don’t know.” Lexie sighed. “I’d like to, but I really don’t think my dad will let me.” Actually there was no question about it at all. Going to things like parties and basketball games were totally off limits. She’d only been able to go tonight because she’d lied to her mother and said she’d be at the library.

  But there was no way she wanted to start making a habit of it. Her father’s reasons were sound, and Lexie really didn’t want to jeopardize everything by defying him. There’d be other nights when she could manage to slip out. But certainly not twice in one week.

  “All right.” It was Amanda’s turn to sigh. “I won’t push. But Mike Kennedy will be there.”

  “I know.” Lexie chewed the side of her lip, thinking that maybe she could manage to sneak away. It was only a party, after all. No danger in that. “Maybe I can manage to go for a little while.” She glanced down at her watch. “But only if I get home on time.”

  “Glad I don’t have a curfew.” Amanda’s eyes were sympathetic. “Want me to walk with you?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” Lexie hugged her friend and then hurried down the street, breaking into a sprint as she headed for home. She was already a few minutes late, but in truth, her parents wouldn’t be angry. They trusted her. Which made her feel all the worse for having lied. It seemed like she lied to everyone these days. To her friends about her life at home, and to her family about her life with her friends.

  It was almost as if she were two people. One of them normal. One of them not.

  She sighed, her thoughts turning to Mike Kennedy. It would be so amazing to be his girlfriend. But even as she had the thought she dismissed it. Some things were just beyond her reach. And no matter how much she might play at being a regular teenager, she wasn’t one.

  Lexie rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, her throat tightening as she tried to swallow her scream. At the end of the cul-de-sac, what was left of her house shown black against the fire-illuminated sky. Flames shot out of the roof, thrusting upward toward the heavens as if hell itself had found a portal from one world to the other.

  Maybe it had.

  Fire trucks and ambulances filled the street, neighbors standing barefooted on their lawns watching in horror. Lexie fought against the terror that held her frozen. She had to find her family, had to be sure that everyone was okay. She concentrated on her body, forcing her feet forward, one step at a time, moving faster and faster until she was running.

  She tripped on a piece of fallen debris, the asphalt from the street tearing her palms. Choking on bile and tears, she pushed herself to her feet and would have run again, except that someone was there, stopping her.

  “Lexie, no. It’s too late. There’s nothing you can do.”

  She looked up into the face of her father’s friend, trying to shake off his hands, to go to her father and mother. They struggled for a moment, and then she broke free, sprinting forward, only to hesitate at the sound of his voice behind her.

  “You can’t go. You’re the only one left. If they get you then they win.”

  Lexie didn’t want to hear his words, didn’t want to face the reality of a world without her father, without her family. But she was her father’s daughter, and the instinct for self-preservation was ingrained soul deep.

  She sucked in a breath, her eyes still on the carnage in front of her. “You’re sure they’re all dead?”

  “Positive.” George’s voice was as soft as his hand on her arm. “They’re gone, Lexie.”

  “And the authorities? Do they think it was an accident?” She felt as if she’d aged a thousand years in a single moment, her childhood incinerated as completely as the house she’d called home.

  “They’re not saying anything. And I was afraid to ask.” There was a note of apology in George’s voice, but Lexie shook her head.

  “It’s all right. Daddy wouldn’t want you to be caught either.” There was a code among those in her community. Protect the right to anonymity at all costs. Some of the people she knew had done things, in the name of right, that if discovered would mean time in prison. Others, like her father, had simply been accused of things they’d never done.

  But either way, the network would be secure only if they adhered to the rules.

  Her gaze settled on the fiery tomb in front of her. Someone had obviously broken that trust. Betrayed her family. Betrayed her father.

  And one thing Lexie was absolutely certain of—she wouldn’t rest until the traitor paid.

  CHAPTER 1

  Redlands, California—Thirteen Years Later

  Tucker Flynn was turning into his father. The old man had been nothing if not predictable. So much so that Tucker and his brother had always sworn to be just the opposite. And looking at recent history, he’d have to say they’d achieved their goal in spades.

  Until now.

  Tucker checked his watch as he stepped out of the car: exactly 10:30. Shit. It seemed he’d developed a routine. The coffee shop beckoned even as he considered hopping back into the Jeep and heading for the hills. Or at least somewhere that wasn’t exactly the same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.

  Hell.

  He blew out a long breath and shook his head in disgust. After years in prison in San Mateo, he’d have thought routine would be the last thing he desired. And yet here he was, newspaper in hand with a hankering for a cup of coffee and the caramel rolls Weatherbees was famous for. After holding the door for an exiting man in a Dodgers hat, Tucker walked inside and took his customary place in the corner booth, partially from habit, but also a remnant of his espionage days. It was always better to keep your back to the wall and your eyes on the room.

  Not that there was anything to see, really. Redlands was a sleepy little town wit
h little to recommend it but a university, a backdrop of mountains and orange groves, and a handful of mansions left over from the railroad-baron days. Tucker’s father had been a schoolteacher. His mother… well, bitch was the word that came to mind. She hadn’t been able to deal with small-town America, even Southern California style. So she’d hit the road, leaving Tucker’s dad with two little boys. He’d risen to the occasion but lost a part of himself in the process.

  Maybe that’s why all the routines.

  Tucker nodded as the waitress brought him his coffee and roll. He never talked to any of them, but that didn’t mean they didn’t know who he was. There’d been a flurry of newspaper articles when he’d first come home. Native son, risen from the dead and all that. The official story was that he’d managed to escape the plane crash that killed the rest of his unit, but wound up in a hospital with no memory of what happened.

  Of course the real truth—his escape from Colombia, his friend’s betrayal, and Lena’s death—none of that was public knowledge. Hell, the brass at Langley had buried it so damn deep Tucker doubted it would ever come to light. Which suited him just fine.

  He sipped his coffee, his gaze moving slowly around the diner. The place was pretty empty, the morning crowd long gone and the lunchtime rush still an hour or so away. A couple across the way was canoodling over lattes. A businessman one booth up was lost in the financial pages. And an older man in the far corner was fidgeting with his spoon as he gazed out the window, clearly waiting for something or someone.

  Tucker dropped his gaze, trying to focus on the sports page. The Bulldogs had pulled out a walk-off win in the ninth. And in LA the Angels had beaten the Yankees. First game in the series. If Drake were still here, they’d probably be on their way to the stadium right now. But Drake was in New York, at Sunderland. Or maybe he was off on a mission. Hard to know for certain. Although his wife, Madeline, usually called when he left the country.

  Maybe Tucker should have gone with them when they’d headed back to New York. Maybe he’d be better off working again. But that part of his life was over. Dead and buried. Pain, pointed and heavy, speared his gut. Lena. He closed his eyes, memories of her smile dancing just beyond his reach, her laughter echoing deep inside him.

  Angry at his maudlin turn of thought, he took a sip of coffee, the hot, acrid beverage pulling him firmly back into the present. The older man was standing now, a smile of joy spreading across his face as a young woman strode through the doorway, arms extended.

  “George,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms. “It’s been so long.”

  The two of them moved out of earshot as they walked back to his table, but even without words Tucker could feel her joy. Blonde in a way that only women in California seemed to be able to achieve, naturally or otherwise, she was tall and lithe, her body bronzed by the sun, a dimple in her left cheek making her seem even younger. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and her hands were in constant motion as she talked. The old man’s face lit up in her presence, the years seeming to drop away.

  Tucker idly wondered at their connection. Father, maybe. Although she’d called him by his first name. He rejected the notion that they were amorously connected. Neither of them seemed the May-December type. Old friends, then. That much was clear. He smiled, still watching the two of them, their hands joined together as their voices lowered and the tone of the conversation turned serious.

  Tucker shook his head, wondering when his life had gotten so dull he’d started living vicariously through total strangers. Next he’d start adopting cats. He cut off a piece of the caramel roll and stuffed it into his mouth.

  A burst of synthesized music signaled an incoming call, and he grabbed the cell phone, grateful for the interruption. “Flynn,” he barked into the phone.

  “Same here,” came the answer, a thread of laughter lacing through his brother, Drake’s, voice. “Thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing.”

  “Bored out of my fucking mind,” Tucker said, not making any effort to sugarcoat his words. “I’m at Weatherbees, and I think I’m turning into Dad.”

  “It could be worse,” Drake replied. “You could be turning into our mother.”

  “Bite your tongue.” Tucker shifted so he could better see the blonde. “Anyway, what’s up? You don’t usually call to chat.” She was still waving her hands, but they clearly conveyed anger now. Seemed the joyous reunion had turned sour.

  “Hey, can’t a guy check in on his brother?” Drake asked, pulling Tucker’s attention back to his conversation.

  “A guy, yes. You, no. You’re not the nurturing type.”

  “Well, I sure as hell better be,” his brother mumbled. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve got news.” There was a pause, and Tucker smiled. His brother was never at a lack for words. Except when it had to do with Madeline.

  “So, what?” Tucker teased. “Your wife left you?”

  “Give me a break,” Drake said. “The woman adores me.”

  “That she does,” Tucker admitted, still smiling. Madeline Reynard Flynn was the kind of woman who loved without reservation. Drake had been lucky to find her. And Tucker was happy to have played a part in it. “So what’s the news?”

  “Hang on,” Drake said, fumbling with the phone. “There’s another call. Avery. Be right back.”

  The line went dead as his brother took the call from his boss. Tucker felt a stab of envy. He’d sworn he wouldn’t go back to the life, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the pull of it. There was a rush involved with working black ops, an adrenaline surge you couldn’t get anywhere else.

  He leaned back, phone to his ear, waiting for his brother to return. The blonde was on her feet now, her hands cutting through the air as she argued with the old man. He was standing too, fists on the table as he tried to make her see reason. Good luck with that. Tucker recognized the set of her shoulders. She wasn’t about to give in. Whatever had set her off, the old man wasn’t anywhere close to assuaging her.

  “Hey, Tucker, you still there?” Drake asked. “Sorry about that. Company business.”

  “So you off to somewhere exciting? Is that the news?” Tucker waited, half listening, as he watched the blonde. With a final snap of her head, she pivoted and stalked from the coffee shop, the old man left standing there, a look of resigned acceptance coloring his face. Whatever they’d fought about, he hadn’t come out on the winning side.

  “No. Well, actually, maybe yes. But that’s not why I called. Madeline just found out she’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.”

  Drake’s words were slow to penetrate, but when they did, Tucker let out a whoop. “Holy shit. That makes me an uncle.”

  “Well, not yet. It takes time.”

  “Nine months, I believe,” Tucker said. “Anyway, it’s awesome news.” Outside a motor roared to life and the blonde peeled out of the parking lot. The old man was still standing there, hands on the table, looking as if he’d lost his last hope. “How far along is she?” Tucker asked.

  “Just under two months. We’re actually supposed to wait until after the three-month mark to tell people. But I couldn’t wait.”

  “A new generation of Flynns. Definitely something to celebrate.” Across the room the old man sat back down and reached into his pocket. Tucker nodded as his brother talked, even though he couldn’t actually see him. Despite the importance of his brother’s news, something was tugging at his brain.

  From force of habit he searched the diner, trying to figure out what was bugging him.

  “Tucker, are you listening to me?” his brother’s voice broke into his reverie and he shook his head, certain that he was overreacting. This was Redlands, for God’s sake.

  “I’m here. Sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.” He shook his head, chagrined at himself and his voyeuristic tendencies. “You were talking about due dates.”

  “Yeah. I said we want to be sure you’re here when the time comes. Hell, you know I want you u
p here permanently.”

  “What? And turn into a Yankees fan?” Tucker laughed, his eyes still on the old man as he struggled to find something. “Not fucking likely.”

  “Hey, I’m still Angels all the way. You can take a guy out of California…”

  … but you can’t take California out of the guy,” Tucker finished for him. It was a catchphrase their dad had always used. “Well, at least some things don’t change.”

  The old man was reaching into his back pocket now, his hands shaking as he struggled to find whatever he was looking for. Tucker frowned and then blew out a slow breath as he finally figured out what the hell it was that had been bugging him. A backpack. Underneath the old man’s table. He tried to remember if the blonde had brought it in. But, to be honest, he’d been too distracted by her honey-colored skin and golden hair to notice. From its positioning, though, he was fairly certain it didn’t belong to the old man.

  “Tucker, what’s going on?” Drake asked, concern coloring his voice. “You’re not pissed because I’m having a baby before you?”

  “Yeah, right.” He frowned, forcing himself to ignore his instincts and concentrate on his brother.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, if Lena had…” Drake trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Lived? Yeah, well, even so, neither of us was the childrearing kind. So no worries, little brother.”

  “I didn’t mean to—” Drake started, and then stopped.

  “I know. And it’s okay. Besides, I’m serious. I’m not cut out to be a father. Hell, maybe not even a husband. Especially not now. Anyway, I’ll leave all that to you and Madeline, and I’ll play the role of doting uncle. That I can do.”

  “Yeah, I shudder to think exactly what that’ll mean.”

  “The perfect trifecta. Baseball, hot dogs, and beer.” Tucker laughed as the old man finally located his phone and started to dial. Beneath him the corner of the backpack lit up, blinking red. “Fuck,” Tucker said, his gaze moving to the other patrons in the diner. “Everybody get down. Now.”