Symphony of Danger Read online

  FREE DOWNLOAD!

  Sign up for the author's New Release mailing list and get a free copy of her book, House of Cards.

  Click here to get started:

  www.meganfatheree.com/freebook

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SYMPHONY OF DANGER

  First edition. July 1, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Megan Fatheree.

  Written by Megan Fatheree.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  READY FOR ANOTHER?

  Did you like this book?

  Sign up for Megan Fatheree's Mailing List

  About the Author

  For the enjoyment of those who always wanted to be musicians, but didn't have the knack.

  For the honor of my wonderful Savior, Jesus the Christ.

  Chapter One

  The darkness swirled around her like fog, and try as she might, she couldn't fight her way to the light. Something soft and sinister engulfed first her feet, then her arms, and finally her mind. Something else, something sharp and fast, slapped across her body. Notes floated to her from the background. Beautiful notes, at first, but they soon turned into screams. Her own voice their metronome.

  Tegan woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright in bed. Even now, a full year after the incident, her nightmares didn't leave her alone. They occurred less frequently, yes, but no they remained no less frightening. They appeared at the strangest times. Times when she started to believe she had let it all go. Times she forgave everyone involved and let go of her own guilt.

  But, Tegan knew she could never be free of the guilt that plagued her daily. She brought it on herself.

  She ran a trembling hand through her long, tangled hair to pull it back away from her face. Sweat stuck to both her palms and her hair, and made the feat nearly impossible. Spiraling strands clung to her face and wrapped around her throat in a choke hold.

  Clock. She had a clock. What time was it? Tegan turned her head to see. Blinding green numbers shouted the time back at her. 5:47 AM.

  With a sigh, Tegan flung her covers aside and dropped her feet to her bedroom's cool wooden floor. The chill felt good after the pulsating heat of her fear-induced panic.

  It was a dream, she reminded herself. Nothing more. Just a nightmare. You've been through this before, get over it.

  Coffee. She needed coffee. Surely the pot had begun to brew by now. If nothing else, she could at least start the day like a normal human being.

  Tegan shuffled out the door and down the hall. The staircase might prove more difficult. She knew of more than one squeaky step that might squeal loudly in the early morning silence. No matter. She took them one at a time and willed her groggy mind to remember which spots had recently started to make a sound when she stepped on them.

  She completed that obstacle with little difficulty and found her feet plodding easily in the direction of the kitchen.

  The simple appliances were her preference, as they hadn't come with the historic old house. They consisted of a cream-colored gas range with a deep over, a stainless-steel refrigerator with a single magnet attached to the door, and a large microwave oven. A wood table, rustic and weathered, adorned the center of the room. She preferred to eat in her kitchen, not alone in an empty dining room.

  The inexpensive electric coffee pot that sat on the counter had, indeed, begun to perk the grounds. It wouldn't be long before it finished.

  A simple wooden chair accepted Tegan's weight with a groan. She dropped her head onto her arms, atop the table. This normal she had become accustomed to was far from a realistic normal. Though she had never been a social butterfly, she had friends at one time. She hardly remembered what it felt like. Companionship. Family. Love. All words that became grossly distorted after the incident.

  Bee-da-deep. Bee-da-deep. Bee-da-deep.

  Tegan stood and pulled down the mug with the words “Keep Calm and Play On” centered over a piano. Her mother gifted it to her on her twenty-first birthday. Neither of them had known how poignant the phrase would become for Tegan. She thought about shattering it, dozens of times, but she could never bring herself to do so.

  She splayed the fingertips of one hand over the familiar saying. If only it helped keep her life together.

  She didn't realize she had been standing there all that long until she heard footsteps enter the kitchen behind her.

  “Teeg? You okay?”

  Tegan turned to face her sister, Topaz. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  “Okay. You sure?” Topaz narrowed her eyes as if she didn't believe her little sister.

  Tegan forced a smile and nodded. She and Topaz were polar opposites, and it showed. Tegan's eyes shone gold, Topaz's sky blue. Tegan's hair hung in black curls, while Topaz had fair golden hair that hung in waves down her back. Topaz had already dressed for the day in dark skinny jeans, a black lacy shirt, and sneakers that laced up to her knees. Tegan much preferred lighter colors and silhouettes without the harsh lines.

  Their one common bond remained. Their creativity.

  Topaz grabbed a plain brown mug from the cabinet and poured coffee to the brim. She precariously balanced it on the way over to the table. “You've been standing there for ten minutes.”

  “What?” Tegan looked at the clock on the microwave, which now read 6:13. She might have been standing there longer than Topaz knew. “Oh. Yeah.” Tegan hurriedly poured half a cup of coffee and grabbed creamer from the fridge and sugar from the cabinet. “Why are you up so early?”

  “I have some errands to run before I head out this afternoon.” Topaz paused to wait for a reaction. “You do remember that I told you I had an audition in Dallas tomorrow, right?”

  If Tegan were honest, she would have answered no. She vaguely remembered Tegan saying something about her agent and an audition, but she didn't remember the details. She had probably been preoccupied again.

  She sighed. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. I know better than to interrupt.” Topaz swallowed a long swig of the black brew before her. “You sure you're going to be okay while I'm gone?”

  “It's not like you're always here, anyway,” Tegan laughed. Well, she tried to laugh. “I'm alone for most of the day. I'll be fine.”

  “Okay. But if anything, and I mean anything is bothering you, you get on that phone and you call me. I will stop whatever I'm doing.”

  Tegan sank down in a chair next to her sister and reached a hand to grasp hers. “I know you want to protect me, but we both know that doesn't always happen. I have to liv
e my own life sometime.”

  Topaz raised an eyebrow and downed another swallow.

  “Ugh! How do you drink that?” Her sister's tolerance of the bitter drink always appalled Tegan, but for some reason, it annoyed her more than usual in recent days. Maybe their prolonged close proximity brought that on.

  Topaz raised her glass and chugged the end of the hot liquid. She lifted an eyebrow as she did so. “Yum.”

  Tegan rolled her eyes. Topaz. Ever the rebellious, lively one. She deserved freedom, not the bondage of babysitting Tegan all the time.

  “Maybe...” Tegan almost couldn't bring herself to say it. Her fingers tightened around her mug, gripping with a force she didn't know she had. “Maybe it's time you moved out.”

  Topaz choked on her drink and leaned forward to press the palm of her hand into her chest. Her eyes went wide. “What?”

  “I'm sorry, it was a bad idea.” Tegan lowered her eyes to her coffee and quickly swallowed as much as she could. The scalding liquid burned her throat on the way down and left a trail of searing heat through her core.

  “No, it wasn't. It's just...” she cleared her throat and set down her mug. She moved her hands to her lap, suddenly all poise and posture. “It was unexpected.”

  “You don't think I'm crazy?” Tegan said it as though she expected a harsh response.

  Topaz leaned forward and rested a hand on Tegan's wrist. She smiled encouragingly. “Teeg, you're not crazy. It's a great idea. I think it's time for you to take another step forward. To full recovery.”

  Tegan wanted to argue that she'd never fully recover, for many more reasons than Topaz thought, but instead, she nodded. “I just thought it might be a good idea to try to make it on my own. Don't get me wrong, you've been such a huge help lately and I really appreciate all you've done. I just-”

  Her phone buzzed at the other end of the table, where she had set it to charge the night before. She snatched it up, read the brief message, and tried not to let her emotions show on her face. She failed horribly.

  “Hey, are you okay? What is it?” Her sister studied her face. A face that probably looked like it had seen a ghost. Because, in essence, she had.

  Tegan dropped the phone like a hot potato. Thankfully, it didn't break or shatter. “I'm fine. It's... there are triggers everywhere.”

  “I know.” Topaz lifted her shoulders, then settled them again. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be.” Tegan knew she said it too fast, but she couldn't help it. Her reaction, even after all this time, frustrated and angered her. “It's been a year. I should be over this.”

  “There is no specified amount of time for recovery from something like this.”

  “What, did you learn that for one of your commercial roles? Psychiatrist number two?”

  Topaz pressed her lips together and sat back in her chair. Her bright eyes clouded over, as though Tegan lanced her.

  “Sorry.” Tegan dropped her head into her hands. “That was mean.”

  “Yeah, it was.” Topaz ran her hand through the top of her hair, which pulled it from around her face. “Have any of those cops or detectives been to see you lately?”

  Tegan stood and snatched her mug, headed for the sink. “You'd know if they had. I don't think they particularly like my answers.”

  “So, you wouldn't have told them anything? Even if they asked?”

  “You already know that answer. I can't make myself.” Tegan shook her head. “But I should be able to. It's like my heart and my head are just pummeling each other, and neither wants to give up.”

  “Have you tried writing through it?”

  “Every day.” Tegan turned the hot water on, full blast. It did nothing to purge the overwhelming emotions at war inside of her. It did succeed in dislodging a small piece of clumped sugar from the bottom of the mug.

  Topaz stood and dropped her mug into the sink next to Tegan's, just as the phone buzzed again. “Most therapists suggest their traumatized subjects keep notebooks to work out the emotions.”

  “Yeah, mine did too. And kept insisting.” Tegan sighed and stalked over to check who had messaged her. “That's why I fired her.”

  “We are forever going to disagree on that point.”

  “She wasn't cutting me any slack. The insisting also consisted of yelling at me. If I didn't write exactly how she would, then I wasn't doing it right. Trust me, it's better for me to work through this alone.” She opened the message and almost dropped the phone again.

  Topaz propped her hands on her slim hips. “Okay, something is seriously wrong with you. What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Tegan lied. “You'd better get going if you're going to get anything done before your flight this afternoon.”

  Topaz threw her little sister a disapproving glance before she pulled her own phone out of her pocket to check the time. “Unfortunately, you're right. I'll be back for my stuff, okay?”

  “Okay,” Tegan agreed.

  Topaz shook her head once and headed for the front door. Her sneakers beat a consistent rhythm on the hard wood floor.

  Tegan weighed her options, shook her head from side to side, and then rushed after her. She rapped her sister on the shoulder. As soon as Topaz turned out, Tegan threw her arms around Topaz's neck.

  “I love you, Topaz.”

  Topaz returned the embrace, albeit trepidatiously. “I love you, too. I just hate it when you keep things from me.”

  “I know.” Tegan pulled back and dropped her gaze.

  Topaz sighed. She sounded more frustrated now than before. “I'll be back in a bit. Stay out of trouble.”

  Tegan chuckled. “I will.”

  Yet, as Topaz left via the giant front doors, Tegan wasn't so sure she could do as her sister asked. She glanced down at the phone still in her hand, the message displayed on the lit-up screen.

  Make sure she's out by the end of the week.

  As much as she wanted to deny it, Tegan knew that he was aware of the hold he had over her. And he'd come back to flaunt what he could do.

  Chapter Two

  The wheels on the desk chair squeaked as Riley leaned back in it and forced it to support most of his weight. He hated filing. He would much rather be working. Even if work was mundane most days. He twirled a pen in one hand, then dropped it onto the desk with a sigh. It clacked quietly as it hit the wooden surface.

  Riley rubbed his hands over his face. Why was he so irritable today?

  “Long night?”

  At the sound of his business partner's voice, Riley peeled a finger aside to see him. “Not particularly. Just... testy.”

  “Oh, that's right, you're not the ladies' man.”

  “Only because I thought you had the job pretty well covered.” Riley righted the chair and picked the pen back up. Paperwork it was.

  “Yeah. I love hearing you say that. It-”

  “David.” Riley raised an eyebrow and waited for the response.

  David shrugged. “Just speaking the truth.”

  “You're such a narcissist.”

  “Yeah, I know.” David knocked twice on the door-frame and disappeared down the hall.

  Riley rolled his eyes. David Jeffries, ex-CIA operative and one of Riley's two business partners, had indeed been diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder. That, however, had never hindered his abilities in the field. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the attention he got when something happened. He'd been shot twice during protection details. His care for others, while he did his job, was the only reason Riley asked him to be a business partner.

  His phone trilled. Riley pulled it out of his pocket and opened the text. An automated message from the front desk glared back at him.

  Riley smiled. The invention of their genius message alert system had been his idea. Part of the reason he held the lion's share of the company. He liked to think of himself as the brains of the whole operation.

  He noted the button Monica depressed told him this new client simply walked in. Then he flipped open
a file with the “Stone Private Protection Specialists” logo emblazoned on the front. He would let the client sit for a few minutes. That often weeded out the petty jobs from the serious ones. He preferred the serious ones.

  “Riley!”

  His head shot up at the indignant tone in their secretary's voice.

  Monica propped her hands on her hips and shook her head. Her tightened jaw said more than any words about her anger. “I know you got my message, because you set up the faux buzzer system. You have a walk-in.”

  “Just trying to make sure she's not here for some paranoid assignment.” Riley stacked the last of his papers and set them to the side of his desk.

  “Judging by the way she's tapping her toes and mutilating her nails, she's here on some serious business. Get your butt up and get out here.” Monica motioned with her head and turned to return to her station out front.

  Riley knew better than to mess with the five-foot-seven, no-nonsense woman. One look from Monica could silence a squirrel. Hey, not a bad idea. Maybe she could take care of the squirrel infestation in his back yard.

  Riley shook his head. Off topic. He downed one too many cups of coffee, his focus was way off. He had to get it together. He rolled his shoulders, straightened his suit coat, and traced Monica's steps to the outer door.

  One swipe of his key card allowed him to exit the office and enter the lobby.

  Monica nodded at him approvingly, and Riley smiled at her. She was more a mother than an assistant to all three men who worked there. He turned to their “walk-in” client.

  The girl stood as soon as she noted his gaze. She tucked her hands neatly behind her back.

  It took less than a minute for Riley to size her up. She possessed a classic beauty. Five-five, five-six at most. Long blonde hair, but eccentric clothing styles. The knee-high sneakers were enough to draw anyone's attention. And she was definitely nervous.

  Riley cleared his throat, pasted on his business smile to make her feel more comfortable, and extended a hand. “Riley Stone. And you are?”

  She eyed his hand before she took it in an iron grip and shook it. “Topaz. Topaz Winters.”