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    Moving Mountains
    Moving Mountains
    Moving Mountains
    Ebook252 pages3 hours

    Moving Mountains

    By Laura Harner

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    It’s easier to move a mountain than escape the past.

    After the ultimate betrayal results in the death of his lover, Jamie Mainwaring looks to the past for answers, and discovers his entire life is a lie. When uncovering the truth leads to a more devastating loss, there’s only one place he can turn for understanding.

    When former-detective Remington left the police department, he never looked back. Now, his glory-stealing ex-boss is dead, leaving Remy’s real name scratched in the dirt at the brutal murder scene.

    Two years ago, Miguel Rojas left New York in the back of his best friend’s car, in real danger of falling victim to the same addictions that left his twin sister in bed with the drug lord he’d been deep undercover investigating. When she shows up looking to make amends, misplaced guilt mixed with curiosity open old wounds.
    While Remy returns to his police department roots to track down a killer, Miggy and Jamie team up to find the bones from Miggy’s past and bury them once and for all.

    The truth shall set you free—except when the past is determined to claim you.

    This is the third installment in the Separate Ways Series. The books should be enjoyed in the following order:
    Continental Divide
    Oceans Apart
    Moving Mountains
    Prevailing Winds

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLaura Harner
    Release dateOct 30, 2013
    ISBN9781937252656
    Moving Mountains
    Author

    Laura Harner

    Laura lives on waterfront property in Arizona because she's always wanted to be an oxymoron. She once enjoyed hobbies such as gardening and travel—now the characters in her head compel her to tell their stories, so she writes. (It doesn't actually help quiet the voices—but it keeps the folks in the white jackets at bay.)She shares her home with an ever-revolving cast of characters—some of whom are actually real—and is living her dream of building her own version of the Willow Springs Ranch.With over fifty published novels and novellas, Laura is an international bestselling author of erotic romances, romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and Highland romances. Her books can be found at all major online retailers.Connect with her online at:http://lauraharner.com

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      Book preview

      Moving Mountains - Laura Harner

      Dedication

      For the wonderful readers of the Separate Ways Series, including Ang, Tracy, Amanda, Lis, Will, Vastine and Carol, Zam, Tiffany, Silvia, Mary, Donna, Phoung, Chris R., Danny, Angel, Kerry, Mary, Elaine, JR, Grace, Dawn, Tom, Tracey, Beverly, Christy, Sharon, Krystal, Helen, Chris, and so very many others who have loved these men and this series. Thank you for your words, your encouragement, and the not-so-subtle reminders to hurry up and write! I love you all.

      A special thank you to Jae Ashley, Will Parkinson, Silvia Violet, Angel Martinez, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, and Tom Webb. Your help is greatly appreciated.

      Acknowledgements

      The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

      Baccarat: Baccarat Corporation

      Botox: Allergan, Inc.

      Cerveza Pacifico: Cerveceria del Pacifico, S.A. de C.V. Corporation

      Chevy: General Motors, LLC

      Corona: Cerveceria Modelo, S.A. de C.V.

      Delta Air Lines: Delta Air Lines, Inc.

      Diamondbacks: AZPB Limited Partnership

      Ford: Ford Motor Company

      Google: Google, Inc.

      International House of Pancakes (IHOP): IHOP IP, LLC

      Interpol: International Criminal Police Organization

      J.C. Penney: J.C. Penney Corporation, Inc.

      Jeep: Chrysler Group, LLC

      Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Worldwide, Inc.

      Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Corporation

      Macallan: Macallan Distillers Limited

      NYPD: City of New York

      Pop Tarts: Kellogg North America Corporation

      Prius: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha AKA Toyota Motor Corporation

      Reader’s Digest: Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

      Roget’s Thesaurus: HarperCollins Publishers, L.L.C.

      RuPaul: Charles, RuPaul

      Safeway: Safeway, Inc.

      Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

      Suburban: General Motors Corporation

      Tabasco: McIlhenny Company

      Tahoe: General Motors LLC

      The Lone Ranger: Classic Media, LLC

      Wheaties: General Mills IP Holdings II, LLC

      Chapter One

      Head down, collar turned up against the early chill, Jamie stepped from his building into the foggy night. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by the prospect of yet another Friday night at his mother’s. A night like hundreds of others. He used to ask himself when it would end.

      Good evening, Master James. By long habit, the man he’d known all his life still referred to Jamie as he had when he was a boy, rather than by his preferred casual name. As always, the elderly man, standing next to the sleek black limo, touched his cap as he held the rear door open for Jamie to climb inside.

      Good evening, Bernie, Jamie returned the greeting but ignored the open door. Let’s not play the usual game tonight. I’m tired. Without waiting for the requisite argument, Jamie circled to the other side and climbed into the front passenger seat and slammed the door.

      Master James, Bernie said, sliding into the driver’s seat. His voice held a note of disapproval. You know Lady Anna does not—

      Not tonight, Bernie. Just save it, old man. And don’t bother to pull over for me to shift to the back once we get closer to the estate either. I’m planted and plan to stay right here.

      Well, I suppose it would be all right just this once, since it’s your birthday, my lord.

      Yes. I suppose it is. Jamie shifted his arm so the sleeve of his suit jacket rode up far enough to give him a look at the dial on his watch, as if two hands and a few Roman numerals would reveal where all his time had gone. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, as the song from Rent so eloquently captured the essence of a year. Time was a relentless enemy when one led an empty life.

      Dropping his head back against the rest, he closed his eyes. The strains of Chopin played softly and Jamie drifted, carried along by the melody as they rolled out of London proper. It seemed only moments later that he watched his lover’s body perform a dance macabre as Jamie fired round after round into Ryan’s chest. He gasped his way to consciousness with his pulse thundering, only to realize they’d arrived. From one nightmare to another. How fitting.

      Are you all right, my lord? Bernie shifted the car into park, but turned to face Jamie rather than exiting to open the door as was proper. It was a sign of the old man’s concern, as well as a measure of their true relationship. Bernie had long been the very best part of Jamie’s family.

      He played over possible responses to the question. Was he all right?

      Twelve weeks earlier his mother had been appalled when Jamie returned from his case in the Caribbean without Ryan. For a tense thirty-minute grilling, he’d nearly thought the dowager was going to disown him. Never mind the man had been a stone cold killer and was about to shoot Remy. In her mind, if Jamie had the poor taste to continue to insist he was gay, he could at least see someone refined, as Ryan had been. Such a better fit at her dinner parties than the unkempt cowboy.

      Blinking up at the ancestral home, he noticed the drive was blessedly clear of unfamiliar cars, so it looked as though this would be the evening he asked for, him and dear old mum. Unless…

      Is Hugo here?

      Yes, my lord, your brother arrived just before I departed to collect you. Your sister and her family will not be in attendance, as you requested.

      Good. Let’s get this show on the road, then, shall we? Jamie asked. And Bernie, don’t go far, I shan’t be staying long.

      Yes, my lord, the old man replied. His wrinkled face pinched up tight, but there was no telling whether in disapproval or disappointment at Jamie’s plan to leave.

      Jamie took a deep breath and stepped through the door and then into the drawing room. Manners might dictate he first enjoy the celebratory meal his mother had no doubt planned, but he would leave it to her to make his apologies to the staff. There was no way he was in the mood to sit down and make nice while his newfound knowledge burned in his gut. Maybe when this was all over, he and Hugo could enjoy a meal together as they worked out how to reform their relationship.

      With a glance, he saw Hugo at the drink cart pouring a glass of sherry, whilst his mother sat on her favorite chair. A gilded Louis XV, which kept her back straight and her arms supported. With the wings fanning out on either side of her head, the chair had always reminded him of a throne, and Anna used it as such, ruling over the household with an iron grip. She had always been the one in charge. Even when his father, the Earl himself, had been alive.

      Jamie blinked as he had a sudden image of Remy sitting in this very room, chatting with his family before his one and only invite to Chez Mainwaring. The evening had ended so badly, his mother humiliating Remy. Hell, it had been the first time he’d actually been ashamed of her. They’d patched things up, of course—this time he wasn’t so sure.

      Jamie had always been a momma’s boy, her unspoken favorite, the recipient of far more gentle touches, loving looks, indulgent smiles. As a child, of course, he’d never really noticed the lack of attention to his brother and sister. He’d merely done all in his power to get Anna’s attention and put an approving look on her face.

      Then the unthinkable had happened, from her perspective. With the onset of puberty and the well-bred gentle rebellion of his teen years, Jamie had discovered he liked boys far better than any of the debutants his mother consistently pushed in his direction. It had been their first real argument, and one that only truly ended when an undercover assignment landed him on the front page of the tabloids, fully engaged with another man. With Remy.

      Their only other falling out had been over Jamie’s choice of a career as copper. Of course, his quick rise to the rank of inspector had mollified her somewhat, as had his subsequent assignments to Interpol and the American Embassy. They never mentioned the undercover portion of his work.

      Despite his career success, Anna never ceased in her efforts to convince Jamie to return to manage the estate. In her fantasy, the Earl of Fordham should be in residence, a feudal lord of times gone by. Repressing a snort at his fantasy, Jamie closed the door behind him, before turning to face the others.

      Good evening, Mother. Hugo. As his mother always said, polite manners laid the groundwork for even the most difficult of situations.

      Happy birthday, brother. May I pour you a drink? Hugo held up his glass of sherry in invitation.

      Ignoring his mother’s proffered hand, he joined his brother and perused the Baccarat crystal decanters before selecting the whisky and pouring his own hefty glass. He tossed back the drink and poured another before turning to raise his glass in his mother’s direction.

      That is a rather large drink, Jamie. Anna’s tone made her displeasure clear. We shall be having dinner shortly, I don’t want you to ruin cook’s surprise.

      I’m afraid I won’t be staying for dinner, Mother. Hugo, won’t you join me? Jamie pointed to the loveseat across from his mother’s chair.

      Hugo raised a brow over eyes nearly identical to Jamie’s own. His brother nodded once and followed. As they sat, Jamie slouched back, affecting nonchalance despite the burning low in his belly.

      You’re in quite a mood, Jamie. Is this particular birthday so difficult? Or perhaps you are finally coming to realize that you need to assume your duties as befitting a man your age?

      Don’t, Mother.

      I beg your pardon? I believe I’ve already had quite enough of your attitude this evening.

      As have I of yours, Mother. He felt Hugo stiffen beside him, but didn’t yet turn to face his brother. God, there was so much to make up for, thanks to their mother’s machinations. Mother, why don’t you tell us about your first husband? You know the one…Hugo’s father, right?

      Anna stiffened, the high color of from just a moment earlier draining away, leaving her cheeks ashy. James! That is quite inappropriate. I don’t understand what has gotten into you, but as long as—

      As long as what, Mother? he cut in ruthlessly, tired of the pretense and the airs. As long as I’m in your house? Is that what you were about to say? But this house isn’t really yours, then, is it? Jamie shook his head, as if he’d actually required an answer before continuing. This estate belongs to the Earl of Fordham. As the dowager, it is assumed you would be welcomed, but there is no guarantee. I wonder if the Lady will permit you to stay once the truth comes out.

      Stop right now, James, his mother commanded.

      I will not. What is the name of Hugo’s birth father? Despite the strength of his words, he knew he sounded tired.

      Delicate shoulders trembled for a moment before his mother gripped the arms of her chair, fingers arched into white-knuckled claws. I will not speak of this with you.

      Turning slightly, Jamie noted his brother’s narrowed eyes as his gaze shifted from their mother to settle on him.

      Hugo, what has she told you? I mean, surely you must have asked about your bloodline when you and Emily married last month, if nothing else.

      His brother flushed. She told me my father was a man of whom I could be proud but that it pained her too much to speak of him further. He blinked at Jamie for a moment before adding, Em is furious. We want to have children, but she says not until we have my father’s true name or without a full blood work up.

      This is your chance to tell him, Mother.

      James, stop. Please. The pallor of a few minutes ago took on a grayish-blue, and her mouth tightened into a grim line.

      Why, Mother? I am thirty-six years old. Hugo is nearly thirty-nine. You have had all this time to tell us the truth, but instead, you have let this hover around the family for decades. In fact, Father marrying a widow and taking in her young son is as close to a scandal as the name ever came—until me, that is.

      We may have had our differences from time to time, James, but I have never considered you a scandal. Anna’s voice took on the supercilious tone she used when shutting down those she no longer wished to hear from. Now, I believe this has gone on long enough. Dinner is waiting. She started to rise.

      I know the truth, Mother, and it’s time Hugo does as well. Either you tell him or I will. Jamie kept his voice soft, but there was no longer any gentleness in the tone. Her steadfast refusal spoke of a stubborn and unattractive pride.

      Anna lowered herself back into her seat and his heart tugged a little at the tiredness in her gaze. And something else…something akin to a hare snared in a trap. Not the most attractive of images, but accurate, nonetheless. Her lips silently formed the word no, then she closed her eyes.

      Such fucking drama. Jamie’s coarse words snapped her lids open. With even more care, Jamie selected his next words, deliberately invoking the formal language of the past.

      Hugo, eldest brother, blooded son of the late Earl of Fordham, by all that is right and proper unto the realm, you are hereby declared the Earl of Fordham, Lord of the Manor, and heir to all that entails.

      Hugo’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide as he stared at Jamie. Anna’s nearly soundless gasp was the only warning before she slid from her chair to land in a heap on the floor.

      Chapter Two

      Just after midnight, Police Captain Larry Oswald pushed through the exit of the Maricopa County Jail, with a casual wave of his hand to the clerk and three sheriff deputies standing around shooting the shit.

      Have a good evening, Captain, someone said to his back, but he didn’t turn around. If those had been his employees, he’d have jumped all over their lackadaisical asses, but he was just a visitor here and he had one more stop before he could go home to Marilynn and the kids.

      Walking briskly, he crossed Jackson, cut across 3rd Ave, and passed the invisible line of demarcation that separated the old warehouse district from the glitter of downtown and the major sports venues. The city worked damn hard to keep the fans and visitors from knowing just how close they were to the homeless, drunks, and druggies.

      Despite the eyes he felt peering at him from the shadows, he strode confidently through the district and crossed the tracks, heading for the meeting that was going to change his career. As he approached the fenced and barb-wired compound, Larry slowed his pace to look around. The night was still, the October air a comfortable eighty-two degrees, and he was in the darkest section of city that could be found. His skin prickled on the back of his neck as he felt the weight of those he knew were watching him. Not the person he was meeting, because that was straight up legit. No, these were probably some of the panhandlers or boozehounds looking for a handout. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, despite the comfortable temperature.

      Focusing once again on the storage lot, he noted the rusty and half-crushed freight trailers stacked two and three high. This was their last stop, they would never cross the ocean or even the street again. Larry eyed the numerous signs that warned of guard dogs on the premises and peered into the sparsely lit yard. Giant pyramids of aluminum cans and scrap metal dotted the patchy asphalt between the rows of shipping containers, but there was no sign of any four-legged alarms. With a quick flick of his thumb, he unsnapped the leather strap on his holster, just in case.

      Approaching the narrow gate on the unlit backside of the lot, Larry found the gate unlocked, as promised, and pushed his way inside. Securing the latch, he resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to whistle a jaunty tune and moved to hug the shadows. With his body angled sideways, Larry walked on the balls of his feet, his gun in his hand. Although the person he was meeting was beyond suspicion, that didn’t mean Larry needed to be stupid regarding his surroundings.

      The sudden sound of gravel hitting the ground had Larry spinning to his right. He swallowed hard to work some spit back into his mouth, but before he could call out, movement caught his eye. In the dim light, his contact stepped out from between two rusty towers and raised a weapon, pointing the barrel straight up, indicating they were clear. Larry matched the gesture, then re-holstered his weapon, but left the strap unsnapped.

      No one followed you? The voice was a harsh whisper in the night. Good to know he wasn’t the only one ready to shit bricks.

      No, we’re clear. But goddamn, why the fuck are we meeting here?

      Because someone is getting close to our investigation. If anyone figures out the connection, we’re both dead.

      There is no way any connection between us can be traced. None. I’ve followed your directions to the letter. Now give me the name of this traitor, so I can nail this bastard before he gets entrenched any deeper.

      His contact leaned in close, apparently to whisper directly into Larry’s ear, an obvious move to protect them both against any possible electronic surveillance.

      For the briefest of moments, Larry thought the pressure against his stomach was just a steadying hand as they leaned even closer together. Then the pain receptors connected with his brain, crashing against the word whispered by his killer as the knife dragged upward through muscle and intestine. Surprise.

      Chapter Three

      Remy refused to open his eyes, unwilling to move for fear of losing the dream that had a hot wet mouth wrapped around his dick. The lips left him anyway and he groaned his frustration.

      "I know you’re awake, querido, so stop playing statue." Miggy went directly back to what he was doing which was giving Remy a damned fine blowjob. Reaching for his lover’s hip, Remy guided the other man around until he could reach Miggy’s cock and began his own slow stroke. He wanted a taste, but that would wait. His lover preferred to be either six or nine, but said he lost too much focus when they tried to double the pleasure. Whatever. There was still nothing better than waking up like this.

      His hips thrust, and he started fucking the hot mouth, already close. Miggy gripped Remy’s hips, holding him in place as he shifted from strong suction to a light trace of tongue along his shaft, before moving lower to take Remy’s balls in his mouth. His lover had learned a lot in the few months they’d been sleeping together.

      Oh, God, Migs. So fucking good, he encouraged. He was immediately grateful he didn’t have the other man’s cock in

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