Page 25 of Filthy Liar

“Uh uh,” she says softly. “We talked about this. My name is Melinda.”

“Is it, though?” I match her soft tone. “Let’s stop doing this in public,Melinda. Clearly, we have some issues to work through. Let’s do it in private.”

She gives me an appraising look before her eyelashes dust her cheeks. “Dinner?”

Too public still. “My place.”

She laughs. “Okay, Captain Obvious. I’m not fucking you, so put that nonsense away.”

“That’s not what this is about. But I do want to protect you, and one day soon, you might need to trust me enough to let that happen.”

“Because you want to fuck me.”

“In spite of the fact that I want to fuck you. That’s a complication, not a perk.”

“Oh, it would be a perk.”

“God fucking damn it, do you need to argue everything I say?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly, and that’s when I catch it. The dilated pupils, the swollen lips. The drift toward me as we verbally spar. She wants this to be physical just as much as I do.

“What would it take?” I ask coarsely. “To get you alone in a room. Any room, your choice.”

“An interview. On the record.”

“With me?”

“With someone who knows the ins and outs of PRISM.”

Literally any other answer would have shocked me less. I blink at her, sparring potential dropping quickly down the priority list. “That’s your story? Mayfair has nothing to do with PRISM.”

“That’s something else. Will you comment on the record about Mayfair?”

“No.”

“PRISM?”

“No.”

“Jason—”

“Don’t Jason me. You disappeared for five years, and now you think you can bat your eyelashes and get a quote from me? One that could kill my reputation in this town?”

“If my story is correct, this is bigger than protecting one’s reputation.” She shrugs. “And you were the one batting your eyelashes at me a minute ago. If you want to get me alone in a room, it’ll be in a professional capacity.”

And that’s not happening.

Frustrated, I watch as she sweeps out of the room, a curious chameleon who manages to not capture anyone’s attention. I don’t get it. She’s all I can see, but her little disguise complete with press pass works perfectly on everyone else.

I wait a beat, then follow her at a safe distance. By the time I get outside, she has disappeared from sight, which doesn’t surprise me. But I don’t see a hired car, either, and I wait, scanning the street for some sign of trouble.

Just before I turn to go back inside, a motorbike peels out. The helmet obscures the blonde wig, but the black suit is the same, and the shape of Ellie is unmistakable.

She’s a beautiful liar, I think to myself as I watch her turn at the end of the street. Then I grind my teeth together, because those secrets could get her killed, and I can’t let that happen.

10

Melinda

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