All His Secrets (Manhattan Misters Book 1) Read online

  All His Secrets

  Maya Hughes

  Contents

  Foreword

  1. Rhys

  2. Mel

  3. Rhys

  4. Mel

  5. Rhys

  6. Rhys

  7. Rhys

  8. Mel

  9. Rhys

  10. Mel

  11. Rhys

  12. Mel

  13. Rhys

  14. Mel

  15. Rhys

  16. Mel

  17. Rhys

  18. Mel

  19. Rhys

  20. Mel

  21. Rhys

  22. Mel

  23. Rhys

  24. Mel

  25. Rhys

  26. Mel

  27. Rhys

  28. Mel

  29. Rhys

  30. Mel

  31. Rhys

  32. Mel

  33. Mel

  34. Rhys

  35. Mel

  36. Mel

  Epilogue

  Also by Maya Hughes

  Connect with Maya

  Copyright © 2017 by Maya Hughes

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: Nail Qamber, Qamber Creations

  Foreword

  “When love awakens in your life, in the night of your heart, it is like the dawn breaking within you. Where before there was anonymity, now there is intimacy; where before there was fear, now there is courage; where before in your life there was awkwardness, now there is a rhythm of grace and gracefulness; where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with yourself. When love awakens in your life, it is like a rebirth, a new beginning.”

  ― John O'Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

  1

  Rhys

  “We would like a round of applause for one of our most generous benefactor to the Ashton Foundation. Mr. Rhys Thayer,” said the rotund man with the bright red cheeks.

  I stood, buttoning my suit jacket and waving to the crowd as applause filled the room. You would’ve thought he’d just run a mile in six minutes flat the way sweat poured down his face and soaked through his shirt right at the center of his chest. But no, he’d just walked up a few steps to the top of the stage. The man, what was his name? Gary? Grant? Graham? It didn’t matter anyway.

  The G man grasped my hand in his and pumped it up and down furiously, like he wanted to detach my fucking hand from my arm. I gripped him by the shoulder, keeping that stupid smile plastered on my face, and squeezed. Grant/Gary/Graham released my hand from his sweaty grip and I wiped it on my suit pants that probably cost more than this guy’s toupee. At least they weren’t mine anyway.

  “Would you like to give a speech?” the G man said, spittle flying in my face.

  “No, that’s quite all right. I wouldn’t want to keep everyone from enjoying their wonderful lunch. Plus, I’m sure everyone would much rather listen to the beautiful song that’s been prepared rather than have me squawk up here,” I said and in three, two, one, peals of laughter broke out across the crowd. It wasn’t even a funny joke. But when you had money like me it didn’t matter. I could whip my dick out and piss on someone sitting in the front row and they’d applaud.

  Derek appeared by the side of the stage to escort me out. Saved by the fucking bell. The music swelled and whatever opera singer took the stage and belted out her song. I excused myself and made my way down the stairs at the back of the stage.

  “What took you so long?”

  “I had to make sure Esme was settled with Hunter okay before I left,” Derek said, keeping his eyes forward as he led me out of the hotel. He needed to lighten up. I hadn’t had a death threat in months.

  “How was she?” I said, matching my stride with Derek, which was quite a feat considering even at six-foot-two, Derek dwarfed me by at least four inches.

  “She was fine. He was going to take her to the toy store.”

  “Okay, good. That’s a great way for him to ingratiate himself with her.”

  “Did she say anything when you left?” Derek shot me a hard glance. “You know what I mean,” he said, shrugging. Esme hadn’t spoken to anyone but me since the day she’d been found next to her mother’s body. Derek was the only other person alive who knew that fact.

  “No. She didn’t.” And that was the end of the conversation. Derek held open the door to the black SUV and I climbed in. Next stop, the bank. You’d think the life of a billionaire philanthropist meant lots of free time, but all I did was get shuttled from meeting to meeting, event to event, gala to gala. I hadn’t had a day off in the past six months. It drained every ounce of energy I had. Especially when I hated every minute of it.

  2

  Mel

  The din of chatter and silverware clinking filled the air. The pungent smell of carbs and coffee clung to every surface in the diner, including my uniform. I tucked my pen behind my ear as I stood in front of my eighth table this shift. At least tips would be good with so many tables packed in my section. The middle-aged couple at my table continued to flip through their menu. I’d visited this table three times now, waiting for them to order. I could cut to the chase and let them know that whatever they chose sucked. The only thing that kept this restaurant open was the prime NYC location with a continuous flow of unsuspecting tourists with their wallets wide-open.

  Martin reminded us time and time again that customers came to the diner for the atmosphere, not the food. As I glanced around at the cracked tiles and dingy paint, tapping my foot, he was a greedy little weasel who capitalized on the fact he’d allowed a movie to film in the diner ages ago. He’d been trading on that little gem for decades.

  “We’ll have the—”

  Yes, finally! My enthusiasm of getting an order out of them was cut short by the clattering of a chair behind me. I spun and caught a streak of blue as the customers from my fifth table of the evening dashed out the front door. Fuck. I dropped my notepad on the table and raced after them, my sneakers squealing on the broken tiles as I pushed through the door after them.

  Martin was crystal clear about the waitress’s responsibility when it came to dine and dashers. As in, it was our complete and total responsibility to stop them and if they got away, well, that came out of our paychecks. Totally illegal, but there wasn’t much choice other than quitting.

  The frigid wind and rain stung my face as I pushed through the crowds of people with umbrellas wandering aimlessly down the sidewalk. Out of the way. I was tempted to start body checking old ladies as the bright blue jacket of the guy who skipped out on the check got farther and farther out of sight.

  One second I spotted a gap in the crowd and bolted for it and the next, the world tilted as I slammed my knees into the hard, cold, wet sidewalk.

  “Ahh,” I yelped, as the crowds surged past me like a rock plunked down in the middle of a river. The rain kicked up a notch and pelted me. I shoved my hand against the sidewalk and pushed myself up off the ground. I glanced down and a thin trail of blood rolled down my shin. I cursed at the rain and the asshole who skipped out on the check. I limped off to the side of the sidewalk and found a dry spot under an awning. I lifted my knee to check out the damage.

  “Hey, baby, looking good,” someone from the surging crowd called out and I dropped my leg, suddenly completely aware of how short my uniform skirt was and the fact I hadn’t had any clean underwear, so I went without. I flipped the bird to no
one in particular as people flowed by. I hope he enjoyed the show. My pantyhose were ripped and there were a few runs going the length of my leg. Martin required all his waitresses to wear pantyhose, like we were living in the ’70s. I’d have to stop off and buy a new pair from the corner shop. I slammed my head against the brick wall behind me—and get out some money to pay the check of the dashers. Damnit. Today was not shaping up to be my day. Not like that was different from any other day.

  I limped down the sidewalk, wrapping my arms around me as icy rain pelted me and stabbed right through my cheap pink uniform. On my way back to the diner, I came to the bank and popped inside their toasty vestibule to use the ATM. I slipped my card in, rubbing my hands together and breathing into them. My warm breath temporarily thawed my fingers enough to punch in my pin. A twenty should cover the food and some new hose. A blinking blue message flashed on the screen. ‘Insufficient Funds.’ I checked my balance. Less than twelve dollars. That didn’t make any sense. My breath caught in my chest.

  I punched in the numbers again. There had to be a mistake. Again, the same flashing screen popped up. I gritted my teeth as tears welled in my eyes. I hated crying. And I hated even more that when I got pissed I cried. An involuntary reflex that gave me so much trouble over the year. I still didn’t understand it. I’d had over three hundred dollars in there last week.

  I told Nancy not to touch this account without letting me know first. She cackled on about not having the card anyway. She hadn’t touched it in over a year and I hadn’t had enough money to open a new account anywhere else. I rested my head against the cold metal of the ATM and retrieved my card.

  The door behind me opened, and a cold blast shot straight down my spine and goose bumps peppered my skin. My wet uniform was even more uncomfortable. What the hell am I going to do now? A white linen handkerchief appeared under my nose and I jerked my head away. Standing beside me with her arm outreached was a little girl.

  “For your boo boo,” she said, pointing to my knee. The blood congealed some on my knee, but the long drips of blood stained through the pantyhose.

  She couldn’t have been more than six or seven. She looked up at me with her big bright blue eyes and motioned with the handkerchief. Raindrops peppered her hat and coat. Unlike my clothes, the water didn’t seep in and soak through hers, it rolled right off.

  “Thanks, kid, but I’ll be okay,” I said, crumpling the ATM receipt and dropping it into the trashcan.

  “For your boo boo,” she repeated and followed me, insisting I take it. I felt bad. I didn’t want to get blood on this super nice piece of fabric.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the handkerchief from her. What the hell is she doing with a handkerchief anyway? Weren’t these only for guys fifty and above? I ran my fingers over the super soft and thick fabric. This thing probably cost more than I made in a week. I took a closer look at the little girl. If there was ever a kid to walk around with one, it was her.

  “Where are your parents, kiddo?”

  She shrugged.

  She had on an adorable navy pea coat, dark tights, soaked through ballet flats, and an honest to God beret on top of her sandy brown hair with a mini purse slung across her body. Who is this kid? I glanced around and looked for her parents.

  “You shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t run away from people who care about you,” I snapped. A roll of nausea rolled through me as I thought about how much trouble she could have gotten into. She shrank back and I cringed. Chill out. I took a deep breath. I relaxed and bent down to her.

  “Sorry, kiddo. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” I scanned the people walking around on the other side of the glass of the vestibule. I checked for someone who looked frantic, but everyone as far as I could see milled around, umbrellas up, just doing their own thing. I checked my phone. I needed to get back to the diner before Martin had my head, but I didn’t want to leave her here. Indecision warred in me as I peered down at her. I didn’t want her getting picked up by the cops. Who knows what kind of shitstorm that could rain down on her.

  “Which way did you come from?” I said, crouching down in front of her. I winced at the throbbing pain in my knee. As I warmed up in the bank, the pain from my knee gradually registered. She turned and pointed back down the street toward the diner. Okay, that helped some. I’d have to take her with me and hope we ran into her parents on the way back to the diner.

  “My name is Melanie, but my friends call me Mel. What’s your name?” I held out my hand for her to shake it. She slid her warm little hand into mine.

  “Esme. My name is Esme.” Her squeaky little voice made me smile. She was a cute kid.

  “Okay, Esme. Let’s go, we’ll go to the diner where I work and keep you warm until we figure out where your parents are.”

  “My daddy,” she squeaked out.

  “Your daddy?” I said, holding on to her hand. She nodded. “Great, we’ll find your daddy and get you back home safe and sound. How does that sound?” I paused in front of the door and prepared myself for another cold blast. She gripped my hand tighter and I squeezed right back.

  “Don’t worry, it’s only a couple of blocks and we’ll be there before you know it. Do you like hot chocolate?” I asked. Her eyes lit up, sparkling under the glare of the vestibule light. She could have my food from this shift. I was sure she was scared out of her mind. “Let’s go, kiddo,” I said, whipping the door open. The frigid air hit us, but the rain had let up, so it was only spitting. She gripped my hand tightly as we hustled back to the diner. I’d have to go without the pantyhose. If Martin wanted to throw a fit, he could go buy me another pair.

  I kept my eye out for anyone frantic as we walked back the couple of blocks to the diner. We pushed through the door and it was business as usual inside. Jeanine covered my tables and Martin must have been hanging in his office because I know for sure, he would have been standing at the register with the check they’d skipped out on in hand, demanding I pay, right then, if he knew I’d had a couple of dashers. Maybe I’d be able to scrape by with enough tips to cover it by the end of my shift. Jeanine’s eyebrow quirked up seeing Esme’s hand in mine. I shrugged my shoulders and got Esme situated on one of the stools at the counter.

  “Why don’t you hop up here?” I said, lifting her up. She clamored up onto the seat and spun around. She looked so out of place in here. Someone was probably having a fit over her going missing. I knew all about that. My stomach dropped as I thought about how horrible of a feeling that was. “How about some hot chocolate?”

  She nodded and I called out to Jim for a mug of the warm chocolatey treat. It was probably the only thing in the whole place that wasn’t horrible. He gave me a sweaty nod and went to work.

  “I’ll be right back, okay?” I said. Her hand shot out and gripped mine tightly, squeezing my fingers together. She had quite a grip. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to go right over there to my friend. See her?” I said, pointing at Jeanine, who shot back and forth from table to table. “I’m going to go help her out. She’s doing me a favor by waiting in the tables for me and I don’t want to upset her.”

  “Okay,” she squeaked out, so low it was barely a whisper.

  “Thanks, Esme.” I rushed over to Jeanine. She shot me a glare and I cringed.

  “Did a little sightseeing? And picked up a stray?” she said, bustling past me into the kitchen. Looks like my share of the tips would be a lot smaller tonight. But I owed her. Jim slid a cup of hot chocolate to Esme across the counter. She brought it up and took a small sip. A big smile spread across her face. Good, she was happy. She kicked her feet and spun slowly on the stool.

  I rushed back and forth from table to table, bringing out orders placed while I was out and cleaning up tables that finished up. Every so often I’d shoot Esme a glance and one out the window looking for anyone freaking out about a kid on the streets. Droves of people passed by and a few customers came in for a meal. Other than that, it was like any other day.

  Esm
e seemed perfectly content to hang out on the stool, spinning around some and drawing a picture or two on the placemats with some crayons I’d scrounged up from the back. No one spoke to her and she didn’t speak to anyone else. I couldn’t help but wonder where she came from. I didn’t know how long I should wait to call the cops. I didn’t want to get her in trouble. I didn’t want to get whoever lost her in trouble. Another sharp pang crashed into my stomach and I wrapped my arms around my waist.

  Sometimes kids make mistakes. They get angry, run away. They never think of the consequences of what they’ve done. Never think it can change the course of their entire life in a moment. I knew how the mistakes of a child could be held against them. Could ruin their life. I didn’t want anything like that to happen to Esme.