Dirtiest Lie (8 page)

The assassin clones go in first. It takes a good five minutes before they return, satisfied.

“I’ve got cameras all over the place,” Slade says. “There’s an excellent security system in place.”

“You always struck me as the super-urban type,” I confess. “What do you do out here?”

“Half a mile away, there are world-class trails for running and mountain biking,” he says. “Though you’re right. I never set out to buy a place in the country. I just saw it and fell in love.”

“Who looks at houses they’re not interested in?” I ask.

“We were searching for somewhere private,” he says. “Before things with our ex went upside down. Romeo didn’t want anything to do with buying a house together after that, and Hawthorne said he was done with relationships, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to look, to keep an open mind.”

“I still don’t understand this thing with the three of you,” I murmur. “Where did Karen fit into all this?”

“She hit on Romeo. I felt he needed to put himself back out there—it was several months after our ex left, and he’d been moping. Actually, I sort of tricked him into it. Took him out, got him some drinks, texted her where to accidentally run into us.”

“Just you and Romeo? Without Hawthorne?”

“He said he was done. Anyway, it didn’t go well. We like sharing, as you may have noticed. It didn’t feel complete without Hawthorne, and he wasn’t interested in her. So we made a deal. All of us or none of us, decided by majority vote. I’m afraid that’s what you walked into the first night we met.”

“Ah,” I say. “So he didn’t want to be hooking up with anyone. It wasn’t just me.”

Slade’s expression says that it was partially me. “The timing wasn’t ideal.”

I think back to what I learned about Romeo’s sister. Apparently she stayed with him for a few months last year because he was “going through some stuff.”

“I don’t want to pry…” I say.

“It’s not a secret,” Slade says. “I thought Romeo told you about her last night?”

“He was light on the details.”

“Leona was our girlfriend, but she and Romeo had a special bond. We all wanted to take it to the next level, but then she backed out. It was all very mysterious. She didn’t say much to me or Hawthorne. I suspect she was much harder on Romeo. After all, theirs was the primary relationship. If she had major complaints, he’d have heard about it.”

I start to mess with the ends of my hair, then make myself stop. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No. One thing I do know is that Leona had problems with his size. Physically. Romeo alone was uncomfortable for her. We would spend a lot of time on foreplay. So there was a basic incompatibility there.”

“Did you love her?”

He reflects for a moment, then nods. “I did. She was a good person. Clever and generous and very loyal. If Romeo’s tastes and needs were more conventional, I think he would have been happy with her. Well, other than the size issue.”

That snakelike thing that coiled around me at the tennis courts is back, and this time I identify it much faster. Jealousy. I hope it’s not like poison ivy, that I’m not more susceptible to it with each exposure.

And I wonder if it’s related to the feeling I had earlier, that something is wrong, something I can’t name, let alone solve. Is it a new variety of fear? Worry about losing them?

Silly.

I don’t even
have
them, but things do seem to be headed that way.

“Does he still love her?” I ask. How I manage to get the words across my dry tongue, I don’t know.

Slade’s look is full of compassion. “I think he does,” he says. “Romeo is loyal like that. The best friend you’ll ever have. The best boyfriend. And the worst enemy, which is why your grandfather doesn’t stand a chance.”

But I don’t care about my grandfather anymore. Not here, in the middle of the woods, in a top-of-the-line secure estate, covered in cameras and with security guys roaming around.

Is this the other shoe, then? Slade says he’s falling for me. Hawthorne… who knows? And Romeo still has feelings for his ex.

When Romeo came for me in Milford Crossing, I thought it was because he cared.

The reality? He’s loyal. He’s dependable. He always does the right thing, which includes helping out a damsel in distress. Which is apparently what I am.

I fucking despise his ex, and my hatred is directly proportional to all of Romeo’s noble feelings and intentions, to his loyalty and love. Maybe I should try to convince Slade to run away together.

“I’m sorry,” Slade says softly. “When we met you, I don’t think anyone knew it would turn out like this, that it would get so serious. But I can promise we’ll all have fun for as long as you want, and when you do decide to go, your life will be better than we met.” He pauses. “
If
you decide to go.”

Amazing how his throwaway comments make me feel so good. “You said Leona and Romeo had a special connection. Is that typical?”

Slade nods. “Assuming I understand your question, yes. I mean, if we waited for a woman who might fall in love with all of us, that’s already difficult. And then we’d all have to fall for her. The odds are against it.” He seems on the cusp of saying something more, but he doesn’t.

The whole time we talked, we didn’t get any deeper into the house than the doorway, and I realize now is a good time to take an interest in my surroundings.

I look up and notice stained glass overhead. The scene depicts tangled grape vines of muted purples and dark greens. The walls are neutral. Beneath my feet, the wood floor is polished to a high shine.

“Show me around,” I say.

By the time we reach the master bedroom, I’m not paying attention anymore. A few hours ago, all I wanted was to run away with Slade.

Now all I want is Romeo’s love.

He wants to save my life? Give me back my freedom?

Well, I want to take away his loneliness. I want to give him a reason to leave work at a reasonable hour, to sleep past four in the morning, to go ten minutes without handling an urgent phone call.

Yes, I want his love. Me, the woman who knows as much about romantic love as a monk living out a vow of seclusion.

And it’s not just his that I want. It’s all of theirs. I want everything their ex rejected.

“You can sleep in here with me tonight if you like,” Slade says. “Or you can have your own space.”

“I like your bedroom,” I say even though I barely noticed what it looks like. My general impression is of solid, clean lines and nature paintings for artwork.

His phone rings, and he glances at the screen. “Romeo and Hawthorne will arrive in twenty minutes with dinner. It can get chilly here at night. What do you think about building a fire?”

I don’t think he could charm me more if he tried.

Dinner is takeout from one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. One that I’m pretty sure doesn’t do takeout, at least not for mere mortals.

While we eat, my bosses discuss work stuff.

Whenever there’s a lull in the conversation, I make sure to take another bite of my dinner or a sip of the tart, almost astringent red wine.

“Let’s discuss the fascinating and despicable Mr. Yorker,” Slade says calmly.

Three sets of eyes turn my way.

Thick pappardelle noodles, messily wound around the tines of my fork, begin to slide off. I shovel them into my mouth, then use my finger to wipe creamy sauce from the corners of my lips.

I don’t realize my hands are trembling until I go to pick up my water glass. Immediately I set it back down.

“What did you find out?” I ask.

“He’s heavily in debt,” Romeo says, and I feel strangely ashamed. Like it’s not bad enough that my grandfather is cruel and manipulative, that he used kids to file frivolous lawsuits, that he tried to marry me off at sixteen to one of his friends so he could grab my trust fun, and he’s a murderer—though my bosses don’t know this last bit—but he’s also unable to control his spending habits.

Not that it’s news to me.

“Is that what drives the lawsuits?” Slade asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Romeo says. “It didn’t take our investigators long to discover a host of questionable schemes he’s involved with.”

“Good luck trying to nail him on any of them,” I say. “He’s got low friends in high places.”

Romeo smiles. “Not everyone can be bought. I have a good friend who intends to run for state’s attorney next year. We had an interesting conversation this afternoon, and he’s very interested in the things your grandfather has been up to. Not just one scheme. Everything.”

Already I’m shaking my head. “We can’t bring in anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair—”

“Matthew knows what he’s doing,” Romeo says smoothly. “This is a win/win situation. Your grandfather’s business practices will be thoroughly investigated. You have inside information about how he runs his schemes. You wouldn’t need to ever testify against him, but Matthew wants to speak with you.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t want that.”

Not surprisingly, my bosses look confused. They know how much I despise my grandfather.

“Because of my sister,” I say, and I’m about to tell the truth, but then I think of other angles, things that are also true. “If they go after our grandfather, my sister will lose the house. If Layla was involved in his schemes after becoming an adult, she could end up with a record.”

“Those are things that Matthew and I already discussed. We can protect against them,” Romeo says, frowning slightly.

“It’s… I’d rather not go about things that way,” I mumble. “Can’t we just… scare my grandfather away?”

The furrow between Romeo’s brows deepens as his eyebrows draw closer together.

Hawthorne sips his wine. He’s not looking at me, but I can tell from the way he’s holding himself that he’s going to say or do something that I’ll find irritating.

“If you were going to analyze him,” Hawthorne begins, still looking off across the table, through the wide dining room and out the darkened window—at his own reflection? No. At mine. Hawthorne takes another sip.

Curiosity gets the better of me. “Yes?”

Hawthorne’s steely blue gaze swings my way. “What would your analysis be?” he asks. “What are your grandfather’s strengths? His weaknesses?”

Analyze my grandfather?

I attempt to repress a sigh, but it escapes my throat anyway.

“He likes the con,” I say. “If there’s a direct line to something, he’ll take the roundabout way if it means putting one over on someone else. Unless there’s a chance he’ll end up missing out, of course. Then he’ll trample anyone he needs to.”

“Think of it like an employee report,” Hawthorne suggests.

“Fire him, and make sure security stands over him while he cleans out his desk,” I say. “Maybe conduct a cavity search on the way out.”

Slade laughs, but I wasn’t trying to be funny.

“He’s sneaky,” I say, dropping my hands onto my lap. I’m not being demure; I don’t want my bosses to see how much I’m shaking.

“All the more reason to make sure he ends up in jail. Are you ok?” Romeo asks, but his warm, deep voice doesn’t have the same soothing influence as usual.

“It’s one thing to be hiding from him,” I say. “It made me feel nimble. Safe.”

“You never felt safe,” Hawthorne says. “A lot of bluster, though.”

My head comes up, and I meet his stare. “You’re obviously qualified to analyze everyone, so why do I need to be here?” The words snap out in guttural bursts, but there’s no venom, no bite. Just fear, and I’m sure everyone can hear it.

Hawthorne leans in. “Any chance today’s lesson stuck? Can you just answer our questions? What’s going on?”

“I can’t pay attention to what you’re saying when your elbows are on the table,” I sniff.

“Nice deflection,” Hawthorne says. “But it’s not going to work.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand you. This guy has ruined your life, and you’re clearly terrified of him, but you seem to want to protect him.”

“That’s bullshit,” I hiss, and even though I’m angry, it’s not directed at Hawthorne. I’m left holding all that negative energy, unsure what to do if I can’t run away and I can’t lash out.

“Actually, while Hawthorne didn’t frame things in the way I would have, I do agree with him,” Romeo says. “You seem to be of two minds about your grandfather, and it’s confusing. Do you feel some kind of familial obligation—”

“Absolutely not. He’s not a nice guy,” I say. “He’s spent a lifetime honing his ability to sniff out other sociopaths who would stop at nothing to get ahead. If there’s an official to be bribed, within minutes they’ll be stuck together like magnets. You might think he has money problems, but I suspect he’s got stashes in offshore accounts. He’s got resources and he’s resourceful.”

The entire time I’m talking, my voice is getting higher and more frantic, and my fingers clench rhythmically into fists. I will myself to settle down, to sit up straight, open my hands, breathe from the center of my body.

But it does me no good.

“Why don’t we show you the observatory,” Romeo says, standing. He holds a hand out to me.

When I slip my fingers into his, they’re surrounded by his warm strength.

The observatory is actually a short drive from the house. I should feel comforted by the cloak of night wrapped around us as we walk into the building, but that little exercise at the dinner table, thinking of my grandfather, has unsettled me.

He’s not a man to underestimate, though he likes to project vulnerability when it suits him. That falsehood was something else that my sister and I served nicely for: making him the grieving father raising his two orphaned granddaughters on his own. Who wouldn’t trust such a kind and selfless man?

My bosses are right, however.

I am trying to protect him, though not for the reasons they might imagine. I don’t owe him any loyalty. It’s my sister I’m trying to insulate.

And, it must be admitted, shielding her comes with the added benefit of protecting myself.

We’re standing in a round room with a set of stairs off to my left. There are some desks, some computers that look like they haven’t been booted up in years. Though nothing is dusty, so I suppose someone visits regularly.