Cruel Lies Page 6

  Phoenix sits up and examines me closer until she finds the source of the blood—my bottom lip. A lip that Liesel bit down on to keep from screaming my name as I fucked her with my fingers—fingers that still smell like her.

  Phoenix’s eyes glaze over into a frosty shade. I can see the damn icicles hanging from her eyelashes.

  I prepare myself for her slap, bite, hit, rage. I deserve it. Even though we have an open marriage, I know that I hurt her. I hate hurting her. She’s one of my closest friends, and I’ll always owe the world to her. I married her never thinking I’d want another woman as a constant in my life. I was wrong, but so was Phoenix for thinking that she could make me fall in love with her.

  The slap never comes. Instead, she leans close to my lips, uncomfortably close, until we are sharing oxygen.

  “Dunn,” I warn.

  “You vowed your body to me forever. I let you fuck other whores, but you will always be mine. We aren’t getting a divorce. You don’t want that. You’re just confused by old feelings. You want me.”

  I shake my head, careful not to let our lips brush against each other.

  “She hurts you.” Her thumb brushes over my swollen, bleeding lip. “I heal you.”

  And then she presses her lips against mine. She might call it a kiss, but for it to be a kiss, I’d have to kiss her back. That doesn’t stop her. She licks her tongue over my wound, trying to heal me with her saliva.

  I give her one more second to get whatever jealousy she’s feeling toward Liesel out of her system. Then, I grab her shoulders and hold her back.

  She tilts her head, her brows pulling together.

  “Stop,” I say, repeating the word that Liesel said to me.

  “You’re my husband. You don’t get to tell me to stop. You’re mine.”

  I shake my head. “I was never yours. We have an agreement on paper to protect the kids; that’s all. I care about you deeply, Dunn. And that’s why I’m going to spend the rest of the flight in the cockpit.”

  I stand up before I release her.

  “Baby, please,” she begs.

  “I care about you. I’m sorry for hurting you, but I can’t, Dunn—not anymore. I’m sorry.”

  And then I walk to the cockpit. I don’t allow myself to glance back at either of the women. I don’t want to see the pain I’m causing both of them.

  All I know is I’m a stupid man who thought I’d never care about a woman more than I do Phoenix. I wasn’t sure I had a heart. Even Siren thought I’d never fall in love and agreed that marrying Phoenix was for the best.

  Then Liesel came back into my life and fucked up all my plans.

  I got the silent treatment from both women during the entirety of our landing and drive to our hotel. The sky is dark, so we won’t be searching for any treasure tonight.

  I park the rental car in front of the swankiest hotel I could find. I chose the best not because I need us to rest in luxury, but because expensive hotels have the most cameras to hack into ensuring our safety.

  Phoenix continues to give me an icy glare from the passenger seat next to me. Liesel stares out the window, completely lost in thought like we aren’t even here at all. If Liesel is upset that Phoenix kissed me, she’s not showing it.

  I get out of the car, scanning every person on the street, my gun at my back, my fingers tingling to grab it. After the explosion at my house, I don’t trust that we aren’t being followed.

  A couple walks by holding hands, and my mind immediately goes to them being dangerous. A woman is carrying a baby in one hand while holding the hand of a crying toddler with the other—an obvious enemy in my paranoid mind.

  Liesel steps out of the car, her eyes scanning just like mine, searching for the devil inside every person who walks by.

  Another door slams. Phoenix struts by us and walks through the automatic doors of the hotel, her anger overtaking any fear she has.

  Liesel and I exchange a glance wordlessly, and then we walk inside.

  “Do you still have a gun?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “Good girl.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s not going to work. You can’t seduce me by saying things like ‘good girl.’”

  “I’d bet everything I own that your panties are wet right now.” I wink at her.

  Her ears pink, and I know I’m right.

  We hit the lobby floor, and our flirting stops. People are milling about everywhere—the reception desk, the lounge, the bar. People walk briskly past us and danger could be anywhere.

  “Stay close,” I order.

  She nods, walking next to me. Phoenix emerges from the bar with a dry martini in her hand as she settles into a walk on my left.

  “Don’t leave my side again, Dunn.”

  Both women look at me. I should really stop calling Phoenix, ‘Dunn.’

  “Why? Miss me already?” Phoenix bats her eyelashes at me as she grips my arm.

  “Just do what I say so you don’t end up dead.”

  Phoenix gasps and then grips my arm tighter as I walk up to the reception desk.

  “How can I help you, sir?” the man behind the desk asks.

  “Can I get a suite with two adjoining rooms?”

  I don’t have to turn my head to feel the two sets of eyes from each woman burning into my side.

  “I want my own room,” Liesel says.

  “Me too,” Phoenix huffs.

  “Two adjoining rooms or a suite with two bedrooms and a couch,” I say to the gentleman.

  “We have a suite with two queen bedrooms and a spacious living room pull out couch.”

  “Perfect.”

  I pull out cash to pay. I don’t want anything tied to our names revealing our location. The man slides me three room keys.

  “Can we talk? I don’t think it’s a good idea for the three of us to share a suite,” Phoenix says, tugging on my arm.

  “If we want to all stay alive, it is.”

  I look over to Liesel, expecting more of a fight from her as well, but her eyes are scanning the crowd.

  My eyes follow her gaze. Does she sense some danger that I’m not seeing?

  Carefully, I position Phoenix behind me as I put my hand on my gun.

  “What is it?” I ask Liesel.

  She smiles.

  I frown.

  She starts running excitedly in the direction of the bar.

  “Looks like I don’t have anything to worry about after all,” Phoenix says, stepping next to me again as she sips her martini.

  Liesel jumps into the arms of a man in a suit and jealousy rears its head inside me. So much so, that it takes me a second to recognize the man whose arms she flung herself into.

  Maxwell.

  I thought we had agreed that he was too shifty to be trusted, but she’s acting like she just met up with a long lost friend.

  I hand Phoenix a room key. “Go to the room and don’t leave.”

  “Why? I want to watch the show.”

  “Dunn,” my voice is serious and commanding, so Phoenix will do as I say. That’s one of the traits I can always count on with her. When our lives hang in the balance, all I have to do is give her an order, and she’ll follow it. Phoenix rolls her eyes and saunters toward the elevators.

  I walk over to Maxwell and Liesel, my hands itching to grab the gun, but I don’t since we’re in a crowded lobby. That won’t stop me from killing this bastard, though.

  “Get your hands off her,” I growl at Maxwell.

  He doesn’t budge an inch. His hand remains on the small of her back. His rigid, clean-cut appearance does nothing to make me trust him. That’s why he appears the way he does in a suit and tie; he looks like a trusted businessman instead of the scum I know he is.

  “Langston, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  “Let her go,” I roar through gritted teeth.

  He chuckles. “Liesel is the one who called me. I’m not holding her hostage.” He waves his hand, showing he has no weapon pressed a
gainst her back. “I’m here to help her.”

  “It’s the truth. I called him,” Liesel says.

  “And why the hell would you do that?” I spit in her face. How dare she pull a move like this without talking to me first!

  Her eyes implore me to trust her, but we’ve already established that I don’t.

  “Waylon wasn’t the one in charge at his organization. He was second in line. The man in charge is still after me. He still demands that I give him what he wants. Now that Waylon’s dead, he’s impatient. He wants this over. Maxwell has met him before. I told him to meet us here so we could talk to him about what he knows,” Liesel says, giving me more information that was in that damn letter.

  She’s lying. Or at least, she’s hiding something—from me or from Maxwell? That’s the question.

  “What is this man’s name?” I ask Maxwell.

  “Corbin.”

  I square myself, looking at Maxwell. He has a couple of inches on me. At first glance, it would seem he has bigger muscles than me. But he doesn’t know I grew up fighting Zeke, the biggest, physically strongest man I know. I know how to fight hulks, and I know how to win.

  I want to order Liesel to go to the suite, so I can beat Maxwell’s ass into telling me everything he knows before I kill him. But I know that she will never allow that.

  Instead, I flag down a waitress.

  “Table for three, please.”

  She smiles at the three of us. “Right this way, please.”

  We sit at a table near the bar, surrounded by people. The only good thing about sitting at a restaurant this crowded is that Maxwell is less likely to make a move.

  We each order a drink, and then I say, “Start talking.”

  9

  Liesel

  The vein on Langston’s forehead is bulging as he glares at Maxwell. I’m surprised Langston hasn’t already climbed across the table and strangled him. Right now, all of his anger is focused on Maxwell, but soon his intimidating glare will turn toward me. But he won’t do it, not as long as Maxwell, the bigger threat, is sitting at the table.

  Langston doesn’t know why Maxwell is really here. I’m not even sure why he’s here. Call it a hunch. After I got the threatening note, I knew that Waylon was behind it.

  I just didn’t know if somehow Waylon was alive or if it was someone working for Waylon or this Corbin guy who sent the threat. It was a risk bringing Maxwell here—a huge risk—but my gut says Maxwell might be the only way to get the truth.

  I understand why Langston is practically growling and shooting daggers at Maxwell. Langston has no idea if Maxwell is on Waylon’s side or ours, and when our kid’s lives are at stake, you don’t let anyone into our lives that could threaten theirs.

  What annoys me is that Langston has yet to show that he trusts me.

  After everything we’ve been through together. After fucking each other. After learning he’s raising my son. After all of it, he still doesn’t trust that I would never do anything I think could hurt us, any of us—Langston, Phoenix, or our kids.

  Maxwell’s gaze turns to me, waiting for me to tell him where to start. He’s here for me, not Langston.

  I open my mouth just as the waitress brings over our drinks on a tray. Our silence stretches as the woman places three scotches in front of us. I give her a tight smile but don’t offer a thank you. The air is too intense for any of us to mumble a word that could be seen as a weakness to the others at the table. The waitress senses something is off about the three of us and scurries off as fast as she can.

  We return to our staring contest. Langston glares at Maxwell, while Maxwell stares at me. And I am torn between the two men.

  “Waylon is dead, correct?” I ask, deciding to start with what I think will be an easy question for Maxwell to answer. In our world, people die and then come back to life. I basically faked Siren’s death. It wouldn’t be impossible that Waylon did the same.

  Except, Langston was the one who killed Waylon, and there would be no reason for him to fake that. Plus, I was the one who discovered Waylon. He was covered in blood and had no pulse. Unless he has an identical twin or he has literal powers to return from the dead, he’s dead.

  “Waylon is dead,” Maxwell says.

  Both Langston and I study him closely, looking for any tell that he’s lying. When you’ve been lied to by people as often as Langston and I have, you learn to read people better than most.

  “So if Waylon didn’t send me that threatening note, who did?” I ask.

  Maxwell drinks down his entire glass, like he needs courage for the next part.

  “Corbin, his brother.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Waylon doesn’t have a brother. He’s an only child.”

  “He has a brother.”

  “And how do you know that?” Langston asks, gripping his glass hard so he doesn’t punch Maxwell in the face.

  “He’s the one who hired me,” Maxwell answers.

  My breathing stops, and for a second, I think I made a mistake bringing Maxwell here. I let him get close to the next clue that could lead us to the treasure.

  Langston’s leg bounces under the table, and I grab it, trying to get him to calm the fuck down.

  He doesn’t so much as glance my way. He just shakes my hand off his thigh and keeps bouncing like I’m nothing more than an annoying fly that just landed on his leg.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Langston says in a low, deep voice.

  “Without me, you won’t be able to find him.”

  Langston laughs. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  It’s then that I realize Langston has his gun trained on Maxwell underneath the table.

  Maxwell senses it too, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He makes no move to get up, to defend himself. Instead, he looks at me with warm eyes.

  “Waylon’s brother hired me to keep you safe, Liesel. My job is still to protect you. Whether my loyalty lies with him or you, it doesn’t matter. I’m your only shot at staying safe.”

  “Like hell you are! I’m her only shot at staying safe,” Langston says.

  Maxwell ignores Langston and keeps looking at me.

  “I was sent to blow up the house, killing everyone but Liesel to send a message that he can get to you any place at any time if you don’t cooperate. I chose to wait until you were all out.”

  He shouldn’t have said that. Now he’s a dead man, and there is nothing I can do to protect him.

  I can feel Langston boiling next to me, itching to drag this man into an alley and kill him.

  “He has your son, Liesel. He knows where he is. Waylon wasn’t lying about that.”

  I don’t react. I don’t want Maxwell to be able to read me at all. I don’t want him to know that I don’t believe him because Langston is the one who has my son. And he’s currently safe in hiding with Beckett.

  Maxwell smirks, though, thinking he has the key to getting us to do whatever he wants.

  “That’s not a reason for me to keep you alive. That’s a reason for me to kill you,” Langston says.

  “I know. I didn’t realize that a child was involved. If I did, I would have never agreed to work for him. The money was good, and with my criminal record, I couldn’t get a job that paid half as well. After I learned they’re holding a child hostage to get you to do what they want, I vowed I would do whatever I could to protect you both. Believe me or not, but I’m here to help you, Liesel.”

  It doesn’t matter if I believe him or not. I won’t let another man risk my child’s life.

  “Prove it. Tell me everything about Corbin. Tell me where my son is,” I say. My eyes connect with Maxwell’s. I plead with him to stop hiding the truth from me.

  “His name is Corbin Brown. He’s two years older than Waylon. He inherited his father’s drug smuggling organization and doubled it in size. While Waylon, being the much more charming and less evil of the two, decided getting law enforcement and government in his pocket was the best way
to help the business instead of handling the day to day organization. So he ran for office. They also had a third brother. He was the youngest. He was killed in a shoot-off with a rival organization just before his eighteenth birthday. And a sister, who I don’t think involves herself in the illegal stuff.”

  I bite my lip, and my heart aches for Waylon. He had two brothers. One dead. The other a criminal.

  “Both men wanted a way to increase their power and money so they would never have to worry about losing one of their own again. They heard of this legend from your father, Liesel. More money than they earned in the last decade. That kind of money would give them the power to never be threatened again. So they worked together to get you under their control. Waylon courted you, while Corbin took your son. You were the key to getting everything they ever wanted. With Waylon’s murder, nothing will stand in the way of Corbin doing whatever it takes in order to get you to give him the treasure. Nothing.”

  The concern in Maxwell’s eyes feels real, too real. He’s either a good actor, or he truly is concerned for my son’s life. My son, who is perfectly safe. But if my son is with Beckett, whose child does Corbin mistakenly have?

  “Why are you here telling me all of this? I’ve been trying to figure out who Waylon works with for months,” I say.

  “Because I made a mistake working for them, and I want to help fix that.”

  Langston scoffs, like it’s not possible.

  “Tell me where Corbin is keeping my son,” I say.

  Maxwell’s eyes water. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a dead man,” Langston says.

  “No! He’s not.” I slam my hand down on the table, getting the attention of an older couple nearby who looks at me in disgust for my inappropriate outburst. I don’t care, though. My outburst got the attention of the two men.

  “I don’t trust you, Max, but I haven’t sentenced you to death yet either. What did Corbin tell you to do?”

  “My assignment is to convince you to trust me, that I’m on your side, and to keep you safe. To help you get the treasure and then convince you to give it to Corbin in exchange for him keeping your child safe.” His eyes lighten with the truth.