Page 67 of Cruel Lies

"Fuck, yeah, okay, I get it."

"Good." I pocketed the old, grainy picture and lifted a brow. "You sure I won’t have to come back here because it turned out you’re lying?"

"I swear—I don’t know who she is!" His eyes held panic, but also confusion and honesty. "Please, just leave me alone."

I yanked the knife out of his desk and slipped it back into my pocket with a crazed grin. "Okay then, Jameson, m’boy. I’ll takeyour word for it. But next time, it won’t be your desk if I find out I was lied to." I grinned wider, the pull on the edges of my scar tissue like a dull twinge of pain that I ignored. "Last guy who lied to me is dead now." He gulped loudly, and I mimed an alligator chomping for special effect. "Gators are hungry fuckers, man. They’ll eat anything you give them."

I killed moretime than I thought I had, so with a last little burst of energy, I hopped over to the convenience store and picked up some of my favorite chocolate bars. As an afterthought, I grabbed some of the ones Harper had liked as a young girl, hoping when she raided my stash next time, she’d take these instead.

What the fuck are you thinking? Pandering to a woman you’re actively trying to chase off.

I put the candy back, albeit reluctantly, hating that I was letting my intrusive voice win out this time.

It was for the best. I had to keep my distance. She’d figure out I was no good for her soon enough, and then she’d move on, and we’d all go back to normal.

Never mind that the thought of her leaving filled my stomach with dread. I wanted to scream, to rage, to throw things and break people and cut things—myself included—at the thought of never seeing her again.

I couldn’t let her go, but I knew there would come a time very soon that I wouldn’t have a choice.

She’d leave, go back to her little, shit life, and we’d be left in her wake like trash thrown out after a move.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Rowan seemedpleased I’d crossed off his little errand, and when I came back to the rooms, Harper was nowhere in sight. I was too smart to think her absence would last all day, but at least for the moment, I was spared that interaction.

Angel sprawled on the couch, flipping through the pages of a book that had seen better days as he mouthed words to himself, oblivious to the world around him.

So, of course, I sat down in front of him with a groan and deposited the heels of my dirty boots on the coffee table to piss him off.

He didn’t even spare me a glance, but I could tell he knew what I was up to. His lips curled in a sneer, and he huffed in annoyance.

"You know, you could try being civilized for a change, Nash. Shoes don’t belong on the table, and you know this."

I crossed my arms and made a point to light a cigarette as I stared at him, daring him to say another fucking word. "Why don’t you come over here and fucking make me move them?" I taunted him, knowing damn well I was spoiling for a fight. Anything to keep from dealing with the emotions swirling through my head.

Of course, Harperwouldpick this moment to come striding through the door. She gave us a cursory glance and then kept going until she walked past me and her nose curled in disgust.

Harperhatedsmoking. The scent reminded her of bad times, perhaps. I wasn’t sure. But the moment her head wandered into my smoke cloud, I watched her freeze in place and turn to me with a look of utter distaste on her face.

"Really, Nash? Cigarettes? What a nasty habit."

She put her nose in my business, so I leaned forward and blew a cloud of smoke in her face to show her who was in charge. "I’m a nasty man, Harper Daniels. Nasty men have nasty habits."

Her hand darted out and yanked the cigarette from my lipsso fast I couldn’t react. In a heartbeat, she was grinding the damn thing into the carpet with the toe of some very expensive-looking boots, and my eyes were momentarily mesmerized by the turn of her heel, the curve of her ankle, the way her skirt came to rest at mid-thigh and teased a man to wild thoughts. Then, I came to, and turned my heated gaze on her with a snarl.

"What thefuck,Harper?!?"

She shrugged and smiled, that blinding megawatt grin that stopped boys’ hearts when she was younger. "Drop the act, Nashville Blackwood. Cigarettes are bad for you. Might as well take care of that body; it’s the only one you’ll have."

"Someone already took care of it for me," I said, motioning to my scars with a grimace. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You keep lighting them. See what happens," she retorted, her grin widening, daring me to pull another out to test her. She wasn’t about to play around, and I knew when I was beaten.

My hands rose in the air in defense. "I do what I want. You’re just lucky I wasn’t actually in the mood to smoke that one."

I watched her hips sway as she strolled into the kitchen for a bottle of water. When she bent over to grab one from the fridge, I got a good view of the curve of her ass, and it was clear she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Or if she was, it was a pair with hardly any fabric.

---