Can't wait till release day?  Book 3 in my latest romantic suspense series, The O'Connells, is coming soon, but you can grab a sneak peek of THE SECRET HUSBAND today!

He says he’s innocent, and he needs her help. 



Her first response is to say no, but Karen knows Jack isn’t the kind of guy to ask for help from anyone, especially not from the ex-wife he openly despises and hasn’t seen in years. She knows there must be more to the story—but what she doesn’t know is that the mysterious circumstances surrounding the murder could be the reason their hasty marriage ended so badly.


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Chapter 1

Although some couples bragged of Friday date nights filled with romance and dinner, followed by extremely hot sex, Karen O’Connell’s Friday nights unfortunately consisted of a quiet, darkened office, a shot of whiskey, and the locked drawer in her desk that only she ever went into.

She stared at the names on the files that filled the drawer, names that were meaningless to the masses but left her reaching for the bottle of whiskey she kept tucked in the back, a single short lead-cut crystal highball glass, and a green velvet ring box. The drawer was a constant reminder, like an albatross around her neck, of everything wrong with her life.

At the same time, she only ever opened it on Friday nights or whenever she needed to add yet another file from a case where she hadn’t gotten the win her client deserved. It was a drawer that, she supposed, if she had to put a label on it, symbolized sorrow, heartache, pain, grief, anger, every sickening emotion that seemed to encompass what the legal system was becoming more and more as of late.

These were the kinds of defeat and sorrow she didn’t share with anyone. How could she? Right and wrong seemed so unfair, leaving her filled with such anger, a trait in her that others considered unreasonable. At times, people compared her to a pit bull, not understanding what really drove her. But considering the names on these files all came with faces that haunted Karen every night when she closed her eyes, this was a fight she couldn’t figure out how to win.

Why did she do this to herself? If she were like every other lawyer out there, she’d have told herself she’d done the best she could, that this was just the nature of her job, and to move on. But to Karen, these lost cases were lives that had been destroyed—mothers, daughters, fathers, brothers, husbands. They were each someone’s child, and every one of them had been on the wrong side of the crapshoot called justice. Being on the other side left Karen feeling so damn helpless.

She lifted the short glass and downed another swallow of the two fingers of whiskey, her secret indulgence, one no one in her family knew about. She kicked off her pumps, letting her bare toes dig into the carpet, and swiveled around and leaned back in her chair, taking in the two large windows that looked out at the darkened downtown.

Just then, the phone started ringing, and she did what she always did on Friday night: ignored it and let voicemail pick it up.

She waited until it stopped ringing before she settled into the vibration of the bass from the downstairs bar, welcoming the distraction. In that second of near silence, she lifted the glass and took a swallow, relishing the burn and then letting out a sigh. She turned back around, taking in the pile of files and seeing Reine Colbert’s on top, her most recent case. As she opened the file and took in everything, the angst of it had her wishing she could have done more for a woman she felt had been screwed by everyone. She lifted the bottle, seeing it was half full, and poured another two fingers just as her cell phone lit up.

“Persistent, aren’t they?” she said to no one as she took in the caller ID. It was Owen, her brother, who’d been more of a father to her—to all of the siblings, even though he’d been just a kid himself—than their own dad, whom she’d loved more than anything but who had decided to fuck off one day without even a goodbye to any of them.

Her hand hovered over the red decline, but at the same time, Owen was the one who never called. She answered. “Any chance that was you who called the office a second ago?”

“So you are there,” he said. “Is that how you answer the phone?”

She didn’t pick up her cell phone but left it on the desk, leaving the speaker on. Her brother’s voice seemed to hold an edge. “It is when someone’s phoning and bugging me when I just want to be left alone.” She swirled the amber liquid, welcoming the burn as she made herself close up Reine’s file. Under it was Lawrence Green’s, another sad case, one of her first where the defendant ended up doing time for a crime she knew, deep down, he hadn’t committed.

“I guess that answers my question as to where you are. Was just at Marcus and Charlotte’s new place, setting up Eva’s bunk bed. We just picked it up. Everyone’s there except you. Suzanne said you’ve got some standing appointment on Fridays, and Ryan said he’d heard that too, but then, as everyone was talking about you, which you know we all do, things just didn’t jive. I know you stay at the office every Friday night, but doing what? That, I haven’t figured out yet.”

She couldn’t help the amusement that tugged at her lips even though she felt like crap, considering Owen was a plumber, not a detective. “You spying on me?”

He said nothing for a second, and she wasn’t sure what she heard in the background. “Don’t need to. Generally, I just know what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, where you are, and when something is off with you. The fact that your office light is still on…”

She turned in her chair, feeling the hair on the back of her neck spike. “Uh…where are you?” She stood up, going to the window and looking out and down on the street, where her brother’s plumbing van was parked out front.

Owen was standing there on the sidewalk, looking up and giving her a wave. “Let me in,” he said. “Your door’s locked.” Then he hung up.

“Shit…” she said under her breath.

There was something about him tonight. On the phone, Owen hadn’t sounded like himself. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she rested the glass on the desk with the files and hurried barefoot to her office door. After pulling it open, she took in the empty desk of the receptionist she still needed to hire and strode to the stairs, down the dirty wood steps, which needed a sweep and a wash.

Her brother was looking at her through the commercial glass. She’d see what he wanted and send him on his way. Owen was dressed as he always was, blue jeans that had seen better days and a T-shirt, always appearing as if he’d just been at a jobsite. She, meanwhile, was still in her navy dress.

She flicked the lock, and he pulled the door open and somehow maneuvered her back as he stepped in, flicking the deadbolt behind him. He was the same height and build as all her brothers, tall and broad shouldered, and he had the same O’Connell blue eyes as all of them, but at least he’d shaved.

“Drinking alone?” Ah, so he could smell it.

“And working…” she started as she crossed her arms, taking in the way he looked down at her before starting up the stairs ahead of her. “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs, to your office,” he said, and she hurried after him, wanting to stuff the files back in the drawer along with the whiskey, which was sitting open on her desk.

“Hey, Owen, just give me a second to clean up…” she said as she raced around him to her door, not having to turn around to know he was right behind her.

“You have a new client or case coming up?”

She reached for the bottle and screwed the cap back on, not missing his expression, the way he was taking in her desk, the files, the bottle, everything.

“Wow, single malt, strong, bold. You can pour me a glass,” he said, not waiting for her answer.

Her brain was still trying to come up with a story that sounded reasonable as she watched her brother make himself comfortable in the chair across her desk, where every client who came to her for help sat. Owen, though, lifted his sneakered feet and rested them on her desk, crossing them. His gaze took in the files again, and she couldn’t help feeling as if he were seeing into her secret, private self, which she showed no one.

She just held the bottle and took in the glass on her desk, then the washed empty mug that had held her coffee that morning. She poured a splash in the mug and took in his gesture for more.

“Bad day?” he added as she handed him the mug before sitting down in her chair and lifting her own glass.

She considered what to say, resting her hand on the files as Owen’s gaze locked on to hers. Of course, he could see the names. She had a thing for big bold print on file tabs.

“Same as any other,” she finally replied and settled her glass back on the desk. She gathered the files and stuffed them back into the drawer along with the bottle of whiskey, then closed it and turned the key, which was still in the lock. She pulled it out and rested it on the desk, taking in the way her brother was watching her.

“You know you did the best you could,” he said. “No one could have done more than you. Give yourself a break. So is this you punishing yourself? I don’t get it.”

She didn’t say anything for a second, then took in the smile that really wasn’t a smile on her brother’s face as he lifted the mug and downed the rest of the liquor. The way he pulled in a breath, she knew he too relished the burn.

She went to say something, then decided against it, lifting her glass and swirling around the amber liquid. “So what are you doing here?”

Owen rested the mug on her old scratched desk and took his time looking around her office. “Truth? Checking on you, considering what happened to Reine Colbert. I knew you took it hard, and everyone was wondering about you and how you really are. This looks like a Friday night pity party.”

She froze, listening to the tick of the clock on the wall above the file cabinet, which held cases and clients and documents that didn’t carry the same emotional baggage that her drawer of sorrow did. She flicked her gaze up and took in the intensity of her brother’s gaze. Okay, so he knew, maybe?

“Ah…” was all she could get out. She sat back in her chair, hearing the woosh. “Pity party.” She tried to conjure up something profound, but nothing came.

Owen just lifted his hand and waved, that same motion he had used with all of them, growing up, when he wanted them to stop whatever bullshit was about to come out of their mouths. How in the hell had he ever managed to step into the role of their father? He’d been just a teenager, sixteen.

“You think I didn’t figure it out some time ago?” he said. “This Friday night thing, this ritual you have…” He gestured to her desk, her glass. “Drinking whiskey and staying at the office—doing what, I wasn’t really sure. I have to wonder, from those old case files on your desk, if that’s part of it.”

“What do you think you know? Seriously, Owen, every good lawyer looks at those lost cases because that’s what makes you get better. You’re being ridiculous. So what if I’m here, working?” Her bare feet hit the floor, and both her palms were flat on the desk.

Owen jabbed a finger to her glass. “You’re drinking the hard stuff that you never drink.”

“Who else knows?”

He raised a brow, always the silent observer. “Well, I had an idea. Pretty sure Luke does too. I know Suzanne has wondered. Marcus and Ryan…” He just shrugged. “They’re wrapped up in their stuff. Every Friday night you make some excuse, yet I see the lights on in your office, and I figured out the whiskey thing because Marcus mentioned he spotted you leaving the liquor store with it. Suzanne said she’s seen you leaving the office late on Friday night a couple times when she’s been out on a call, and you walk instead of drive. We all know when you’ve been drinking. Luke said we need to give you space while you figure out how to deal with a bad loss, because we know how personally you take your cases. You seem to forget I listen to everyone and put the puzzle together. Guess I just don’t understand why you put yourself through it.”

There it was. Her secret was unraveling. How could she explain to anyone when she didn’t understand herself?

“Is it too much for a little privacy in this family?” she said, reaching for her glass and leaning back. She turned her chair to the side as she took another swallow.

“Karen, Karen, Karen, you should know better. Privacy in our family? You forget, I’ve been watching your back for how long? As for the whiskey thing, don’t worry. No one in the family would believe you drink it. Marcus likely thought you were picking it up for someone. This pity party, you looking at those cases or whatever you’re doing, no one else has figured it out.”

“But you have.” She turned to her brother, who ran his hand over his face.

He was handsome, a catch, yet he was as single as she, Luke and Suzanne were. The one that they all depended on, Owen was only a few years older than they were, yet he had been a father to them all. Maybe the day their father left was the day she’d decided to hide everything she was thinking and feeling. Every man who’d ever said he loved her had turned his back on her and walked away, except her brothers.

“Yeah, always had my eye on you,” Owen said. “The trouble you’d get into… Your prickly personality pushes everyone away, and at times you just can’t help but make things difficult for yourself, with the way you’d scrap with Mom, with anyone and everyone. You need to let those cases go. You did more than anyone could do.”

“They got a raw deal, Owen. You know, when I went to law school and then started practicing, I never realized law is just a different version of poker, a game of chance, where your life is in the hands of someone who doesn’t know who you truly are. It’s a toss of the dice, all up to whether the DA got laid the night before, or is fighting with his wife, or has profiled you because of the color of your skin, or because you’re poor, or because you’re a woman, or because you didn’t come from a good home, a good neighborhood, or because you pissed off the wrong person, because, because… I could keep going. Racial and social profiling are things everyone does, but at the same time, you’ll never get a judge, DA, or defense lawyer, never mind your average person out there, to admit they do it, because then they’d have to admit that this broken system doesn’t work, and everyone’s preconceived ideas about people and situations are in fact what should be on trial.”

There she went, on a roll. She wasn’t sure, by the way her brother cocked a brow, whether he was about to mock her, scold her, or tell her to get over herself.

Instead, he pulled in a breath. “Wow, you really are stuck in a dark place. I hope this isn’t a place you go often, as it’s not helping you or anyone and can make you bitter.”

The way he said it felt so much like a scolding that she wanted to snarl.

He held up a hand. “You think I don’t know all that? Of course I do. I saw the closed doors Mom faced, even though no one else did. But give yourself a break, Karen. It’s the way the world works and always has. You’re making a difference, and you need to start looking at what’s working instead of what isn’t. This dark place your head is in isn’t doing you any good.”

He gestured to her desk. “I know all those cases you’ve lost stick with you. If you had been any other lawyer, though, it would have been far worse for them. Reine Colbert would have gotten a lot more time, Lawrence Green would’ve been in a supermax in another state, where his family couldn’t visit, Janine Baker wouldn’t be up for parole next month, with a chance to reunite with her family, and Matt Wilky would never see the light of day again instead of having the chance of parole in fifteen years, all because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“You want me to go on? Yeah, those cases sucked, and I saw how you took what happened personally after each one. But no one could have done better. It was a crapshoot for them anyway. You think I don’t know how you see a part of yourself in those cases that everyone else calls a lost cause? So how about you start telling yourself that you give a damn, and you did what you could, but it’s not all on you?”

She just stared at her brother. “Is this a pep talk?” She settled her glass on the desk, crossing her legs again, leaning back. “Because, in case you didn’t get the memo, I’m a big girl and can look after myself.”

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then so be it, but you’re still my little sister, and a pain in the ass, too. You always did take things way too personally. You can’t fix everything for everyone. Sometimes you’re just going to have to tell yourself that you did all you could, and that’s the best that can be hoped for. Life isn’t always fair, Karen. It can suck sometimes, too.”

She didn’t know why, but the way Owen said it had her leaning forward on the desk, really looking at him. He never said anything about what was going on in his life. Instead, he was always steady for all of them.

“You okay there, Owen? You know, I’m getting the feeling something is going on with you. You know you don’t always have to be the one who carries everything for everyone else. You know you can tell me—” she started just as the office phone rang. She stared at it, and so did her brother. Damn the interruption. Who the hell was calling now?

“You going to answer that?” he said.

Well, Owen showing up here had ruined her melancholic Friday night alone time anyway. She hadn’t even had the chance to settle into the files, which were back under lock and key. She let out a sigh and reached for the phone.

“So who is it?” Owen said. “Mom, Suzanne, Ryan, Marcus…?”

She pressed the phone to her ear. “Karen O’Connell. The office is now closed, so unless this is really—”

“Karen.”

It was his voice. Deep, dark. It sucked her right back into that girl who had been nothing in his shadow. For a second, she had to remind herself to breathe. She somehow managed to turn her chair, because she couldn’t let Owen see how rattled she was. No freaking out.

“Are you there?” he said.

She breathed out, having to reminder herself that she hated this man, that he’d once called the cops on her because she wouldn’t leave him be. His was a voice she’d never forget. Her heart was pounding. “Yes, I’m here. Why are you calling?”

Owen was listening, she knew.

“So you know who this is?” the man said.

Of course she did. What was it about the voice of Jack Curtis, the first man she’d ever loved, the one she’d married, who’d broken her heart?

“You know what?” she said. “This really isn’t a good time for me, so if you don’t mind…” She went to turn around and hang up.

“Wait, don’t hang up. I need your help. And you know I wouldn’t call you unless the situation were really…dire.”

She didn’t have to turn in her chair to know her brother was more than listening to everything she was saying—and everything she wasn’t. She lowered her voice. “What I remember is that I’m not supposed to be talking to you. You made sure of that with the last set of cops. You’ve made your feelings for me very, very clear, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to hang up now.” She started to turn around again.

“Wait, Karen, don’t hang up. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m in trouble—the kind of trouble that has me calling the last woman I would expect to help me.”

“No, you look. I don’t know what this is or what kind of trouble you’re in, but let me remind you clearly of your words to me: You hate me, you want nothing to do with me, ever, and you never want to hear from me, talk to me, or see me again. In other words, I was and am very much dead to you, and—”

“I’m in jail,” Jack said. “I’ve been charged with murder. I didn’t do it.”

She found herself staring at the phone for a second before putting it back to her ear.

“So if you could put everything aside, please,” he said, “because I need your help.”

She just lifted her gaze to the ceiling and leaned back in the chair, very aware of how her end of the conversation likely sounded to her brother.

“Hello, Karen, are you there?” he said. “Don’t talk. Just listen. This is my one phone call. I’m in Sweetwater County Jail, and I’m stuck here until I go before a judge Monday morning. You know what that means.”

“Why me?” She let out a sigh.

“Because there’s something else you don’t know,” he started. She thought she heard someone in the background. “Look, I’ve got to go. Please, Karen, just please, show up.”

The line went dead, and she pulled the phone from her ear before turning her chair around and setting the receiver back in the cradle. It took her another second to ground herself enough to look at her brother. His confusion was in his expression.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Owen gestured to the phone and settled his feet back on the floor, not pulling his gaze from her. “Sounded to me like trouble. You in trouble? Something happened? Who aren’t you supposed to contact? You know I can call Marcus…”

She found herself shaking her head. “It’s someone I haven’t heard from in years, something that ended badly. You know that one person you never want to hear from, and then they call? Well, he called because he just landed in a shitload of trouble.”

Owen didn’t seem convinced. “Sounded like more than that, Karen. You may as well just tell me, because I’ll figure it out.”

She took in her desk, the empty glass, and her brother, who didn’t seem too interested in moving. “That was my husband,” she said. “He’s apparently in jail. I haven’t talked to him in years. He hates me, and I hate him. He called the cops on me, got a restraining order. Things ended very, very badly, and I never expected to hear from him again, but hey…” She gestured to the phone as if that explained everything. She could honestly say she’d never seen Owen appear so shocked. He didn’t wear it well.

“Right, good, glad to have this talk,” she said. “So, since you’re struggling to find something to say, let me help you. You’re right to think I didn’t tell anyone I got married. I hid it from all of you. At the time, it was a stupid-ass thing to do, a time in my life when I was doing stupid-ass things. Is there more to the story? Yes, absolutely. If you could just keep this little bombshell to yourself…”

Owen exhaled and looked around for a second as if trying to understand what she’d said. “I think you’d better start at the beginning,” he replied. “And this time, Karen, don’t leave anything out.”

Now, as the head deputy for the Livingston sheriff’s office, he knows everything about everybody, and no one can pull anything over on him. It’s why he’s such a damn good deputy. But even Marcus dreads what cops know as the third call.

When Marcus takes the call the first time, he thinks it’s a prank. The second time, he knows there’s a problem. The third time the call comes in and is patched through to him, he knows it’s something he can’t ignore. The only thing is, the girl is terrified and keeps hanging up, and Marcus knows someone is in the house with her. 

Where are her parents, and who is this mysterious girl who needs his help?

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"This was such a beautifully emotional yet sassy story...The connection between these two is amazing and the way they talk to each other shows how much they mean to each other. I loved this brief look into their lives. Very entertaining and sweet!" ★★★★★ Rabia T., Readers' Favorite

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