Page 142 of House of Lies

Someone—Smith, I think—bends down and then straightens again, Cassidy hanging limply from his arms. Blood trails down her face and splashes on the floor as he turns and walks away.

“No!” I clench my teeth as I force myself to my knees. “Where are you taking…?”

I crash back to the ground, so lightheaded and disorientated that I can’t tell up from down.

Myles crouches beside me and slings an arm around my waist, muttering, “Christ, how much do you weigh?” under his breath as he tries to prop me onto my feet.

Angelo slides over the floor, someone dragging him away.

Because he’s unconscious. Or even fucking better…

“Tell me he’s dead,” I grate out.

“Close enough,” Myles says, patting my pectoral muscle as he guides me to the stairs. “But enough about him. We’ve got to get you the hell out of here in case the cops arrive. With all these dead people and things…it looks just a tad bit incriminating, know what I mean? As it stands, I’m going to have to pull in some big favors to smooth this all out.”

“What?” I croak.

“One foot in front of the other, Ethan. One foot in front of the other.”

I do what he says, but I’m gritting my teeth from the pain in my head.

All these dead people.

Angelo. Becks.

…Cassidy?

Chapter 59

Ethan

The steady beep of a heart rate monitor lures me out of a dreamless sleep. I stare around, wondering if I’m stuck in some kind of dream within a dream situation. I’m in my penthouse bedroom, but things are…different. Like the heart rate monitor, IV drip, and steel trolley with something that looks suspiciously like a fucking bedpan on it.

A page flips.

I roll my head toward the sound.

Smith is sitting cross-legged in a chair, reading a Forbes magazine. He’s so intent on whatever article he’s on that I have to clear my throat before he speaks.

“Welcome back,” he says without lifting his eyes. “Thought we’d lost you there for a moment.”

“You don’t seem very concerned,” I mutter, trying to push myself up into a sitting position.

“I knew you’d pull through.” He finally sets down the magazine, giving me a faint purse of his lips instead of a smile. “Never knew anyone with a thicker skull.”

I laugh, wincing when that sends a dull ache through my head. I reach up and gently finger the bandages wrapped around my temple. “Did I get a lobotomy?”

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you. Only thing keeping your brains inside your skull right now.”

I hurriedly pull away my hand and then glare at Smith when I see the creases next to his eyes as he fights a smile.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Smith frowns. “Maybe we should have taken you to the hospital.”

That’s when the memories flood back in.

“Hey, hey!” He hurries to my side as I rip the IV needle out of my arm, flinching at the pain. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

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