Page 172 of When Lies Unfold

I lead her away from the thickest part of the crowd until we arrive at a side street where it’s not quite as deafenin’, but we still have to shout to hear each other.

“What’s your name?”

Her lips part to answer before somethin’ like fear intermixed with regret flashes across her features. But it’s gone before I can be sure. “No names. Not tonight.”

Disappointment spears me, but I’m not stupid enough to turn her away for somethin’ like that. I still gotta ask, though. “You got a husband? Boyfriend? Anybody special?”

Her full lips, painted a shimmery shade of blue, purse resolutely. “No.”

Relief barrels through me, and a smile tugs at my mouth. “Good answer.”

We edge farther down the street, still hand in hand. “What about you?”

“Nope.” I smirk. “No husband, boyfriend, or anybody special for me.”

“Ha-ha.” She playfully nudges me with a feathered wing. “What a surprise, especially with your exciting choice of costume.”

I don’t take any offense at her teasin’ remark, ’cause this festival’s notorious for providin’ the opportunity for people to have the most vibrant-colored costumes.

But I’m dressed like I always am—in all black, or pretty damn close to it. It’s easier to blend in with the darkness and shadows at night, which is when I do most of my work.

When I spot the food truck offerin’ carimañolas, I lead her toward it. She pleases me even more when she doesn’t balk at me orderin’ the two deep-fried yuca fritters and two bottles of water.

A second later, when she tries to shove cash at me, is the first time I cut her a look I’m used to givin’ my men when they don’t follow my explicit orders.

Her eyes go wide, so big and blue, but I gently tuck the money back in her palm. “Not sure where you had that hidden, but you don’t need that with me.”

Hesitance lingers on her face, but our order’s called, and I collect it from the food truck window for us. Grabbin’ a few napkins, I lead her off to the side, attemptin’ to find a place where we can stop and eat without bein’ jostled to hell and back.

All available benches are taken, but I spot a flat concrete stoop that looks promisin’. I offer to lay down the napkins so she won’t risk ruinin’ her costume on the rough, filthy surface, but she shakes her head. “I can stand.”

With a scowl, I sit and carefully set my food and water aside. I pat my thighs. “Have a seat.”

Blue eyes flash with surprise. “But my wings?—”

“Will be fine and outta the way.” I gently tug her so she’s sittin’ sideways on my lap. “There. Now, we’re good.”

“But your pants will get ruined from the concrete.” Concern lights her features. “You should treat Armani better than that.”

Interestin’. So, she knows her upscale brands… “Armani’d understand that I gotta be a gentleman.”

Her smile makes me feel like a fuckin’ schoolboy with his first crush. Even though her colored contacts are a pretty blue to match her costume, I wish I could see her without ’em.

Fuck. Somethin’s really wrong with me if I’m tied in knots over a woman’s eyes.

When she raises her carimañola to my lips, it feels normal to let her feed me—like we’re not two strangers who just met but potential lovers.

I offer her bites of mine as we alternate, and our conversation is easy. It’s like we’ve known each other for a lifetime instead of mere minutes.

We discover we both have a weakness for good coffee, keepin’ our bodies healthy—aside from indulgin’ here and there—and love readin’ just about anythin’ we can get our hands on.

She’s smart, witty as hell, and gorgeous. I’ve never met a woman I actually enjoyed talkin’ to as much as this. Hell…I never enjoyed spendin’ time with a woman I wasn’t tryin’ to fuck.

It’s why, for the first time in my life, I hold back. I wanna kiss her so fuckin’ bad, but I don’t. ’Cause she’s not like the others. She’s classy—it’s obvious in how she carries herself and her recognition of what I’m wearin’. But she’s also got a sweetness about her that’s rare.

Once we’ve finished our food, she shifts like she’s gonna get up, but I stop her with a hand on her hip. “Just fine where you’re at.”

A shy smile plays at her lips, but when she catches sight of the time on my watch, her entire body goes wrought with tension. She scrambles off my lap, nearly takin’ off my head with her wings.

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