Secret Need (The Harper Sisters Book 2) Read online

  Secret Need

  Copyright © July 2017 by Satin Russell.

  Visit Satin at www.satinrussell.com

  Or Email: [email protected]

  Edited by Debbie Robbins

  Cover and formatting: www.damonza.com

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproductions or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  To my husband, first and always.

  To Lynne, everyone should be so lucky to have a Lynne in their life.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  If you enjoyed Secret Need, please leave a review.

  Other books by Satin Russell

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Peter gripped the steering wheel to still his trembling hands. He wished he had a hit to take the edge off, but his boss insisted he make the drive sober. After all, the shipment of heroin was worth more than his life.

  The job was almost done. Once he’d completed it, he’d have enough money to stay high for at least a week. He just had to make it through the day and not do anything stupid.

  He flipped the radio on and scanned through the stations until he found one playing the Beastie Boys. Perfect. The familiar green trusses of the Piscataqua River Bridge rose before him and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Peter swung to the right and passed the car in front of him. Just as he pulled ahead, his stomach dropped at the sight of the police cruiser crouched on the side of the road. Dread clenched his throat and his heart pounded in his chest. With his breath suspended, he kept one eye glued to the rearview mirror. If he could just crest the hill and make it out of sight…

  Lights flashed to life. In an instant, all his fearful fantasies became reality. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Each curse was punctuated by slamming his hand into the steering wheel. The last thin thread of hope – that the cop was going after someone else – was crushed when the cruiser rushed up behind him and began honking his horn.

  For one brief moment, Peter played with the idea of making a run for it. But who was he kidding? He was too chicken-shit to get involved in a police chase. He was just going to have to play the situation out and hope nothing more happened.

  Fear and stress wracked his body in a fit of quivers. He wiped the sweat off his forehead as the officer approached his window.

  “Sir. Roll down your window, please.”

  Pressing the button, he offered a weak smile. “Hello, officer.”

  The man looked him over carefully, then let his eyes wander over the passenger seat before returning his gaze. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

  “Um…” Peter glanced around the cab of his car. “I’m not sure.”

  “You were going seventy in a fifty-five, you changed lanes without using your indicator, and you passed someone on the right.”

  “Oh.” Damn. He was such an idiot! He had been given one job. One simple job. “I’m sorry…”

  “I need to see your license and registration, please.”

  The request had Peter wiping his brow again. “Is that necessary? Wh-what if I promise not to do it again.”

  He watched as the officer’s demeanor hardened. He leaned closer to the window, letting his shadow fall across Peter. “License and registration, please.”

  “Well, uh…” Peter went to reach for his wallet, sensing the tension emanating from the other man at his movement. “See, the thing is, this is my friend’s car, but here’s my license.”

  He watched as the officer looked at the license he handed to him. His brow furrowed and Peter’s heart sank further. “Sir, I need you stay here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

  Peter watched as the officer went back to his vehicle to run his license. What was the possibility he drove away from this with just a warning?

  He doubted his luck was that good. Sure enough, the cop was back a short moment later. “Sir, I need you to step out of the vehicle.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Sir, step out of the vehicle now, please. Move slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”

  This situation was sliding from bad to worse. How could he possibly get out of it? “Wait, can’t we just talk about this?”

  “You have until the count of three. One…”

  “Okay! Okay.” Peter took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “I’m coming out. Just, just, don’t shoot me or anything, okay?”

  Before he could come up with a plan, he was facing the car with his hands spread on the hood, his legs apart, while the cop frisked him. Cars roared by, buffeting them with their passing. A small part of him was tempted to jump out in front of one of them. It was probably a better alternative than what was in store for him. He stared into the cab of the Ford Explorer, hoping against hope he’d wake up from this nightmare.

  The cold bite of metal around his wrists brought him back to the moment. “Wait, what are you doing?”

  “This vehicle isn’t registered to you and there’s a warrant out for you. It’s not the first time you’ve been caught speeding, is it? You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “You’re arresting me?!”

  “You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.”

  “This can’t be happening! All this because I passed some old lady on the right?”

  “Watch your head, please.”

  Any further protest Peter may have made died on his lips as the door slammed in his face. He looked at the SUV par
ked in front of them on the side of the road. The cop climbed into the front seat.

  “What’s going to happen to my car?”

  “It’s not your car.”

  “You know what I mean, man. What’s going to happen to it?”

  “It’ll be impounded while we try to track down the owner. If that doesn’t work, then worst case scenario is that we’ll put it up for auction.”

  Peter would have dropped his head in his hands if they hadn’t been handcuffed behind him. His boss was going to kill him. Hell, he might as well have jumped in front of one of those cars. “Auction?! Well, how long do I have before that happens?”

  The cop turned in his seat to look at him, keen curiosity in his eyes. “About ninety days, give or take. Why?”

  Three months. Shit, he was so dead. Peter squirmed under the other man’s scrutiny. The last thing he wanted to do was give this guy any more reason to look at the vehicle too closely. He knew better than most that the compartment the drugs were hidden in was hard to find, even if you knew it was there. But, given the way his luck was running, he’d rather not tempt fate any more than necessary. “No reason. Just wondering for my friend.”

  After another beat, the cop turned to face forward. “I think you should be worrying a little more about yourself, don’t you?”

  The cop had no idea how true his words were.

  Chapter Two

  Steel-toed boots tapped in time to the driving beat. A rock song blasted from speakers strategically hung on the walls of the garage. The familiar smells of grease, sweat, and exhaust filled the air as Liz quietly cursed the hulking metal looming above her head. Giving a final yank with her wrench, she pulled herself up out of the bay.

  The transmission on the old car had been a pain in her neck, but at least she was satisfied the car would keep running. As long as the owner did the proper maintenance, Liz knew she would would be able to get at least a few more years out of it.

  Once again, she found herself grateful to her dad for teaching her a useful skill. It might make for long days, but no matter what the economy was like, a good mechanic was always in demand. Living in a somewhat financially depressed region made buying a new car unlikely for most people in the area.

  Overall, it was fulfilling work. It provided her with a sense of security and purpose. That had been a comfort in the months after her parent’s death.

  Now, it was not only a means of earning a living, but also a way to give back to the community that had supported her and her sisters during that terrible time. Just as her father had done before her, she’d offered a payment plan to the single mom who had come into the shop needing her car fixed, even going so far as to give her a break on the labor costs.

  “Hey! What are you still doing here, Lizzie-girl? Did you forget about your sister’s dinner thing tonight?”

  A small smile passed her lips at hearing Paul call her by the nickname he’d been using since she was a girl. “Nope. Actually, I just finished this car. I’ll be taking off soon. You’re going to be there – right, old man?”

  He shot her a scowl at the old man remark, but she knew it was all bluster. “Yeah. I figured Jimmy and I could use a decent meal at least once this week. One of us is going to need to give in and learn how to cook. I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to be me.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” Rolling her shoulders, she began to lower the car on the lift. “Why don’t you go ahead and take off? I’ll close things up here.”

  “Alright. See you later.”

  Glancing at the clock by the door, Liz wiped her hands with a rag that had seen better days. Good, still on schedule. There was just enough time to take a quick shower before heading over to her sister’s house.

  Liz hurried to turn off the bright fluorescent lights and the radio, letting silence and shadows take over for the night. Instead of going through the front office, she gave the hood of the old Toyota Camry an affectionate pat and headed out the back door.

  Wood creaked beneath her boots as she trudged up the steps to her place on the second floor and let herself in. The apartment couldn’t be mistaken for luxurious, but Liz had never felt the need for anything fancy. As long as it was serviceable and clean, she could handle the sparseness of plain white walls. The living room was filled with a mix of second-hand furniture and some pieces she’d picked up at Ikea.

  She headed into the kitchen and downed a glass of water. The most-used appliances in the room were the refrigerator, coffee pot, and microwave, which reflected her preference for reheating her sister’s leftovers. There was a stack of takeout menus in the drawer by the fridge for those nights when she didn’t have Olivia’s cooking to fall back on.

  Hydrated, Liz grabbed a clean towel and hopped into the shower. Five minutes later, she ran the towel through her short, pixie-cut hair and slapped a bit of gel in before getting dressed.

  Her bedroom was her sanctuary, the place she’d taken care to decorate and personalize. The walls were painted a warm toffee color, which soothed her after a day surrounded by dark grays. A luxurious king-sized bed sat prominently in the room, covered in a sage green comforter and accented with a mound of turquoise throw pillows.

  As much as she loved her job, being surrounded with metal, loud noise, and the smell of burnt rubber could get overwhelming. Here she could connect to the lighter, more feminine side of herself. The décor and earthy colors brought her back to nature and served as a much-needed counterpoint to her working environment.

  She gave the mystery she was reading a rueful look and wished she could slide into a comfy pair of yoga pants and relax. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to happen tonight. She knew she’d have a good time at Olivia’s dinner party; it was basically going to be everybody she cared about under one roof. However, attending still meant sacrificing a quiet night.

  Liz slid into a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt, grabbed a light jacket and keys, and was out the door. A blanket of heat swamped her as she stepped out. The whole summer had been unusually warm. It was great for the tourists who flocked to Maine every year, but she was looking forward to the cooler weather.

  She just hoped this next cold season wouldn’t be as traumatic as the last one. The previous winter had been long and especially difficult. Not only because of the harsh weather, but because of her sister’s ordeal with a stalker.

  Luckily, everything had ended well – better than well, considering how happy Olivia and Mason were. The last few months had helped to relegate those events to the past. Once the new restaurant was open, they’d all be free to move forward.

  She pulled her Jeep into the driveway, unsurprised to discover she was the first to arrive. Her youngest sister, Fiona, was perpetually running late. Liz knocked on the front door and was immediately greeted by Mason.

  “Liz! Nice to see you.” Mason gave her a quick hug and a cold beer. “Thought you could use one of these.”

  “Hey, Mason, thanks.” She smiled and took a quick swig from the bottle. “Small-town life looks like it’s agreeing with you.”

  Mason had been a Boston police detective until he moved to Bath to be closer to Olivia. Luckily, there had been an opening in the local department when the head of the Detective Division retired at the end of last year. Now, instead of working missing persons and stalker cases in the Boston Metro area, he was the new Detective Sergeant for a three-man division.

  “Maybe too agreeable. I need to be careful with Olivia’s cooking.” Mason patted his stomach.

  Liz laughed. “How’s work going for you?”

  “Not too bad, actually. There was one guy who resented me taking over the department, but everybody else has been fairly positive about it. It’s a bit slower than Boston, but there’s still plenty to keep me busy. Overall, I’m liking the change of pace.”

  Liz was happy to hear it. Olivia wasn’t the only one who had a tough year. Especially after Mason’s partner was shot and killed by the same man who was stalking Olivia. She
suspected he still blamed himself for leading danger to Olivia’s front door. As far as Liz was concerned, if any couple deserved their happily-ever-after, it was them.

  “There’s no question you have the right experience for the position. I’m glad to hear it’s working out for you.”

  “I appreciate that. Why don’t you head back to the kitchen and catch up with your sister? She’s sending me to the store to pick up more ice.”

  Liz followed the spicy scent of comfort food, and caught her sister with a spoon in her mouth, tasting a batch of something that smelled like heaven. It was a cozy scene, one she’d seen a thousand times growing up. However, the black polka-dotted apron Olivia was wearing was completely out of character. “Where’d you get the fancy smock, Livvy?”

  Olivia blushed. “Mason got it for me.” She fingered the ruffles. “I know it’s over the top, but I kind of love it. What do you think?”

  Although it was a big departure from Olivia’s usual plain garb, Liz liked the smile it put on her face. “It’s perfect.”

  Turning towards the sink, Olivia asked, “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “The dishwasher is acting up a bit, and I was wondering if you could take a quick look at it.”

  “Okay.” Liz set her beer down and went to turn the dishwasher on. “What’s it doing, exactly?”

  “I’m having difficulty locking it closed, so the whole machine won’t turn on.”

  “Huh. Sounds like it may be the latch.” Liz bent down to look at the dishwasher door. “Do you have a screwdriver handy?”

  “You know where the toolbox is in the basement. Help yourself.”

  Liz headed down the stairs and was immediately transported back to her childhood. She’d spent a lot of time down there with their dad, watching him work on parts and handing him various tools. Those memories always caused a pang in her heart. Not wanting to linger in the past, she quickly located the Phillips screwdriver she needed and headed up the stairs.

  Her mouth watered as she entered the kitchen. “It smells amazing, Livvy. What are we having tonight?”

  “Shrimp gumbo. Here, have a taste.”