Author: Allison Brennan
Category: Suspense
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/allison-brennan/page,3,583429-a_deeper_fear.html
As she worked, she took notes, recorded, and mentally prepared for her presentation.
But in the back of her mind she was thinking about Marc.
She didn’t want to sell the company. But Marc was right about one thing: When the drone tech took off, they could hire more staff. She wouldn’t have to work every conference. She liked the work . . . but maybe she should think about her other needs. Like affection. A life outside of work. She and Marc used to go camping all the time. They had dreamed of visiting the Australian outback again. That’s where they’d gone for their honeymoon, and maybe . . . just maybe . . . that’s where they should go to see if they could reclaim what they’d once had.
She shook her head. Maybes, what-ifs—she needed to focus on her job, because if the drone tech didn’t take off like they thought it would, nothing would matter.
Really? You don’t want to sell . . . but why can’t you have both? The company and a man who loves you?
Because Marc was right about one thing. She still loved him. She couldn’t say it, and she didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t because he’d cheated on her—they’d both hurt each other that way. And it was just sex, not love. Not . . . someone who knew her, deep down. Who shared her pain and her joys.
She wanted that back.
She just didn’t know how to get it. Could it really be this easy? Just tell Marc okay? Let’s do it? Let’s try again?
Maybe it was.
Something caught her eye on the camera, so she moved the drone back to check it out. Just to show the responsiveness of the unit, the ability of the tech to adapt to different situations, both user- and computer-controlled. Whatever she saw wasn’t there, but she was recording everything, maybe she could use this as an example once she edited it and looked at the tape again.
Her phone beeped. She looked down at a text message from Marc.
Six a.m. I’m already hungry.
She laughed and sent him a bacon emoji, then went back to the test.
A flash on the recording startled her, then she frowned. What was that? She looked at the location—it seemed to be on the roof of the Sheraton Hotel. Most of the vendors were staying at the Hyatt, across the street. Both hotels were a block from the convention center, where she had the van parked.
She maneuvered the drone back around but didn’t see anything that might explain the flash of light. No people on the roof. No machinery that might have reflected another light—though the drone should compensate for that.
She continued past the hotel to the cathedral to show the ability to get close to structures even at night, how the program compensated for different levels of light, and the details of the people and cars on the street. She magnified a few license plates to show the clarity, even from a hundred feet up.
Ellen had enough data, and she could edit it tonight in short order. She hit the HOME button, made a few notes, and when the computer beeped that the drone was overhead, she went out the back of the van to retrieve it.
She was looking up as the drone came down, smiling as she thought about Marc. He had always been the more romantic of the two of them. And she knew him well enough to know that he was serious.
It didn’t hurt to talk things out, something she wasn’t very good at. But time . . . well, she guessed the old adage was right. Time healed.
She reached up to take hold of the hovering drone, and out of the corner of her eye she saw two men in black emerge from the shadows of the convention center. She took three steps to the van as a scream bubbled up in her throat, but she didn’t make it inside.
She saw a gun, then felt pain in her head so sharp she thought for sure she’d been shot, except she didn’t hear anything . . .
And then she saw nothing as she fell to the ground.
Chapter Three
As soon as Jack left, Sean jumped in the rental car and started driving.
He didn’t know where he was going; he just needed to get away. He felt like he was drowning. He’d felt like he’d been dying for weeks, barely able to keep his head above the water.
He headed east on Interstate 80. Toward Auburn, which wasn’t that far from Jack’s. He didn’t have a plan. He used to drive this road all the time. The road to Tahoe. Skiing in the winter, boating in the summer. Gambling any time of year, until he got caught counting cards.
His life used to be simple. He had lots of friends, he had lots of girlfriends, he had a shitload of fun. He hadn’t cared about the consequences. He had money because he knew how to make money, and he enjoyed spending it. Yeah, he’d made some really stupid decisions that could have gotten him killed or thrown in jail. But back then, he didn’t take much of anything too seriously.
Because if he was going to be honest with himself, he hadn’t cared about anything. He’d watched his parents die, he’d literally buried his parents after their plane crash, and he’d turned his teenage anger into c’est la vie. That’s life, who cares, he was just going to have fun while he could because in the end he’d be dead.
Several things happened to steer him away from a selfish, wild, anger-filled existence. Partly, growing up. He’d gotten bored with the parties and fun and the hacking he did in college. He wanted to make a difference . . . and sometimes he did. His brother Kane had let him help on several of his missions. Sure, he always had to stay with the plane, but at least it was both fun and dangerous. It was helping Kane that made him want to work for Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid. It took some time to get Duke on board—Duke who would never quite see past Sean’s wild youth.
Maybe that wasn’t fair. They’d worked together better now that Sean was a principal of the company, now that he was integral to running the business.
Still . . . it was partly Kane, partly growing up, and mostly Lucy that had gotten him to this point. Because when he met Lucy, he knew she was the woman for him. From day one.
And yet . . . twenty-four hours with Senator Jonathan Paxton and he doubted everything he’d done, every decision he’d made, who he’d been, who he’d become.
Mostly, he was scared. Part of it was being tortured by his former best friend Colton Thayer. The hatred that poured off Colton when he locked Sean in a cage had gutted him. Colton knew what Sean feared—physically, psychologically—and used that to his greatest advantage. But Sean could get over the beating and the mind games and the sound of rats clawing behind walls. The truth of Sean’s deep foreboding was Paxton, who had found his weakness, his greatest fear, and twisted it. And even though he knew that Paxton was twisting everything, there was a deeper truth that Sean couldn’t shake.
“Every woman you ever claimed to care about is dead. Madison. Skye. Even your own mother. Killed because of you. I don’t want Lucy to be next. And you know as well as I do that you are selfish, you have used women your entire life, and Lucy is only the last in a long line of smart young women who fell for your deadly charms. If you really loved her, you would leave her.”
A dozen times he’d almost told Lucy, but every time he opened his mouth, he couldn’t speak. What could he say? He felt stupid. He knew, intellectually, that Paxton was wrong. But his pulse raced and he got light-headed at the thought of saying it out loud. It was like his body was reacting against logic. Nothing like this had happened to him before. When he tried to formulate his feelings into words, it sounded dumb.
If he told Lucy that Paxton had played on his fears of not being good enough for her . . . or his darkest fear that he would get her killed . . . that he’d used Sean’s mistakes to point out that he maybe hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought . . . she would say, It’s not true. But he couldn’t change the way he felt. Because while Sean intellectually could dismiss Paxton, there was a truth in the accusations, a truth that twisted him up so tight he couldn’t think.
He’d always been logical! He was a computer guy, a nerd, a genius. He should damn well be able to talk his way out of his own head!
He needed to put it all in the past. To forget about it. To forget Paxton. The man wa
s dead, and Sean didn’t feel a moment of pity or sorrow. Why couldn’t Sean just kill these feelings? Why couldn’t he look at Lucy and remember she loved him? Instead of seeing the pain in her eyes. Pain she tried to hide.
Pain that he’d put there because of everything that happened four weeks ago.
You didn’t put the pain there. Paxton did. Jimmy Hunt did. You were a victim.
He couldn’t accept that he was a victim, was that the problem? Or was it that he couldn’t stop feeling like a victim?
He slammed his fist on his steering wheel. Again. Again. He sped up, almost willed a cop to pull him over. Laughed when he thought there was never a cop around when you needed one . . . and they were always around when you didn’t.
He sounded insane. Maybe he was. His pain was nothing compared with Lucy’s. She had gone through far worse than he’d ever suffered, and she was strong. Determined. Whole. Why couldn’t he be as strong as she was?
If he didn’t even know what his problem was, how could he explain it to anyone? Dillon wanted him to talk; he couldn’t. Jack pushed him this afternoon, but he had nothing to say. He had no words . . . just this deep, claustrophobic feeling like he was drowning. He couldn’t even think anymore.
Sean didn’t consciously drive to Lake Tahoe, but that’s where he ended up. The sun had already set. He drove around the lake, knowing he needed to head back, but then he pulled into the Harrah’s parking garage.
Almost as soon as he turned off the car, his phone beeped.
He looked down at where his phone was charging. It was a message from Lucy.
When will you be home? Jack and I just got back from the conference.
He didn’t know. He felt . . . lost.
I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.
He left his phone in the car and walked to the door of the casino.
He looked back at the car, rubbed his eyes. Walked back, pulled out his phone.
I love you.
Then he locked the phone in the glove box and entered the casino.
* * *
Lucy woke up at four thirty in the morning and Sean wasn’t there.
She immediately grabbed her phone, heart racing, fearing the worst. He’d texted her three hours ago.
Lost track of time. Sorry. Call you later.
No explanation of where he’d been, what he’d been doing, if he was coming home . . . she shook her head. She knew he was struggling, but how could she help him when he wouldn’t let her in?
Lucy didn’t want to disturb Jack and Megan, so she quietly moved about the kitchen with the aid of the dim light above the stove. Made a pot of coffee and watched as it dripped into the pot.
She hated not knowing how to fix a problem. But more, she didn’t understand why Sean wouldn’t talk to her. She knew Senator Paxton better than anyone; she knew the mind games he played. She understood every trick and justification for his devious acts.
Maybe it wasn’t Paxton, but Sean’s friend Colton Thayer. It had to hurt to know that his oldest friend had worked with Sean’s greatest enemy to hurt him. To set him up for murder, kidnap him, torture him. But how? What had they done to Sean that had such a huge impact on him now, a month later? Paxton was dead and Colton was in prison. Sean had been completely exonerated.
She poured coffee, added cream and sugar, sipped. She loved her morning coffee, especially the first cup, but today she tasted nothing.
She sat at the kitchen table and closed her eyes. She hurt for Sean, but what hurt more was that he’d barely looked at her in a month. They hadn’t even had sex . . . definitely not something she could talk about with people. The only person she felt comfortable talking about sex with was her husband, and yet she couldn’t bring it up, not now.
Maybe she should have let him stay in San Antonio. Maybe he needed time away from her. Maybe he needed something she couldn’t give him.
She didn’t know what to do.
Before Jack said a word, she sensed him watching her.
“I made coffee.”
“Strong, the way I like it.”
She opened her eyes and watched as her brother poured coffee, black, into a mug and sat across from her.
“Sean didn’t come home last night.”
“This isn’t about you, Lucy.”
“It is. I don’t know why, but he . . . he can’t look at me.”
“You’ve done nothing.”
Jack was angry. He didn’t understand what she meant, how could she explain?
“It’s not what I’ve done, Jack. But this is about me. He can’t talk to me, he can’t look at me, he can’t sleep with me . . . Paxton got into his head and is still there and I don’t know how to fix it because I don’t know what he said or did. I’ve never seen Sean like this.”
Jack didn’t say anything for a minute. He sipped his coffee. Put down the mug. Finally, “Did Paxton know anything about you that Sean might not be okay with?”
“I don’t have secrets from Sean. And if he lied about something, Sean wouldn’t believe him—or he’d ask me. That’s who he is. This is different. He’s not angry. He’s . . . defeated. He’s lost weight.”
“I noticed.”
“Somehow, Paxton figured out how to get to Sean. Or maybe Colton. Colton has known Sean half his life. They had once been close.”
“Maybe it’s simply about Sean. He wasn’t a saint, we both know that. I don’t care about his past, I don’t think you do, either. To me, the man Sean has become far outweighs any crimes he committed. But maybe there’s something deep down that he regrets, Paxton exploited that, and Sean can’t figure out how to get past it.”
Maybe, Lucy thought. But how did she convince Sean that no matter what it was, she wasn’t leaving?
“You might need to let Sean figure this out on his own. I don’t think we’re helping.”
She didn’t like that answer.
“But Lucy—you need to call him on this. Not coming home. Making you worry? That’s not acceptable. I think . . .”
He stopped talking.
“What? What were you going to say?”
“Don’t coddle him.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Yes. And me—last night, before I left for the conference, I talked around the situation. I let him steer the ship. We’re enabling him to do shit like not come home, not call, and lie. He told both of us he was going to Duke’s. He didn’t, never planned to. You can’t give him a pass. I sure as hell am not.”
“What am I supposed to do? Kick him out? Leave him?”
“That’s extreme.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jack. I don’t know that I can . . . push him like that.”
“And you’re the psychologist.”
She stared at her brother. “I’m not going to abandon him when he’s at his lowest.”
“Of course not. But if you let him get away with this? He has to know there are consequences to his actions. Otherwise, when the going gets tough, he’s going to run and try to figure it out himself.”
“And if I give him an ultimatum and he walks away?”
“I didn’t say give him an ultimatum, but if that’s the direction it goes—you have to trust yourself. You know Sean better than anyone. He loves you. You’ll find a way to get through to him, but whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t helped. It’s time to get tough.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
“He knows you love him, but whatever is going on in his head, he can’t reconcile it.” He paused. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“I think I get it.” She wanted to help Sean, but that was the thing—she didn’t think she could help him. She didn’t know how. And that hurt.
“I’ll drive you to the conference, but first you need to eat. I’ll cook. Go shower.”
“Bossy,” she mumbled.
“That’s what big brothers are for.” He got up and kissed the top of her head. “We are going to get Sean through this, whateve
r this is. I’m not going to abandon you, or him. I promise.”
Chapter Four
Lucy and Jack walked into the ballroom before the scheduled drone presentation that morning and immediately a man in his early forties ran up to them and said, “Have you seen Ellen?”
He had a panicked expression.
“Marc, what happened?” Jack asked.
“We were supposed to have breakfast this morning. She didn’t show. She’s not answering her phone. She’s not at her house, she’s not in the room she has here at the hotel or in the vendor room. No one has seen her. This isn’t like her, Jack, you know it.”
“I saw the Pride Tactical van on J Street,” Jack said.
“She has permission to park it there all week. Oh shit, I didn’t think, that’s where I saw her last night, she was working—but why wouldn’t she answer her phone?”
Marc ran from the room.
Jack mumbled something under his breath that Lucy couldn’t hear, then said, “Lucy, that’s Marc Dupre, Ellen’s partner. Ex-husband. Whatever. Just flash your badge and find out when Ellen Dupre used her hotel key last night. It’s electronic, they’ll have a record.”
Lucy watched Jack run after Marc, then went over to the reservation desk, showed her badge, and asked to speak with the manager.
Five minutes later she learned that Ellen hadn’t entered her room since yesterday afternoon at five p.m.—Lucy had seen her at six thirty at the meet and greet.
“I need a card key,” she told the manager.
He hesitated.
“We need to do a welfare check. She’s missing.”
“Of course. I’ll take you right up.”
Might be a slight fib, but Lucy was trusting Jack on this—and what he’d told her about Ellen Dupre was that not only was she a creature of habit, but she was punctual. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be and unreachable, she could be in trouble. A medical emergency most likely—but to know if she was ill or on meds Lucy would need to see her hotel room.
“When did Ms. Dupre check in?” Lucy asked.