Dangerous Lies Read online

  “You really think finding the treasure, and playing their games, is the best way to get Declan back?”

  “Yes, I do,” she says.

  God, help us.

  “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” Liesel asks.

  Fucking everything.

  “Nothing—it’s nothing.”

  She folds her arms and faces me. “Tell me the truth, killer.”

  “You go first.”

  She frowns.

  “Fine, we both keep our secrets. If it means we’re protecting each other, then I agree we shouldn’t tell each other.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Now what?”

  Now, I make you admit you love me instead of hating me while trying to keep my own feelings hidden so I don’t destroy us all.

  How do I make her fall in love with me?

  Romance.

  I’ve tried it before and failed, but I don’t know what else to try. Maybe a day away from all of this will make her admit her feelings. One day where we aren’t thinking about the kids or how to protect our family and friends.

  “One day,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Give me one day where you don’t ask any questions. We forget about the past, our future, the kids, the danger—everything. Give me one day where it’s just us. Can you do that?”

  She bites her lip, and I expect her to say I’m crazy, but then she says, “Yes.”

  22

  Liesel

  I know something is up. There is a reason Langston wants to spend a day together. A day where I just go along with whatever he has planned and not ask any questions. A day where I forget that I still have a child in danger and that my other two children are on an island, still in danger as long I keep waiting to finish this ridiculous treasure quest.

  But I trust Langston.

  I trust him too much.

  So when he calls his team to bring us his sailboat, I climb on, no questions asked.

  We are as safe as humanly possible. Kai has her entire team out on boats surrounding and protecting us, but it still feels strange to be on a boat by ourselves.

  I sit on the side of the boat as I watch Langston work, pulling on ropes and getting the sail into the position he wants. At one point, he loses his shirt, giving me an exquisite view of his rippling muscles.

  Finally, he must be satisfied with the work he’s done on the sail. He reaches into a cooler and pulls out a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes.

  “Come here,” he says, sitting and patting the spot in front of his lap.

  My stomach does a little flip as I sit in his lap. If he were truly mine, then sitting between his legs under the stars while we sip champagne would be the most romantic thing in the world. Despite the fact that we are legally married, despite the fact that we care deeply for each other, have said that we belong to each other, it’s not true.

  He’s not mine.

  I repeat those words to myself as I lean back against his bare chest.

  He hands me a glass of champagne, which I take, even though I don’t want any alcohol tonight. I have a feeling I’ll be replaying this night forever in my head, and I don’t want to forget a single detail.

  His arms wrap around my stomach, pulling me tighter against his chest until we can both look up at the stars.

  Then Langston starts softly singing John Legend’s ‘All of Me.’ My heart stops beating as he sings the first verse, wondering what’s going on in my mind. Next, my breathing stops as he nears the chorus. I wait to hear the words I’ve been dying to hear from him since I was seventeen, maybe even longer.

  “…hates all of you,” he sings, changing the lyrics.

  I chuckle. It’s what the moment needs, but god, does it sting to not hear him sing the one word that’s missing from my life.

  But if he were to say he loves me, it will end up killing him. It’s for the best.

  Tell that to my lovesick heart.

  He continues to sing the rest of the song, and every time he says ‘hate’ instead of ‘love,’ I wince. He must notice, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Finally, when my heart can’t take anymore, I get up from his lap and walk to the other end of the boat. Maybe I should have drunk some of that champagne after all?

  “You okay?” Langston asks.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  His hand slides up and down my back. “You’re tense. How about a soak in the tub and massage?”

  I nod again.

  I feel his breath on my neck; I hiss because he feels so good without even touching me. I can’t fight giving him my heart anymore. It’s his—it’s always been his. Now to decide if it’s fair to tell him or not.

  He walks away from me, removing the cover of the hot tub. He presses a button to turn it on, and bubbles come to life.

  I smile. Only Langston would have a sailboat with a hot tub on the top deck.

  Silently, he walks back to me. We haven’t spoken much since he sang his song. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up and over my body. Then he moves to my pants, taking his time sliding them down my body until I’m in nothing but boxers from the plane.

  He sucks in a breath as his eyes rake over my bare chest. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pushes them down too.

  “Are you going undress me, or do I have to do that too?” he asks with a smirk.

  “You seem to be doing a pretty good job yourself.”

  His grin turns vicious. He shoves his pants and boxers down in one push before yanking us backward into the hot tub.

  The water engulfs us, warmth soothing my aching muscles, but his body against mine is cruel. I want him forever, instead of just this one fairytale of a day.

  We surface, and I’m once again sitting on Langston’s lap. He starts working my shoulders, and I melt. I try to push out my fears and do what Langston said—just enjoy tonight. His touch helps. I can’t help but relax.

  “Where should we go on our honeymoon?” Langston asks suddenly.

  I turn my head to look at him. “What honeymoon?”

  “The honeymoon we are going to go on after we get Declan.”

  “But—”

  Langston kisses my lips, shutting me up. “Where?”

  When I still don’t speak, Langston says, “Humor me. Do you want to go somewhere warm? Another beach? The mountains?”

  When I don’t answer, he continues throwing out ideas. “Paris? The Maldives? Sydney? San Diego? St. Lucia?”

  “Stop.”

  “What? I need to imagine a life after this—a month-long vacation that’s just the two of us. I love our kids, but I want to do very dirty things to your body to make up for lost time, and I can’t do that with them around. We’ll make it up to them with a trip to Disney World or something afterward. And they’ll have fun playing with Kai and Enzo’s twins.”

  I scoot off his lap, wanting to look him in the eye when we talk.

  “Does it bother you that our kids aren’t biologically yours?” I know it doesn’t, but it heals my heart to hear him talk about the kids, to know he will always be their father, no matter what else happens.

  “No, it doesn’t bother me. They’re mine,” he growls.

  I smile.

  “Even if their father wasn’t a dead motherfucker, they would still belong to me.”

  Then another thought pops into my head that I can’t dismiss; I have to know its answer. “I know you already think of Atlas and Rose as your kids and that you will feel the same way about Declan, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Do you want biological kids? Kids that look like you, share your mannerisms, your blood?”

  “Rose already looks like me with her blonde hair and adventurous spirit. And Atlas mimics every behavior of mine that he can. The other day I caught him trying to use my razor to shave his face,” he chuckles at the memory.

  His laughter stops when he sees how serious I am. I need to know the
truth.

  His eyes drop to my stomach beneath the bubbles. He still thinks there is a chance I’m pregnant, that I can be the one to provide him with a biological child.

  I should tell him the truth, but I can’t—not yet. It could ruin his whole world, and not when there is still a tiny fraction of a chance that—

  “No, I don’t need a biological child. I have Rose, Atlas, Declan. I never thought I’d make a good father with the example I had as a father.”

  “Langston, you’re a good father.”

  “I know. I’m not perfect, but I do my best, and our kids know I love them. Being loved by them, having you in my life, it’s more than I could have ever imagined. I don’t need a kid that shares my blood to make me happy, but if one comes along, I’ll love them too.”

  Can’t. Feel. My. Heart.

  “Is something wrong?” Langston asks.

  I shake my head.

  He snickers knowingly. “Something you want to tell me?”

  I shake more furiously.

  He laughs and relaxes his arms over the edge of the hot tub, seemingly at ease with wherever this conversation is going.

  “I always knew we’d end up married,” he says.

  “You did?”

  “Of course. We both fought it because we are both so independent and stubborn, and we believed the lies. But I always knew you were it for me, huntress.” I can’t tell if he’s glad that I’m the person for him or tormented that we are stuck together.

  He notices my change. “Tell me something I don’t know about you. Tell me a wish, a dream.”

  I run my tongue over the front of my teeth. There is a wicked gleam in my eyes. I don’t have a wish or a dream for some far-off future other than ensuring that our kids are safe. I can’t think or plan for our future. That’s not something I want to imagine. It doesn’t warm my heart to plan a honeymoon or pretend that our marriage can survive what’s coming.

  “I’ve never had sex in a hot tub under the stars,” I say.

  “Really? I thought everyone had,” he teases.

  I shake my head slowly, keeping my lust-filled eyes on him.

  I’m tired of talking.

  He’s obviously trying for a romantic night, but I’m tired of it. I want dirty, filthy sex. That’s the only thing that can get me out of my head right now.

  I inch toward him; his arms stay on the edge of the tub. His eyes are already attacking me, roaming over every part of my body he intends to kiss, lick, tease. A rush of excitement spreads between my legs at the look.

  I inch forward until I’m as close as I can get without touching him. Still, he doesn’t try and touch me. When I glance at his hands, I see his knuckles are turning white. He’s gripping onto the side of the tub to control himself.

  “What are you doing?” I giggle at his ridiculousness.

  “Trying to take my time so I can memorize every face you make. How you sound when you breathe versus when I’m touching you. How you feel.”

  “You can’t know how I feel if you don’t touch me.”

  “If I touch you, I’m going to get caught up in fucking you and miss the glow you have, the fire in your eyes.”

  “What’s wrong with getting lost in me?”

  “Nothing—I just want to take my time with you.”

  I straddle his lap as I hold onto the tub on either side of his shoulders and let my body sink down on top of him.

  “We only have one night. You don’t get to take your time with me.”

  He frowns, but my comment finally makes him touch me. He grabs my hips as his pelvis tilts his hard length between my legs. He tilts his head forward, taking my bottom lip into his mouth. His growl rattles through our bodies.

  “We are pretending the outside world doesn’t exist for one night, but you are mine forever,” he promises.

  He lifts me up and then drives me down onto his cock, claiming me in one stroke.

  “So much for going slow,” I tease.

  He responds by driving into me harder, shutting me up until I can no longer speak.

  My body responds to his every thrust. My lips kiss his over and over. Our tongues collide and slide over each other.

  Langston wants to take this slow to ensure we remember every second. I’d prefer to spend the night fucking over and over again until my body and brain can’t forget how Langston feels inside my body.

  “I belong in your body,” Langston says.

  “Yo—” I can’t get any words out. He’s fucking me so hard; he’s rattling my brain cells. Shocks of emotions pulse through my body.

  I don’t know how he does this. I love sex; I’ve had plenty of good partners over the years. But with Langston, it’s not about where we are, the mood, the scenery, or the position. Just being with him—kissing, licking, fucking, any of it—takes me to a different place. My body is overcome with some emotion I haven’t felt before. I don’t care if I come or how good it feels, as long as Langston and I are connecting.

  “Come, baby,” Langston growls.

  He can sense how close I am. That growl thing he does, low and vibrating through my whole body, is all I need to come. I explode, and my eyes are seeing shooting stars in the sky above me. I still can’t form coherent syllables, let alone words.

  Langston is kissing my swollen lips slowly before he scoops me into his arms. “I hate you so much, Liesel. I hate you so much.”

  23

  Langston

  The sun wakes me as it begins to rise over the ocean. We slept on the top of the sailboat with a comforter snuggled around us. Liesel is still asleep on my shoulder.

  I don’t want to move her, but I failed last night. Liesel didn’t admit she loves me. I’m going to have to try something different. We fucked three times last night. Each time was rough and frantic. It was all either of us could manage, but slow, romantic lovemaking is what this task needs; not feral, animalistic fucking.

  I inch myself out from under Liesel. She continues to snore as I stand up. Then I run to the small kitchenette to make coffee and omelets.

  After whipping up a quick breakfast, I return with a tray of food and coffee to where Liesel is still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her; she looks so peaceful, and in our life, you sleep as much as you can. But every second we fail to get the treasure is another second our son is in danger, so this can’t wait.

  I slip under the covers next to Liesel, and then I hold one of the cups underneath Liesel’s nose as I kiss her cheek.

  “Good morning.”

  “Mmmh,” she moans but doesn’t open her eyes. “Am I dreaming, or is that coffee?”

  “It’s coffee.”

  Her eyes snap open, and she smiles at me with flushed cheeks.

  I frown. There’s a chill in the air; she shouldn’t feel warm.

  I brush my hand over her forehead—she does feel warm.

  Her lips lean up to kiss mine, and I forget about her feeling warm.

  “Sit up,” I tell her.

  She moves into the crook of my arm and leans against my shoulder. I hand her the cup of coffee and then move the tray across our laps so she can eat her omelet.

  “Wow, I’ve never had breakfast in bed, but I’m not sure I can call a comforter on the deck of a boat a bed,” she says.

  “Is that a thank you?”

  She grins. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We both drink our coffees and pick at our omelets. Liesel doesn’t eat enough, but I’m not going to try to get her to change her eating habits now. She sets her almost empty coffee mug down on the tray.

  “Why are we really here? I know you are doing this, so when you do the fucked up thing the task requires, I’ll have some good memories to pair with it. But we are running out of time. Can we get to the hard part now?” Liesel says.

  She’s right; that’s what this whole night and morning have been about. As much as I enjoy sitting here eating breakfast with her, it’s not going to get her to admit she loves me. Hopef
ully, it is giving her warm and fuzzy feelings that might help her get there faster.

  I set the tray to the side wordlessly. Yes, this is all about the stupid treasure, but I’m not treating her sweetly because I plan on hurting her. It’s the opposite. I want her to love me as I love her.

  I grab her neck and lay her back down as my body moves over her. She’s naked underneath the comforter, as am I. The feeling of our naked bodies touching overwhelms my senses, and I’m immediately hard again.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her bottom lip trembling just slightly.

  Leaning down, I close my eyes and kiss that lip tenderly.

  She gasps at the impact.

  My intention is to worship every inch of her body. I want to make her know how much I love each part of her and that she’s safe with me. I’ll love her forever, no matter what happens. I want to flood her with feelings so that the words just fall out of her.

  She can’t take it back because once she speaks the truth, she’s not going to be able to stop speaking or feeling it. I’m guessing that’s why she hasn’t spoken the words so far. She doesn’t want to love me. She wants to go back to her independent life by herself and get visitation of the kids or some shit like that. She’s scared; everyone she has ever loved has hurt her, left her, or been taken away from her.

  She needs to know that I won’t hurt her.

  I won’t leave her.

  And I won’t be taken from her.

  I start at her forehead. I leave a kiss there and then move to each of her cheeks.

  “Your eyes have captivated me since we were five, and we hunted a spider together,” I say.

  She smiles, her face heating.

  My lips find the spot behind her ear that causes her breath to speed. Then I move to her earlobes, my tongue flicking the lobe until she gasps.

  “I want to worship your entire body forever. Will you let me?”

  “Mmmh,” she moans.

  I grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I kiss her lips gently, trying not to get carried away and fuck her too fast.

  “Every time I kiss you, your lips hold me captive. I get swept away in your delicious lips. Your taste. Your moans. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”