She's My Sister Complete Series Box Set, Books 1-10: Dark secrets, lies, murder, betrayal...and love. Volume 1 Boxset
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Synopsis
Grace had never been more terrified...the pain was relentless.
Nothing in her life prepared her for this.
She desperately needed somewhere safe...someplace she could hide.
Someone she could trust with her life.
It was dark...and getting darker.
Ronan Hendricks didn’t recognize her voice.
Not family...not friends.
Probably not an enemy.
But he didn’t need the years he’d spent as a detective to recognize what he did hear...
Fear.
In a desperate moment of hope, a single number saved her life. Then a complete stranger opened his home offering safety yet Grace knew danger surrounded them...when the pain allowed her to think clearly. But she knew she needed him to stay alive because someone wanted her dead...like her sister.
Ethan Hendricks wasn’t thrilled that his private investigator brother was involved in his current murder investigation. He’d had a bad feeling about it from the moment he walked through the crime scene. The second time through wasn’t any better.
Maya Fenton had very few choices...unfortunately all of them included facing a ghost from her past. But she’s discovered secrets...potentially deadly secrets that could no longer stay hidden in the dark.
Grace is determined to help unravel the mystery behind her sister’s violent murder. Their investigation includes Grace and her sister’s business records...numbers don’t lie. They eventually point them in an unexpected direction that reveals a harsh and bitter truth...there is no greater betrayal than when it comes from within.
There is nothing closer than family.
As they continue to look for clues in her sister’s murder, Grace and Ronan along with trusted family and friends both new and old, discover possible evidence of hidden secrets, betrayal, and deception. Their search for answers may take them in a direction they didn’t expect.
If you enjoy clean mystery romance and inspirational women’s fiction filled with adventure, love, hope, family ties and secrets, friendship, and a mystery with twists and turns to keep you guessing, this mystery romance series collection is for you .
This collection includes books 1 to 10 of She’s My Sister in the Cincinnati City Lights mystery romance series.
Release date: July 21, 2023
Publisher: Independently Published
Print pages: 363
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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She's My Sister Complete Series Box Set, Books 1-10: Dark secrets, lies, murder, betrayal...and love. Volume 1 Boxset
Jacie Middlemann
CHAPTER ONE
“Daisy. It’s me. Oh, God. I need your help. I need you. I don’t know what’s going on, but I think someone just tried to kill me. I’m in the small room behind the confessionals at Saint Pat’s. Please, don’t call anyone…not anyone. I just need to get somewhere safe. Hurry…please.”
Ronan Hendricks silently studied the contact number that went with the message. He didn’t recognize it the same as he didn’t recognize the voice.
Pushing the replay button, he listened to the message again.
It wasn’t a joke. That much he was certain of. He might not know who the woman was, but he recognized fear when he heard it.
And after listening to it a second time, he heard something else as well.
The unknown woman’s voice was slowly, but surely, losing strength and beginning to slur towards the end of the relatively brief message.
And who the hell was Daisy?
There was only one person who could answer that question for him.
He glanced at his watch. It was late but it wasn’t as if he could just ignore the message that had somehow ended up in his communicator’s message system.
Sighing, he opened the cabinet he’d just closed before listening to his messages. He didn’t rush as he made sure that his weapon was loaded. No matter that it hadn’t been fired recently, he always checked…always made certain.
He didn’t double-check everything but when it came to his weapon, he never faltered.
As he closed his apartment door behind him, he gave a momentary thought to calling his partner and filling him in.
Then just as quickly decided to wait until he knew what he was dealing with. As late as it was, Daniel was probably already asleep.
He didn’t mind waking him up but didn’t particularly care to deal with his wife which would be inescapable if he inadvertently woke up any of the kids.
His first inclination was to walk to the church. St. Pat’s Cathedral was only a couple of blocks away. But the memory of how the voice in the message was losing strength towards the end had him going down to the building’s garage.
He could be wrong. In this instance, he sincerely hoped he was wrong as he yanked the door to his vehicle shut.
Minutes later, he let himself into one of the cathedral’s side doors that wasn’t lit up by the tall streetlamps that were everywhere as well as the monitoring equipment that came with them in the most recent effort to lessen crime. They literally surrounded the historical building except at this small corner of the alley.
He still had no idea what the owner of the soft voice who’d left the message was a victim of, but this rarely used and unmonitored door would allow him to get her back to his apartment so he could find out without the two of them being seen leaving the church.
It didn’t take long to make his way through the narrow halls and towards the back of the building. He was well acquainted with the interior of the cathedral and didn’t need to go to the sanctuary first and follow her instructions from there. He knew exactly what small room she was in.
He knew too that the very fact she was aware it existed meant that she was every bit as familiar with the building as he was.
Ronan slowly eased the door of the room behind the long row of confessionals open. It was dark, the same as most of the building was other than the little bit of illumination that was provided by the softly glowing lights along the lower edge of the wall.
“Daisy?”
He immediately heard the confused uncertainty in her voice and knew his earlier assumptions were probably right on target. That alone kept him from activating the overhead light in the room. Instead, he pulled out his communicator. Even at its highest level, the light wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing.
“She couldn’t come but was worried about you and sent me,” he said, lying through his teeth as he took the couple of steps across the room to reach her. Even in the dim light he immediately saw that she was pale.
Too damn pale for it to be explained by fear alone.
But shock would do it, he thought grimly as he subtly moved his communicator’s light to find out if it was caused by anything more than the belief that someone was trying to kill her.
Which was something else he was having to re-evaluate from his initial instinct to write it off as an unsubstantiated overreaction.
And was silently grateful he’d thought to park his vehicle where it was easily accessible and at the same time tucked neatly into the alley, so it was damn near invisible to anyone who might be watching the building and possibly the entire neighborhood.
“It looks like you’re bleeding,” Ronan said quietly.
He stood and walked over to one of the many cabinets in the room. Familiar with their contents, he opened one of its drawers and grabbed what he needed before walking back to where she’d crammed herself under the massive antique desk that took up almost the entire room.
“I tripped when I was running and fell against the building. I must have scraped my shoulder on the sharp edge of one of the bricks.”
Ronan studied the wound before he swiftly and efficiently wrapped the pristine white linen around it, knotting it so that it wouldn’t slide down. They could talk later about the sequence of events she’d just outlined and his opinion of what really happened that diverged somewhat from hers.
He strongly suspected that the bleeding from her arm began before she stumbled into the brick wall. But they’d discuss that later.
“We should probably get you to the hospital,” he said, his voice still low. Not because he believed anyone who shouldn’t be was in the building. He knew it was only the two of them along with the priest who was likely sound asleep in his quarters two floors above them.
He also knew what her answer would be after listening to the message that had come into his communicator instead of the friend she’d meant to call. They could get to that later too.
“No…please…if you could just take me to Daisy’s.”
“We’ll get there eventually,” he said, talking softly even as he gathered her up in his arms, surprised by how light she was. “I’ve got some medical supplies at my place. We’ll head there first.” He felt her head fall limply against his shoulder.
That wasn’t a surprise. Nor was the slight stiffening he felt and instinctively knew the reason behind it.
He was a stranger, and she probably had some serious trust issues. He would too if he were in her place.
“Until we know what’s going on, it wouldn’t be wise to lead anyone who might be watching back to Daisy’s place. I can get to my apartment without anyone being the wiser, and if that fails, I’m armed. They won’t get to you,” he quietly promised.
And knew that before the night was out, he was going to have to incur the wrath of his partner’s wife, whether he wanted to or not.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“That’s okay. You did the thinking that you needed to when you called her. Let me handle the thinking for the next little bit,” Ronan said gently. At least until he figured out how serious her wound was…and who she was, not to mention who Daisy was.
It wasn’t long before they reached the cathedral’s side door that he’d walked through mere minutes ago. When they did, he paused.
“No talking until we get to my vehicle.” Her slight nod against his shoulder told him she heard, and more importantly, that she was still conscious.
He was grateful for the first and amazed by the second. Not many would be, man or woman, after what she’d been through, and that didn’t take into account the amount of blood he strongly suspected she’d already lost.
He quietly and slowly eased out of the building with more caution than when he’d walked in. So far there was no specific reason to believe anyone was watching the cathedral. If they were, or suspected she was inside, he wouldn’t have found her.
But he kept his hands positioned so that if it became necessary, he could keep his hold on her and at the same time grab his weapon.
He’d trained for every possible situation that could take place in the worst of circumstances. His training instructors would have considered this particular scenario simplistically basic.
They would be right except for the fact that he had no backup in sight. It wasn’t the first time, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.
The short walk to his vehicle was soundless. He’d been taught by the best. Because of that, he knew to assume the worst until he had reason to believe differently.
He didn’t take her around to the passenger side but instead opened the driver’s side of the vehicle, leaned in and carefully set her down, then edged into the seat behind the wheel.
When she made an effort to scoot herself further over, he stopped her.
“Don’t worry about it. I can drive okay with where you are, and my place isn’t that far from here.” Both were true but what he didn’t mention was that he wanted her close if any unplanned events took place between here and there and the need to move quickly became paramount.
None did and once they were in his building’s garage, he drove through to the secured portion of the underground parking area that he had access to but rarely bothered with because the process of gaining admittance was a time-consuming hassle.
On this particular night, he was grateful for the three separate gates and didn’t mind that he had to validate his identity to pass through each one.
And as luck would have it, there was an empty parking slot within a dozen feet from the little-used stairwell. There probably wasn’t a single reason not to take the glider, but at times like this, all the old habits kicked in.
Halfway up the stairs, Ronan felt her shifting slightly in his arms and wasn’t surprised to glance down and find her eyes open and silently questioning. Just barely open, but he figured it was enough to introduce themselves.
“I’m Ronan Hendricks and we’re less than a minute away from my apartment door. As soon as I get you comfortable, I’ll get you something to drink and then we’ll look at your arm and get some medicine and bandages on it.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” She closed her eyes again, battling against the dizziness that swooped down suddenly and clawed at her with every movement her body had to endure. Struggling for a deep breath, she opened them again, focused on the steadiness in his unwavering gaze that reassured her in ways she couldn’t explain.
Hadn’t believed that she’d ever be in need of that kind of reassurance.
“If Daisy didn’t tell you, I’m Grace Coatsworthington. And I’m very happy to meet you, Ronan. More than I can say,” she said, forcing the words out. Her voice was steady but low, barely over a soft whisper, but it was the best she could manage. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say. It’s just that I’m so tired and I know I shouldn’t be.”
“Reaction. It’s natural and you seem to have more than enough reason for it,” Ronan said as he took a quick look through the small glass window in the door leading from the stairwell to the hallway. “We’re almost at my place. I can promise you that once you have something to drink, even just a little bit of good old H2O, you’ll feel better.”
“Thank you,” Grace said, surprised at how breathless her voice sounded. “I really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” She knew she was repeating herself and didn’t care.
“You can thank me by staying awake after we get some fluid and food into you so that we can work on figuring out what’s going on,” Ronan said, silently grateful when he saw that no one was roaming the hall.
It was late but he had a couple of neighbors who were what his grandmother used to refer to as night-owls. He might be able to get away with carrying a woman to his apartment, but the bloody linen wrapped around her arm wouldn’t be nearly as simple to explain.
“After we call Daisy,” Grace said.
“We’re going to talk about Daisy too,” Ronan said, his voice was more grim than he meant for it to be.
Fortunately, the woman in his arms didn’t seem to notice.
Grace couldn’t stop the long wavering breath that escaped as she relaxed. She was feeling mostly numb until he set her on a chair in his apartment.
But it was a manageable pain that just barely broke through the numbness she was experiencing. Her thoughts had been foggy, but she was alert enough to wonder about everything Ronan had just lined up on the table next to her.
Then he unwrapped the cloth around her arm. That sliced right through the numbness that up until then had kept the pain at bay.
But it was nothing like the fiery agony during the unending minutes when she had to clench her teeth together as she battled against reacting to the searing torment she experienced as he cleaned the damage she’d done to her arm then put some kind of cream over it that just barely doused the flames of anguish that were scorching up and down her arm.
She didn’t understand why it was so painful or the reason for the stern expression on Ronan’s face until she looked over and realized that the source of everything she was feeling wasn’t a scrape from falling against the rough edges of a brick wall as she’d believed.
“I was shot.”
She didn’t mean it as a question but that’s how Ronan took it.
“You were damn lucky. It went straight through the fleshy underside of your arm without hitting anything on the way out. Otherwise, we’d have no choice about making a side trip to the hospital. As it is, we’re going to have to watch it closely. It could easily get infected.”
“They shot me.” She couldn’t seem to get past the fact that someone would actually shoot at her in the first place.
“Any idea why?” Ronan asked almost casually as he stood and walked into the kitchen. The next step was getting some water into her.
“I was just walking down the street,” Grace said slowly.
“Then what?” Ronan asked even as he pressed the glass of water to her lips, silently urging her to drink.
“A vehicle slowed but then drove on past me. But it must have come around the block because it came up next to me and slowed again.” She closed her eyes as she sipped almost cautiously from the glass.
Even as tasteless as it was, the cool water was as welcome as a smooth wine as it trickled down her dry throat.
“Did it stop?” Ronan asked.
“I don’t think so…I really don’t know. But I think two men started to get out of the vehicle whether it stopped or not. One of them was holding a gun. That’s when I started running. But I never heard shooting,” she said slowly. Hated the hitch in her voice.
“You got away,” Ronan reminded her. He’d really like to hear more about how that happened but let it go for now. “Are you sure you’re okay in that chair? I can move you over to the sofa and you can stretch out on it,” Ronan said.
Then in the next moment before she could respond, he continued, worried about how she’d gone uncomfortably pale. “Take another couple of sips. You really need more fluids before I fix something for both of us to eat.” Something bland, he thought. The last thing they needed was for her system to revolt.
If they were lucky and the food stayed down, they could try some medications next.
Grace let out a long breath then took a few more sips of the water. “I’m fine right where I am,” she said and was grateful her voice didn’t shake.
In truth, she really didn’t want to be moved. Everything hurt and she had no clue how she was going to manage going to the bathroom, which was going to become a real issue to contend with sooner than she cared for.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. And wondered how many ways she was going to be tested in a single night. She wasn’t certain she cared.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Ronan ducked his head and battled against the half smile that sorely tempted to edge the corners of his mouth upwards.
Her voice was disgruntled, which wasn’t a word he often thought of, let alone used when describing anyone. But it fit her perfectly. He wasn’t certain whether it was a matter of pride because she obviously knew she couldn’t manage getting to the bathroom on her own, or embarrassment for pretty much the same reason.
And decided to deal with both as quickly and efficiently as possible for both of their sakes since neither of them had a choice in the matter.
“How about I sit you in there and wait right outside the doorway,” Ronan said as he scooped her up in his arms again and walked towards the room in question without allowing her time to worry about it. “Sitting hasn’t been a problem for you, so just take your time and you should be okay.”
He set her down as promised then walked back out of the small room and closed the door behind him as if it was a task he dealt with on a regular basis.
“Don’t get up on your own,” he added through the closed doorway.
“You never called Daisy,” Grace said a few minutes later as she was being carried back to the front room.
“It’s better if you give her a call yourself since she doesn’t know who I am,” Ronan said, admitting part of what she didn’t yet know.
“You don’t know Daisy,” Grace sputtered slowly as if she couldn’t believe what she just heard. “You lied.”
“I lied and while we were still at the cathedral no less. You wouldn’t have trusted me worth a damn if you knew the truth. I had no idea if the building was being watched, and there was also the little fact that you were still bleeding quite a bit and I didn’t know how serious it was,” Ronan explained calmly as he began the process of cooking the eggs and toast he decided was bland enough for her and would fill him up.
He didn’t have eggs often. They weren’t easy to come by and cost a small fortune. But he knew from his own experience that there was a lesser chance of her body rebelling against them and plain buttered toast than anything else he could offer her.
“How did I end up calling you?” Grace asked slowly even as she reached into her bag and dug around for her communicator.
Ronan spared a momentary glance away from the toast he was buttering. She might have been half-conscious and in pain, but she’d never loosened her grip on the bag in her arms.
God only knew what she carried in it.
“I didn’t call the right number. I messed up on the last one I pressed.”
“That would do it,” Ronan said dryly.
“The room was dark…”
“If it wasn’t, you might have given yourself away,” Ronan said as he turned from the kitchen counter and carried both plates over to where she was sitting. He settled one on her lap. His gaze lingered on her communicator as he sat down in the chair across from her. “You can call her after you eat.”
“I don’t know that I want to tell her about this.”
“How do you plan to explain not being able to use that arm all that well for the next couple of weeks?”
Grace sighed. He was right. Daisy would notice and would probably want to see the injury for herself.
She had to force herself to swallow at the thought of what had caused her injury. She wasn’t certain that Daisy would see a bullet wound in the same way as bumping against a wall.
“She’s going to ask questions no matter what you tell her or don’t tell her,” Ronan said almost as if he could hear her thoughts. “Eat first, then you can call her.”
Minutes later after finishing her eggs, Grace closed her communicator for the third time. “I don’t understand. She’s still not answering. Daisy never goes out at night. Usually, she takes work home with her and is up late trying to get caught up.”
“What kind of work?” Ronan asked.
“She’s an accountant the same as I am.”
Ronan looked up from his plate. “Could what happened to you tonight possibly be related to your work?”
“I honestly don’t see how,” Grace said, but she could see the growing speculation in his face. “I’m an accountant, not a lawyer. I don’t know anything that’s important enough to warrant someone shooting at me.”
“You might know more than you suspect,” Ronan said slowly, adding the piece of information she’d just told him into the mix. “You’d be amazed at how much accountants know that some of their clients might wish otherwise.”
And it could be that she wasn’t the only accountant who might know more than someone wanted them to.
Ronan opened his communicator. There were times when intuition meant nothing, but he had a feeling that all the little unwanted tingles that were sending prickles of discomfort up and down his spine amounted to more than nothing.
It didn’t take him but a few moments to sign into his account that no one had bothered to terminate his access to when he left his previous position. He’d never said anything, the same as no one else ever said anything for the same reason. Everyone wanted to retain their access to departmental information even after they left the job.
He sighed inwardly because he found what he expected to even though he’d sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t. He also knew that it wasn’t something he could keep to himself.
He noted the various times that were outlined in the report before looking away. His gaze lingered thoughtfully on the communicator that Grace had just set on the arm of her chair within easy reach as she waited for Daisy to return one of her many messages.
Sadly, that wasn’t going to happen.
“Could I look at your communicator?” he asked.
Ronan knew he was only putting off the inevitable but there was one question he wanted the answer to.
Grace silently handed it to him.
Ronan compared the time that she’d made her initial call to Daisy…the one that was off by a single number and came to his communicator instead. It was the same time that the message was registered as received on his communicator’s message system.
He already knew that much but it confirmed there was no timing difference. And that her mistake would eventually weigh on her in ways he didn’t like to think about.
He sighed heavily again as he handed the small device back to Grace. Saw all the questions swirling in those eyes of hers that he wasn’t about to let himself get lost in.
“It’s very possible that by calling me instead of Daisy that your inadvertent mistake may have saved your life,” Ronan said slowly as he turned and opened the upper cabinet above his kitchen sink. He didn’t know whether any amount of liquor would be good for her, but God only knew that he needed a strong drink.
Grace was probably going to need one too whether it was good for her or not.
“How so?” Grace asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It was almost as if she was preparing herself for the worst.
Ronan turned, handed her the shot-glass filled with the expensive whiskey he rarely drank. He lifted his glass and tossed back the contents in a single swallow. He didn’t feel the scorching fire as it made its way down his throat.
But he had no doubt she would.
He refilled his glass and glanced at her to see if she needed one as well and saw that his actions alone told her the news wasn’t good.
That was an understatement.
“Daisy was probably already dead right around the time that your call would have reached her communicator if you hadn’t hit the wrong number and ended up with me instead. But the timing is damn close. It’s very possible that the killer was still in her apartment and would have gotten your number.” And with the message she would have left Ronan knew it was doubtful that he or anyone else would have found Grace alive at the church…if she’d been found there at all.
When she held her trembling hand out with her fingers clenched tightly around the small glass in a silent request for a refill, he knew too that he didn’t need to explain further.
She might still be suffering from the after-effects of shock and everything that came along with it, but her mind was working just fine.
Grace swallowed the strong liquor, felt its fiery heat as it ripped its way down her throat. Her first reaction had been to ask if he was joking.
But in the next moment when she looked at his face, she knew better.
It didn’t seem to matter.
“Are you sure?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
Denial. It wasn’t much but it was all she had to cling to.
Ronan handed her his communicator, turning it as he did so she could read the same report he’d just read through twice. There were pictures but she didn’t need to see those. No one did.
Sighing, because he knew that acceptance sometimes had to be forced, he walked over and turned his video streamer on. Unless there was more than the usual amount of news taking place around the city, the regional all-day-and-all-night information reporting networks would probably cover the murder even if only to fill space.
Within moments, he was proven right when the screen came on in the middle of the report about that night’s vicious murder.
“Is that her?” he asked, nodding towards the photograph of a woman who was laughing joyfully for the camera.
“That’s Daisy,” Grace said in a hushed whisper-soft voice that was filled with disbelief and the beginning of acceptance.
Ronan studied the screen. Grace might not realize it yet, but her confirmation had just provided another piece of the puzzle that up until a few moments ago, didn’t appear to have many connections to link together.
But whoever had approached her tonight before taking a shot at her, knew that she had a connection to the woman on the screen. His gaze shifted away from the continuing report on the murder that was providing fewer details than what he’d read in the police report.
That was telling too. If the information reporter had more…he’d report it.
“Your first thought was to call Daisy,” he said slowly. Saw the glazing in her eyes and knew whatever shock she’d experienced earlier that night didn’t compare to what she was dealing with now.
He hated to press but he did anyway.
“You worked together,” he said almost cautiously. Continued at her slight nod that he wouldn’t have seen if he wasn’t watching for it.
The movement was tightly controlled…almost as if it caused her wracking pain worse than what his ministrations to her injured arm had caused not even an hour ago.
And he knew from his own firsthand experiences with what a bullet could do that cleaning the ragged wound had to hurt like hell’s own fury.
But it had to be done just like this did. He needed to understand what was behind this…was it business related or something else?
“You worked together...were you friends as well?”
He’d have to be blind not to see her literally crumple in front of his eyes. Whatever had been holding her together the last couple of hours was gone.
In the next moment, he understood why.
“My sister. Daisy’s my sister.” Grace was just barely able to choke out the last words as reality set in. “I can’t breathe.”
“Yeah, you can…slow and steady.”
Any thought of keeping this impersonal flew out the proverbial window at her softly spoken words…words Ronan knew had to cost her in immeasurable ways.
He quickly crossed the space between them, gently lifted her into his arms, and then sat down in the chair with her on his lap. He could feel the tightly knotted tension slowly replaced by an emotion of another kind.
Pure unadulterated grief.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
And God only knew he wished there were other less impersonal words he could offer that would ease even a sliver of what she was feeling.
But there were none. And even if there were, he sincerely doubted they would mean much to her at the moment.
Maybe later…but not now.
When she could no longer hold her grief inside, and the tight control she’d clung to was lost giving way to heart-wrenching agony of acceptance, Ronan held her when the bitter and gasping harsh sobs of anguish shook her entire body.
And as she grieved brokenly in his arms, he stayed silent...knew there were no words to ease her despair.
Instead, he quietly planned what needed to be done next. For the moment it was the only thing he could do for her and the sister she’d lost.
At this point, he only had a bare minimum of information, but he had enough to know that Grace had barely escaped the same fate as her sister.
He was going to make certain that it didn’t happen again.
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