Page 70 of Pitiful Lies

But what’s worrying me as I read the initial report from one of our guys over at the fire department is that the signature of the explosive device is the same as what was used in Giselle’s apartment complex.

“What is it?” Nico asks, and I tell him.

“It’s confirmed then,” Luc states.

We all look at each other solemnly and I can hear the unspoken order, the silent demand from each of us.

We need to catch this fuck, and fast. I mean that as in like yesterday.

Not because of what he cost us. I mean, six million isn’t exactly chump change. But it’s hardly going to make a dent in any of our finances.

The building, the warehouse, the inventory—none of that shit is important.

We need to end this threat to keep our women safe. That is the only thing that matters.

Nico looks hard and angry. Luc is quiet, as is his norm. And me, I’m vibrating with the strength of my rage.

This is on me. This man has gotten through my security, and that is not okay.

It falls on my shoulders to see to it this can’t happen. Just like I am the one who needs to make it right.

That’s fine with me. It’s my job. Besides, this guy fucked with my Koukla, and I owe him for that.

He clearly doesn’t understand who he’s dealing with, which is something that needs correcting.

And I’m just the guy to do it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE-GISELLE

Days later.

The ground beneath my feet is squishy, but I don’t mind. I’m wearing thick soled sandals, and the sun is shining.

If my feet get a little wet, it’s not the biggest deal. Besides, I am having a wonderful time.

So far, we’ve watched jugglers, minstrels, and an exhibit featuring birds of prey. A falcon ate a piece of dried meat right out of my hand, and it was amazing.

This is not the kind of place I would have ever guessed a man like Angel Fury would go on a date.

That he would take me, of all people, is a whole other category of things I find difficult to believe.

But he did take me, and I am having the best time ever.

“Where are we again?” I ask.

I can’t stop my smile from widening as I take in all the stands and people in costumes.

“Tuxedo Park. Haven’t you ever been to the Renaissance Faire?” Angel asks, taking a monstrous bite out of a turkey leg that’s the size of his forearm.

So yeah, fucking huge.

He offers the leg to me, and I lean forward and take a hefty size bite, too.

I giggle and wipe my mouth with a napkin he hands me. It’s weird, but even knowing I just made a pig of myself, I don’t feel embarrassed.

I’m a big girl, and I eat. In fact, Angel seems to have this deep-rooted fascination with sharing meals. Lately, he seems to always want to take me out to eat. Sometimes we order in. And sometimes we cook.

The thing I am really starting to love is no matter what we get, he is obsessed with sharing. It’s like he’s forever giving me bites of his food and vice versa.

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