Savannahs secret, p.1
Savannah’s Secret, page 1
MANDY MAGRO lives in Cairns, Far North Queensland, with her daughter, Chloe Rose, and their adorable toy poodle, Sophie. With pristine aqua-blue coastline in one direction and sweeping rural landscapes in the other, she describes her home as heaven on earth. A passionate woman and a romantic at heart, Mandy loves writing about soul-deep love, the Australian rural way of life, and the wonderful characters who call the country home.
Also by Mandy Magro
Rosalee Station
Jacaranda
Flame Tree Hill
Driftwood
Country at Heart
The Wildwood Sisters
Bluegrass Bend
Walking the Line
Along Country Roads
Moment of Truth
A Country Mile
Return to Rosalee Station
Secrets of Silvergum
Riverstone Ridge
The Stockman’s Secret
Home Sweet Home
romance.com.au
To YOU, the reader
— a huge, heartfelt thank you!
I wouldn’t be writing stories without you diving
between the pages of my books.
A single lie exposed is enough to create suspicion in every truth.
And living a lie comes in many different forms, but sometimes, before we know it, the lie becomes our reality…
CONTENTS
Also by Mandy Magro
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
1
Far North Queensland
As the red-dirt roads finally gave way to bitumen, Ash Sullivan flicked his headlights to low-beam and turned off his spotlights. It had been a while since he’d had white lines leading the way, more accustomed to his tyres kicking up a trail of dust, and his excitement was building, knowing he was almost home.
He pressed the gizmo to squirt water over his dirty windscreen, the wipers creating a red arc that framed the progressively lusher landscape. The farmhouses were becoming more frequent, and the livestock dotting the paddocks looked a lot healthier than those he’d been mustering. And instead of flat plains with trees few and far between, neatly lined rows of avocado, macadamia and mango trees hung heavy with the year’s bounty, all backdropped by soaring mountain ranges.
Australia was a place of such sharp contrast, of land both foreboding and fertile, and Ash was proud to make a living by working amongst it all.
He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel in time to one of his favourite tunes blaring from the speakers. Hank Williams’ deep twangy voice helped to make the monotonous journey a little more bearable, as did the entire packet of Minties he’d devoured, along with two cans of Red Bull. Lord knew any distraction was welcome on the five-hour route he’d travelled more times than he could count over the past seven years. Saving every penny he could, he hoped to soon bring to fruition his dream of owning a chopper-mustering business so he didn’t have to continue making a living in the saddle – his back was starting to pay the price of his being a stockman.
Now back where he could get good phone service, he needed to hear his girlfriend’s sweet voice, but he wasn’t about to let on he was arriving home a day early – he wanted to surprise her, in more ways than one.
‘Hey Siri. Call Hannah.’
Siri did as asked. The phone rang through the speakers, two, three, four times, before going to voicemail. ‘Hi, you’ve reached Hannah, I can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I’ll call you back soon.’
‘Hey, babe. Just calling to say I love you, and miss you,’ he said with a huge smile on his dial before ending the call.
In the distance, the soft glow of his home town caught his eye. The tiny township was going to be a welcome change from the incessant flies and barren countryside of outback Australia. He fought the urge to slam the accelerator to the floor – he’d arrive in Atherton soon enough. After almost two months away, mustering wild cattle and buffalo up the northern tip of Australia while evading crocs bigger than Ben-Hur, he couldn’t wait to be back in civilisation, take his high school sweetheart into his arms and tell her how much he loved her.
Beyond the cab of his beat-up old LandCruiser, the velvet sky glimmered with countless stars, as if it too was celebrating what was about to happen. Although nervous, he was optimistic his proposal was going to be all he’d imagined it to be. He’d intended to pop the question the weekend of Hannah’s sister’s car accident, but had tucked the ring away. Hannah was mourning Heather, her sister, and it wasn’t the time for a marriage proposal. Instead, he gave Hannah all the time and support she needed to begin to heal her broken heart. He’d been waiting for the right moment, and tonight felt like it had come. He prayed he was right.
Cruising along the quiet main street of Atherton, he saw a line of cars parked out front of the top pub – not unusual for nine o’clock on a Saturday night. He hoped Hannah wasn’t in there, amongst the rowdy crowd – she loved to dance when there was a band playing. Not sounding like herself when he’d called first thing that morning, she’d said she was feeling run down, like she was possibly getting a flu, and had agreed she needed an early night. He was going to wake her with a kiss.
Passing their favourite café, then the butcher shop, Ash indicated and turned down their street. His hands were growing sweaty as he took a deep breath, running what he was going to say through his mind for what felt like the millionth time. He couldn’t wait to give her the one-carat diamond engagement ring his late grandmother had left to him, her dying wish that he marry the love of his life and have a family together. He liked to believe his dear Granny Fay was watching down from heaven because, with any luck, he was about to fulfil their shared aspiration.
Pulling up in his usual spot, he killed the engine and tapped his top pocket again to check the ring box was still there. He’d get his bags and swag out later. A spring in his step, he strode down the footpath and through the side gate, plucked a red rose from the garden and crept around to the back door. The spare key was where they always left it, beneath the old gumboot that was now home to the maidenhair fern he’d bought Hannah at the local market. She had a green thumb, unlike him.
Slipping his boots and socks off and the key into the lock, he quietly turned it and stepped inside. The house was dark and the timber floorboards were cool against his feet. He sighed. It was good to be home.
The tinkle of a bell sounded as Minx, their three-year-old cat, scurried into the room and leaped up onto the kitchen bench – a place she knew she shouldn’t be. Ash chuckled, deciding not to reprimand her this time. It was nice to be eagerly welcomed home. The moggy meowed urgently, as if trying to tell him something important. Wishing he understood cat lingo, he scooped the rescued tabby up and cuddled her to him, noting with a wry smile that her bowl at his feet was overflowing with dried food. Hannah had always been a sucker for strays, bless her beautiful heart, and it appeared she was overfeeding Minx too. He grimaced at something wet and sticky on the cat’s coat, and wiped his hand off on his jeans. God only knew what mischief the cat had been up to. He’d clean them both up as soon as he got to lay a kiss on his girl.
In the lounge room, the sheer curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze allowed just enough silvery moonlight to filter in so he could see the dirty plates and cups littering the coffee table, with a half-empty pizza box and fully empty vodka bottle lying on the floor. Concern gripped him – it was very unlike Hannah to be so untidy. He tiptoed down the hallway, past the line of framed family photos, his ears honed. Their bedroom door was wide open, and the curtains still tied back on the windows. His heart sank at the piles of dirty clothes covering the floor, the tousled bed, and no Hannah. And the room stank of stale cigarettes. Striding over, he shoved the windows open to allow the fresh air in. An ashtray filled with stubbed-out rollies sat on the windowsill. When had Hannah started smoking? Had she been hiding it from him? And where in the hell was she? Maybe she’d gone against his advice and headed to the pub after all. He just hoped she didn’t drink too much because he was sure as anything that a fight would ensue – he was worried about her, and she wasn’t going to like his ‘suffocating attention’, as she’d put it.
Turning the bedside lamp on, he laid eyes on a curled-up ten-dollar note alongside specks of white powder. Dropping the rose, he snatched a little plastic bag from the dressing table, with traces of what he assumed was illicit drugs. It was then that he spotted the ensuite door ajar and heard water dripping. His held breath released a little. Maybe Hannah was enjoying one of her baths. She’d always liked him to run one for her at the end of a long day, and he’d always made sure to construct a mountain of bubbles for her to climb into.
With Minx still cradled in his arms, he stood, his heart in his throat – he was going to have to confront her about the mess and the drugs and the cigarettes, and he hated it. Tonight was meant to have gone so differently. He’d imagined her saying yes and then them making love all night long.
The ear-piercing silence sent a chill racing up his spine. Minx hissed, then growled. Something wasn’t right. Adrenaline jolted him, and with dread in his heart, he flipped the switch. The overhead fluorescent bulb flared to life and Minx leaped from his arms and scurried out the door.
Ash’s breath caught as the sight before him chilled him to the very core.
CHAPTER
2
Sydney – six years later
Head tilted back, Kayla Robinson blinked the eye drops in, waited for her vision to clear, then glided out of her top-floor office with clear views of almost every inch of the warehouse-style building. It was a typical Saturday night at Sydney’s elite nightclub, Urban Underground, and the place was jam-packed to capacity. As usual, the queue outside was filled with people hopeful to bribe the ferocious-looking doormen so they could rub shoulders with the influential. Kayla knew their plight was hopeless – she made the rules. No matter how short their skirts or how big their muscles, if their name wasn’t on the list, there was no entry – no ifs, buts or maybes. The bouncers knew if they broke that rule, they lost their job on the spot. Didn’t stop people from trying to get in every night, though. They were painstakingly consistent, she had to give them that.
Stepping from the glass lift, she continued to survey the crowd, ignoring a wolf-whistle from one of the boozed-up patrons. One smooth stride after the other, she kept all of her senses alert. It was that particular time of the night when things could go awry in a heartbeat. Three-fifteen am – just under an hour until closing time – but she knew from years of experience that a lot could happen between now and then. Three years spent as a barmaid followed by seven years as the nightclub’s manager, dealing in secrets, lies, underhanded business deals and stupid drunken behaviour from people who were meant to be level-headed CEOs, politicians and other high-flyers – she’d seen it all.
Ducking behind the black marble bar backdropped by a matching wall studded with crystal lights, Kayla made her way over to her flatmate, the only true friend she’d had in her twenty-seven years. ‘How’s it going, Jaz?’
Straightening from where she was stacking a tray of clean glasses into a fridge, Jasmine Fuller rolled her pretty blue eyes, groaning. ‘My feet are killing me in these bloody heels, and I don’t think I can bear another hip-hop tune, but I’m hanging in there.’ A blender whirred to life beside them. ‘How about you?’ she said, a little louder. ‘You got rid of your headache?’
‘Yeah, the paracetamol you gave me did the trick, thanks, babe.’ Kayla leaned in closer. ‘I’m so exhausted. I seriously can’t wait for my head to hit the pillow. I’m going to spend my days off catching up on sleep.’
‘Ha! I can’t wait to bite the pillow while Jimmy has his way with me.’ As she flicked her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder, Jasmine’s red-painted lips curled into a wicked smile.
Kayla frowned. In hindsight, employing Jasmine as the bar manager when she’d lost her day job hadn’t been the best idea. Their womanising boss, Jimmy Biloti, hadn’t been able to keep his eyes, or hands, off her stunning best friend. ‘I really wish you’d stay away from him, Jaz. He’s trouble and you know it.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ Jasmine teased. ‘But you know me. I just can’t help myself when it comes to the bad boys.’
‘Yes, I know you, very well,’ Kayla said, shaking her head. She’d always had a liking for the bad boys too, but had learned it could be dangerous territory. ‘And I also know how easily you fall for a man.’ Four years older and decades more world-weary, Kayla couldn’t help but want to protect Jasmine, who was like the sister she’d never had. They’d had each other’s backs for six years, two runaways forged as best friends.
‘I can’t help that I love falling in love, unlike you, Little Miss Scaredy Pants.’ Jasmine poked her tongue out, then grinned.
‘I’m not scared. Just smart.’ Folding her arms, Kayla arched a brow. ‘You’ll learn the hard way, again, when he goes and breaks your heart.’
‘We’ll see.’ Jasmine kicked her heel up to her butt, fluttering her fake lashes. ‘Because if you ask me, I reckon he’s falling in lurve.’
‘Pfft, whatever, Jaz,’ Kayla replied. ‘That man wouldn’t know love if it punched him in the face.’
Kayla watched the ludicrously priced cocktails being passed across the bar as the skimpily-clad barmaids and barmen lured the crowd with their bottle-whirling antics. It was all about the show, and the patrons loved it.
Jasmine pouted. ‘Well, maybe I’m the one who’ll teach him.’
‘Always the dreamer, my sweet friend. Never the realist.’
‘We both know …’ Jasmine tossed her arm over Kayla’s shoulder, and gave her a squeeze, ‘… that being the worrywart is your job, babe. As well as being the old fart who goes home to a book instead of a man.’
‘A book is a lot safer, and much more satisfying.’
‘In your opinion,’ Jaz said playfully.
Exasperated, Kayla rolled her eyes to the glittery ceiling. ‘I’m off to the little girls’ room before I burst. I’ll catch you at home, if you make it there.’
‘Okies. I’ll text if I crash at Jimmy’s, so you know I’m safe and sound.’
Nodding, Kayla smiled softly. ‘I’d appreciate that, thanks.’ Lord only knew what Jasmine witnessed at Jimmy’s mansion – and she didn’t want to know because that way was safer for both of them.
Jasmine blew her a kiss. ‘Love you, K.’
Kayla smiled back at her friend. ‘Love you too, J.’
Veering behind red velvet curtains, Kayla took a shortcut to the bathroom to freshen up. From behind the hallway entirely made up of a one-way mirror, she watched the fragmented reality of the dance floor, where a mammoth disco ball rotated amidst strobe lights – she made a mental note to have it serviced that week. The sexy male and female cage dancers she hired every so often captivated the patrons with seductive moves worthy of a high-class strip joint. Up on the stage, the internationally acclaimed DJ had his fingers to vinyl, skilfully intertwining one song into another as the crowd held arms high and cried out for more. The Urban Underground was known as a place to bask in whatever distorted reality drugs or booze, or both, created and leave the stress of life behind.
Kayla was glad she wasn’t a person who needed that kind of escape. She’d learned long ago it was better to make do with the life she was given, as challenging as it had been. A glass or two of wine to unwind, yes, but to get completely sloshed? No thanks. She needed to be in full control of her actions.
A group of women huddled at the full-length mirrors of the elaborate restroom, finding their best angles to take duck-faced selfies. Kayla surveyed them in bemusement. Washing her hands in the basin, she paused to check the eye drops hadn’t smeared her mascara. Her olive skin did well to hide the sunburn she’d woken up to after falling asleep on Bondi Beach the day before, and her foundation helped to hide the dark rings beneath her vivid green eyes – she quite often wondered if they were inherited from her mother or father. She’d been left on the steps of a Tamworth church as a newborn, so it was a question that would never be answered. She smoothed out her long, silky, dark hair, shrugging the melancholy off – no use crying over spilled milk.
She knew the long hours were taking their toll, but she couldn’t afford to take a holiday yet. Hopefully soon, though. Sighing, she imagined lounging on a beach in Barbados or Greece, or even glamping in the middle of a picturesque national park – as long as she didn’t have to contend with spiders, snakes or rogue wildlife. She reapplied the red lipstick that matched her figure-hugging scarlet dress – Jimmy insisted she always dress to impress. Job done, she squared her shoulders and headed back outside, past the private rooms and towards the staff elevator. She’d do another walk of the floor just before closing time. Hot-blooded men gave her the eye, some very handsome ones at that, but she just wasn’t interested. Try as some had over the years, she couldn’t be bought. As a twenty-one-year-old, she’d stupidly allowed herself to fall head-over-heels for a man who’d known exactly how to charm her. When the rose-coloured glasses had come off, she’d been burned. Badly. It had taken two and a half years for her to realise he was a player, and then another year to get over him. Additional heartache wasn’t on her agenda. ‘Once bitten, twice shy’ rang loud and true in her world because nothing and nobody could be trusted.
