Betrayed, p.1
Betrayed, page 1
Betrayed
Kelsey Cheyenne
Book Title Copyright © 2018 by Kelsey Cheyenne. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Simply Beautiful cover designs
Editing and proofreading by Beth Willard, Alyne Hart, and Grahame Claire
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Kelsey Cheyenne
www.facebook.com/kelseycheyenneauthor
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: July 5,2018
This book is dedicated to my sister. Nicole, without your help and support I never would have made this jump. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for knowing more about my book than I do and helping me every step of the way.
Contents
Prologue
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 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
THE SMELL OF GUNFIRE fills my nostrils, the barrel still hot as the smoke wafts around me. My ears ring from the sound of the gunshot. It’s louder than one might imagine from watching movies or television. The view from the beach house is typically serene. Ocean waves crashing on the beach below and skies clear blue with seldom a cloud spotted above.
Now though, the night has settled upon us. Dark gray clouds cover the sky, appropriately setting the mood for the irretrievable act I’d just committed.
I couldn’t focus on the view from the house even if I wanted to. The only thing I see is the blood puddle traveling across the hardwood floor to the plush white rug five feet away. What’s even sadder is I can’t bring myself to care. I feel nothing. Someone lies dead, cold, blood- and lifeless in front of me and the only semblance of emotion I’m registering is relief.
Relief this scam is finally over. Relief I don’t have to pretend to feel things anymore. Relief that just as the blood crawls across the floor like molasses, blood is also trickling down my leg, staining my jeans.
As I stand over the body and admire my work, in the distance the distinctive squeak of the front door opening catches my attention. High heels cause an obvious clicking across the floor toward me. There are hushed whispers accompanying my unwanted guests but I can’t determine what’s being said over the bellowing sobs that are taking precedence across the room.
The clacking gets closer. In seconds I’ll be caught, so instead of feigning innocence and shock, I sit proudly on the couch behind the body. I lie the gun down at my side within reach in case this interruption goes south. I don’t want to kill one of my best friends, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I cross my legs and wait, one converse-clad foot dangling precariously in the air over the body beneath me.
Kennedy emerges from the shadows cascading over the entryway. A gasp escapes her lips as they form an ‘o’ before she covers her mouth and nose with her hands. Shock washes over her face as her eyes fill with unshed tears. She looks at the body lying limp on the ground, finally registering what happened. “Oh my God, what have you done?”
Chapter 1
Kennedy - 4 months before the murder
SNOW IS FALLING FROM the sky, slow and leisurely unlike the pace at which I am walking. I pull my jacket tighter around my small frame, my gloved hands grasping at the lapels and my scarf to keep the cold from completely permeating me. It’s one p.m. in Boston on a Sunday afternoon in February, the temperature a brisk fourteen degrees. Finally, after what seems like an eternity in this weather, I reach my destination and pull open the doors of the restaurant. Walking in, my eyes instantly spot the first of my three best friends has already arrived. Sage is not easily missed when entering a room. She stands far taller than the rest of our friends with long, perfectly straight black hair, always styled to perfection. It’s no surprise she is waiting for the rest of us. Her punctuality and overall desire for perfection is what has made her so successful at only thirty-three years old.
Sage Bellemore received a pediatric residency at the top hospital in the city after graduating college early and being the youngest in her class at Harvard Med. Being young has never stopped her from outshining her peers, however, and if I didn’t love and respect her so much I’d probably hate her in the way jealousy turns people ugly. Even being such a young success, she still makes time for her family. Her husband Taylor, who used to work as a teacher in a prestigious private school, is now a stay-at-home dad to their five-year-old daughter, Lennon. Instead of teaching in a classroom he gets to homeschool his daughter.
Sage and I met through work. I work in the neonatal intensive care unit at the hospital, so Sage and I sometimes work very closely together. I introduced her to my best friend, Caroline, and Sage brought Alexia into our little group, rounding us out.
Turning around, recognition instantly forms in her brilliant blue eyes as I approach. “Hey, where is everyone?” I ask her, wondering if anyone else is here and already seated.
“You’re the first one here. I would have waited outside but these hands are too talented to allow them to be affected by frostbite.” She wiggles both her fingers and eyebrows at me to make her point. She’s partially joking but also completely serious. Looking over my shoulder, she points her chin in the direction of the door once again. “There’s Caroline now. Naturally Lexi is the last to arrive,” she says with a chuckle.
“Hey girls!” Caroline calls to us as she enters the restaurant. She comes over, giving us each a hug in turn. Caroline in a good mood means things must be going well at work. She’s one of the city’s brightest and most kickass designers and overall one of the best people I know. She’s been my best friend my entire life and now she’s my sister-in-law, having married my husband’s brother. “Have you gotten a table yet?”
“Not yet, but I guess we might as well get seated as we wait for Lexi. She’ll be able to find us once she arrives.” Sage turns and motions for the hostess, telling her there will be four of us for lunch.
We’re seated at a table by the window, the same table we always sit at for our weekly brunches. The chic café is crisp and clean. Sandy hardwood fashioned table tops match perfectly with the white chairs and booths delicately placed throughout.
Sage and Caroline sit across from one another directly next to the window. Caroline gently places her couture handbag on the windowsill, refusing to allow her prized possession to touch the floor or risk it getting stolen off the back of her chair.
Against the soft white interior, Sage always appears most striking. Her jet black hair juxtaposes with the restaurant and her blue eyes appear to actually sparkle in comparison. I think that’s why she loves coming here all the time. She is not afraid to be the center of attention.
Twenty minutes and one cocktail later, Lexi finally arrives. She takes a seat opposite me, next to Caroline. “Have you all ordered yet?” she asks in lieu of a greeting; she stopped apologizing for being late ages ago, once we began to accept it as commonplace. Alexia, who also goes by Lexi, truly is perpetually late. As a writer, she’ll always tell you she lost track of time in a bout of inspiration she couldn’t ignore.
“We ordered you a mimosa,” Caroline says as Lexi calls to our waitress to order.
“No thanks, I’m not drinking.” Often, when Lexi has a deadline due, she stops drinking to keep her head clear and her focus intact.
Lexi orders a dish full of carbs and protein, her excuse being a need for energy and mental stimulation. Caroline on the other hand usually orders some fruit and maybe a yogurt. The fashion industry puts entirely too much pressure on her already small frame. What’s sadder is, even as a designer she feels the need to remain stick-thin. Sage is never out of “doctor” mode. She orders the healthiest dish with the least amount of calories that she’ll burn off with a work out in five minutes. I lie somewhere in between everyone else. Some days I notice Lexi is ashamed of the meals she eats so I order the same thing. Other days I
After ordering, she looks at each one of us in turn while simultaneously fiddling with her long blonde braid. “So, I have some big news.” She rests her hands on the table as if to stop herself from fidgeting.
It’s unlike Lexi to be the center of attention. Truly a bookworm at heart, she has always been introverted and shy, staying out of the spotlight. She prefers to be behind the book than in center stage. Sage, Caroline, and I all exchanged glances, acknowledging this must indeed be huge news.
“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE PREGNANT!” We turn and look at Sage, shocked she jumped to that conclusion. We know Lexi and her husband Grayson have been dealing with infertility, having told us as much a few weeks ago. I recall the conversation when Lexi told us about her problem, and my heart breaks for her all over again.
It’s the holidays but the girls and I still get together for lunch when we can. Our families are so spread out that sometimes we miss a week, but Lexi told us we had to meet her today – it is urgent. The holidays are supposed to be a happy time, but I can tell by the look on Lexi’s face something is horribly wrong.
“There’s something I need to talk to you all about. It’s important.” Lexi says, her voice thick with emotion and her eyes filling with tears.
“Lex, oh my god, what’s wrong?” I turn to look at Sage and Caroline, wondering if either of them has any idea what Lexi is about to tell us, but their expressions are as confused and concerned as my own.
“Well, you know Grayson and I have been trying to get pregnant for a few months now. We finally went to a fertility specialist and I don’t think it’s going to happen for us.” A few stray tears escape and trail down Lexi’s cheeks.
“Oh, sweetie, why do you say that? What did the doctor say? Come and get a second opinion from my colleague. She is a genius and I know she’ll be able to help you out. I’ll text her right now and get her to fit you in this week. At the very least, it won’t hurt to talk to another specialist,” Sage points out, bringing out her phone to text her doctor friend immediately.
“It’s Grayson. The doctor said something about him having a low sperm count and something about the sperm motility? I don’t really know what he was talking about. I just can’t believe it.” She fervently brushes the tears off her rosy cheeks.
“Sweetie, I just set up the appointment. Kendall is a good friend of mine and she’ll take care of you. Your appointment is Thursday at two. Tell the receptionist you’re there to see Dr. James. Talk to her and go from there. Don’t give up yet. You still have a lot of options.” Sage reaches over and squeezes Lexi’s hand, smiling at her.
“Oh god, I’ve just stuck my foot in my mouth again. I’m sorry, Lex, I wasn’t thinking,” Sage reaches over to squeeze Lexi’s hand, a grimace marring her perfect features. “It’s because you ordered an ice tea while we all got cocktails, I jumped to conclusions. Kennedy, just smack me for sticking my foot in my damn mouth again.” Sage turns to me, and I know she’s joking but I can also tell she’s feeling bad about her outburst.
“It’s okay. No, we’re still not pregnant, not for lack of trying,” Lexi blushes at her admission because she generally is not one to kiss and tell. “Actually, I just found out Black Diamond topped the New York Times Best Seller list!”
A chorus of congratulations erupted from each of us. This is Lexi’s first time topping the list, a feat she’s been working on for years. We order another round of drinks to celebrate Lexi’s accomplishment – ironically considering Lexi isn’t drinking. As we guffaw and gossip loud enough to gain stares from nearby patrons, you’d think we were a bunch of twenty-one year olds out for our first legal drink. That’s how it’s always been with us girls and that’s how it should be; surround yourself with friends who make you laugh like you’re still in grade school and support you like you’re on your deathbed.
I PARK MY CAR IN THE garage and walk into the mudroom. The house is quiet and still, but I can sense it’s not empty so I know I’m not alone. “Logan, I’m home!” I hear whispers coming from the kitchen, right outside the mudroom. The house is dark and I hear one faint bark coming from upstairs. The sounds of whispering and sequential shushing grow louder and I pad through the dark into my kitchen. Flipping on the light, a chorus of “Mommy!” is yelled by my daughter and son, my husband standing behind them smiling his mega-watt smile.
Feigning shock, I pretend to scold them. “Oh my goodness, you two scared me! What’re you guys up to, Daddy?” I smile and wink at my husband who appears to be covered in flour.
“We baked you cookies! Right, Daddy?” my sweet Mason says, beaming up at me. “Even Eve helped!”
I lean down to kiss them each on the cheek. “Thank you guys so much! I don’t know if I can eat all these cookies. Do you think you guys could help me?” They nod so fast in response it even makes me dizzy. I grab a plate of cookies and take them into the living room where we watch a movie together as a family, as we do every Sunday.
Logan and I met freshman year of college and started dating almost immediately. Fast forward four years and three positive pregnancy tests later and we were surprised with our little Mason. Right after graduation, Logan took a job at his father’s company so we could raise our son and I could finish my graduate degree. Five years later, I’m a nurse in the NICU and my now-husband is a stay-at-home dad. He didn’t care for the family business but the money was nice and it helped us get on our feet.
Logan truly is the perfect husband. He loves staying home with the rug-rats while I work all day. He loves cooking me dinner and cleaning the house, he does the play-dates and the bake sales; he’s a super-dad and a super-husband and I know how lucky I am to have him. I like to joke his name should be amongst the superheroes of the world: Superman, Batman, Spiderman, and Logan Sinclair.
After we put the kids to bed later that night, I’m deep in thought as I climb into our bed. “So how was your lunch today, babe?” Logan asks, putting the newspaper down on his lap and pushing his glasses onto his full head of dirty blond hair.
“Lexi made the best seller’s list, Caroline is working on a huge case, Sage is, well, Sage. My friends are rock stars.” I can’t keep the pride I’m feeling for my friends from reaching my face.
After a beat I become more serious. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, nibbling on it nervously. I’m toying with the bedsheets, unable to sit still as I prepare to broach this topic with my unsuspecting husband. I look up at him shyly, and he reads my face perfectly. “What’s going on, babe?”
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Before he gets a chance to answer, I notice his face change and he’s now studying the door to our bedroom. “That’s weird...the alarm is blinking.” He gets up to check the alarm when we hear a bang come from downstairs.
We both keep guns in our nightstands for the protection of our family, so once we hear the bang we grab them, going into full-defense mode. Logan heads down the stairs while I race down the hall to check on Eve and Mason. Both sleeping soundly, I race downstairs, suddenly wondering why the dog isn’t barking and now terrified he’s been hurt. Slowly scaling the wall down the stairs, I’m startled when I hear laughter from the other side of the wall.
“What the fuck, dude?” my husband asks someone, chuckling. “It’s like, ten p.m.”
Descending the rest of the stairs and turning the corner, the first thing I notice is my golden retriever’s tail wagging excitedly before registering my brother-in-law is leaning down and petting him.
“Parker? What are you doing here?” Parker is three years younger than Logan and when they stand side by side, they don’t look like brothers. Where Logan’s hair is dirty blond, Parker’s is darker, with a reddish tint. Logan is tall and lean in his build, where Parker is stocky and dangerously muscular. If their voice wasn’t identical and their mannerisms one in the same, I’d think they weren’t blood related at all. Logan told me he used to give Parker shit as a kid, telling him he was adopted.
“I’m sorry guys, I know it’s late. I tried to call but my phone died after I got done talking to my boss.” He stands, staring at my hand with his eyebrows raised.
