Page 22 of Tell Me Lies

“Taxi!” Jacks squealed.

Dove tilted her head to one side as Jacks and Harper teased each other mercilessly. “So, what are you going to do about him? It was your idea to make him scream.” She paused. “What did you have in mind?”

“I have no idea.” I shook my head. “It seemed to be the most humiliating thing I could think of for a man like him who values pride above all, and it just slipped out.”

Dove nodded slowly, a wicked grin curving her lips. “I might have an idea.”

****

The boy’s locker room stank. Pheromones, hormones, boy sweat. Stale scents, little filtered air, enclosed spaces, and old sports equipment. Enough said.

Maxom Dietrich was the only reason I walked into said room at the Bramwell gym, knowing I had a good half hour of freedom, assuming no one else came in while the twins were busy outdoing each other on the weight equipment.

Part of me hated that I knew so much about their routine, but the twins stuck together, mostly. Where one went, the other followed. Harper’s comment about having both at once rippled through my system as I finished my run on the treadmill, pretending not to watch them work out from the corner of my eye.

Lennox was pale all over—no body hair, white skin, a lean, ripped body by nature rather than design. Even his eyes were a pale shade of blue, which shifted with his mood. When he was at his coldest they turned the gray of an overcast sky. Pristine white hair that would have made fresh snow jealous was razed to one side. Think cocaine chic with a touch of European model, and that was Lennox Dietrich.

Maxom was blessed with the dark horse genes of his family. Dark hair, blue eyes the color of deep ocean water, a fine smattering of dark curls across his chest. I discovered that when I walked in on him in the shower once, and backed out in a hurry, muttering apologies and wondering why he couldn’t use the en suite in his own room. Managing to keep my eyes above the belt level—mostly—kept me out of trouble for that day at least.

Mostly.

But I still saw enough to know that both brothers were not blessed with the same package.

I made sure to be extra loud that night with Lennox, hoping Maxom would hear me, and not realize I was trying to overcompensate for something that wasn’t my problem from the start. Or maybe the sex was my problem. That was the job as girlfriend, right? But now that job was over and I had new goals.

I padded quietly along the plush carpet—who laid expensive carpets in a locker room?—and ran my fingers along the rows of lockers. Theft wasn’t a problem at Bramwell. I mean, who the hell were you going to steal from when everybody had more money than they could ever use to buy whatever they wanted? Items weren’t important, while power play was the common currency.

And power, it seemed, was what our little gray Dove had been bred on. That, and a few other less decent tricks.

I grinned at that thought as I traced my fingers along the numbers, stopping at the sixteenth locker. The boys had matching towels, and seventeen was Lennox’s lucky number. Just as in everything else, they were side-by-side again.

Winding a stray lanyard around my hand, I flicked through the contents of the locker and found a pair of clean black jocks. Grimacing at the thought of touching another man’s underwear that I wasn’t sleeping with, I slipped out the little vial of habanero dust and applied it liberally to the inside of the man’s knickers.

The dust was superfine and I doubted he would see it before he put them on, but Dove assured me I’d hear his scream from the parking lot. I didn’t stop to ask how she knew that.

Filthy Dove.

I cleaned off the front of the locker and turned on my heel, a smile on my face. Job done.

I was halfway to the door when it opened and the wrong brother stepped through. Maxom slowed his pace and stopped just inside the door, staring at me with assessing eyes as I slid the little bottle into my gym bag and pushed it behind my back.

“I thought I might find you in here,” he murmured, still watching me.

His intense stare was unnerving. “Did you?” I strode forward, never breaking my pace as I tread a direct path around him.

His hand whipped out, catching my waist, and halting my pace.

The open door yawned a few steps away. My exit strategy just went to pot. I looked at it longingly for too many seconds. When I glanced up at Maxom, slapping ineffectively at his arm, his knowing smile sent a shot of fear through my body.

“I don’t think so.” He stepped closer until the heat from his body brushed against my core.

“I’m leaving.” I shoved at his arm, expecting him to fall on his ass again. Twisting around him, I made for the door, then realized he had slipped the gym bag off my shoulders. The gym bag that had my tiny vial of evidence within its depths. My stomach tightened. “Give that back.”

He shook his head, the gym bag dangling from his fingers. “No.” He gave me an easy grin, and raised a hand to push sweat-soaked hair from his face. Deep-blue eyes stared into mine as he held out the bag like an offering, retreating further into the locker room. “Come and get it.”

I launched forward before he could get too far, grabbed for the strap, and missed. Stumbling a few steps, I righted myself halfway to the floor and came face to crotch with him. Again.

“How delightful.”

---