Page 2 of The Lies You Love
“I’m on the edge of my seat,” he proclaims. “Should I take off more clothes to help you decide? That seems to be a weakness of yours. This one. Naked.” He extends the blade once more.
“Stop. I’ve made my choice. But no catching the one you free on another day. She’s always safe from the Rifts.” I’m shocked my voice doesn’t shake. I’m not choosing what I want for dinner. I’m sealing a fate and taking a soul. I am the grim reaper incarnate.
Hudson lowers the weapon. “Fine. Who then? Get to the good part. Who dies today?”
“Me,” I say. “Kill me. Let the women go free.”
He shakes his head, gaze glinting evil. “That wasn’t the game. That’s the easy way out. Tell me who dies and who lives. It’s your one chance to play God. You’re running out of time. I’m losing patience.”
I knew it would come to this, and even still, I can’t think of any way out of it. Not when I know what he’s capable of with that sword. I also know what she’s capable of.
I extend my pointer finger out. “She dies,” I say.
Hudson’s eyes light—a malevolent twitch shakes his lower jaw. “A surprising choice,” he replies, but he’s already lost in bloodlust as he raises the blade. It gleams when the light from the skylight strokes the metal just right, nearly blinding me. The scent of iron mixes with stale beer, and I retch. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest. I fall back, landing against the cement floor with a thud, smashing the plastic bird in my back pocket.
He slides the razor blade edge across her throat, and blood sprays out like a fan as he severs her head.
Always.
Protect.
The.
Heartbeat.
CHAPTER ONE
Beck
The beginning…
If it’s a summer weekend, she’s here. Laying nearly naked at the top of a parking garage in a silver bathing suit. She looks like an alien, all mottled red and brown, a sheen of tanning oil slicked over every square inch of her body, even places the sun doesn’t touch. Ramsey Taerpietier was a magnificent creature. One of intrigue and wealth. A woman every other woman aspired to be in one facet or another. Her looks were as impressive as her mind, and her pension for philanthropy rivaled no one. Who she was doesn’t matter because now, she’s living a completely different life. Through my binoculars, I watch her flip to her stomach like a roasting pig on a spit. I check my watch. Fifteen minutes on the dot. She’ll be finished in a half hour when she’s reached maximum exposure, and the heat has rendered her a puddle of irritated sweat.
Her best friend, Auden, lives in the building she’s on top of, so she’ll walk down, lugging her plastic, folding lounge chair, and let herself in with the spare hide-a-key from under the gnome in the hallway. It’s unsafe to hide a key, but I don’t care. I’m not protecting her best friend’s heartbeat; I’m protecting Ramsey’s. When she’s over here, I make sure she’s safe. There’s a lull in entertainment as Ramsey showers, drifting away from her bugged cell phone that lets me hear her at almost all times. Listening to her laugh at cat memes while she takes a shit is annoying, but she just phoned Auden and told her she was deviating from her standard plan to grab a drink at the Silver Moon, and I’m thankful I listened to her every sentence. There are some seedy characters who own and run that bar. Drugs and trafficking are their specialties. If they knew who Ramsey was in her former life? A disaster.
When the program sends a person into hiding, the location is usually a remote, desolate town without much infrastructure. My case, and this Principal, isn’t that. I’m not saying my job is harder than other Charge Men who guard their own Principals in rural, one-road-drag places, but being in a busy city definitely complicates things. There are more places and humans to protect them from. Ramsey refused to leave the city. She bucked back, creating so much drama that they decided to give her what she wanted. My assignment to her was mostly random, but I do have insider knowledge because I’ve lived in the city for a bit, and own a place here, so I think the powers that be took that into consideration when assigning Ramsey as my Principal.
Last week when she was jogging through the park, I think she was targeted. I was running behind her, keeping a safe distance, like I always do, when a man came out of nowhere. His clothing was black, and shadows rendered his face nondescript. His intentions couldn’t be read, but I know nefarious when confronted with it. There was a moment before he lunged in her direction that he realized she wasn’t alone—that a large man was beating the trail behind her. He jolted, gazed around suspiciously, and retreated into the trees behind him. I would have chased him down and interrogated him until he was bloody and beaten, but I needed to keep my eyes on Ramsey in case he wasn’t a solo hitter. A team could be working the trail. The next morning, I hammered in a sign that said CLOSED. I put it right where she entered the maze of running trails and prayed she’d obey. A lot of my days are spent praying she obeys.
If anything were to happen to her, I’d lose my job and probably my life. It’s not that she’s overtly unruly or seeking trouble; it’s merely that she’s used to doing, and getting, what she wants. According to her phone call to Auden, she wants a gin and tonic, midday on a Saturday, from Silver Moon. Auden works a street over at a small pet boutique she owns and runs herself. While Ramsey always sunbathes on her roof on the weekend, Auden always works. I hightail it inside my apartment to change clothes. I wasn’t expecting to leave today, but at the prospect of trouble at the Silver Moon, I can’t help the thrill of excitement. My building, which is also Ramsey’s building, is adjacent to Auden’s. I live one floor up from her. The stairwell is next to my door, and I can be at Ramsey’s apartment in less than thirty seconds if I need to be. Living on the same floor as her was too much of a risk. Casual conversation would turn into acquaintances that knock on each other’s door to borrow sugar, and from that, bad news. Charge Men who befriend their Principals live in dangerous territory. Romantic lines cannot be crossed, and love is forbidden.
A Charge Man from the past blew everything we thought we knew out of the water. He fell in love with his Principal after he’d been deprogrammed from feeling love or lust. He continued to love her after they sent him to the lab a second time for more experimental deprogramming. Deprogramming from love was something that Charge Men had done because it enhanced the ability to protect without distraction. There is a new boss in charge at the program headquarters who now asserts that the deprogramming process isn’t necessary, so when I came into the fold, I didn’t have it done. My dick still works when I want it to, but the rules are tighter. We now protect in rotations. One month guarding, one month off for a real life.
My replacement, Grey, knows Ramsey and her habits as much as I do, so there’s no fear for her safety from either side. It’s a seamless transition—back and forth. The nightly reports we have to write up are endless and take a long time, but every detail about her life is essential or could prove to be significant at some point. I gladly accept the heavy administrative duties because it means I get to have a work-life balance. Charge Men who have come before me didn’t have any balance. They were on guard one-hundred-percent of the time. Grey was on his former Principal full-time without breaks. Before that one, he was substituting on an emergency on-call basis when on breaks from the lab at headquarters. He arrives tomorrow, and not a moment too soon. I’m bleary-eyed and in need of some rest and relaxation. Some of my friends are coming into the city from the burbs for another friend’s bachelor party, and I’ve been invited to join.
I exit the bottom floor of my apartment building just as Ramsey hides her face with a pair of big sunglasses. There are times that I think she knows she has a guard detail on her, and other times when she acts frightened all the time. When submerged in the program, you’re told only what you need to know and not a single detail more. I’m glad she made a friend in Auden so quickly because that really took some pressure off. I didn’t have to worry about her mental health as much because she had someone to talk to, even if she couldn’t be fully honest about why she was upset or any other facet of her life. Ramsey has a cover story. This is a new life. A new world. In the same city she has loved her entire life. It is a bizarre set of circumstances.
She holds her oversized bag against her chest as she weaves in and out of people on the bustling sidewalk. As she wages war against the busy stream of foot traffic, I notice she’s wearing a dress and heels, and her hair is actually down. Fuck, is that makeup peeking from beneath her sunnies? Groaning under my breath, I realize she’s probably going on a date, and that gin and tonic is another booty call. I pick up my pace and accidentally bump into a woman.
“I’m sorry, miss,” I say, trying to sound genuine. “In a rush and didn’t mind the personal space rule,” I add, letting my gaze flick across the street to the Silver Moon. Ramsey rushes in.
The woman looks put off as she leans over to pick up what’s left of her spilled iced coffee and shakes her hands off before sliding them down her jeans.
“Sorry isn’t saving my coffee,” she snarls, straightening the purse slung across her body. Then she meets my eyes for the first time.
I swallow down the jitters. One day. Only one more day and I can act on these feelings. A month is a long time to pause real life and real urges. A month is the threshold. That’s what the scientists and doctors have found. Any longer and we get jumpy and unreliable. The woman before me is beautiful. I reach into my pocket and pull out a bill.
“Here.” I extend it to her. “I really am sorry. I’d buy you another coffee myself, but I’m in a rush to be somewhere. Next one is on me.” I’m pretty proud of my game on the flustered rush.
