Lies, Spies & Unfinished Business

By E Lucas-Taylor

A missing husband and a fake emergency number sends Lindsay Mayer into a tailspin. Enter close friend, Chloe Brennan, an attorney with the Justice Department, to help solve the problem of a dear friend who is emotionally lost over the betrayal of a lying, wandering husband. You give her a new name, a new life, a new reason to get on with living a full life.

Five years later, special agent, Honor Danforth, enters the scene of British and American diplomacy that is about to be ambushed by a deadly assassin.
Only working with a crack US agent, can Honor Danforth hope to save the British Embassy from the latest terrorist activity. Then, the duo has some unfinished business of their own to settle, and it looks near impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Lucas-Taylor
• Release date: Feb 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301668663

E Lucas-Taylor

E. Lucas-Taylor has written for the Arizona Republic op-ed column, Austin Woman Magazine, and The Austin Networker. She is the author of ten books and compiled the award winning freelance marketing blog called: Snips & Tips & Keyboard Bits (on hiatus). Now in print: DARK PROTOCOL: Checkmate; Deadly Business; Lies, Spies & Unfinished Business; Lost Legacy; Dangerous Conspiracy; Soul’s Music: Thoughts & Reflections (available for all readers). She has contributed content to books/publications: When Diabetes Complicates Your Life; You the Healer; Sales Power; and The Silva Method For Business Managers.

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Lies, Spies & Unfinished Business

E. Lucas-Taylor

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 E. Lucas-Taylor

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Author Bio

Chapter 1

Seattle, Washington

Lindsay dragged herself into the house and felt near death. An exaggeration, but she shouldn't have gone to work today. Since she already missed too many days this year, she really had no choice. This horrible flu dragged on and on, and her entire body ached because of it. She had major trouble breathing, and her chest rattled like a nervous trolley. Her teeth ached to the point that she wanted to have all of them pulled out.

To top her life's grievances, Griffin had been gone for over three weeks, and not a word from him since last Friday. That was six days ago, a curt email saying he'd be in touch when he could and not to worry. Not to worry? The man was a bona fide comedian. He'd be a crippled comedian if he didn't call soon or come home. She'd personally do the deed.

The final touch? She discovered yesterday that the emergency number he left wasn't a working one, nor had it been for over six months according to the phone company. Well for crying out loud, how does that read? He had to know the number wasn't working. Griffin was too methodical not to know.

Not to worry, she grumbled to herself. Wait until he surfaces from wherever. She'd show him not to worry. She'd skin the man alive.

Even an unflappable Charlie Douglas, Griffin's closest colleague at the university, hadn't heard a word from him either. When she spoke to Charlie this morning, he reassured her, The lad will turn up eventually. Blah...blah...blah... Men! If Charlie wasn't such a good friend and mentor to her husband, she'd tell him in no uncertain terms where to stuff it and pound hard.

Where the devil was Griffin anyway? Why didn't he call? When would he be home? Had he been in an accident? Should she call the police to report him missing? Should she have the river dragged for a body?

She checked the answering machine. Nothing. It was turned on and not blinking a jot. She double-checked, like she double checked everything these days. Why couldn't she have a conventional marriage like everyone else, a husband who was home once in a while, or at least called to explain why he wasn't at home? And as an extra bonus, one who would talk to her in complete sentences.

Life sucked. She hated her job, hated Seattle with all the rain and dampness, and she felt unwanted and ignored by Griffin. To make matters worse, her head throbbed from this dratted flu. She rubbed her aching temples with the pads of her fingers. No wonder she had a headache; she hadn't eaten all day. Yech. Why bother when everything tasted like cardboard?

Drat the luck. Somehow, she needed to pull herself together. Tomorrow would be another busy day at the Seattle Art Museum, and she had to muster enough energy from somewhere for an important meeting. It was going to be a long day. Sick or dead, she had to be there to help the new Development Manager oversee the fundraising plans for the museum's next twelve months.

Why had all of what she loved to do most, and so good at, turn sour? Was it because funding for the arts remained a constant worry and getting worse with each passing year? The museum had its pledges, and now it was only a matter of collecting. Still, it wasn't going to be easy to get that money to the bank, and the bills were piling up.

In all fairness, it wasn't her job that sucked; it was her attitude. It was crap. Deep down, she knew it. Her usual helpful, fun loving social skills had become non-existent.

Misery does that to a person, she groused under her breath. And missing a wandering husband with no way to get in touch with him.

Lindsay caught sight of her image in the mirror above the sofa. Gads, she looked terrible. She stuck out her tongue; it was gross and furry. Her eyes were two puffy slits, and her nose, red and runny. Not only did she feel half-dead, she looked half-dead.

How have you come to be such a wretched mess? she muttered.

Her lone voice echoed in the empty house and made her sadder still.

She shuffled to the kitchen to take the rest of her antibiotic and to heat water for herbal tea. Maybe she could will the medicine to make herself feel better. It was one of those new drugs on the market, new and improved. Then why didn't she feel better? She poured herself a glass of water and shoved the last pill into her mouth.

What wasn't working for Griffin and herself? Was she expecting too much from two busy professionals, each needing to be immersed in their own careers? She didn't think so. The rest of the world could manage two career marriages, why couldn't they? How his teaching position could be so demanding, she hadn't a clue. Six hours, two courses, a semester in Information Systems and Political Science, and with two teaching assistants to help him, he should have the normal free time of a teacher. Her own teaching career hadn't been so involved. She went to school, she taught, she came home, she cooked supper.

Griffin was becoming a virtual stranger. No, scratch that. He was a virtual stranger. They didn't communicate more than a few words at a clip, and they hadn't made love in weeks. The last six months he shut her out of his life completely. If only he would open up to share, then maybe she could help him. Ha! As if he wanted her help.

When he was around, she had a conversation with herself and he'd grunt when prodded. She was sick of those grunts too. One more thing for her list. She could have left Seattle for the last three weeks and he wouldn't have noticed. She was losing Griffin and didn't know why. He was her life, her breath, from the first day she clapped eyes on him. She loved him beyond tomorrow, but it was obvious she wasn't important to him anymore.

More tears welled up in her already puffy brown eyes. She choked back the sobs and her shoulders trembled with the effort. Through the kitchen window, she gazed sullenly at the kids next door having a water fight in their heated pool. She could hear their squeals and shouts as they splashed water on each other. Oh, to be that carefree and happy again. By now, she should have a couple of kids running around the yard screaming and yelling. They talked about children, but it never happened.

Face it, Lindsay. You can't get pregnant when your husband is never home.

They'd been married for four years and the jerk missed their wedding anniversary yesterday. That's when she discovered the emergency phone number he gave her was bogus. It was the same number he'd always given her. True, she never had cause to call him when he was at these quick and mysterious conferences. He always called her to check in. Yesterday, she decided it was time for her to pick up the phone from her end, since this was the longest he'd ever gone without contacting her. A fake number. All these months, a fake number. Curse his ornery hide. Where was he? And the final insult, why a fake number?

Tears came faster now and she made no effort to stop them. All I wanted was to hear your voice on our anniversary.

He was supposed to be in California at a conference for the School of International Studies, his latest reason for being away from home. The school held many conferences throughout the year, and many times Griffin was called on to pinch hit for a professor who couldn't travel because of a family emergency or illness. Good old Charlie Douglas was the person who usually made the requests. Griffin never refused when Charlie asked a favor. Her dear husband never said no, unless the request came from her. What did this tell her? To Griffin, his colleagues and others came first. She was a big zero.

They'd had a nasty blow-up before he'd gone off on this trip. Griffin accused her of being childish, his way of handling any crisis. Give it a name, blame someone else, and walk away. Well, she couldn't go on this way. She needed to make some changes soon, with or without Griffin, and the thought of being without Griffin hurt the most.

When they both were at the University of Colorado, her interests were art, history, and Griffin Gordon Mayer. It didn't take long for the order of preferences to be reversed. She was in love, panting heavily and ready for marriage. Panting heavily in his own shoes, Griffin obliged her. Two years after they married, Griffin received an offer to teach at the University of Washington and moved them to Seattle.

With her many skills and interests, Lindsay easily found a position at the Seattle Art Museum, restoring and preserving everything from the ancient Mediterranean and Egyptian collections, to the master paintings and contemporary Northwest art on display. It was constant work trying to protect the canvases from the excessive moisture that eventually crept into every building, no matter how sophisticated the ventilation systems.

In her spare times, which were plentiful with Griffin gone so much doing whatever it was he did, Lindsay helped with the ongoing restoration of Pioneer Square, a thirty block historic district in the heart of Seattle. The old homes, picturesque sidewalk cafes, legions of art galleries, and priceless antique shops in the area were the loves of her life, after Griffin.

Always after Griffin. She'd taken many lonely walking tours during his absences, tracing paths from Chief Seattle to the Pioneers, the Great Fire, the Klondike Stampeders, to Bill Boeing and Microsoft's Bill Gates. She knew where the city's heritage manifested itself in Romanesque, beaux-arts and Art Deco buildings. She was one of the few transplants who knew what a geoduck, pergola, and bumbershoot were.

From the first moment she and Griffin met, they were inseparable. They married a few months later in a small church ceremony, since both sets of parents were gone and they had no one to answer to but themselves. Chloe Brennan and Charlie Douglas were their only witnesses. Life and the future looked fruitful and promising for the two of them.

Ever since she could remember, she and Chloe were friends. They grew up together in Phoenix, Arizona, and shared many of the same interests. Chloe graduated from law school, became an attorney with the Justice Department in New York City, and was happily married to her career. Chloe knew where she was going and how to get there—and do it on her own. She was chic and petite with plenty of sex appeal, and loved her single status. If she stayed with the same man for more than thirty days, it was considered a serious relationship. If the men in her life said or did something stupid, that was it for Chloe, and it happened often. Sometimes she didn't even say goodbye. There was something to admire in all that, considering how cavalier Griffin treated her lately.

Lindsay gulped down the rest of her tea, gripped her mug of hot lemonade in one hand, and shuffled back to the master bedroom. Bone tired described her to a T, emotionally and physically. A hot shower soothed her aches and pains, and the moisture helped relieve her coughing and swollen sinuses. On a whim, she pulled on Griffin's bathrobe and pretended it was him wrapped around her. It was all the sexual stimulation she was going to get this evening. She slathered herself with Vicks and crawled into bed.

A new novel drew her attention, one thrown on the night table a week before. She tried to read, but after a half hour, she realized she hadn't turned a single page. All she could think about was Griffin. She was driving herself crazy. She tossed the book on the floor and let her mind wander, since that's what it wanted to do.

Was she being childish? She needed to talk this one through with someone who could be impartial. She needed to call, Chloe, in the morning. Maybe speaking to her level-headed attorney friend would help get her perspective back. God knows she could stand someone else's dry biting humor besides her own. Chloe would snap her out of this with her snappy court room persona. Yes. She would give Chloe a ring tomorrow.

She curled under the covers and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, the medicine and hot lemonade worked in tandem, and her emotional fatigue ensured it—she was sound asleep.

Chapter 2

New York City

Chloe Brennan tapped the toe of her leather shoe. One tiny, well-manicured hand tucked in a wayward strand of jet-black hair that kept working loose from her usual tidy chignon. She'd been here in the Big Apple on assignment for three long miserable years, and she welcomed this transfer and quasi promotion back to Washington, DC. New York was a backed-up sewer. Of course, there were those who thought DC another sewer, and she couldn't argue the point.

It's all perspective, isn't it old girl.

She was more than eager to retreat to the DC political scene. At least the bullshat there wasn't quite so stinky on the surface, or paraded out for the whole world to see. Washington bull was cleverly couched in brilliant diplomatic lawyer language, and made the Washington Post, New York Times, or Congressional Record. Since she was a lawyer, she could appreciate the burlesque. Anticipating this move for several months, she gave up her Manhattan apartment last week and moved into the Ritz-Carlton for a few days, before flying back to Washington.

She stretched and yawned. A glance at her watch reminded her that it was late. Where did the last few hours go? She grabbed her purse and raced to the elevators leading to the secured parking garage below. No time to check her phone for late afternoon messages. What could be so important anyway, this late in the day?

The limousine and driver assigned to her in the street level garage was still waiting.

Hello, Miz Brennan. I was about to have you paged, he drawled.

Sorry, Corley. Time got away from me. Take me straight to the hotel; I plan on making it an early night.

Yes ma'am. He took his place behind the wheel and eased out into the heavy Manhattan traffic.

Less than thirty minutes later, in her hotel suite, Chloe kicked off her high heels and groaned with unmitigated primal relief. Tonight her feet would go up and her hair would come down. Room service first, and then a luxurious tub soak.

Several hours later, she remembered that she never checked her phone messages from the office. Nine of them. She left voice mails for most. The last message was from Lindsay Mayer, in Seattle. Lindsay's voice sounded teary and wobbly. Teary and wobbly wasn't her friend's style at all.

She checked her watch. It was after nine. That would make it six p.m. Lindsay's time. She'd be home from work now. She picked up the bedside phone and punched in Lindsay's number.

A weepy, coughing Lindsay answered. Hello, she croaked.

Lindsay? Lindsay is it you? Whatever is wrong? burst out Chloe. You sound like one of the Budweiser frogs.

At any other time she would've laughed at Chloe's funny remark, but she didn't have it in her today. Everything, she snuffled. Anything that could go wrong is wrong and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to bore you with my troubles, Chloe, but I need someone to talk to.

This had to be something serious for Lindsay to be so depressed. She usually kept everyone else sane and responsible.

So, come to New York for a visit. Do you have any vacation time coming?

Yes, nearly four weeks. Griffin and I were going to take a cruise to Greece, but I don't know where he is or even if he's coming back. It's dreadful, Chloe.

Are you serious? What do you mean 'not coming back'?

I don't know where he is, Lindsay cried.

Okay, here's the drill. I'm about to be transferred back to DC. I'm staying on in the city for a few extra days to do some shopping. Chloe heard Lindsay wheezing at the other end of the line. If you're well enough to travel, get yourself on a plane and come see me. We can put our feet up for girl talk and spend a few days together.

I think I can manage that. There's certainly nothing to keep me in Seattle that I can't shift to someone else.

Check with the airlines as soon as we ring off. You can help me move back into my condo in Georgetown. I would love to have you around for a while.

What about Griffin? sobbed Lindsay. What if he comes home and finds me gone?

Chloe shook her head. Leave him a note. He can read, can't he? Besides, what about Griffin? How long has it been since you heard from him?

Three weeks. It's been three long, horrible weeks and I have no idea where he is for sure. The stinker left me a phony emergency telephone number. She might as well spill out the rest of the story. Chloe would find out sooner or later anyway. He's supposed to be at some conference in California, but no one has heard of him, and the hotel knew nothing about a conference. The last time I heard from him, it was an email. He said he was going to visit some people before he came home. That was six days ago.

"Three weeks, Chloe shrieked into the phone. He's been gone three weeks. And you've only had one phone call and an email in all that time? Now let me get this straight, Lindsay. You're telling me he missed your wedding anniversary, you haven't seen him in three cussed weeks, and you ask 'what about Griffin'? Are we stupid here, Lindsay, or are we stupid here. Get on a plane, girlfriend. We will have a long, serious talk when you get here. You let that man worry about you for the next three weeks. Do you hear me, Lindsay Mayer?"

Lindsay thought about it for all of five seconds. Right. Let him worry about me for a change. I'll call you back as soon as I latch onto a flight. Thanks, Chloe.

Get on it, girl. No changing your mind. Sleep on the miserable plane if you have to. Didn't I tell you the weather in Seattle would get you down? All those clouds would depress anyone. You keep forgetting we're desert dwellers at heart. We need sunshine. Too many clouds are instant depression, and too much rain can kill us.

Lindsay hung up the phone laughing for the first time in months. Chloe could always make her laugh no matter how miserable she was. The woman had a gift.

She reached for her list of airline numbers and began dialing.

Chapter 3

New York City

At nine-thirty p.m., a haggard and weary Lindsay landed in New York. The hotel shuttle delivered her and her luggage to the Ritz-Carlton. The porter at the front of the hotel greeted her and