Page 88 of The Liar

“So,” he said, his hands on his hips. “What is it that youthink you know?”

Neither of us answered.

I’d never been in a situation like this before and I wasn’t sure if West had either, but I knew that Sewell intended to dispose of us. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because he didn’t know how much knowledge we had of their operation—or whether we’d told anyone else.

If we gave him answers, he’d have no reason to keep us alive. Even if we were tortured, it would allow time for someone to notice we were missing and come looking. Better to be injured and alive than have a painless death.

Sewell sighed. “I really wish you’d make this easy. It would be nicer for all of us that way. Believe it or not, I don’t actually want to hurt you.”

We both remained silent.

He huffed. “Okay, next question. What was it that gave me away? Was it just Hanson, or did I do or say something to make you suspicious?”

No response.

He paced back and forth in front of us. “See, I don’t think you’ve been onto me for long, but I do believe that someone has cottoned onto our operation, and it seems awfully suspicious to me that a famously straitlaced detective just happened to meet the man of her dreams at exactly the same time things started to go wrong for us.”

I raised my chin. “It sounds like you’re reaching.”

His laugh had a manic edge. “Does it? Because I happen to think it stinks of a setup. I wasn’t sure before tonight, but it’s obvious to me now that you were in on this from the beginning. You helped the feds get close to your fellow officers. Where’s your loyalty?”

I cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the assumptions he’d made. I actually preferred his version of events to the real one, so I wasn’t going to correct him. If I’d been in on theoperation from the start, then it made me an active player. Infinitely preferable to being a pawn.

“I’m loyal to people who deserve it,” I told him, refusing to let him cow me.

He chuckled. “You are, aren’t you? Unfortunately for you, that makes you the weak link right now.”

He picked up the discarded hunting knife and scraped it along the underside of West’schin, digging the point hard enough into his skin to draw blood. A single droplet rolled down his throat and soaked into the fabric of his jacket.

“See?” he continued, stepping back. “I can tell you care for your phony husband. It’s sweet, in a way, and I’m grateful for it, because it means I can do this.”

He made a quick hand gesture and a man dressed in black kicked West in the gut, just below his rib cage. I gritted my teeth as the air gusted between his lips and he groaned. His green eyes caught mine, wide with surprise.

The man kicked him again.

“Start talking,” Sewell ordered me.

West’s gaze implored me not to, so I pressed my lips together. If he was willing to endure pain to keep his operation on track, I respected that. These men were responsible for killing his father, after all. I could understand him wanting to give them the metaphorical middle finger.

Sewell made a sound of disgust. “Get me a bucket of water.”

The man in black jogged deeper into the warehouse, between the containers that rose over two meters high. I wondered what was inside them. He’d said Portia was gone, but perhaps he’d lied. Could she have been stashed in one of these containers?

When he returned, he set the bucket in front of West. With no ceremony, Sewell grabbed him by the head and forced his face into the water.

I jerked, lurching toward them, determined to help as West struggled, his cuffed hands opening and closing around nothing. The man in black planted his foot on my diaphragm and shoved me backward. I landed hard on my tailbone and bit my lip until I tasted blood, determined not to give him the pleasure of hearing me scream.

Sewell yanked West out of the water. He sputtered, spitting out water and dragging in a lungful of air.

“Who knows about us?” Sewell demanded.

“Fuck you,” West gasped.

Sewell shoved him face-first back into the bucket and held him there for so long that I stumbled toward them again, dodging the man in black’s attempt to sweep my legs out from under me. Unfortunately, before I reached them, he grabbed my shoulders and held me back.

West surfaced again, panting heavily as water streamed down his face and dripped off his chin.

“West,” I whispered.

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