Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(2)
“Why?” Patrick whispered.
“You know too much.”
The figure melted away.
Far-off screams barely penetrated his mind. His phone rang. He couldn’t pick up. His body tingled, then went strangely numb. And he knew.
“Aww, Anna. I’m sorry, my darling.”
Each breath turned into a struggle. A gurgling bubbled in his chest.
“Dad?” His prodigal son’s voice shouted from the darkness.
Strong hands grabbed him. “Oh, God, Dad. Someone call an ambulance!”
“Zach,” he whispered, struggling to form the word.
“What are you doing here?” Zach choked.
Patrick’s strength poured from his chest, but he rallied his heart and forced his eyes open. His boy stared down, in that moment looking so much like Anna. Her hair, the shape of her eyes. He looked up into his son’s face.
Tears streamed down Zach’s cheeks. Bloodshot eyes laced with fear…and regret. He cradled Patrick close, but Patrick could no longer feel his son’s touch.
“Hold on, Dad. Please.”
It was too late.
“Tell…Mom. Love her,” he gasped. A gray cloud closed in on him, washing out life’s color.
“Don’t do this, Dad.” Zach clutched him, rocking him back and forth. “Please. Caleb said you were looking for me. God, I’m sorry. I’ll make this right. Somehow.”
“Robbery,” a voice shouted from nearby. “We got him.”
Patrick clutched Zach’s neck.
“Lies.”
Patrick wanted to say more. To tell his son the truth. So many secrets. Too many secrets. They’d killed him.
His eyes fluttered closed. He wanted air. Needed air. He tried to breathe. Something huge and horrible clamped down on his chest.
He panted. He tried to speak.
Then an odd warmth flowed through him. The pain twisting his insides vanished. He wished he could tell Zach it would be all right. He didn’t want to leave his family, but he had faith. In his family, in his wife, in his children.
They would be OK.
He and Anna had done their job.
And Zach. Zach would find his way.
* * *
Chapter One
* * *
Five Years Later—Istanbul, Turkey
HIS WORLD WAS no more than a fa?ade.
Zach Montgomery strolled across the intricate parquet floor of the Dolmabahce Palace. The Ottomans certainly knew their opulence. Gold ornamented the nearly forty-foot-high walls and molding on either side of him. The crystals of the gargantuan chandelier winked as if knowing all of his secrets as he passed under the baroque dome.
A sea of well-groomed, preening penguins milled around him. They were the beautiful people, too perfect to be real.
Zach tugged at his bow tie. The supposed Armani tuxedo did look damn good. Of course, like his surroundings—like Zach himself—nothing was as it appeared.
“Action,” the director shouted.
Zach picked his way through the crowd, focused on every blocked step, every movement. The timing had to be perfect. A glimmer of metal shimmered to his right. His muscles tightened like a puppet string pulled taut.
A gun’s barrel pointed directly at him.
With a quick shift on his right leg, he twisted his body and shoved his sleek, blonde costar to the floor. He covered Anastasia and tugged the fake Sig Sauer from his waistband, the gun’s weight perfectly balanced in his hand.
Two quick shots and the movie’s villain smashed into the champagne fountain. Blood pooled on his white tuxedo shirt. Under his weight, the huge gold structure crashed over, its sparkling liquid turning into a waterfall.
Screams ripped through the elegant mansion. The flock of extras dove toward the exits, sloshing through the amber liquid, avoiding the predator.
Zach tucked Anastasia to his side and maneuvered through the panicked throng. A dark-headed man grabbed at her with a scowl. Zach didn’t hesitate. He shoved his elbow into the guy’s nose. Synthetic blood spurted. Howling, he fell away.
Zach grabbed Anastasia and slid under a silk-covered table, with her nestled against him. He jumped to his feet, reached one of the prefabricated panels that protected the palace walls from the movie’s more destructive special effects, and shoved it open, ducking them inside.
“Cut!” the director shouted.
Anastasia sagged against him. Zach smiled down at his costar. Her eyes couldn’t hide the relief. She hadn’t mastered the acting craft, but at least she had a soul blazing from her eyes. Unlike so many others in his plastic Hollywood world.
He softened his smile and tilted her chin up. “You all right?”
She stared at her Christian Dior dress, now soaked with fake champagne. “I just hope we don’t have to do that again.”
“Don’t bet on it, but it’ll take a while to reset the stage.”
“We go again in three hours,” the director yelled.
Zach chucked Anastasia’s chin. “You better get to hair and makeup, honey.”
She blinked her baby blues at him then licked her lips. “We could spend part of the break…together. They gave me a private trailer. It’s in my contract.”
The come-hither words might have been tempting at one time. Five years ago, he’d definitely have taken her up on the offer, but these days…she was too young. Too innocent. An oxymoron in the movie business, but everyone was too innocent for Zach. “Thanks for the offer, Ana, but I have a call to make.”