Page 11 of Liar's Heart
Busted. I make a point to loosen my grip on my bourbon and take a drink that appears far more relaxed than I feel right now. “Better?”
Ro nods. “Better.” Bringing his own glass to his mouth, he pauses right before he takes a sip. “You still look like that dude's about to pay for your blue balls though.”
I shoot him a glare before turning my focus back on the asshole in question. He’s not wrong, and he knows me too well for there to be any point in denying it. “You know this guy?”
An unnecessary question—Roman’s no doubt hacked into the guest list and familiarized himself with everyone on it, but you never know who might be listening. “Jonah Dewitt,” he supplies.
“Anything I should know about him?”
“Nah. Nothing that should, or would, stop you,” he teases.
“Spouse? Children?”
Roman snorts. “What do you think?”
Figures. “Seriously, though,” Roman assures. “You’d be doing them a favor.”
“Yeah?”
Roman leans in a little closer before delivering his next piece of information. “Yeah. Mrs. Dewitt couldn’t join him tonight because she’s at Good Samaritan Medical with their nine-year-old, Emma, who’s being kept overnight for observation under concussion protocol after falling off some playground equipment earlier today. Broke a few ribs too. Based on her medical records, little Emma is unusually clumsy. Has been for years now.”
The rage that’s been simmering in my gut begins to full-on boil. I know what he’s saying, but just to make sure, I add, “It’s January. And it rained earlier today. What playground was she at?”
“Apparently, one inside their house since security footage didn’t show anyone leaving until Jonah left to come here. His wife and daughter headed for the hospital not long after he did.”
That’ll do it. “The second he touches her, or she acts like she wants out, he’s mine.”
“Got it. Where do you want me?” he asks.
My jaw clenches as I watch Jonah lean in and smell my wife’s hair when she’s distracted by a server offering her a canapé. “Stay with Merrick. I don’t care how many people are here; I don’t trust Alec.”
He grunts. “You’re going to have to let him at her eventually. That’s kind of how bait works.”
“She’s not fucking bait,” I grind out. “She’s my wife.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive, and you know it, End.”
I look down into my drink like the counterargument I’m searching for is in the amber liquid, but it’s not there. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I mumble. Then louder, “You never did say how it went with Lennon at the wedding.” Ifhe’s going to stand here and bust my balls, he better expect the same in return.
Roman sighs. “She shot me down.”
I wince. “Damn. Was hoping at least one of us got lucky that night.”
“Never said I didn’t.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Goddamnit. I swear, as smart as my best friend is, he sure loves to let his dick write checks when his ass has a negative account balance.
“Ro.”
“End.”
“Your exact words when you got back from delivering Merrick’s wedding present were, and I quote, ‘Ender, I think I’m in love.’”
He shrugs. “I still might be. Again, not mutually exclusive facts.” He and I always did have very different feelings about monogamy.
Sighing, I ask, “Who was it?”
“Didn’t ask. He had a horse mask and didnothave the dick to match.”
That pulls a snicker out of me that I hide behind my glass. “Nice.” I take a drink and let the soothing warmth of the bourbon sink into me. “So as far as Len goes…”
