Tell Me Lies Read online

  Tell Me Lies

  Book One of the Nothing But the Truth Series

  Michelle Lindo-Rice

  Houston, Texas * Washington, D.C.

  Tell Me Lies © 2015 by Michelle Lindo-Rice

  Brown Girls Publishing, LLC

  www.browngirlspublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

  First Brown Girls Publishing LLC trade printing

  Manufactured and Printed in the United States of America

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It is reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.

  Luke 8:14

  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted; to preach deliverance to the captives; and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.”

  Author: Our Lord Jesus Christ

  What readers are saying about Sing a New Song:

  “Ms. Lindo-Rice writes with heart, humor, and honesty.”

  —Shana Burton, author of Flawless, and Flaws and All

  “Michelle Lindo-Rice has written a sweet story of the power of love despite the main character (Tiffany’s) sordid past.”

  —Michelle Stimpson, bestselling author of Falling Into Grace

  “The author’s writing is crisp and her character’s emotions are authentic.”

  —Pat Simmons, award-winning and bestselling author of the Guilty series.

  “The author did a phenomenal job in drawing reader’s heart and spirit into the characters … Ms. Lindo-Rice developed an endearing, engaging, multi-layered story with realism and redemption.”

  —Norma Jarrett, Essence bestselling author of Sunday Brunch

  What readers are saying about Walk a Straight Line:

  “I could feel the breeze and smell the scent of the flower garden the wind was carrying with it; that’s how fresh this story is … I loved how the story flowed.”

  —E.N. Joy, bestselling author of the New Day Divas series

  “The message of resilience in Colleen’s story is powerful and important … as is the message of commitment, love, and friendship that come through.”

  —Rhonda McKnight, bestselling author of An Inconvenient Friend and What Kind of Fool

  What readers are saying about Silent Praise:

  “Michelle Lindo-Rice’s Silent Praise, Able to Love book three, has at its core a Christian inspirational message, by way of a very enjoyable romance … The horror and disappointment are realistically written with great visual and sensory scenes that immediately pulled me in and held me in place to the end in one sitting.”

  —Michelle Monkou, Special Edition of USA Today – HEA

  What readers are saying about My Soul Then Sings:

  “Michelle Lindo-Rice really pushed herself to the next level of literary entertainment.”

  —E. N. Joy, bestselling author

  Acknowledgements

  I begin by thanking my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He makes all things possible and I’m thankful He’s using me for His purpose and to bring Him glory.

  I now take the moment to mention some special people in my life:

  My Sons: Eric Michael and Jordan Elijah.

  My Family: Lindo’s & Lee’s.

  Numerous aunts and uncles: Auntie Paula Ann Lee-Smith, all the way in Jamaica, West Indies, thanks for reading my work.

  Thank you, Zara Anderson for your thoughts and input in making the characters realistic.

  Thank you, Sobi Lindo.

  My editor and talented writer: Rhonda McKnight. Thank you for your role in transforming me from a storyteller into a writer. Tell Me Lies went through so many changes. I thank you for your guidance and your encouragement through this process. Thank you for bringing me into Brown Girls Faith. Thank you to Sherri Lewis as well.

  Thank you to Victoria Christopher Murray and ReShonda Tate Billingsley, two of my favorite authors and founders of Brown Girls Books for giving me a new home.

  Special shout out to the talented Douglas “DJ Roy” Bramwell” of the Brammo Entertainment Group - singer, musician and deejay for my sister’s wedding.

  Thank you Dr. Rohan Thompson for helping me with some of the hospital scenes.

  I’d like to thank bloggers and reviewers, Teresa Beasley, Paulette Harper, Faith Simone, Orsayor Simmons, Tiffany Tyler, Tanishia Pearson-Jones, King Brooks. Forgive me, if I haven’t mentioned you.

  Special mention to: April Gordon Buchanan and Leslie Hudson.

  Special thank you to my fellow Black Christian Read Authors: Awesome writers who I read and recommend: Tiffany L. Warren, Rhonda McKnight, Vanessa Miller, Pat Simmons, Tyora Moody, Michelle Stimpson, Angela Benson, Tia McCollors and Piper Hughley.

  Michelle Lindo-Rice Readers.

  Love you all, Family. You’re the best.

  Dedicated To:

  Annemarie Maynard

  You helped me slow down and appreciate life’s real treasures. I love your hand-written notes and of course, your to-do lists.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Book Club Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  Excerpt of The Man of My Schemes

  Prologue

  “The rumor is three black boys killed your parents. Is it true?”

  Perched on the edge of his cot, Noah Charleston lifted his eyes to look at the four half-men standing before him. The leader of the pack, Ace, was sixteen with a baby face, braces, and bad acne around his chin. His two muscles, twins Roger and Wylie, were about a year older at sevent
een. Both were built like linebackers. Finally, Shadow or Matthew, a slender fifteen-year-old with glasses that took up half of his face, was the brain of the group.

  “Answer him,” Roger prodded, stepping into the small cell.

  Noah shrugged. “That was a year ago.”

  “We can do something about that.” Ace popped his gum. “Join us.”

  Noah had heard about the “Avengers” as they dubbed themselves. They ruled the juvenile detention hall and dressed in their version of combat gear: khaki pants, boots, and camouflage shirts. Even the counselors were afraid of them.

  Noah kept to himself. Everyone pretty much left him alone. Except for today.

  He looked up at them. “Do I have a choice?”

  Wylie stepped forward. “Do you want me to help you make up your mind?”

  “How about I help fix that ugly face of yours?” Noah threw back.

  Wylie sprung at Noah. Noah jumped to his feet and sidestepped the much bigger guy. Then he bashed Wylie in the back of the head. Roger lunged at him.

  “Quit it,” Ace bellowed. “Leave him alone.”

  Roger’s chest heaved but he backed off. His eyes held a threat. Noah met his gaze, daring him to bring it.

  “I like your heart,” Ace said. “We need you.”

  “I like my own company,” Noah said.

  “We have something you want,” Shadow said. His voice was barely above a whisper. He wheezed his words as if he was always in need of an asthma pump.

  “You don’t have—”

  Noah’s eyes widened. Shadow held a crumpled 3x5 photograph in his hand. Noah snatched it. “Where did you find this?”

  “We have our ways,” Ace bragged.

  Noah squinted.

  “I hacked into the computer system,” Shadow said. This time he coughed at the end of his words. “I know who took your picture.”

  “We’ve handled him.” Ace’s tone was solemn.

  “That’s why you should be thanking us,” Wylie said, rubbing the back of his head.

  Noah looked at the photograph of his parents and closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling. It was his most prized possession. When he’d been sent here to the juvenile home two months ago, Noah had placed it under his pillow before lunch. When he checked for it later that night, it’d been gone. He searched everywhere but couldn’t find it. That was the first time since his parents’ funeral that Noah had cried himself to sleep.

  “Thank you,” he grounded out.

  “Thank us by joining us,” Ace said.

  Shadow held up a picture. It was an African-American by the name of Tony Billows who had taken it.

  Noah clenched his fists. “Where is he?”

  “In the hospital with some missing teeth,” Roger said.

  “And a missing pinky,” Wylie added.

  Noah blinked. He would’ve settled it with a well-deserved punch or two. Not doing Tony serious injury. “That was vicious.”

  “It was a message. You mess with one of us. You mess with us all. We’re a family,” Ace said.

  “The Avengers,” Wylie and Roger said in unison. They held out their fists. Noah had reservations but Ace had used the magic word. Family. Noah wanted family. He made a fist and the boys all did a fist bump.

  “The Avengers,” he said.

  “Welcome,” Ace said.

  “Glad to have you,” Shadow whispered. “Now, let’s get you some proper clothes and a haircut.”

  Noah swallowed his reservations. He had a family again. Nothing else mattered.

  1

  “Hey! I know you saw me getting ready to pull into that spot,” Sydney Richardson yelled at the driver of the sleek, black, sports car sliding into “her” space. She was sitting there with her blinkers on when he swooped in.

  The man inside shrugged, mouthed an “I’m sorry,” and exited his car. Without a backward glance, he jogged up the steps to enter the building.

  She slammed her hands on the wheel and rebuked thoughts of keying his vehicle. Sydney eyed the digital clock on her dashboard. 7:57. She had three minutes to make court on time. And she would have if it were not for that insensitive jerk.

  “Great, now I’ll have to hear Judge Hammerstein’s mouth.” She put the car in drive and muttered, “I’m not saying I agree, but I understand why people get shot over parking spaces.”

  Sydney was a civil litigator and specialized in personal injury and products liability. She’d gone one step further and completed a specialty certification program. The National Board of Legal Specialty Certification accredited her as a specialist in civil trial advocacy. As a result, Sydney was in high demand and always pressed for time. This morning though, her tardiness was the result of a burnt bagel and twice-snagged pantyhose.

  Sydney trolled for another spot. Seeing an open space in another lane, she dashed around the small curve and pulled in. Thank you, Lord.

  She gathered her briefcase and rushed into the building. Sydney joined the mini-queue and dumped her personal items into the bin. She noticed Mr. Spot Stealer ahead of her and rolled her eyes.

  Sydney ran her hands through her shoulder-length curls, tapped her heel, and counted each second until it was her turn. As soon as the deputy cleared her, Sydney heard a ding. The elevator!

  Sydney grabbed her items and raced toward the elevator. She saw him, the parking spot thief, standing in the center.

  “Please hold the elevator,” she yelled.

  He mouthed, “I’m sorry” and pointed at his watch. The doors began to close. This was not happening a second time, she told herself. She was getting on that elevator.

  “Wait!” She dived forward and stuck her foot in the opening. With an angry grunt, the steel door swung open. Triumphant, Sydney pranced inside. She’d one-upped the inconsiderate stranger.

  Sydney turned, intending to sass him out on his bad manners. She craned her neck as he had a good twelve inches on her. Her mouth opened in slow motion as she encountered a pair of deep blue eyes hidden under long eyelashes. Ooh, why hadn’t she noticed before? He had thick, unruly, midnight black hair. Without realizing it, she lifted a hand, intending to run her fingers through the strands. She ran her hands down her own tresses to suppress the instinct to touch his.

  He snapped his fingers before pointing to the floor. “Look down.”

  Her eyes followed the direction of his index finger. She gasped. Her Jimmy Choo was stuck in the small groove of the elevator. Had she been standing on one shoe like a broken down Cinderella this entire time?

  Sydney lunged to rescue her footwear, but the damage was done. The heel of her four-hundred-dollar shoe was broken. Picking up the shoe, she bit back a wail, refusing to meltdown. She’d just break the other shoe, she reasoned. With all her might, Sydney tried to crack the other heel.

  “Ugh.” Now she’d have to hobble her way into court.

  An outstretched hand came into her peripheral view. Her chest heaved. Shoving the shoe into his large hands, she winced at the crack.

  Sydney kept her head straight ahead. Gentle fingers placed the shoe and its remnants into her hand. She uttered a low, begrudging, “Thank you.”

  She raced out of the elevator and jammed her feet into her now flat shoes.

  Moving fast, she plastered a smile on her face and entered the courtroom. She walked over to greet her client and nodded at her associate attorney on the case, Curtis Chapman.

  Curtis was average height with a lean build. He dressed like he’d stepped out of GQ magazine and always chose the right attire to enhance his dark skin. She admired his fashionable, wire-rimmed frames, which hid intelligent, but wandering eyes. He gave her the once over and scrunched his nose. “What’s up with the flat shoes?”

  Sydney rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  Judge Hammerstein arrived and everyone stood.

  Once the judge sat down in the court, Sydney slid into the chair next to Curtis. She tuned out the preliminaries. The door creaked behind her, capturing her attentio
n. She turned her head as the stranger entered the room.

  It was him.

  “Who’s that?” she whispered to Curtis.

  Curtis spoke under his breath. “I think that’s—”

  The opposing attorney, Sam Witherspoon, interrupted Curtis’ reply. “I’d like to introduce Pastor Noah Charleston.”

  Upon hearing that name, Curtis groaned. Sydney nudged his arm.

  “Who is he?” she whispered.

  Again, Witherspoon explained. “Pastor Charleston has irrefutable proof that Manny has been fraudulent before.”

  “Why didn’t I hear about him?” she asked Curtis.

  “I—”

  She gritted her teeth. “Did you follow my to-do list?”

  “I—”

  “We’ll talk later,” she whispered. Then she stood. “Judge, we weren’t told about this witness during the discovery or pre-trial process.”

  “Judge, I don’t know what Ms. Richardson is trying to do because we have the notice that The Welchman Group did receive the documents three days ago. I can show you the signed receipt dated May 5th,” Sam said. “Such tricks are beneath someone of her caliber.”

  Sydney’s eyes widened. “I would never—”

  Curtis tapped her on the arm, interrupting her. The look on his face said it all. “I’m sorry to disrupt the proceedings Your Honor. Mr. Witherspoon, please continue.” Sydney took her seat. While Sam spoke, Sydney listened to see if she could salvage her case and her reputation.

  Sydney looked over at Manny. He slumped lower in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Classic sign of guilt. Sydney swallowed. She leaned back in the chair and kept her features calm. But on the inside, she was screaming.

  It was over. All over.

  ***

  After court dismissed, Sydney rushed out of the building and made her way to her SUV where Belinda was waiting for her. Belinda was a court stenographer. Her father, Vincent Santiago, was a judge presiding over family cases. Sydney had filled Belinda in on the now defunct court case.

  “He’s the minister?” Sydney’s best friend, Belinda Santiago’s, eyes lit up. She pointed to Pastor Charleston who was now exiting the building.

  “Shush,” Sydney cautioned, widening her eyes. “He might hear you.” Then she had to add, “Yes, that’s him. He’s the one who stole my parking spot this morning.”