Page 28 of The Truths that Deceive

“I’m not playing with you.”

“You will.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing the word out through gritted teeth, “Code. So… Code times a thousand.”

He laughs against the wig. “Good girl. Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you’re wearing.”

I scowl up at him. “Considering I had to escape your… consequences, I think I look pretty good.”

“I didn’t comment on that looking good or not. I’m fucking talking about how you don’t look like my daughter.”

“You and your fetish.”

Before he can come back on me, a matronly lady comes up to shake his hand. “Herr Hunt. Is this the lovely Juniper…?” She trails off, more an American move than German, but I slide an arm around his waist.

“Frau Hunt, his wife,” I say with a demure smile.

They make small talk as I take my leave to find a drink and check the place out. I could walk out the door. Or through the service entrance. It wouldn’t take much to find my way upstairs to steal a different set of clothes. Or considering the staff are in black, find one of their outfits, either a spare work one or someone’s clothes they wore here.

But I don’t.

And not because his eyes are on me. It doesn’t matter I can’t catch him looking. It certainly doesn’t matter he doesn’tfollow as I slip to the door where a garden is artfully lit in twinkling fairy lights.

The man is watching. Stalking.

Always.

He’s waiting to see if I’ll make a break for it, and I’m tempted. I’m so tempted I’m quivering. The light music tinkles with the gurgle of voices in conversation. And I’ve counted all the exits.

But he waits. He wants me to make that move.

And I’m not going to get away.

He’s not about to leave me to explore if he knows I can break out.

Maybe, with someone else, I’d risk it. But I’m not a field agent, and though I have skills that were drilled into me, this man drips the quiet confidence of the best of the best I’ve seen.

I’m not sure if I want to see what will happen if I run.

I don’t know if I want to find out exactly how much I’ll like it.

I start to turn to go back inside when a small gate catches my eye.

Maybe I?—

“Don’t.”

One word. Quiet. No emotion.

Yet it lacerates.

“I just wanted to see.”

He moves then, backing me into the stone wall, and my heels sink into the dirt as I cross the border of the pavement into the flowers.

Smith doesn’t touch me, but his expression is utterly feral, the kind that makes my knees weak and me wet between the thighs. “You wanted to see if you could escape? Or how far, exactly, it’ll take for you to push me into the hunt?”

I swallow over the burning, sudden lump in my throat. “No, I…”

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