Sex, Lies & Bourbon (Sex and Lies Book 5) Read online

  I desperately wanted to tell her the truth—that I was sorry—for everything. But I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back and neither could she. We could only move forward. The damage I’d done to our relationship was irreparable and it was never so raw or real as in this moment. I’d let her go for her own good. I damn sure wasn’t going to try to draw her back into the shit show now. Still, I’m sorry was on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  When we landed at Bluegrass Field, the sun had just begun to set on the horizon of my old Kentucky home, casting brilliant colors across the sky. It reminded me of everything I’d left behind so many years ago and gave me a sense of peace. No matter how crazy the outside world seemed to get, there was always this—there was always Kentucky—the rolling hills and Southern charm that never changed no matter how many years passed.

  I’d pulled myself together while Ginny merely held my hand for the rest of the flight. It was the best thing that had happened to me in a year but I knew I was being selfish.

  The TAC Air runway was empty and I could see the black sedan pulling onto the tarmac as the plane taxied to a halt.

  Grabbing Ginny’s hanging bag and my old leather valise containing one suit, shirt, tie and my Dopp Kit, I motioned for her her to exit the plane as the clamshell opened. When I packed, I wasn’t planning on staying long in Valley Springs, Kentucky. Now that I was almost home, I knew that decision was probably not going to work out the way I planned.

  “Mr. Holloway.”

  “Good to see you, Telly,” I said, waving off his desire to take the bags from my hands. “Is the trunk open?”

  “Yes, sir. Please allow me,” he replied, finally wrenching the luggage from me, placing it in the trunk.

  I turned to face Ginny. “Ginny Grace, this is Teller, or Telly as I’ve called him since I was a smart aleck kid. Telly, this is Agent Virginia Grace of the FBI.”

  Telly shot me a quick look, focusing his attention on Ginny at once. “The pleasure is mine Miss Grace.”

  “Please, call me Ginny,” she replied, climbing into the backseat. I stood silent, admiring the beauty that was all around me. It was easy to forget how magnificent my home was, but somehow when push came to shove, just like my relationship with Ginny, it was better to leave it all behind.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again Mr. Win. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah,” I said, settling in. “Me too. How are things at Winter Haven?”

  “Well sir, it’s not good. Everyone is taking it pretty hard.”

  I dropped my head, looking to my hands as if they would magically transport me from the hell I was driving home to.

  Distracted by the thought of Lena waiting for me at Winter Haven, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, only to feel Ginny’s soft hand slip into mine, giving me the extra squeeze for a mere second before letting go.

  Reveling in the moment, I opened my eyes slowly, not wanting to wake from the dream.

  4

  GINNY

  What in the name of all that’s holy am I doing? It was the question I kept asking myself over and over. I hated Win Holloway. I loathed Win Holloway. I’d burned every letter, every Post-It note and every photo of the two of us in a cleansing ritual with my girlfriends that involved campfire matches and way too much vodka. So why…why was I sitting in the backseat of a limo on my way to Valley Springs, Kentucky with the man who left me without explanation, stomping on my heart as he walked out the door? Why? If my brother Jackson knew where I was right now, he’d drive to Winter Haven from Lexington and cart me away himself.

  “I’m really glad you’re here with me, Ginny.” He brought my hand to his mouth, lightly kissing my knuckles and sending a shock wave of uncontrolled euphoria through my body.

  Every old and familiar feeling of love and lust flooded my very being. I swallowed hard, doing my best to quell the pang in my heart and the ache in my Genie.

  Never a fan of the P word, I asked Win to refer to my lady-bits with respect. Instead of using the anatomical word, vagina, he dubbed it Va-Ginny’s Genie—a place where wishes were granted. When we were together it made me laugh, when it was over it only made me sad. It was difficult remembering how good we once were together. Our relationship was like a beautiful pair of shoes I used to wear every day. Perfect in every way, I never wanted to take them off my feet. Now with a broken heel and a scuffed up exterior, they were shoved deep in the back of the closet. The shoes were still beautiful but I knew I would never wear them again. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bear to part with them.

  With a simple brush of his lips across my hand, the Genie had been awakened. The shoes came out of the closet and begged for superglue and a night on the town. I needed it all to go away.

  “I’m here to do a job.” The words barely escaped my dry mouth as I nonchalantly snapped the rubber band on my wrist. “I’ll do my best to stay out of the way and let you grieve with your family, but there will come a point when I’m going to need you and others to answer some questions.”

  “Of course,” he said, dropping my hand. “I’d rather speak to you than the rent-a-goons from the Louisville office. God knows they’re swarming the property like flies.”

  Pulling out my phone to find the travel arrangements Powell’s secretary had sent me, the one and only hotel in Valley Springs was my ultimate destination for the evening. “Mr. Teller?” I asked.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “I’m staying at the The Wilmonte. I was wondering how much trouble it would be to drop me there.”

  “No trouble at all, ma’am. It’s on our way.”

  Win shot me a crooked smile. “Wait, what?”

  “That’s my hotel.”

  “Hotel?” he asked, his voice getting higher. “You’re not staying at Winter Haven?”

  I wanted the puzzled look on my face to explain my feelings, but when he didn’t respond I resorted to words. “No Win. I’m staying at a hotel.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m working a case.”

  “But I just assumed you’d want to stay at the house.”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  I could see the wheels turning in Win’s head and I wondered just how he planned to spin what he was thinking into something that would sound dire to the investigation.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he began. “Come to the house with me. See the murder scene and go over…whatever.”

  “The evidence?”

  “Yes. If you think you can figure this shit out—”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m sorry, but let’s be honest here,” he said shifting his weight in the seat to face me. “We’re talking about my family and that is shit for sure, just hear me out. I already know something about this case that you don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  He hesitated. “Look, I didn’t give a fu—flip about my dad, but he was murdered exactly like my mother.”

  I cocked my head, acting as if I considered what he was saying to be of importance.

  “This could be bigger…”

  “Bigger how?” I asked.

  He shook his head and I could read the regret on his face. He’d revealed more than he’d planned.

  “Win?”

  “Never mind. You stay wherever you feel comfortable, okay?”

  “Win?” I asked, craning my neck to look him in the eyes. “What do you mean bigger?”

  “I dunno,” he mumbled, staring straight ahead as if he needed to watch the road. “Don’t you think it’s odd that my father was murdered exactly the same way my mother was twenty-three years ago? No evidence? No motive? No robbery?”

  “I thought your mother’s ring was stolen that night and never found again.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but even that. It’s like the ring was taken to make it look like a robbery—when it was something more. I dunno. It stinks to high heaven. It smelled then and it smells now.”

&nb
sp; “Smells how? What’s your theory?”

  He shook his head and stared out the window of the car at the rolling hills as we whizzed past them. “Something…I can feel it,” he sighed. “I just need to get home for my sister.”

  Settling back into the leather seat I knew I needed to look into the similarities. Rule number one of investigation—if it feels hinky, it is.

  Barreling down the winding rural highway, the roadside sign let me know we were a mere six miles outside of the small town of Valley Springs. “Mr. Teller?” I asked, leaning into the front seat. “You can drop me at Winter Haven too.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  The drive to Win’s family homestead was something out of a fairytale. The long winding road that lead to the main house was lined with massive trees and white fences. The horses had been brought into the barns for the night, but I knew that with the early morning sunrise they’d be out romping around the rich green fields. It was one thing for Winter Haven to be Win’s home, but Kentucky was my home too, and I always felt welcome there.

  The ancient limestone arch that graced the entrance of Winter Haven hadn’t changed, according to Win, since it was erected in 1870, five years after the Civil War, when his great-great-grandfather built the original home and distillery.

  The gates opened with ease as we approached and I watched the veins in Win’s neck pulse with every beat of his heart.

  Unbuttoning the top button of his heavily starched shirt, he loosened his tie and cleared his throat while straining to see the cars parked in front of the massive, stately mansion that was Winter Haven.

  I’d only been to the family home once, when everyone was away and we had the entire farm to ourselves for two nights. Even then Win wasn’t comfortable being at Winter Haven. Now, he squirmed in his seat like a fish floundering on a boat deck. He was caught, screwed, and unable to do much about his situation.

  The main house was lit up like a national monument and there seemed to be just as much security. I counted no less than six Bucars and police cruisers. The massive stone columns that graced the front of the house could easily take a person back to a simpler time and place. Set in the rolling hills in the middle of nowhere Kentucky, Winter Haven was the definition of God’s Country. Tonight, it seemed more like an episode of CSI.

  “Holy shit,” he mumbled as the limo rolled to a stop at the end of the long lane. “What kind of circus do we have here?”

  “Win,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Let me take care of this. Go find your sister. I’ll deal with the local guys. The last thing we need is for you to cause a scene.”

  Opening his car door, he turned to me. “This is my house Ginny. I’m not letting them turn this into a bigger spectacle than it already is.”

  Walking to the front door, Win pushed three different men aside as he found his way to the gilded double doors that marked the entrance to the estate.

  “Excuse me!” one of them shouted.

  Holding my badge open for all to see, I rushed in in front of Win. “Gentlemen, stand down. This is Agent Win Holloway and I’m Agent Ginny Grace from the New York Office. Let him pass.”

  Win glared at the agent standing between him and the enormous set of golden double doors that led into the near palace that was Winter Haven.

  Without a word, the agent stepped aside and Win let himself in, slamming the door.

  I should’ve been in work mode, but being back home brought up thoughts of own my father. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his life was like as an agent. I stared into the faces of the men from Louisville and knew they were all too young to know him. “Who’s in charge here?” I asked.

  As instructed by Powell, I wanted to tread lightly. They didn’t know me and I certainly didn’t know them. Being a young agent from New York City wasn’t going to go over with the fellas from the Kentucky office well. I might as well have been wearing a Duke t-shirt shouting, Christian Laettner is a god!

  “David Allen.”

  I couldn’t see who’d answered me, but I at least appreciated the shout out. “Is he here?” I asked.

  “No,” another voice said from behind me.

  “Can you find him?”

  “What is this in regard to?” the older agent guarding the door asked.

  “Look,” I said sidling up to him. “The Holloway and Winterbourne families have a lot of pull in Washington, so unless you want your butt written up for being belligerent on the job, I suggest you cooperate with me and with the family.”

  Pursing his lips and shaking me off, he reluctantly replied. “We’re just trying to do our job.”

  “I’m fully aware, and I’m just trying to do mine. If you want reassurance that I’m now the go-to, feel free to call my boss in New York. He’ll be happy to explain why we’re taking over. Or,” I said dragging out the word. “You can be team players and I will make sure Agent Allen in Louisville and the boys in the home office know exactly how helpful you were in the field.”

  A collective grumble erupted and I shrugged my shoulders in response.

  “This is bullshit and you know it,” he said.

  “Who are you again?” I asked, moving back to my friend at the door.

  “Knotts. Agent Edward Knotts. Who might you be?”

  “Agent Knotts, I’m Special Agent in Charge Ginny Grace and I believe the term you should be using is horse shit—and for the record, I wouldn’t disagree with you. What I would do is pack it in for the night until I can speak with the family and Agent Allen.”

  “Agent Grace?”

  I pursed my lips. “That’s right. Ginny Grace.”

  Agent Knotts ran his tongue across his teeth as if searching for what was left of his dinner in the crevices of his mouth. I cocked my head and raised one eyebrow waiting for his disgusting oral hygiene to cease and for my answer.

  “Let’s go guys. We don’t want the skirt tattling on us.”

  I held my anger in check, hanging my hands on my hips before dropping my head and shaking it in disgust. “You’ve made a wise choice Agent Knotts. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “You can count on it.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to a full briefing tomorrow morning, say…. ten hundred?”

  Agent Knotts remained silent, merely shaking his head as he walked away.

  When the Louisville boys were all safely beyond the gate, I knocked twice before letting myself inside.

  5

  WIN

  Slamming the door behind me, I leaned against it and stared into the vast entrance hall of Winter Haven. The twenty-five thousand square foot estate was bigger than any one person could ever need and a testament to a bygone time when generations of family lived together under one roof. Walking into the foyer, each footstep echoed across the marble floor that led to the grand staircase—the place where my mother, and now my father, had each met their demise.

  Overhead, a large crystal chandelier lit the area enough for me to see the numbered evidence tents still on the floor, swimming in an ocean of dried blood. Thankfully the body was gone. Still, as I stared at the scene, I thought not of my father, but my mother—always my mother.

  Voices rang out from the back of the house and I knew one of them was Lena’s.

  “I’m home!” I shouted as I walked through the first of the main parlors, my shoes going from muffled steps across the oriental rugs back to the echo of the marble like a simple melodic verse.

  “Win?”

  Lena’s voice called to me and I found myself picking up the pace to get to her.

  Following the bright lights to the back of the house, I rushed into the library only to have her fall into my arms—limp as a rag.

  “Win,” she cried, “You’re here.”

  “I’m here.” I whispered the words into her long blonde hair and swallowed hard. Lena wasn’t the kind of woman who was strong—she never had been. Wrecked by the same indifference our father showed me, my sister was a woman of fragile existe
nce. I knew I had to be strong for her—for both of us.

  Finally pulling away, I looked around the two-story room filled with books and antiques, searching for some unknown force to ease my tension.

  “Good to have you home,” Magnus said, giving me a firm grip with one hand and a squeeze on the shoulder with the other.

  “Yeah.” It was the only thing I could muster. It wasn’t good to be home and everyone in the room knew it. There was no reason for me to sugarcoat that it was in fact, a terrible night.

  “Where’s Cee Cee?” I asked, looking back to Lena.

  She shook her tear-stained face and and looked to the floor. “He’s already gone to bed.”

  “Bed?” I asked, looking to Magnus for answers. “At eight o’clock at night? He hasn’t even had his first nightcap yet.”

  Lena sat on the dark leather sofa that faced its twin in front of the empty fireplace, tucking her hands under her legs. She was in no shape to answer the laundry list of questions I had rolling around in my head. Still, I had to ask.

  Walking to the bar in the corner, I took off my suit coat, tossing it in a chair and began pouring myself a bourbon. “Are you up to talking about it tonight, Lena?” I asked without looking at her.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea Win.” Magnus interjected his opinion like any caring attorney would—with a soft voice and a commanding lead. “We’re all completely wrung out after the police and FBI, not to mention finding your dad—my best friend of fifty years for God’s sake.

  “Well,” I said looking back to my sister. “I wasn’t exactly asking you, Magnus.”

  “Win,” Lena began as she leaned her head into the back of the couch and sighed. “There’s so much you need to be caught up on.”

  When she glanced at Magnus and back to me, I suddenly felt like an outsider in my own home. “Then why don’t you catch me up, baby sister. I know this has probably been really hard on you too, Magnus,” I said tossing him a glance. “But maybe I should have some time alone with Lena—you know—family time.”