Page 3 of Beautiful Liar

“You good?” Tristan asked as we stopped at a construction site.

No. I fucking wasn’t.“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A small smirk softened his features.

I didn’t wait for him to say anything else and got out of the car.

The trailer we used as an office was small. A solid oak desk occupied most of the space with a couple of hard chairs in front of it. A quick scan offered nothing else.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

“Outside,” Tristan said.

“You got to be kidding,” I mumbled.

Jacob chuckled. The first sound I heard from him all morning. I knew he wanted to say something, but he clamped his mouth shut and looked at Tristan instead. I’d been riding shotgun with them for three months and couldn’t hide my OCD, especially when it came to cleanliness and indoor plumbing.

“Hold it,” Tristan said. “This should be quick.”

I wasn’t sure if my body would be able to hold anything, but I gave him a curt nod anyway.

I’d been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes when I was thirteen as a fuck you from the universe. To avoid a bullet for being a defect, I’d hidden it from Grandfather and Tristan and for the past three months I’d been playing Russian roulette with my health. I’d removed my monitor and pump because we were usually searched when on jobs and I’d be called out. We’d been out since early this morning with nothing to eat. My body was feeling the effects of it, and I couldn’t do anything short of stopping this fucked up situation so I could check my insulin. Not fucking happening.

Jacob took position to Tristan’s left, while I stood to hisright. It seemed the most natural thing to do.

Someone knocked on the door. Tristan turned to me. “Just follow my lead,” he said and waited for me to nod before telling the person to come inside.

Cameron Russo wore a long coat, black slacks, and shiny ass shoes. His balding head red from the exposure to the cold outside. He had pockmarks on his face and a crooked nose from too many beatings. Accompanied by two of his security detail, he trudged inside. The taller guard stood to his right, facing off with Jacob. The shorter blond glared at me. They wore street clothes, muddied boots, and zippered jackets over their weapons. I never understood why henchman carried weapons they wouldn’t be able to reach at the onset of a firefight. As if they relied on luck of a bad shot before returning fire. I wore my coat open, my arms crossed in front of me, thumbing the handle of my weapon.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” Russo said, breathing as if he’d run a mile.

He gave Tristan the familiar bullshit greeting with a man hug. Tristan received it with a smile as well, though I was pretty sure his body was ready for anything.

Russo took a step back as Tristan remained standing in front of his desk, leaning on it.

“Thank you for meeting me here on short notice,” Tristan said in a tone that meant business.

Russo shifted as if expecting Tristan to invite him to sit. A conversation had standing up was always fueled with tension. This one was no different. The fat fuck didn’t seem to like the play.

“Quick to business then,” he started, not hiding his agitation. “Word on the street is that war follows your return. You lost the business, and you make alliances through matrimony that go against God and the church.”

The blond in front of me sneered. I almost expectedhim to spit at my feet. There was no mistaking the disdain of Maddox’s marriage to Alessandro Mancini, a union that gave the Brennans more street cred after losing their legitimate business to me. It meant that they wouldn’t be able to filter their illegal earnings using the Ark Boys’ corporation, Arcas International. Though I had left the Brennans some scraps, like their assets and a minority share of the business so they wouldn’t fucking starve, their illegal business took the biggest hit. Tristan hadn’t come clean to me with his plans for the future, but I suspected he’d be letting the illegal side of his business go if he believed they would survive it. With a family like the Brennans and Mancinis, there were too many people wanting blood. Memories lasted forever, but the promise of vengeance lasted even longer.

It'd never end.

“The union between Maddox and Alessandro is a contract between families and not anyone’s concern.”

“But Imogen would’ve been the better fit. She can produce anaturalheir.”

Tristan gave away nothing in his expression. “Again, it is not your concern.”

“Cillian would not have approved.” Russo pressed.

The guy in front of me shifted, expecting something.

Tristan revealed nothing in his expression. A flat affect that made the hairs along my skin rise. “Cillian is dead. I lead the families now.”

I kept my focus on the threat in front of me.

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