Dangerous Lies Read online

  How cruel would I be to anyone who took everything I loved away from me? As inhumanly as humanly possible. I would turn into a hurricane destroying everything in my path. I wouldn’t be able to see past my hate because if I let it go for a second, the loss would overwhelm me. I would have no choice but to hate.

  I can understand why Phoenix wants to hurt us and anyone associated with anyone who took so much from her.

  I can understand, but it’s why I’m willing to fight so hard to not lose those I love. I know who and what I would become if I did—a monster.

  I nod to Zeke as I sit next to him.

  It’s time to end this.

  Our cards are dealt between the three of us. At the start, it was everyone against us, but we prevailed, and now we have the upper-hand. We outnumber him.

  I look at my cards. For a while, I didn’t even read the dares. It didn’t matter what the cards said. I would do whatever it takes to win.

  But one look at Zeke, and I realized it mattered. If I won a hand, I would spare Zeke from having to see me tortured or undressed.

  This is the final round.

  Either Zeke or I win, or they do.

  I see several face cards, and I see a new card I haven’t seen before.

  I hold that card closer to my face and read slowly.

  To win, you must sacrifice a part of yourself—your voice. Play the card, sacrifice yourself, and you win.

  I look over at Zeke. His head is buried in one of his cards as he studies it closer, reading the words over and over. He has a version of this card too. The other man must have a similar card too, but we already know he won’t play it.

  Give up my voice? What does that even mean?

  My heart races, thundering rapidly like a drum pounding through my body.

  What does Zeke have to give up?

  What do we do?

  The game begins as usual.

  The other man at our table has higher cards. I’m out of anything but the sacrifice card. I look to Zeke, and from his gaze, it seems he’s in the same position.

  We have to win.

  There is nothing left to do but sacrifice everything. We both play our cards and hope to hell it’s enough to save Atlas.

  11

  Beckett

  Finally, I’ve made it to the last table.

  It’s down to two—me and Corbin.

  I was surprised he showed his face, even more surprised to see that he entered the game. And he, unlike the rest of his minions entered in the game, even did one of the dares he bet. It cost him his pretty face getting marred, swollen, and bloodied up.

  It’s that same face now that’s dripping with blood that stands between me and saving Declan. He’s the one remaining wall to possibly earning forgiveness for losing Rose and Atlas—not that I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.

  I’ll win.

  It’s not about having the cards. It’s about willing to bet everything. It’s about being willing to endure the most pain, suffer the most without fear. That’s how you win this game.

  That’s something I have plenty of. Losing an arm will teach you a thing or two about pain.

  My concern isn’t about how much more I can endure. Sure, there is blood dripping down my forehead and seeping into my eye, making it hard to see. And yes, my ears are ringing and haven’t stopped for hours now. I have gashes all over my back. My cock doesn’t want to be touched ever again. I’m pretty sure I can’t have children after the beating my balls took.

  But that’s nothing.

  My concern is what happens after I win. Will I actually get Declan? Or is Corbin not going to keep his promise? Is he going to find a way to disqualify me? Is this all a ruse to keep us at specific locations while they move the kids to someplace we will never find them?

  The only way to find out is to finish the game.

  Cards are dealt one by one to Corbin and me.

  Neither of us looks at the cards. We glare at each other like this is a staring contest instead of a fucked up game where lives are hanging in the balance.

  Finally, we both pick up our cards one by one. I have a few face cards, a two, and an ace. Then I pick up the last card.

  This one is different than any of the cards I’ve previously gotten. ‘Sacrifice Card’ is written across the top.

  I don’t always read the bets, knowing there is nothing I wouldn’t do to rescue Declan, but this card I read.

  To win, you must sacrifice a part of yourself—your ability to feel and touch. Play the card, sacrifice yourself, and you win.

  I look up at Corbin, who is grinning at me wickedly. No doubt he doesn’t have a sacrifice card. That’s what this has all been about—making us do the most ridiculous things, show how terribly we are suffering, then really make us hurt.

  I’m afraid it’s a trick. Even if we win, the kids might not simply be returned to us like they say. What choice do I have, though?

  Corbin bets, then it’s my turn.

  I immediately go all in, including the sacrifice card. I’m tired of the games.

  I either win and get Declan, or I lose and fight this motherfucker to the death. Either way is fine with me because either way, I’ll win. I don’t accept defeat.

  I smirk at Corbin as I go all in, and his eyebrows jump up a second in shock. He didn’t think I’d play the sacrifice card. He didn’t think I’d be willing to go that far. He thinks pain scares me. He has no idea that losing my family is the only thing that scares me.

  My ability to feel and touch—I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve lost a limb already. I can handle losing any physical part of my body. I have no problem adapting. Whatever it means, I’ll give it up.

  “Your loss,” Corbin says.

  “As long as I get the kid, I don’t care what you do to me.”

  12

  Liesel

  “I hate you,” I say as I stand in the center of the stage, looking out at Langston.

  The crowd chuckles, thinking I truly hate Langston. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Even when I hated him, I still loved him. He’s a drug I can’t give up.

  Right now, I wish he hated me. He could ruin everything if he prevents my sacrifice.

  His limits have been pushed about what he can handle me enduring and what he can’t. So far, he’s stayed on the sidelines watching but not trying to stop the price I had to pay for losing each round.

  I’ve seen every vein in his head pop, I’ve seen his muscles flex with the need to step in, I’ve seen his face redden as he held his breath to keep his ass in his seat instead of throwing me over his shoulder and getting me the fuck out of here.

  This round will test him more than I think he can handle.

  I’m standing naked on the little stage. I lost my clothes after the last round, as did Langston.

  Anyone else standing in my place might be trembling in fear. Goosebumps would have surely formed. Their hearts would have sped to an ungodly speed or slowed beyond detection.

  For me, the only thing my body feels is Langston all the way across the room. His eyes sparkle with his love even from there. How foolish was I to try and stop us from loving each other all these years? Why did I let him hate me? Why not demand his love all those years ago when we were five years old?

  Would we still be here now? About to lose everything to try and save our children?

  Maybe, but at least if we’d spent those years loving each other, it wouldn’t feel like we wasted so much time now.

  I feel a hand start to graze my body, and Langston’s body changes in the familiar way. His lips thin, his hand twitches, his eyes glaze over into darkness. He’s fighting every nerve in his body to not save me. Saving me means losing Rose, and our kids will always come first.

  “Stay,” I half mouth, half say to Langston.

  Another hand touches me. I try not to focus or think about where. It’s easy to tune out when I’m so focused on not showing any signs of distress to Langston. I don’t want him to suffer be
cause he thinks I’m in pain—I’m not.

  The debt I lost said that any man in this room could touch me where they want. So far, I’ve been poked and prodded everywhere—places no one but Langston deserves to touch. But the hand we’ve been dealt means we have to fight to get to that place. And when we do, I have a feeling our happily ever after is going to be short-lived. Even if we find happiness together, something will come along and take it away. The world always takes from us. It’s why I’ve been so opposed to us being together.

  I feel the man slide his grubby finger inside me. I don’t react. I’m not in pain, not really. This will all be over soon, so fucking soon.

  Langston looks like he’s about to combust. But if I could stay in my chair while that sadistic woman almost cut off all the blood supply to his balls, then he can sit in his chair for this.

  Langston can’t put up with it, though. He rushes onto the stage. The man who was fingering me steps back, probably because he thinks Langston will punch him. Langston takes a deep breath as he stands in front of me, shielding me from the rest of the men.

  “Langston, I’m okay. I promise,” I say, making my voice sound as strong as possible.

  “I know you are. I’m not.”

  “We have to play the game. We have to win. There is no other option.”

  “I know.”

  “Then, what are you doing? Go back to your chair.”

  He tilts his head as cocky grin spreads. “I’m having my turn.”

  I frown, confused, just before his hand cups my sex.

  “Oh.”

  I bite my lip to keep the sex noises that are begging to leave my body as Langston rubs a thumb around my clit before slowly pushing a finger inside of me.

  God, it feels like no other man. I could be blindfolded and fucked in the exact same way by every man here, and I’d be able to tell the difference between Langston and everyone else. He may have just recently become my husband, but he’s been my everything for so much longer.

  My breath speeds up as he touches me. My cheeks flush, and my toes curl on the stage.

  I prepare myself for the inevitable—someone is going to yank him off of me.

  Langston leans into my body, his lips resting on mine. My eyes are closed as the pressure builds inside me. My mind begins to soar above all the wickedness of the room. Vile creatures walk among us every day, only to haunt our dreams later. I float above it all.

  “Come, my wife.”

  I do.

  Langston’s mouth closes over mine, keeping all of my noises to himself. His body blocks the crowd so they can’t see my face as I come apart, as Langston claims me in front of everyone while protecting me in the only way he can.

  “They can touch you all they want, but you’re mine,” he says loud enough for the whole room to hear.

  “Leave,” I breathe out.

  “What?”

  “Thank you. I hate you. Now, leave. It’s easier for both of us. Go take a break in the bathroom or grab a drink at the bar.”

  He frowns.

  It’s my turn to help him.

  He doesn’t like it, but eventually, he walks out of the room.

  I exhale, feeling a weight lift from me.

  More touching me, defiling me, trying to make a claim on me, but all I feel is Langston. His touch still tingles everywhere, and when they touch me, it ignites his touch once again.

  I don’t know how much time passes. I’m blissfully ignorant to it all until Kiff finally tells me I can step down.

  One step, then two, then…

  I fall.

  The room breaks out into laughter.

  I don’t care.

  My head spins. I must have gotten lightheaded from how long I was standing upright.

  “We are going to take a twenty-minute break and then start the next round of games,” the host says.

  Twenty-minute break.

  My stomach heaves, and I know how I’m going to be spending my time.

  I force myself up before I race to the bathroom.

  I clutch the toilet as I dry heave. My stomach churns, but nothing comes out. Sweat forms and mixes with the blood seeping from my wounds before making a small puddle on the floor underneath me.

  I expect Langston will burst through the stall door at any moment. This is the women’s bathroom, but that wouldn’t stop him. I expect him to search me out the second he realizes there is a break.

  He can’t find me here. He can’t find me crumpled on the bathroom floor, a complete mess.

  I flush the toilet and then use the seat to push myself up. My feet wobble, and the world spins around my head. I hold my arms out by my sides, trying to keep my balance. They flail a bit as I walk over to the sink and wash my hands. I try to wash some of the blood and sweat from my body, but it’s no use. All it does is smear.

  I decide to focus my attention on my face, thinking I can at least wash enough off, so my eyes no longer sting.

  “I said macaroni and cheese, not cheese pizza,” a soft voice says.

  I turn the water off, my ears perk up, and my eyes search the three stalled bathroom for the source of the voice.

  I throw open each of the stalls, but the room is empty.

  Speak again, I beg the silence.

  Did I just imagine that sweet little voice in my head?

  “You are so incompetent. When I get older, I’m going to get you fired,” the sassy voice says again.

  I grin as I look up at the vent directly above me.

  Rose.

  She’s here.

  Right above me.

  My heart flutters, coming alive again with true hope I didn’t know I could feel anymore. Rose is here. She’s alive, and from the sound of her voice, it sounds like she’s giving them hell.

  This all won’t be for nothing. We will be able to get her back. Maybe sooner than we think?

  I consider my options to get to Rose. Leave the bathroom, find the stairs, count the doors to her room, and then try to sneak in. That’s a lot of things that would have to go perfectly for me to be able to find her.

  Or?

  Or I climb up through the vent.

  My time to make a move is running out. We only had a twenty-minute break. This could all fail miserably, but my gut tells me I have to try.

  I can still hear Rose’s voice, but it’s softer now. I can’t make out her words.

  I have to try.

  I run to one of the stalls and climb up on the toilet. I look around for my next move and decide the best option is to climb up onto the wall of the stall. I stand on my tiptoes, barely able to reach the top of the wall while I balance on the top of the toilet.

  I grab hold of the top of the stall, and then I clamber up. I slip and slide, but somehow I manage to hang on until I can hike my leg up onto the top of the wall.

  The ceiling is tiled, so I push up on one of the tiles. It pops open. I grab onto the cheap ceiling tile and toss it to the floor. Finally, I pull myself up into the opening.

  I take a deep breath. Climbing up into the ceiling won’t help if I can’t get into the ducts and up to the floor above me.

  I crawl across the ceiling to the vent I saw. When I get to it, I pop the opening off before sliding up inside. I hold myself up with my arms and legs bracing against the sides of vents.

  “I asked for milk, not soda,” Rose says.

  “We don’t have milk,” a man’s voice grumbles back, clearly annoyed.

  I smile. Rose has this man wrapped around her finger.

  “The least you could get me is water. Soda is so unhealthy.”

  “Fine. I’ll get your damn water. I’ll be right back.”

  He’s leaving.

  My eyes widen, and my heart pounds. This is my chance.

  I scramble up as fast as I can until I get to the top of the vent that leads into the room where she’s being held. The lid is stuck. I push as hard as I can, but it won’t budge.

  “Rose,” I whisper through the vent.

&nb
sp; “Who is that?” she asks.

  “I’m a friend of your dad’s. I’m Liesel.”

  Her eyes peer down at me through the slats.

  “Liesel? That’s a funny name.”

  I smile at how truthful she is. She’s not afraid to speak her mind.

  “It is, isn’t it? I wish we had time to talk more, but I’m here to take you back to your dad.”

  “Thank god. These people are idiots.”

  I laugh.

  “Rose, can you help me try to get the top of this vent off before that man comes back?”

  She nods and kneels down, her small hands gripping the edge of the vent cover while I push up.

  It starts to budge.

  “Almost there,” I say, pushing with everything I have.

  It pops open, and I’m face to face with my daughter. I’m bloodied, naked, and my head is peering out from the top of a floor vent. Of all the ways I imagined meeting my daughter, this isn’t one of them. And yet, seeing her smile at me like I’m her savior makes it all worthwhile. Seeing that she isn’t injured or hurt is the miracle I’ve been praying for.

  “Why are you covered in blood?” she asks.

  “I’ll tell you someday, but for now, we have to go.”

  She nods.

  I hold out my arms, and to my surprise, she lowers herself into my arms, no questions asked. She’s either very naive or a good judge of character. Carefully, I lower us down into the vent, then I pull the lid back so, hopefully, her guard won’t realize how she escaped.

  Then I help her down the vent.

  I carry her down until the duct turns, and then she can start crawling on her own. She’s much faster than I am. I see stars when I open my eyes, and my muscles shake with each movement. I’m naked; I have no weapons, nothing to get her out of here. This was a terrible idea.

  “Rose, wait a sec,” I say.

  She stops. Her head looks back at me as her blonde curls hang down her back.