Page 4 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

Setting them gently on the counter, I fight through thefear and anxiety by taking a few slow, deep breaths, reminding myself once again that I’m ok, nothing happened.

If I was unsure before, I am now certain itwasa dream, because this room is exceptionally ordinary. There are no signs of a struggle, no bloodstains, and absolutely no dead bodies on the glossy oak floor.

Jane, who has had her back to me, now turns, her smile falling when she finds me frozen in the doorway. Walking over, she takes my icy hands in hers.

“Honey, what’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shaking off the panic, I force a smile to my face, rushing to reassure her that everything is okay. I can’t stand to see the worry tightening the corners of her eyes. Not wanting to cause her any undue stress, I pull myself together.

“I’m good,” I say, drawing back my hands before turning to pick up our drinks. I hand her hers before taking a sip of mine, letting the hot liquid warm my chilled bones.

“I was just in a rush and I must have forgotten to eat. That’s all. Nothing this sugary latte won’t fix,” I say, with forced cheer, choking as I take another large gulp of the scalding liquid. Jane pats me on the back as I begin coughing and sputtering, coffee scorching the back of my throat.

“Ok,” she says, eyeing me skeptically. “If you’re sure. I may have a granola bar in the break room. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Thanks. I may go grab it.” I’m not actually hungry, but I use it as an excuse to leave this room and take a moment alone to get myself fully under control. Pushing all thoughts of murder or scary, violent men to the far reaches of my mind, I lock them up tight in a mental vault where I’ll never have to think of them again.

I tell myself I need to get over it. It was just a dream, after all. It wasn’t real.

Nothing happened.

2

Archer

“What the fuck was that last night?” my half-brother Jayce’s voice barks through the phone.

“Not sure what you mean. I’m gonna need you to be more specific,” I answer. I know exactly what he means, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to answer him. Last night was a complete shit show, and I’m still confused about how it all went down myself.

“What Imeanis, why did I get a call after midnight asking me to clean up another one of your messes? A very gruesome one, I might add. You know I don’t normally question your methods, but damn, Arch, did you really have to pull the guy’s pants down like that? I mean, dude, what the fuck? I could have gone the rest of my life without ever seeing that shit. I was tempted to bleach my own eyeballs after that.”

A smile curves my lips when I picture Ian Murphy’s, lifeless body, sprawled on the floor in a pool of his ownblood. His pants were still down around his ankles with that sorry excuse for a dick on display. If it wasn’t so goddamned poetic, I might almost feel sorry for the guy.

Truth is, he had it coming. The guy was a real piece of shit. It was obvious to me what he planned to do with that girl—orwhat he might had already done. The smile slips from my face when I think of how far things may have gone, before she was able to fight him off.

Rage boils my blood, making me wish that bastard was still alive if only so I could kill him all over again. He got lucky it was her and not me, because I would have drawn it out, made him suffer. After all the pain he caused my family, he deserved a whole lot more than the quick death he received.

“As much as I would like to claim that one for myself, I cannot take credit for it. He assaulted one of the female employees, so she slit his throat with a box cutter,” I tell him. He mutters a low curse under his breath.

“That’s pretty savage,” he says, sounding impressed. “How is the girl? Was she alright? I’m assuming that’s what you were busy with. Why you left me to do all the dirty work.”

“She’s fine. I made sure she got home safely.”

An image of soft pink lips and scarlet red hair draped across light blue sheets pops into my mind. I’m not sure how long I stood there in her tiny apartment watching her like a creep, entranced by her angelic face soft with sleep. Maggie Rose McKennan. The name suits her. The perfect portrayal of innocence—if you didn’t know anybetter—but I saw firsthand that this little rose has some sharp thorns.

When I tracked Ian to that bookstore, I wasn’t sure what I expected but it certainly wasn’t what I walked into. I was so taken aback by the whole scene that I was unsure how to proceed. To see this tiny slip of a women standing victorious over Ian’s massive body, covered in his blood, was a shock, to say the least.

It was like witnessing a modern day David and Goliath. As I stood there across the room, watching her cackle like a mad woman, I found myself intrigued and strangely…aroused.Yeah, it surprised me too.

However, when those laughs turned to sobs, I could tell she was nearing her breaking point. Seeing her fall apart that way triggered some dark and primal instinct in me, and I felt compelled to go to her. The need to comfort her was so strong, that I didn’t even stop to think about how she would react, a mistake I would not have made if I had been thinking straight.

As soon as I got close, she spooked, lashing out at me, leaving me no choice but to subdue her with the sedative I had in my pocket intended for my original target, Ian.

Like Jayce said, last night was not my usual MO. Some guys enjoy the thrill of the kill. They get off on the risk of exposure, but not me. I prefer to do my work in private, where I won’t be disturbed.

I derive pleasure from the hunt. The chase. The look of fear in someone’s eyes when they realize their misdeeds have finally caught up to them. Or at least I did…before.

Last night, however, had been more about vengeance, tying up loose ends. At least, it would have been, had the kill been mine. Still, I can’t begrudge this woman for stealing what was supposed to be mine.

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