Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (52 page)
Read Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set Online
Authors: A. K. Alexander
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Suspense, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense
“I have something to announce,” Antonio said once the table was cleared and the servants out of the room.
“Uh-oh,” Rosa replied. “There can't be more.”
“There is,” Antonio said. The women looked at their mother, who shrugged. “As you all know, I haven't been a saint, but I have always loved all of you with everything I have.”
“What is it, Papa?” Felicia asked impatiently.
“I have done many terrible deeds, committed sins against your mother that I can never take back, but out of those sins I was, actually we were all, given a gift.”
“What are you talking about?” Rosa asked and glanced back at Lydia.
“There was another woman in my life many years ago.
Marta.”
“Who is Marta?” Felicia asked.
“My mother,” Alex replied.
Lydia looked over at Alex, and smiled with happiness as she realized who Alex really was. Here was the little boy she'd wanted to hate all those years ago. But in a short amount of time since she'd been reunited with her family, she'd come to know Alex somewhat. He was a kind young man who she'd noticed liked to smell the flowers in the garden and play with the many dogs on the property. “She worked for Javier years ago,” Lydia answered.
Antonio nodded. “Yes. And I had an affair with her.”
“Oh, my God,” Rosa muttered, realizing who Alex was.
“Isn't that what all you men do?” Felicia asked nonchalantly. “Big deal. You had an affair.”
“Alex is our brother,” Rosa told Felicia.
“That's right,” Antonio told them. Alex looked down at the table.
“Are you serious?” Felicia asked.
“One hundred percent.” Antonio said.
Lydia laughed.
They are certainly a crazy family, but I guess they're mine
, Alex thought as he glanced around, from face to face.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Six Months Later
Costa Careyes, Mexico
“
IT LOOKS AS THOUGH WE ARE TO BE IN-LAWS,” JAVIER SAID
, finishing off his third tequila, sitting outside on Javier's veranda at the vacation house, overlooking the jungles and the ocean. It was two nights before Alex and Bella's wedding, and the
Patróns
saw it fit for them to celebrate in honor of the occasion.
“You know, I always knew we'd wind up being a family one way or another.”
“You
loco pinche pendejo
! I only wish Cynthia were here to see this, see all the changes we've gone through and now to see our children married. She would rejoice in this.” Javier poured another shot of tequila and tossed it down, swallowing back his tears at the same time.
“Yes, she would,” Antonio replied.
“What are you and Lydia going to do?” Javier asked, thinking of the women each of them had loved as young men. The women who had given them beautiful children and sacrificed so much of themselves for their families.
“Too much time has passed. We have both changed. I still love her. She's the mother of my children, and I think we could be together again, but I know for her she doesn't feel the same way. She's suffered greatly and I'm in part to blame. I don't expect her to try and love me as her husband ever again. She's going to Paris with Rosa for her art show and then, on to New York.”
“I am sorry,
amigo
. Maybe in time…”
Antonio shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe…”
“What about Felicia?”
“You know my youngest daughter. She's so full of life. She needs a big city to entertain her.”
“Where did she convince you to send her?”
“New York,” Antonio said, laughing. “Says she's going to try modeling. At least her mother will be in the same city before long, but I don't know if anyone of us can ever control that girl.”
“She is a wild one, but good for her. What about you?” Javier asked.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“I've still got you. And if our children do right by us, we'll be grandpapas soon enough.” Antonio smiled and shook his head at the possibility of grandchildren. Where had time gone? “I'm not old enough for this.”
“You said it.” Javier poured his best friend and business partner of twenty-five years more tequila from the bottle they shared. As they sat together, getting drunk and watching the sun slowly make its descent, they reflected on life in that satirical way that only best friends who had suffered with one another, laughed together, and would die for one another, can.
“So what do you think the next twenty-five years have in store for us?” Javier asked, slurring his words.
“I don't know that I
want
to know the answer to that one,” Antonio replied. The two laughed as they raised their glasses together, in celebration of the lives they had already lived.
Covert Reich
By
A.K. Alexander
San Diego, Ca
Copyright 2011 by Michele Scott
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be sent to D’[email protected].
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the two Alex’s in my life. The first Alex is my son. His entry into this world is the reason why I ever decided to write the book. He truly set me on my path. Thank You, Kid.
The other Alex helped set me straight when I doubted myself as a writer. He encouraged me and helped me see a light I was not seeing. He is a true and good friend. Thank You, my friend, Alex Johnston.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
Press it.
Just fucking press it!
Sweat beaded Ryan Horner’s forehead as he stared at the computer screen. His next move could…no…
would
impact hundreds of thousands of lives. And his family. And him.
He lifted his right hand off the mouse and took a deep breath. Images of his beautiful wife, Jeanine, their twin girls, Chloe and Taylor, and his gated home in Blankenese, Germany darted through his head. He thought about his mom and dad back in the States, finally living the life of luxury they so deserved—a life he’d been able to provide them. But at what cost?
The sweat trickled down past his temples. Ryan put his finger back on the mouse, closed his eyes, and clicked “send.” He felt instantly sick to his stomach and dropped his head into his hands.
God, oh God, oh God.
He took a moment to compose himself. Then, after another deep breath and a quick glance to ensure he wasn’t being watched, Ryan stood, gathered his things, and walked as casually as he could out of the internet café towards his car. He’d driven for over two hours to find a place where he could safely and anonymously send the email. He opened the door to his sleek Audi, stepped in, and started the engine. Once on the Autobahn, he allowed himself to relax slightly and his thoughts drifted back to that fateful day three years ago in San Diego. The date was etched into his memory—October 22, 2008.
***
“Dr. Horner?” Ryan had just reached his SUV after a long lunch at his favorite café. He was tired and not in the mood for conversation. He turned to see who’d spoken. Tall guy, lean, in his early thirties with light brown hair and icy blue eyes. Ryan didn’t recognize him at all. That should have been his first clue.
“Dr. Ryan Horner?” the man asked again. He spoke with an accent. Ryan thought it might be German.
“Yes. I’m sorry, do I know you?”
The man came closer, stuck out his hand. He wore what appeared to be an expensive grey suit and silk tie. “My name is Frederick Färber, and I’d like to speak with you about the Petersens.”
“The Petersens?” Ryan was instantly uneasy. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fiddling with his car keys. “Who are you? I told the police what I knew and honestly, it wasn’t much.”
“I understand. But I need to speak with you about them. Please come with me.”
“No.” Ryan shook his head and opened the car door. “I have nothing further to say about the case and I need to get back to work.”
“You don’t work for Centurion Pharmaceuticals any longer. And as I said, you need to come with me.” The man’s voice was slightly deeper now, with the faint hint of a threat running through it.
Ryan turned, “Excuse me?” Suddenly he was grabbed roughly from behind. Someone had been waiting inside his car all along. He felt a sharp jab to his right shoulder—a needle—and then was shoved into the back seat. The rest was a blur until he woke up. He wished he’d never woken up.
***
Now all Ryan could think was he’d made a huge mistake sending the email. They paid him well. Gave him shit…good shit. This car for one thing. The house…a good salary.
His eyes stared bleakly at the road in front of him. What if he drove into the guardrail? Let the car bounce off, spin him—round and round—until he eventually died on impact. What if? But
they
would know…
They would know he’d done it intentionally.
And his family would suffer as a result.
He prayed to God
they
didn’t ever discover he’d sent the email to the journalist in Los Angeles. He prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in the journalist would read between the lines. Spur an investigation. Research what had happened three years ago and, most importantly, start paying closer attention to her neighbor.
And then what? Then what!?
He slammed the palms of his hands against the steering wheel. Tears streamed down his face as he recalled the video
they
had showed him. The blood. The torture.
The tears blurred his vision and he wiped them away, wishing he could clear the memories just as easily. Wishing he could vanish. Or die.
But
they
had him by the balls.
He was trapped in hell, because of what
they
had shown him and what
they
would do to his family if he took
the cowardly
way out—or worse—told anyone about
their
plans.
The agony on the faces of the Petersens in that video—from Bren who was only six-years old and had made silly faces with Ryan’s then two-year old twins, to their father, Andrew, who, from the brief time Ryan spent with him, seemed like a good guy. It didn’t matter because good or bad, no one deserved what had been done to Andrew and his family.
They
had bound them. Raped Selena in front of her husband and children. God, Selena. She had been so sweet when they had moved from New Jersey to San Diego. She had brought his wife Jeanine into her fold of friends. They’d gone to yoga together and went for morning coffees. Jeanine had known Selena better than Ryan knew Andrew. The guys were simply colleagues, but the women bonded at a work picnic. Jeanine had been devastated when they were murdered.
Selena’s silent tears were what always popped into Ryan’s mind. She’d been brave and clearly didn’t want the children to hear her pain, although it wasn’t easy to hide. Ryan had seen the horror in their faces. And their father had been purple with pain and rage. All because he had said, “No.” All because he had not believed in what
they
represented and they’re threats. He’d thought it was a joke.
After murdering Selena, the men slit the throats of all four children in front of their father. Ryan could see in Andrew’s eyes how badly he’d wanted to die then—any way they could put him out of his misery, he would have gladly accepted. But they tortured him first. And now, Ryan understood why. It had all been for
his
benefit. The group who referred to themselves as The Brotherhood needed to be certain there was no way in hell Ryan would refuse them. They had forced him to watch the video. Gun to his head. Wrists and feet bound. A gag in his mouth. No, he could not refuse their offer. But then it wasn’t really an offer, was it? Because offers can always be turned down.
The men put a bullet in every non-fatal place possible in Andrew’s body, until finally, they shot him through his stomach and allowed him to bleed to death. All because Andrew was a chemist, like himself—and because Andrew Petersen had said, “No.”
Ryan reprimanded himself again for sending the e-mail. But if there was still a God—the One he had believed in growing up—if that God existed, sending the email, no matter the consequences to him and to his family, had been the right thing to do. Because as horrific as The Brotherhood had been to the Petersens, their plans for humanity were even worse.
