Touch of Betrayal, A Read online

  What they’re saying about A Touch of Betrayal…

  “A combustible concoction of intrigue, betrayal, and murder. Everly’s latest adventure has a ‘touch’ of everything.”

  ~ Andris Bear, author of the Deadly Sins series

  “Lucy Charles’s character, Everly Gray is growing and evolving right along with her psychic abilities. With every Everly adventure, I can’t wait to see what’s next!”

  ~ Teresa J. Reasor, author of The SEAL Team Heartbreaker Series

  “LJ Charles continues to treat her readers to deliciously woven tales of suspense, friendship and love. Everly Gray and her gifted fingers offer a heroine to cheer for.”

  ~ Adrienne Giordano, author of the Private Protector series

  A TOUCH OF BETRAYAL

  An Everly Gray Adventure

  Book 4

  L. j. Charles

  Touch of Betrayal

  Bored, restless, and ever curious, Everly Gray schedules a week off from her personal coaching business, takes her ESP fingers out of protective custody, and begins to explore the remains of her parents’ property. It’s time for her to track their killers and bring them to justice.

  That’s the plan. Until one of her so-called friends kidnaps her for an impromptu trip to Hawaii, and she discovers the pain of betrayal. Can she find the strength to stand alone?

  Before he married Everly, Mitchell Hunt made a bargain with the devil—and lost. When he shows up in Hawaii to make things right, danger follows. Things escalate when a rogue government agent and a militant psychopath with her gang of minions vie for control of Everly and her healing gifts.

  Mitch’s betrayal has flipped his relationship with Everly to the other side of romance—and there’s no way back. Or is there?

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  A Touch of Betrayal

  ISBN: 978-1-4675-4268-5

  Copyright © 2013 by L. j. Charles

  Cover Design by Lucie Charles

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  For more information: [email protected]

  For C. B. Williams.

  Your imagination is priceless.

  A NOTE TO MY READERS

  In the Everly Gray Adventures I intended to grow her personality in tandem with her experiences—a ‘coming of age’ series so to speak. This story moves Everly from the world of chick lit into true adventure.

  In a Touch of Ice, Everly is closer to a twenty-something than a thirty-something. She’s hidden from the world to protect herself from the overwhelming amount of information her fingertips pick up, and has focused on her personal coaching business to the exclusion of life experiences.

  A Touch of TNT brings her into the ‘tumultuous twenties,’ and she begins to share her gifts, using them to help law enforcement. In To Touch a Thief, Everly stretches her wings to become a leader rather than a follower, and a Touch of the Past brings her to a critical turning point. She faces her heritage and begins to accept who she is as she catches up to her true chronological age.

  In a Touch of Betrayal, Everly becomes an adult and discovers ‘the other side of romance.’ This is not a happy-ever-after story, but it does open the door for a new world of adventure.

  As Everly has matured, she’s pushed my boundaries as a writer, and Betrayal took both of us into new territory. I hope you enjoy the ride.

  Special thanks to Faith Freewoman, Editor

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Everly Gray: Red hair, midnight blue eyes, pale skin, of Scottish and Hawaiian heritage. Everly was born with ESP fingers. When she touches people or objects, she “sees” things about them. She and Mitchell Hunt were recently married.

  Mitchell Hunt: Sandy brown hair that streaks blond on sunny days, amber eyes, (although Everly insists they’re more chocolate). He’s a famous photographer who works mostly confidential gigs for the military.

  Tynan Pierce: Black Irish with dark hair and azure blue eyes. Moves like the night and doesn’t say much. He works for one of those three-letter agencies that no one mentions, and moonlights as a physician. Yes, he does have a medical degree. Pierce has been Everly’s mentor in the world of chasing bad guys, and he used to be Annie Jamison (A.J.) Stone’s partner before she retired. He calls Everly Belisama after a Celtic goddess. It means Summer Bright, and I believe it has something to do with her red hair, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

  Annie Jamison Stone Martin: Blond, light green eyes, retired sniper. Annie was Everly’s next door neighbor and best friend. Soul sisters. Tynan Pierce’s former partner in the world of dark and dangerous, Annie has retired from the spy world, recently married Sean Martin, and they have a daughter, Madigan. When she married Sean, she moved to Hawaii.

  Adam Stone: Blond with brown streaks, dark green eyes. Annie’s brother and a former homicide detective for Apex, NC law enforcement. Adam follows procedure—always. He was Everly’s mentor for police work, but recently moved to Hawaii to be near Annie and his new niece, Madigan.

  Chief Hayes: Head of the Apex Police Department. Smooth mahogany skin, shaved head, stands taller than most, with a brusque demeanor, except when talking about his daughter, Grace. He leaves his desk to check out crime scenes when Everly is involved—to oversee her psychic gifts, and keep the department out of trouble, i.e. keeping Everly and her association with law enforcement out of the news.

  Millie and Harlan: The butler and gardener (respectively) that Everly’s parents hired to care for their home, and for Everly when they were away on business.

  Kahuna Aukele: Everly’s grandfather. A sixty-something Hawaiian shaman with white hair, leathery tan skin, kind brown eyes, and a devious mind. He teaches Kahunas-in-training by avoiding their questions, forcing them think. He trains Everly when she’s in the islands, and recently passed his healing gifts to her.

  Makani Maliu: Everly’s grandmother, who was a talented Kahuna before her death. She was childhood friends with Millie.

  Merlin: A shaggy bit of canine Everly rescued and fell in love with. She was delighted, and relieved, when Detective Adam Stone adopted him. Merlin helped El to discover some important clues in a Touch of TNT, and they’ve been fast friends ever since.

  Previously—

  It had been over a year since Pierce’s phone number flashed on my cell. The sound was turned off, or the haunting notes of Mo Ghile Mear would have filled the emptiness of Mitch’s living room.

  I brushed my fingers over the Answer button. Did I want to hear what Tynan Pierce had to say? Probably not, but he’d never called me unless it was important.

  I pushed the button. “Hello, Pierce.”

  “You okay, Belisama?” Was there a catch in his voice?

  “Yes. Mitch and I are settled. I haven’t done anything about my parents’ estate yet…but…I’m okay. Better than, on most days.” A smile touched my words. I heard it. Felt it.

  “That works. Need you in Hawaii.”

  A chill trickled down my spine, but I ignored it. I’d become very good at ignoring things. Like how bored I was hiding out in the country. “We’ve been there a few times. For Annie and Sean’s wedding, when Madigan was born, and just to visit. Why now?”

  “Your grandfather is missing.”

  I blew out a breath. “He does that. It’s a Kahuna trait.”

  “Gonna need to follow him. He’s tracking Millie and Harlan. Could use your fingers.”

  “Millie and Harlan? You know where they are? I haven’t don
e any spy work since Mitch and I got married.”

  Pierce chuckled. “Don’t know where they are yet, but I will. And no more spy work. I left the agency.”

  Another chill. This one skimmed over my arms. “Annie didn’t say—”

  “She doesn’t know. Has a baby to protect.”

  “I can’t just up and leave.”

  “Hunt’s next assignment is here. Come with him.”

  Mitch hadn’t told me.

  ONE

  I once had a home that was my sanctuary, the place I ran to when I needed to think, or just to be. I thought it was a forever kind of deal, solid, sturdy, safe. But until the sound of my tires crunching on the gravel driveway grated along my nerves, until the surreal quiet pounded in my ears when I turned off the engine, and until I stood on the scorched ground, I didn’t realize how much love is like death.

  Love can sneak up on you, slam into you, or hang around silent and patient until you hardly realize it’s happened. I loved my childhood home, and if anyone had asked me, I would’ve said so. But until it burned to the ground, I hadn’t realized the memories it contained were as important to me as my next heartbeat.

  I wandered past the scorched earth where the house used to be, pretending there was still a path leading to the garden. When I reached my favorite spot—where a bed of white, purple, and pink petunias used to grow—I squatted to brush my fingers over the rough ground then picked up a handful. The damaged earth was cool and gritty in my fist, and I watched the ESP images flashing through my fingertips and onto my internal monitor. The explosion that had decimated the house was eerie without sound, but still, the shock of it kicked hard at the soft spot under my ribs. My heart swelled, aching for what used to be, as the clump of soil spilled between my fingers.

  The last time I’d stayed here, my gardener, Harlan, had been digging in this soil, planting, weeding, and tending the new growth.

  So much had changed.

  But I wasn’t here to confront my grief. This was about Harlan and his wife, Millie. I uncapped my water and swallowed, chasing the chalky taste of dust and worry from my throat. The earth should have held traces of Harlan. Why didn’t it? He’d been my parents’ gardener, and then mine after they’d been killed. The blast shouldn’t have destroyed Harlan’s energy pattern, not when he’d been so attuned to the earth and plants, not when he’d touched them every day for almost thirty years.

  I stepped back to get my bearings. It was one of those spring days when the sky was too bright and the cloud cover so thin that the glare hurt my eyes. I stood, pocketed the empty water bottle, and slipped my sunglasses on, surveying the land.

  A patch of daffodils had pushed through the charred ground, their bright yellow faces dancing in the crisp breeze.

  Hope. I gathered it close, but exhaustion, or maybe it was depression, weighed on my bones. Mitch and I had been married more than a year now, and he’d been talking about children again. Our children. I rubbed my hand over my abdomen, and my knees went weak. No way—especially after meeting my grandfather and learning about his shamanic power—would I be bringing a child into my life. Our life. Only it wouldn’t be Mitch’s responsibility to deal with the genetic predisposition for psychic phenomena that ran in my family. It would be mine, and I could barely handle my own ESP fingertips. Whoever thought of calling extrasensory abilities gifts had totally neglected to consider the other side. The part about life never being normal. Not that I’d ever give up my ability to see things through touch, or my new ability to heal, but to pass it on to my children? Scary.

  The hair on my nape twitched.

  I spun, checking the perimeter of the grounds, my mind chasing the shadows that moved restlessly in the sunlight. Nothing looked out of place. I headed toward the tree line, intent on finding whatever had pushed my panic button. A lost dog, maybe. It had been nine months since I’d seen Merlin, and I missed his quivery, happy body, his wet nose when he nuzzled my neck, even his doggy-breath kisses. But he belonged to Detective Adam Stone, and they’d moved to Hawaii to be near my best friend, Annie, and her baby girl Madigan.

  And there it was again, the niggling reminder that Mitch was all about children lately, despite the fact I’d made it clear—before we got married—that there would be no babies in my future. Was I going to let Mitch talk me into parenthood?

  A chill skittered over my skin, thousands of tiny prickly feet warning me to be careful. I palmed my iPhone, brushing my fingertips over the slick, glass surface.

  Who could I call? Everyone lived in Hawaii now, and Mitch was on assignment. I should have known not to come here by myself with the memories still being so raw, but seclusion hadn’t been working for me, so I scheduled a week off to search for clues about who’d torched my childhood home.

  I’d indulged Mitch’s overprotective streak, and yeah, not been ready to brave the world after the turmoil of Annie’s brush with death. And I had no idea how to deal with the ever-present threat that the poison my mother discovered would show up again. And to top it off, my understanding of my new healing abilities was still at the toddler stage.

  I brushed the twitchies off my neck. It had to be a simple case of overactive baby-fretting. There wasn’t anything going on here that could possibly be dangerous since Brody Williams, bad guy extraordinaire, had been locked up for the rest of his unnatural life.

  I rolled my shoulders back, dismissing the ESP warning that I was being watched. Probably I’d just over-adjusted to living in the country where no one was ever around. My city-sense had been dulled since Adam’s departure, and Chief Hayes had stopped calling me in to consult on police cases. I’d become dull, boring, and oblivious.

  Zing.

  Thud.

  I jerked back. Pivoted on my heel, and zigzagged for the trees at a full-out run. What the hell? Someone shot at me?

  A whisk of air brushed by my ear.

  One heartbeat.

  Another loud crack. This one behind me. And too close.

  Pounding feet moving up fast. Arms tightened around me, and I ate dirt, the broken plastic from my sunglasses poking into my temple.

  Heart-pounding, adrenaline-triggered slow motion kicked in as he rolled slightly to take the brunt of the fall. Then a heavy weight flattened me against the ground.

  No air.

  I shoved my elbow back, aiming for a squishy, vulnerable spot on my attacker, and met hard muscle. The familiar guy-soap scent of him mingled with the scorched earth.

  Déjà vu.

  Dizziness threw off my vision, probably from my brain cells firing so rapidly I could barely keep up. Safe. His scent chased away the fear. Not that I would succumb to the siren call of this man, especially now that I was a happily married woman.

  “Off. Me. Now.” I spit the words out, along with the lingering taste of dirt. “And give me your clutch piece. It’s uncomfortable as all hell being shot at when I don’t have a weapon.”

  “Quiet, Belisama.” The Irish in his words brought my dormant killer instinct into full play. But I fought it, and relaxed into the ground. If Tynan Pierce wanted me quiet, I’d damn well stay quiet. At least until he got off me.

  Minutes passed. My leg went numb from being crushed at an odd angle, and Pierce was so still I couldn’t feel him breathe.

  He rolled. I inched onto my back, welcoming air into my lungs. But I turned away, not looking at him. Not ready to see the deep blue eyes that would tell me I was in danger. Again. Still.

  I closed my eyes, shutting out the billowing clouds and sunshine-pale sky. I needed Mitch to be home. Shouldn’t have come here without him.

  A rustling sound cut through the ringing in my ears, and the warmth of Pierce’s body disappeared. A shadow moved over me, blocking the sunlight from my closed eyes. Breathing out a loud sigh, I refused to look at him.

  The toe of his boot nudged my ribs. “Time to move.”

  I kept my eyes closed. So not ready for this. “Shooter gone?” I asked.

  Pierce growled. I’d
only said five words to him and somehow managed to tick him off. It had to be a record, and that was saying something.

  Okay, Everly Gray Hunt, you can do this. You’ve been fighting boredom with the bitter tenacity of a celibate nympho, and this is it. Life the way it used to be before… I kicked my internal thoughts out of the way, opened my eyes, and levered onto my elbows, bracing myself. When I met Pierce’s stare, a shaft of panic seared my chest, rocking me to the core. He was afraid.

  A river of shakes took over my muscles. I had never, not once, seen Tynan Pierce with the dark shadows of fear riding his gorgeous, black-Irish features. Even when Annie had been shot with a poisoned arrow. And he had a former-partner relationship with her that was cemented in an until-death promise. Loyalty wasn’t something Pierce took lightly.

  His toe nudged me again, and he reached for my arm. “Sometime today.”

  The rush of adrenaline leveled off, and red-hot anger shot through me. I twisted out of his grasp and jumped to my feet, holding out my hand. “Give me a weapon. Now. How dare some jerk shoot at me? I’m grieving here. Have issues.”

  Pierce grinned, bent to remove his back-up weapon from his ankle holster, offered it to me, then pulled back. “Welcome back, Belisama. It’s been used. You ready for the impact?”

  I nodded, and sucked in a you-can-do-this breath to prep for whatever images the weapon held. My hand wrapped around the metal butt and my mind filled with an instant replay of Pierce at the firing range. The man never missed. I tucked the gun into my waistband at the small of my back, brushed the dirt off my clothes, and straightened my jacket. “Looks like you’ve been spending time at the firing range. Me, too. With Mitch.”