Page 34 of Crown of Lies

“Trouble in paradise?” The mocking voice makes me stiffen. I turn to find Zoey sauntering up without even trying to hide her disdain.

“What do you want?” I ask flatly. The last thing I need is her starting shit.

She shrugs one slim shoulder, examining her nails. “Just making an observation. It’s weird, don’t you think? That Silas burned down the clubhouse but not the tattoo parlor?”

By some miracle, I’m able to keep my expression neutral. “He probably would’ve hit my place too, if we hadn’t put a bullet in him first.”

Zoey nods slowly. “Lucky for you, then. Looks like you got a pretty good deal out of this whole thing.” Her gaze rakes over me in an obvious once-over. “Extra manpower, protection… among other perks, I’m sure.”

The implication in her tone is clear, and there’s no way in hell I can stop the flush of anger that rises to my cheeks this time. How dare she insinuate that the only reason Nico and the others want me around is for sex?

“The deal between our crews is none of your business,” I snap, straightening to my full height. “Sort of like how Atlas’s life isn’t your business anymore, either.”

Zoey’s eyes narrow to slits at the jab about Atlas. For a tense moment, we simply glare at each other, the hostility so thick in the air that it’s practically crackling—and then Atlas steps up beside me.

“Everything okay over here?” His eyes flick between us, brow furrowed in concern.

Zoey plasters on a tight smile, all sugary sweetness. “Oh, everything is peachy. Quinn and I were just having some girl talk. Catching up on some gossip.”

The false sincerity is clearly meant to get under my skin. Jesus, she’s practically begging for me to kick her ass.

Not today, Satan.

With one last venomous look in my direction, Zoey slinks away, hips swinging for Atlas’s benefit, no doubt. My lip curls up on its own as I watch her leave.

“Your ex sucks,” I mutter once she’s out of earshot.

Atlas arches a brow at me. “What was that about?”

I wouldn’t mind telling him, but not here. Not now. Instead, I wave a dismissive hand. “Nothing. Zoey just… doesn’t like me, I guess.”

Atlas chuckles at that, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, therewasthat time she walked in on you fucking me, and you didn’t stop.”

His eyes glint with amusement at the memory, and a rush of heat floods my veins as the mental image pops into my head, unbidden. The way his hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I rode him. The way he barely even looked at Zoey, his gaze trained on me the entire time as if he couldn’t look away.

“To be fair, you’re the one who told me not to stop,” I mutter, trying to keep my tone neutral even as my heart rate kicks up a notch.

He huffs a breath. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m not surprised she hates you though. I’m sure she knows that what we had went deeper than anything that ever existed between me and her.”

Those last words seem to slip out without him meaning for them to, and an awkward silence stretches between us as the weight of his statement sinks in.

I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from his, my throat suddenly dry. Does he mean what I think he means? That he had real feelings for me, once upon a time?

Belatedly, Atlas also apparently realizes what he’s admitted. His smile fades as quickly as it came, his expression going blank. His entire demeanor shutters closed as he straightens his shoulders.

“Anyway,” he says gruffly, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “I should go check in with the others.”

He turns and walks away without another word, leaving me rooted in place. I can still feel the heat from the way he used to touch me, the intensity of his gaze burning into me.

I give myself a mental shake, shoving those treacherous thoughts aside ruthlessly. Whatever Atlas and I once had, it’s over now. Done. In the past. His little slip-up doesn’t change anything.

Squaring my shoulders, I force myself to move on, putting Atlas out of my mind for now. I have bigger things to worry about than some lingering sexual tension.

Like finding out who’s gunning for me—and why.

11

QUINN

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