Page 32 of Cruel Lies

I knew damn well anything he gave me would just hang off my frame. Gone were the days when I could steal anything he wore and make it look good. His shoulders were broad, and his muscles defined. I couldn’t hold a candle to his hulking frame.

"I have clothes in my duffel bag if you grab it for me," I pointed out, jerking a thumb back at the door I assumed we came through to get in here. "No offense, but I’d rather not wear your clothes. You’re a fucking mountain now, and I’d drown in them."

"Never seemed to bother you before," he joked, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it was like I was looking at the old Rowan Blackwood, when our only cares were graduating high school and what we’d do with our lives.

The rose-colored glasses were nice to look through, as long as you didn’t forget yourself in their depths.

As he slipped from the room, I whispered into the void his absence left behind, hating the words even as they left my mouth.

"High school was a long time ago, Ro. And we’re lifetimes away from the kids we were back then."

I heard movement on the other side of the door and briefly wondered if he’d heard me, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that. I couldn’t afford to. If I let myself dwell, I’d get attached, and getting attached to men who’d tried to kill me was obviously aVery Bad Idea.

Rowan opened the door again, my duffel thrown over his shoulder, a small, hesitant smile on his lips. "Here you go. I’m gonna let you get changed, but if you wanna take an actual shower, you’re welcome to use mine while we talk in the office."

I glared at him, displeasure etched into every line of my face. "Talk about me, you mean."

It seemed that some old habits die hard because I had to fight a wave of nostalgia as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. My brain reminded me of a time when I thought that was an adorable trait of his, a huge tell that he was trying to hide something.

Now, it just felt like opening an old school yearbook and finding an old friend who’d died a horrible death or grew apart from you in your time of need. The memories hurt, ached, like ripping open old scars best left alone.

It almost made me want to cry for the loss of the boy he was, thewhat could have beensthat had been lost to time and circumstance.

"Yeah, we’re going to talk about you," he admitted, his eyes refusing to meet mine. "I’ll be back in a few; I’m sure this won’t take long."

I turned my back to him, showing him I wasn’t afraid when, in reality, the genuine fear that I might be about to die raced through my veins and had me so keyed up I wanted to jump around or run in place. "Oh, yeah, great to know that my life is such a trivial thing that it doesn’t warrant a long, thought-out conversation."

He hesitated with his hand on the door; I could see his reflection in the mirror across the room. I didn’t bother waiting forhim to leave the room. I met his gaze in that piece of glass, stripped my shirt over my head, and tossed it to the floor at his feet with a sadistic smirk.

As my fingers danced at the straps of my bra, he skittered out of the room like a little boy caught peeping.

The second that door closed, I gave up on the pretense and collapsed to my knees in a silent sob of despair.

FOURTEEN

ANGEL

"What doyou want me to say, Angel? She’s our fucking sister?—"

I slammed the knife in my hand into thecounter, almost pleased when the tip snapped off and flew in who knew what direction. "She’snotour fucking sister, Rowan. She’s a target, or did you forget that when she turned thosefuck-meeyes on you?—"

Rowan flew in my direction, his hand closing around my throat with lightning speed. "Don’t you talk about her like that. It’s not her fault?—"

"That’s right, Rowan, choke out your older brother over a bitch," Nash mumbled, picking at his nails with the tip of his blade. "Such a unified front we have here. One brother who wants to kill her, one who wants to save her, and one who couldn’t give a shit what you decide, as long as I get to slice something up."

"You touch her with that filthy knife of yours, Nash, and I’ll flay you alive with it."

Nash threw his hand over his heart in mock surprise. "Oh, be still my beating heart. You make promises you probably don’t wanna keep. Be pretty weird if my brother gave me a hard-on."

"You’re a sick fuck," I wheezed, thankful when Rowan seemed to remember he was cutting off my airway and loosened his grip. "And you," I choked out, seething that he’d dared to put his hands on me. "You’re so in fucking love with a ghost from your past that you’re going to ruin us all just for the chance to get in her pants."

"Get fucked, Angel," he spat, his fist curling into a ball again. "Or I’ll finish what you started in that parking lot."

"No, thank you." I turned back to the sink, tossing the now-useless knife in the bin beside me. "I’d rather stick my dick in a pile of fucking barbed wire and shattered glass than fuck Harper Daniels."

"I didn’t know I even offered," came a voice fromthe other side of the room, and I froze in place as I realized she’d heard every word. I could hear her move around the room like she was right at home, taking a seat inmyarmchair with a heavy sigh of boredom. "You know, I don’t think it’s right to discuss a woman’s life if she’s not present. So I thought I’d join you."

"I don’t remember any of us extending an invitation," I spat, hating that her presence was enough to set me on edge. I didn’twanther here. I wanted nothing to do with the complications her existence added to our lives. "What if we decide you’ve gotta die?"

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