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Sinful Secrets by Melissa Ohnoutka

Copyright © 2016 by Melissa Ohnoutka. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.  

Chapter One

“Where the hell are they?”

Joanna McNamee paced back and forth across the parking lot in front of the Pine Woods Country Club’s banquet hall, kicking at the gravel with the toes of her red boots. Ten years after defying her father’s wishes and dropping out of college to pursue her dream, she now stood wondering if he’d been right all along.

A humid December wind swooshed up, striking her in the face and whipping her long braids around like a new cowboy’s wild and untamed lasso. She stiffened, inhaling the delicious aromas of her caterers outdoing themselves with the delicacies on the menu for the party that night. Despite the unusually warm temperatures, the country club and its lush surrounding gardens decorated with thousands of white glittery lights reminded her Christmas was just around the corner. One of the top resorts around, featuring two spectacular eighteen-hole private golf courses accessible to members and guests only of the Pine Woods Hotel, the location screamed money and social status. Just what her father wanted.

And yet apprehension hung heavy in her chest.

Giving the highway and feeder road one last glance, she slid her sunglasses on top of her head and stalked back inside the building to retrieve her cell phone. Her friend still sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the empty hall.

“She’s sabotaging my business again,” Joanna huffed.

“Who? Your dad’s girlfriend?” Sam glanced up from the hundred swatches of fabric and stone granite samples surrounding her.

“Who else would I be smoking mad about?” Joanna twisted her hands in front of her to keep from pounding the wall in frustration.

“What did Denise do this time?”

Joanna sighed, blowing the wild hairs away from her face. “The damn truck is late, and I know that woman’s behind it. They should have arrived over forty-five minutes ago with the extra tables, chairs, and decorations. Now I’m not sure I’ll finish in time. She knows how important this party is, and she’s determined to make me look bad in Daddy’s eyes.”

“I told you this woman has serious issues, Jo Jo. You should stay far away from anything or anyone associated with Denise.”

Hearing Sam use her nickname calmed her a bit and brought back a smidgen of normalcy. “As long as she’s hanging on Daddy’s arm, steering clear of her is kind of impossible.” She shuddered at the thought of the two “lovebirds” together.

“I just wish we could read her mind so we could stay a few steps ahead of her twisted reality.” Sam laughed and then turned quiet, her brows drawing inward as if contemplating her next thought.

“I’m with you on that one. Sure would make my life so much easier.” Joanna cringed as she recalled all the drama Denise had rained down on them over the past few months. The woman’s constant meddling and rude questions about her qualifications as a party planner made potential clients doubt her abilities to bring their visions to life. She’d already lost several clients and desperately needed to build her clientele in order to prove she could make it on her own without her father’s help.

“I think she’s stalking you.” Her friend stretched both arms out in front of her and stood, tiptoeing around the mess she’d made. Despite working overtime to help Joanna out, as well as designing an entire new living room for a buyer she’d just sold a house to, Sam sounded as fresh as she had the day before. “You know, trying to figure out how she can get rid of you, maybe even climb under your skin and be you.”

“How awful!” Joanna threw a highlighter in Sam’s direction. “Why on earth would she do that? I’m a nobody.”

“Nobody? Are you serious?” Her friend smacked herself on the forehead with her palm for effect.

“I don’t have anything she wants. It’s dear ol’ Dad who has all the money. I won’t see a cent unless I decide to go back to law school and then crawl on my hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness. I take his money, and he’ll use that as the green light to run my life again.”

“I’m just saying.” Sam sighed heavily.

“You really know how to yank my chain. The last thing I need is to be paranoid. I have too much to do, too much to worry about to make sure this event goes off without another glitch. Lots of people are counting on me.” Joanna tried to hide her anxiety, but it oozed out with every word.

“Sorry, hon. I just call them like I see them. And I see snake slithering all over the inside of that one.”

Joanna grabbed the back of her chair for added support. “Please do me a humongous favor and go see if the delivery of white poinsettias arrived. They were supposed to be here by two. I’ve got a truck and crew to find.”

“You got it, boss girl.” Sam, Sammie, anything except for Samantha, tossed her long blond ponytail over her shoulder and walked out the back door humming the tune from the Twilight Zone, or maybe it was Psycho. Either way, it fit perfectly.

Joanna shook her head and picked up the guest list for the Christmas party. There were over five hundred people invited. All associates of her father’s multimillion-dollar oil service company.

She glanced down at her watch. Another ten minutes had passed and still no word. Where the hell was her crew? No phone call, no email, no text message. Not like them at all.

Hopefully nothing had gone wrong. Again. God, she could hear her father now. “See, Joanna. I told you we needed to hire a professional for this. Your fascination with this passing phase is growing old.”

How the hell did he think she paid her bills every month? Did he really believe she was between jobs and using what little savings she had in order to keep from telling him he was right? No wonder her mother left and never looked back.

Grabbing her purse off the back of the chair, she dug out her keys and headed for the parking lot. The bright lemon yellow truck carrying all the supplies was huge, with an original hand-painted mural she’d done herself. She’d find it and tow the damn thing in if she had to.

Once inside the big Dually, she buckled up and revved the engine, the large tires peeling out of the driveway as she pulled onto the feeder road, heading out of Houston.

She smiled for the first time, gripping the leather steering wheel tight and inhaling the smell of freedom. Her father hated the truck. According to him, a white Dodge Ram Turbo Diesel-Mega Cab was not what a McNamee should be seen driving around town. Oh, no. He’d given her a tricked-out red Mercedes convertible her senior year of high school. How she’d hated that car—it stood for all her father really cared about in the world.

No debutante here. His wanting a princess to prance around and show off to the masses had never been a secret.

Imagine his surprise all those years ago when he’d found her in the backyard covered in mud from head to toe, wearing the brand new ball gown he’d bought for her to show off at the company Christmas party. She’d been about five. The gown was ruined, her mother in tears, and Joanna had been grounded, made to stay in her room till all the guests went home. Which, honestly, was fine by her, and not a punishment at all.

Who would have guessed twenty years later she would be handling all the details for that very same company Christmas party? Not her father, that’s for sure.

About twenty minutes out on the highway, a mile from the storage building where she kept her supplies, Joanna found what she was looking for. “Well, there you are.” She lifted her sunglasses off her nose to get a better look at the truck parked on the side of the road. Sure enough, it was hers. Just sitting there on the shoulder. Alone.

“Now, where did my crew go?”

Pulling her Dually to a stop in front of the truck, she checked the rearview mirror for signs of movement in the cab. Nothing.

She blew out an exasperated breath. Maybe they’d run out of gas? Set out on foot toward town to get some? Not likely. She’d have seen them walking on the side of the road if that was the case. Letting out a frustrated groan, she opened her door and hopped out onto the gravel shoulder. Surely they’d left someone behind to watch over the truck and all the furniture inside.

Scanning the landscape, she made a mental note of her surroundings. The land was pretty flat on this stretch of the highway. In March, the fields would be covered by hundreds of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. Now as far as the eye could see, nothing but tall brown grasses blew in the cool December breeze, the clouds above casting playful shadows across the ground as they floated by overhead. Everything looked normal enough. But there were no signs of her crew, or what made them leave the truck behind.

“This is just plain weird.” She frowned and walked over to the driver’s door of the truck, pulling on the handle. It clicked easily within her grasp. Not even locked? A tiny flicker of anger kindled just below the surface, but she pushed it away and heaved herself up into the cab.

A clipboard with her instructions sat on the passenger seat, along with the keys. What on earth?

Joanna yanked her cell from her pocket and dialed Sam’s number. Sam answered on the second ring. “I need you and Andrew to meet me on Highway 290, just past the old creek bed. For some bizarre reason, my crew ran off and left the truck unlocked with the keys sitting on the front seat.”

“No shit?”

“Look, I can’t drive both trucks back. Are you coming or not?” The anxiety built even though she tried to force it back.

“Hey, calm down, Jo Jo. I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten.” She heard her friend scrounging around on the other end of the line for her keys and shook her head. How this girl managed to be a top-selling real estate agent never failed to amaze her.

“Sam, find Andrew and just take the Mercedes. Daddy will never know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Freaking awesome. We’ll be there in five!” The phone went dead, and Joanna prayed her friend wouldn’t have a wreck on the way.

What was going on?

The cargo in the back was untouched.

Her crew missing. No signs of foul play.

It didn’t make sense, unless her father—or Denise—was behind this in order to humiliate her.

Joanna had already started the truck and found the gas gauge sitting at over half a tank when she caught sight of the Mercedes in the rearview mirror.

Head throbbing with all she had to accomplish before the party started, she wanted to roll down the window and holler like a crazy person. How far would her father go to sabotage her future? To make her follow his chosen path?

Her love life? Check. On a downward spiral for years.

Her friends? Check. Whittled down to Sam, Keith, and Andrew.

And now the one thing she’d managed to keep him from controlling was unraveling before her eyes.

Great. Just frickin’ great.

The question hitting her dead on?

What she intended to do about it.

…

Deputy Ryker Kane barged through the front door of the Bram police station. The stolen truck reportedly parked on the side of 290 was nowhere to be found.

Who would hijack a bright lemon vehicle with a party decal, anyway? Sounded fishy, but the sheriff had called, so he’d gone to check it out and returned empty-handed.

Likely another college prank.

Tired of the crime and brutal hours he’d put in, Ryker had moved back to Bram, Texas, from Houston six months ago. The city was far enough away to forget, yet close enough to remind him of the murder case he’d failed to crack and couldn’t obliterate to oblivion. The lure of his small hometown’s quiet setting, bluebonnets, and Texas history was a huge part of his decision and had made his mother happy. But truth was, he was getting pretty bored dealing with the local drunks and college kids.

“Find anything?” Sheriff Wade asked, his hands crossed over his protruding middle as he leaned against the dusty window casing in the lobby of the station, a half-eaten candy cane in his right hand.

“Not a damn thing.” Ryker had a few questions for the men being detained. He wanted to see if he could shed some light on what really happened and relished doing a little detective work. “Where are the men who reported the truck stolen?”

“In the back. But they don’t know anything. I asked them.” Chomping on the candy, Sheriff Wade followed behind Ryker as he headed to the interrogation room. A phone rang in another part of the station, the receptionist’s voice echoing down the hallway after them.

“Won’t hurt to ask again. Maybe they’ll remember something now that they’ve calmed down a bit.”

“It’s your time. Waste it how you want.” With that, Sheriff Wade made a detour to his office, leaving Ryker in the hallway alone.

Ryker shook his head. Even after six months, Wade’s feathers were still ruffled over the mayor hiring him as an extra pair of hands to manage the ever-growing college crowd. The fact that Ryker had made something out of himself after all his screwups as a teenager really pissed the sheriff off. Probably due to the fact it was Sheriff Wade who’d hauled his ass in on numerous occasions in high school. Stupid shit. Like skipping class. Drinking. Drag racing. Nothing worse than what the rich kids were doing on Friday nights, but when you come from the wrong side of the tracks, people look at you differently.

He drew in a deep breath and then pushed open the door to the interrogation room. Two heads popped up, meeting Ryker’s gaze, their expressions somber. “Can we go now? Our boss is going to be spitting mad.”

“I have a few more questions. It won’t take long.” Ryker whipped a chair around backward and straddled it. “So, how long have you guys been working for this party-planning company?”

The man who’d spoken up scratched his head. “I think it’s been about a year now.”

“Your name, please?”

“Jerry. And this here is Toby.” The other man nodded.

Ryker rubbed the stubble on his five o’clock shadow. Another added bonus of living in a small town, where the sheriff led the pack with his unshaven mug.

“So what do you think happened?” he asked, addressing the younger-looking one, who fidgeted in his seat. He was still going with the college prank angle, although this man looked a bit too old to run with that crowd.

Toby swallowed hard, never making eye contact with Ryker. “I’m not sure. All I know is the guy had a gun and wanted us to leave the truck behind real bad. I didn’t hang around and ask why.”

“What about you?” He turned to the man at the end of the table who sat with his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you have any theories?”

Looking as if he meant to establish some kind of superiority over the other, he sat up straighter, his facial features hardening. “I think it has something to do with that crazy broad Mr. McNamee’s banging.”

Well, that was a name he hadn’t heard in years.

“What’s her name?” Ryker doubted Sheriff Wade was told this little tidbit. The McNamees were a prominent family in town. Wade would have been all over this.

“Look, she ain’t behind this. She ain’t smart enough. All she’s good for is flaunting those huge-ass fake tits.” Toby gave the older man a warning glare. A let me do the talking or things will get ugly look.

“Name. What’s the woman’s name?”

“Denise, something. We ain’t privy to their circle, you know what I mean.” Toby raised a brow to make his point.

Yeah, he knew. Boy, did he ever.

“You got anything to add here, Jerry? Do you know Denise’s last name?”

“Nope. No, sir.” Jerry shook his head too fast, like he knew more than he wanted to let on. His refusal to look at Ryker made him look guilty as hell. Of something.

“Okay, then. The gunman told you to run. Did either of you look back? See which direction he headed?” Neither answered. “Where do you think someone would hide a bright lemon-colored truck? I mean, surely someone is going to see it driving down the street, right?”

“If I know Ms. McNamee, she came looking for us. I’d check with her first. I bet she knows where her truck is.” Jerry seemed extra confident about this. Toby nodded, appearing to agree.

“Ms. McNamee. Is this the ex-wife?”

“Nah…she’s his daughter.” Toby spoke, a new fire lighting his eyes, along with a glint of something else Ryker couldn’t decipher. “She’s a spitfire that one. No daddy’s little girl.” The man chuckled, clearly infatuated with the mere thought of the woman. Maybe a little too infatuated.

Ryker’s interest was piqued, a tiny voice at the back of his brain trying to get his attention. So, Joanna McNamee was back in town.

“Okay, gentlemen. You’re free to go. Thank you for your time. Leave your full names and phone numbers at the front desk in case we need to contact you again.”

“The gunman took our cell phones,” Jerry said.

“Your home numbers will be fine.” Ryker stood and left the room without another word. He had some research to do. Then it was off to find Jo Jo McNamee and see if she was still the spoiled little brat he knew way better than he wanted to.