Page 14 of Cruel Lies

I bit back the barking laughter that threatened to mark me as a maniac at her reaction. She wasn’t scared anymore, nor was she showing them any fear. She refused to give them what they wanted without her own answers. Answers we couldn’t give her unless we were ready to put our own lives, and hers, on the line.

Angel sighed, and Nash took that as permission—he lunged forward and ripped her shirt up so fiercely it tore in two. She slapped her hands over herself in a flash, but the attempt was pointless.

Standing there in nothing but a tattered shirt, a black lacy bra, and her ragged, grease-stained jeans, was the evidence they needed to dispel their disbelief. They’d seen the jagged mark above her hip, as plain as day and undeniably the same scar Angel helped her patch up for weeks until it healed.

"But you’re dead," Nash muttered, clearly still struggling with what was staring him in the face. "You died seven years ago."

SIX

NASH

"You died seven years ago."

I couldn’t believe it. I watched her die with my own eyes. Saw Rowan slit herthroat that day on the bridge.

Angel wasn’t moving. Neither was Rowan. Hell, for that matter, I couldn’t bring myself to move, either. Of course, now was the worst time for this to have happened, because the girl—the target—fuck, was she really Harper?—saw her opportunity and made a run for it.

For the first time in our career, the three of us just . . . let her go. Not a single muscle between us moved for several moments after she took off around the corner.

Then came the blame game.

Angel snapped back to himself first, shaking his head like a dog. "What the fuck just happened?" he muttered, hands clutching the side of his neck on either side as his gaze swung from me to our younger brother in stunned confusion.

I blinked once, twice, three times before I could form a coherent sentence. "I think we just let a target go."

"A target? Not just any target," he snapped, anger rising in his voice. "How is she still alive?"

Our gazes swung to Rowan, who stared after her like she would come back into the dead-end alley any second. If I’d been him, our gazes probably would have burned a hole straight through me on the spot, but it must not have registered to him.

I stepped in front of him and snapped my fingers in his face, pleased when he seemed to wake from his daze. "Hey there, asshole, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do."

He grumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot likego fuck yourselfand started to head for the car. He didn’t pay us a whit of attention, didn’t offer any explanation, nothing. Just kept walking, even after Angel and I began to trail after him.

The fucker was bent over the side of the Torino, laughing-fucking laughing—when we caughtup to him.

"The fuck’s so funny?" Angel demanded, walking around to the driver’s side of the beast.

Rowan just pointed at the tire and laughed some more, the sound bordering on a mental breakdown.

"She slashed our tire! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!" Angel stormed to the trunk and yanked out a jack and tire iron, grumbling the whole way. "Can’t fucking believe I’m fixing a tire right now." Rowan knelt and reached for the tire iron, trying to be helpful, but Angel was having none of it. "No, go fuck yourself, asshole. You wanna help? Start talking."

Rowan’s face darkened as his eyes cut away in any direction but at us. "Nothing to say that you don’t already know."

"Fuck that, you’re a bald-faced liar," I whisper-shouted, already angry that I’d been denied the chance to carve up a target and that I’d apparently been lied to for the past seven years. "You know damn well there’s a story to tell, and you better start talking, or I’m out."

Rowan’s eyes cut to me with a knowing glare. "You won’t leave."

"Says you," I spat, moving to pull the spare tire from the trunk. "I think you owe us the truth, at the very least."

"How is she still alive?" Angel snarled, his anger reaching a fever pitch. If our brother didn’t start talking soon, he’d snap, and nobody wanted to see Angel on a rampage. He might have a better hold on his personal demons than me, but when he snapped, it was to a degree even I was wary of.

I took it out on other people. Targets, bad guys, scum. He took it out on us.

Rowan cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Obviously she survived. Not sure what else you want from me."

"How?" I spun the tire iron in one hand as Angel slipped the old tire off and walked it to the trunk. "Why? Did you know?"

"Of course he knew. How else do you think he could have the frame of mind to stop us?"

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