A Secret Promise: The Promise Series, #3

By C.K.Alber

Anne Algani's life is turned upside down and her identity disputed when she encounters a mysterious man from abroad, claiming to be her deceased father's brother.  

 

Sean DeRosa is a military man on a mission. His assignment is to infiltrate Anne's life and recapture her love.  

 

Ralph Williams, a private investigator hired to watch over Anne and investigate the alleged Uncle, has piqued Anne's romantic interest.

 

Determined to stay in her life, Sean vows to protect her, even if it means eliminating the man hired to guard her.    

 

As Anne sets out to discover the truth, she finds herself the target of a chilling vow of vengeance. What she does not expect is to find a sizzling passion when an unexpected turn of events takes place.  

 

When Ralph unearths an electrifying discovery, Anne's identity is thrown even more into question, opening the door to more deceitfulness and underhanded lying.  

 

Will Anne discover her true ancestry and gain a man to love, or will the past take another victim, leaving no answers?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.K.Alber
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736283967

Book preview

A Secret Promise

A novel by

C.K. Alber

A Secret Promise

Published by C.K. Alber, 2023

Print Edition

Edited by Lori Corsentino

Cover Design ©2023 by Lori Corsentino/Harmony Creative Design

Images: Artem/Adobe Stock — artemkniaz, conrado, Getgg, releon8211/Bigstock Photo

Copyright ©2023 by C.K. Alber

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, businesses, institutions, or locales is coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the author’s permission, except in the case of brief quotations or short excerpts embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

The first edition, A Prisoner’s Promise, is being replaced with this second edition, A Secret Promise. The basic storyline is intact, but a significant amount of the story has been updated and changed.

Piracy of copyrighted materials is a violation of author’s rights. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Support the arts and literature by purchasing a legitimate copy through authorized distributors. Thank you.

C.K. Alber

Visit my website at www.ckalber.com

Printed in the United States of America

A Secret Promise/C.K. Alber — 2nd Edition: April, 2023

ISBN: 978-1-7362839-6-7

A Prisoner’s Promise/C.K. Alber — 1st Edition: December 17, 2016

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Dedication

This work is dedicated to my siblings. We all have our forever memories of each other, especially while living together as children. I will always love each one of you to the moon and back, no matter where we are on our beloved earth.

Jerry—You will always be in our hearts.

John—My mentor.

Jim—The great educator and coach.

Mike—My little brother and strategic adviser.

Margaret—Forever and always the little sister I had always wished for.

Chapter 1

August, 1976 ~ Washington, DC

Anne Algani balanced precariously on an A-shaped ladder as she leaned in to sandpaper a plaster-filled nail hole. She wiped the side of her chalky palm on blue bib-coveralls and squinted at the wall.

Ugh. Bright pink paint, the color of the stomach medicine that mom used to make me take.

Shit.

Maybe purple with stripes.

The house belonged to Anne, so she could paint any way she wanted.

This used to be full of family. Now it’s only me.

A loud purr disrupted her thoughts. She glanced over at the ball of white fur basking on a windowsill.

And Fluffy too.

Because it was hers, the interior of her house represented the ideal way she wanted to live her life—colorfully and with adventure. She looked around. Paint cans and brushes rested on the floor below her ready for the final mixing.

Sea-colored turquoise for now. She grinned. With black polka dots.

No rules to follow. No one to order me around.

The harsh sound of the doorbell startled her so much, she almost slid off the ladder. Catching herself to regain her balance dislodged her tube top, partially exposing a breast.

Not the way I want to die—broken at the bottom of a ladder with my boob hanging out.

Damn. She let out a whistle of relief and steadied herself.

As she padded barefoot across the floor to the door, she inched her breast back into the red piece of elasticized cotton. At the entranceway mirror, Anne checked her refection and, noticing white streaks on her face, gave herself a spit bath to rub them off. When that didn’t work, she stuck out her tongue in disgust. She tucked in a few stray strands and then released the clip holding her long black locks at the nape of her neck.

The bell rang a second time. Her gaze homed in on the peek-hole.

A bearded man in pajamas? What the hell?

A closer look at her visitor brought about a shudder. Her dad’s living image rocked back and forth on her front porch, clutching a bouquet of flowers. Shocked, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it. The sound of dirt thudding on her dad’s coffin, years prior, flickered across her mind. In fact, that vivid picture never left, especially when Anne slept.

So, who is standing at my door?

A loud knock on the door spurred her into action. She jerked around and unlatched the bolt. The security chain allowed the door to open a mere two inches. She put her nose to the opening and narrowed an eye to get a better look.

Wavy black hair. Handsome. Familiar.

There was only one difference. This person had a long black beard where Dad had been clean-shaven.

Ana, open the door, please. It is I, Yasir’s brother.

Anne stood rigid.

That’s my Dad. Why does he sound like my Dad?

She would never forget the sound of his voice or the way he rolled his rrr’s like that. Ever.

It’s not possible.

Just the thought—her head screamed no—make this man go away.

But my heart says let him in.

No one here by that name.

She tried to close the door, but a sandaled toe forced its way into the two-inch opening.

The man smiled. I am your father’s brother. Please do not be alarmed. I come in peace.

Crap. My dad had a brother?

Stunned, she released the chain. Opened the door.

The olive-skinned man pushed a bunch of slightly wilted daisies toward her. She grabbed them before they fell. A fragrant mix of ginger and chamomile blew across her face.

I am your father’s brother, he repeated as if rehearsed many times. And I have come to take you home.

Chapter 2

The Washington Monument rose majestically out of the hot, humid haze. Ominous clouds hung overhead, granting a brief respite from the scorching temperatures. Anne locked her bike and then gazed at the magnificent obelisk as she peeled off the jacket, she’d thought to be a good fashion choice only an hour before. The sleeveless white blouse she wore underneath clung to her sweaty back.

Her gaze moved to the top of the high structure across the street.

And up there she awaits. In the penthouse of hell.

She knew the discussion she was about to have regarding the recent visitor to her house would not be pleasant.

Get it over with.

She crossed the street, zigzagging her way through traffic.

As she approached, the doors of the massive hotel opened. Anne walked into the coolness of the lobby. A slight breeze had her glaring upward at the hanging prismed, crystal chandeliers and slowly circling ceiling fans. Her sister, Cassie, held court somewhere there. Although she knew the conversation would not be pleasant—reckoning with Cassie never was—she also knew she had to plead her case if she wanted to keep her new life the way it was.

Her gaze lowered and she nodded to Jimmy—a rail thin plainclothesman, probably in his late twenties—partially hidden in the folds of the drapes that covered the windows.

The first of Cassie’s troupe of protectors.

And there was Bill Walker—assessing her with the coldest gray eyes she’d ever seen.

Damn, she mumbled and scrunched her shoulders as he strode toward her.

He glimpsed his watch. You’re thirty minutes late. What happened? You were supposed to follow my vehicle.

Anne glared at him. My car died. I rode my bike.

His chilly gaze caught and held hers.

No more than an hour after she’d hung up the phone with Cassie, this man had unceremoniously parked in her driveway, shoved a telegram from her sister under her nose, tapped his foot impatiently as she read it, then proceeded to walk around her house all night long, peering in windows and rattling doorknobs.

My sister’s creepy idea for my safety.

Bill was older than the plainclothesmen Jimmy and not her favorite thus far. Dark hair slicked back from an ache-scarred face. Forty something. Muscular and short. A gun grip caught her eye as he pulled his navy blazer aside. He drummed his fingers on the holster bulge, a tic she noticed he did when he was annoyed with her.

Your family requested I stick by your side until that imposter, the one who calls himself your uncle, is taken in and questioned. He snapped his fingers to catch Jimmy’s attention. Take her upstairs to the Penthouse, he ordered.

Anne backed away two steps. I have to go to the bathroom first.

She scurried away before he could protest. She gasped in dismay when she caught her reflection in the restroom mirror. Before jumping on her wheels to ride downtown, Anne had been well-groomed and entirely presentable in a summer beige pantsuit. After her car died a block away from her driveway, she’d switched to tennis shoes, threw her heels into her bag, and sped through the streets to get here. Now her hair looked wilted and wind-blown, her clothes crinkled and damp, and what remained of her makeup, streaked her cheeks.

Anne glanced down at her sneakered feet and sighed. Her heels were still in the plastic bag attached to the bike’s handlebars. No time to retrieve them.

Who gives a damn anyway?

She rinsed her face in the marble sink, removing most of the remaining makeup, and then patted it dry, relieving the tightness of overheated skin. A quick pat smoothed some flyaway strands framing her face and then she rummaged through her bag for her sunglasses and put them on.

A sleepless night and swollen lids won’t convince my sister I can live by myself.

She remembered how Cassie got all protective and made her go to Denver when their dad died. I’ll be damned if I let her get her clutches in me again, she muttered under her breath.

Searching in the bottom of her cloth bag, she retrieved a bottle of spray perfume and squirted a small amount on the inner sides of her wrists.

It should be chloroform, she hissed. Put all those interfering adults upstairs to sleep.

Jimmy held the elevator open and rode up to the eighteenth floor with her. He pointed toward the open door and then saluted.

You’re not leaving me, are you? Although she didn’t really know him, right now she needed someone near her own age for moral support.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes. That’s all I can give you before the Boss Man fires me.

Mr. Walker would do that?

He’s not the big man upstairs. My boss lives in Denver. He cleared his throat and jutted his chin toward the open door across the hall. Heard them say earlier you’d be going west come dawn.

I’m not going anywhere. She took a determined stance. And no one can make me, she muttered to herself.

Jimmy chuckled. Wanna bet? I’ve met your sister. He shrugged. Anyway, not my business.

Anne strode to the open door and stopped short. She clenched her jaw at the sight before her.

There they are. The opposition, ready to tear me apart.

Cassie sat in the middle of a long mahogany table, flanked by her lawyer husband Michael Jensen on her right and his district court judge father, Jack, on her left. Francesco DeRosa, a dear family friend, sat on the other side of Jack.

And the father of a man I detest.

Where’s Alice? Anne quipped from the doorway. She wasn’t surprised to not get a response. Alice was Francesco’s wife and maybe the only person who would side with her.

Good luck, Jimmy said. Maybe you should take off those sunglasses before you go in. He then pressed the button for the elevator and left as the door closed.

Anne pushed the glasses to the top of her head, squared her shoulders back and stalked into the room. She stopped in front of the conference table.

Cassie’s fingers thumping on the smooth wood prompted Anne to get in a jibe while she could. So, where’s the chopping block?

Anne sweetheart. Cassie said in her softest of voices. We’re here for your benefit and well-being, not to bring you down.

They are all here to ruin my life.

She glared at each member behind the table. If my summons here this morning is any indication—you’re my judge, Anne scowled at her sister, and jury, her hand waved to encompass the others.

No dear. We’re here to support you. We only want to discuss some things that appear disturbing.

Why couldn’t we meet at my house?

We decided the house needs to be closed up for a while.

Anne stiffened. The skin on her neck prickled. She walked closer, putting the flat of her hands on the table and stared into her sister’s stormy blue-green eyes. You decided? That is my house, and this is my life now. She took a deep breath and let it our slowly before removing her hands from the table. I shouldn’t have phoned you.

Cassie continued with her dictates as if Anne hadn’t spoken. And that’s why we also hired Jimmy and Bill.

And then after that—this bunch in front of me hopped on Michael’s private airplane, flew out, and now here they sit. Assholes.

Nothing happened, Cassie. She met everyone’s gaze before returning to her sister’s. I think you left something out of our family’s history and now you’re afraid to fess up. Anne knew she was being unfair, but she had to turn the tables on her somehow.

Anne watched Cassie intently as she shuffled some papers in front of her before answering.

I know as much as you do. Our parents met in England, fell in love, came to DC, and married.

Anne tossed her head, loosening her hair clip. She touched the clip, tightening it to hold her hair in place. Dad always brought me a different hair clasp after each trip he took. She took in a breath. And you got those pretty silk shawls. Where’d he go on all of those flights?

True. He traveled a lot and always brought us back presents, Cassie admitted.

Anne folded her arms. And no one ever questioned our parents about those long trips abroad he took.

He was private about his life.

You’re the big sister. Why didn’t you ask him about our grandparents? About where he went all the time?

Cassie’s gaze bore into hers. Dad held secrets.

Anne took in another deep breath and then continued. And now his brother shows up.

Suspicious to say the least, Michael muttered. After all of these years.

Why do you say that Mister Know-it-all?

Cassie pushed her chair back and stood up. She frowned at Anne. That’s no way to talk to your brother-in-law. Michael is here to defend you, not try you. Cassie spread her feet, taking her boss stance. We want you to come back with us to Denver."

Nope. Won’t happen.

Call it a vacation, Michael suggested.

I’m studying. That’s what you asked me to do. Now you say leave it all because of some family thing. Anne’s temper got the best of her as she strode to the window and back. My house is just about perfect. I’ve worked hard to make it lively and comfortable. Make it my own. She scowled at her sister. And your kids will love my home because nothing is breakable.

Well, now we might differ on that analogy.

Anne glared at Francesco as he covered his mouth, probably holding back a chuckle. So, you think everyone’s dwelling has to have stiff unused furniture and white walls, Francesco?

Back to the subject at hand, Cassie intervened.

Okay then, why am I the only one in our family with olive skin and dark features like our dad?

Well.... Cassie walked around the table and put a hand on Anne’s shoulder.

Anne flung it off. What’s the frickin’ secret, Cassie?

I asked dad once about his parents.

Anne’s posture straightened. And?

He stared at me for a bit and started to walk out of the room.

Anne watched as Cassie’s face flushed as if she were remembering something less positive.

I ran after him and told him I had to know.

So, what did he say?

He said I was probably old enough to know the whole truth and he’d tell me someday.

Shit Cassie. Why didn’t you ever tell me that part?

Because that’s right around the time dad turned against me.

What? When you got pregnant and became dad’s least favorite?

That’s right.

Why didn’t you ask mom about his heritage before she passed? She would have told you something.

Cassie’s brows furrowed. She seemed to be lost in thought before she answered. I asked mom about how they met. Her starry eyes were filled with love for dad. She said they were both students when they met but never added anything more.

Well, there you are, Anne said. I intend to find out if pajama man is who he says he is—our dad’s brother.

Let’s go over the facts first, Cassie said. That man, pretending to be a relative, wants to take you away. Because he looks like our dad you invited him in.

That was not a mature thing to do, Jack interjected.

Did I ask you? Anne hissed at Jack. Her eyes welled with tears when she turned back to her sister. So, I said he looked like dad. Well get this. If I look in the mirror, I look like..., she searched for the word. Tahir. His name is Tahir.

Absurd, Michael said.

Anne, tell me again what that man did next.

He finished his tea and grabbed my arm.

You let him lead you outside to his waiting car? Cassie began pacing. He would have kidnapped you if Sean hadn’t pulled into the driveway.

The one man Anne never wanted to see again. Sean. Yeah. Thank God, you didn’t bring him along today.

Cassie reached for her hand. Tell everyone what this man, Tahir, said before he left.

Anne pulled away and fisted her hands closed. He mentioned Sunday, August twenty-ninth.

Your birthday, Michael said, pushing his chair back to stand.

Anne nodded. He said, ‘I’ll be back before then. Our arrangement must not be broken.’

Doesn’t this alleged uncle’s vow to return bother you, Anne? Concern laced Francesco’s question. It sure scares the hell out of the rest of us.

Anne shook her head. No one can take me against my will.

That man? Cassie reached for Anne’s hand again. Or us, Anne?

No one controls my life, she bit out every word before she turned toward the door running right into Bill Walker. Her sunglasses fell to the floor.

Bill held her at shoulder’s length, steadying her jostled body. Bad news guys.

Francesco and Jack stood and came around the table to join Michael and Cassie.

Jimmy’s been hurt. Knifed in the elevator.

Oh no, Cassie cried out. How bad is he?

He’s not dead. That’s all I can tell you.

Everyone held their breath. Anne tried walking away and stumbled.

Were they right? Had she almost been kidnapped?

She reached for the wall and then slid to the floor.

Cassie fell to her knees next to Anne and took her hand. Now do you see why you must come with us?

Your sister’s right, you know? Bill Walker chimed in. You were followed here. That means no freedom for you until this knife-wielding predator is caught.

We’ll fly out to Denver tomorrow morning on my plane, Michael said. We’ll hire someone to make sure you’re safe, Anne.

I know the perfect P.I. back home. Jack stated. He’ll be glad to help us out.

No, Anne moaned. You can’t just come into my life and take me away like this.

Bill checked a slip of paper. This Tahir dude sounds like trouble. We’ll get him checked out from this end.

Michael nodded.

Anne looked up and caught Michael’s gaze. I don’t want to go. I have my house here. My friends, Fluffy....

Michael nodded. Anne, this alleged uncle knew where you lived. We’re all concerned. If you’re in Denver, we can keep anyone from bothering you again.

So, you hire some old man to follow me everywhere I go? Put me anywhere. Lock me up, send me away—just don’t make me go to Denver. She jumped to her feet and stared at the group of five. Maybe I’ll just go with Uncle Tahir to get away from you all.

Anne threw the door wide open. Go to hell all of you, she yelled as she stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 3

Sean DeRosa groaned under the pressure the physical therapist put on his thigh. She lifted and pushed, back and forth. Sweat formed on his upper lip and across his brow. He clenched his teeth holding back the cuss words he wanted to shout out.

You’re done for today. The young blonde stood back and surveyed him. Can you stand up alone?

He inched his butt to the edge of the table, sat up, and moved his legs over the side. I’m not coming back, he uttered without lifting his gaze. He rubbed his painful left thigh.

You have to if you want your medical release. She sighed. Doctor’s orders.

Look, I can do these maneuvers at home. I know them all by heart. He heaved out a breath. I spoke to Doctor Marcos earlier. I have a family emergency. Need to leave.

She shrugged. Where are you going?

Colorado.

Did the good doctor tell you to check in at the Army base out there?

Hey, he chuckled but without pleasure. Every move he made right now hurt. He prescribed me some meds that should last me. I’ll be back before you know it.

You’re coming back here?

Yep. I’ll be pushing pencils for a while.

At this base?

Sure enough. He wanted to leave.

Maybe we could meet for coffee some time. She scribbled something on the back of a scrap of paper. Call me when you get back.

He glimpsed the paper.

I’ll do that. He looked at the paper. Jenna.

There will probably be paperwork for you to sign at the front desk.

Sean nodded, lifted his crutches, and moved toward