Page 51 of Master of Lies

Oh, to hell with it. My stomach had undermined me. I’d give him this one.

The freezer was loaded with stuff that looked really good. Real food, not packaged industrial crap. Pans of food that had been prepared by a professional caterer. The paper labels had handwritten dates that noted when they had been made and frozen.

I chose two different pans; a pot roast with vegetables and a veggie pesto lasagna. Into the microwave they went. Buttons pushed. Feminine duties performed.

Jed was hard at work messing around with his electronics, so I took myself on a tour. There were two small, chilly bedrooms with plastic wrapped bedding lying on the mattresses. I went ahead and made up one of the beds so I could fall right into it when the time came. I thought about doing Jed’s too, out of courtesy, but my residual anger was too strong. The jerk could make his own damn bed when he wanted to sleep.

The bathroom was stocked with soap, shampoo, towels, toothpaste, a siren song I could not resist. Washing off the blood and the fear sweat sounded divine.

I locked the door, got the shower water running hot, stripped down, got in.

The hot water stung my scalp, but it felt good on the bruises and strains. The water ran pink for a while, but I shampooed my hair several times until it was clear, hopefully getting out the blood and the pink dye, which was no longer appropriate now that I had left Sandee and her fashion sense behind me. The hot water loosened my sore shoulder. I wanted to stay in it for hours, but nagging anxiety made me shut the water off as soon as I’d rinsed away the last of the soap. Being naked felt too vulnerable.

I toweled off my hair and pulled my clothes back on, longing sharply for some underwear. But the shower had refreshed my nerve to face up to Jed, so I strolled back to the front room, where I found Jed staring at a computer screen.

“I’m assuming this place was prepared months ago, just like the cabin last night,” I said. “From before you went into the prison. Based on the dates from the food labels. They’re from five months ago.”

“I told you before,” he said. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”

“He is my brother, Jed. I need to know more.”

Jed leaned back in his chair. “Freya,” he said. “You saw those people who came after you. You can imagine how far they’re willing to go to get what they want.”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s why I need to know—”

“Suppose I told you everything I was trying to accomplish, and how,” he cut in. “Then, suppose that Boer tied you to a chair and started in on you with the bolt cutters. How long do you think you’d last?”

I stared at him, mouth agape, for an unpleasant moment, imagining it.

“Ah…probably about as long as you would,” I said finally. “Let’s just hope neither one of us ever has to find out. The thing is, you are underestimating me. I can help you. Whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish, I would be an asset to that project.”

“Like you have been so far?”

That stung, but I couldn’t refute it. Then the microwave dinged.

Jed waved at me dismissively. “Go do something useful that won’t get us both killed. Like setting the table.”

I swallowed back my rage and got to it, since anything else I could do or say would be childish and counterproductive. I put hot pads on the table. Laid out the steaming pans of food. Found some plates in the cupboards, some forks and knives, some serving spoons. Setting the table, my ass.

“Smells good.”

I looked over at Jed, taken aback by his tone. It was the first thing he had said to me in a long while that wasn’t cold or antagonistic. Since the last time we’d had sex, maybe.

God knows, he’d been friendlier back in my Sandee days, which I was already kind of missing. He hadn’t been so angry at Sandee. She’d been all sweet and helpless and unthreatening, so he’d treated her far more tenderly.

But sweet, helpless, and unthreatening Freya Masters was not. By no means.

It wasn’t the first time I’d disappointed a guy by letting my real personality pop out at him, like a horror movie jump scare. I’m so used to that happening, you’d think it wouldn’t bug me anymore.

But it was bugging the shit out of me right now.

“Enjoy,” I said coolly. “There’s beer in the fridge. As I’m sure you must know, since you must’ve bought it, or ordered it.”

“No thanks, not for me. I’m on the job,” he said, pulling out a chair. “Feel free to have one yourself, though. Are you going to sit down?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to crowd you,” I muttered. It seemed awkward and weird to sit down with him, as if we were friends. Or a couple. God forbid.

“Sit,” he commanded. “Eat.”

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