Nothing Hiding

NOTHING HIDING (A Juliette Hart FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Four) B L A K E P I E R C E CONTENTS PROLOGUE 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 EPILOGUE PROLOGUE "It's time." With narrowed eyes, Daisy McKay stared at the message. Her phone was on silent, of course. For this stealth mission, she couldn't even allow it to buzz. Silent meant completely quiet, only the flashing of the screen giving away when a message came through. "I'm ready," she texted back. "15 mins. Usual place." Her heart sped up. She jumped up from her perched position on her bed and glanced in the mirror. Wide, blue eyes stared back at her. Eyes that needed mascara to frame them. Quickly, she applied it, then smoothed raspberry colored lip gloss on her lips and her cheeks, an old make-up trick she'd learned back in the States that had worked for her. She tucked the lip gloss into her jeans pocket. Her thick, strawberry blonde hair was hidden away under a dark baseball cap, pulled low. She grabbed a black bomber jacket—too warm for this late summer evening, but stealth came first—and put her wallet in the pocket. She'd take it off when she got where she was going, and then, she’d enjoy the spangled, spaghetti-strapped top she was wearing underneath. Traveling light tonight. Well, there was no choice. She pushed open the bedroom door. This was the hard part. Here was where it got tricky. She couldn't go out of the front of the building, where security would be watching. Instead, she'd have to sneak her way out of the back—where an old-fashioned, outdoor fire escape offered an alternative route down to the kitchen—and then out the back, through the pedestrian gate, for which she’d managed to steal a key. Being an ambassador's daughter sounds all glamorous and fun, she thought to herself, walking as quietly as she could through the kitchen and toward the fire escape, tiptoeing awkwardly in her high heeled ankle boots. But what it means is that you're a prisoner half the darned time! I mean, here I am, locked up in an apartment with security outside! And I'm eighteen! Eighteen? And in a safe country? Britain's safe, right? My friends back home in the States are all going out and partying on their own! The rebellious thoughts helped infuse her with courage as she headed out of the steel barred back door, easing it gently open. Tonight, she was going to do something for herself, something that she had always wanted to do but seldom had the chance. She was going to have fun, to live a little, to feel alive. This was her chance to finally break free from the shackles of her overprotective father, who she felt was using his diplomatic status to try to control her, and to actually enjoy her life like a normal person. The night air hit her, warm and breezy and full of excitement. The groomed grounds of their residence made a pool of darkness, but London lay beyond. Lights glimmered; music pumped. It was eleven p.m. on a Friday, and the city was alive. Her parents were away overnight at a diplomatic function in Edinburgh. They'd wanted her to go, too, but she'd refused, with her plans already in mind. Hence, the increased security presence in her well-equipped, comfortable prison. Was that the guard? That dark figure, with his heavy tread? Taking in a deep, frantic breath, she flattened herself against the wall, clinging to the fire escape railing, staying as still as she could, hoping that if it was a guard, he would not look up. She waited, closing her eyes, her heart pounding as she anticipated his shout that would mean the end of her brief, exciting moment of freedom. Slowly, she counted to ten. Opened them again. The guard, if it had been him, was gone. Time to hustle. She ran as fast as she could, knowing that her feet were clanging on the stairs, reckoning the speed was worth the noise. Letting out a relieved breath that she didn't even realize she'd been holding in, she reached ground level. The paved path was under her boots. She hurried to the pedestrian gate, glad that this route led the back way through a short stretch of well-treed garden. The key moved smoothly in the lock, and she was out. Now, her boots hit the sidewalk. She could have fist pumped the air in triumph but decided to save that for when she was actually in the club. First, she needed to put some distance between herself and her London home, which was on the borders of Regent’s Park. Quickly, keeping her head low, wrapping that dark jacket around her, she headed down the road, turning into the first street she came to. Once she was out of sight of the building, Daisy broke into a run. She ran down the street, her heart pounding with excitement. She felt free. Free as a bird, the high point of her week. But a sudden coldness inside her made her look back. Was something wrong? Had she seen movement out of the corner of her eye? Was someone following her? Her first, immediate fear was that security had noticed her after all, and that she was in big trouble now. She couldn’t see anything behind her, but even so, she took a swift zigzag route—not looking back in case it gave her away—winding her way left and right through the streets, heading for the alleyway that was