Page 47 of Wicked Lies

“What’s up?” Nick wiped at his eyes. He hadn’t had a sex hangover in a long time, but what a good fuckin’ way to spend the day.

Jax frowned. “Are you all right?”

“No—I mean, yeah.”

Jax looked past him toward the bedrooms. “You got Angela here? You guys back together?”

“No, no.” Nick ran his hand threw his hair.

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah.” Nick shot a look over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he didn’t want Jax to know Cheryl was in his bedroom.

“I was just going to check on Samson. Thought you’d wanna ride over with me.”

“Nah, my arm is pounding like a bitch.” He motioned toward his bandage. He should’ve been paralyzed after the crazy, sheet-gripping sex he and Cheryl had earlier. “I talked to him before he said he’s doin’ better.”

“Okay. See you later.” Jax looked back once and left.

When Nick entered the bedroom, Cheryl stood by the side of the bed with the sheet wrapped around her.

“Did you tell Jax I was in here?”

“Nah, he left.”

She flicked her hand at him. “He must’ve known something was up 'cause you look like you just fell out of bed after rolling around with a fast fuck.”

“It was way more than a fast fuck,” he mumbled.

“Either way, I should leave.” She stomped around the room collecting her clothes off the floor.

“What are you doin’?” He stepped in her path, bringing them face to face. “You don’t have to leave.” Guilt consumed him. “I don’t want you to think because you were upset earlier that I—”

Cheryl pressed her finger to his lips. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you can’t help me.”

He cupped her chin. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

“How? You’re in as deep with Frank as me. Once I get some money together, I’m leaving, so there’s no sense in you and I starting—”

“Leaving?”

“I’ve got to get away from Frank, and Brooklyn. That was my original plan until Sal swiped my money.” She stepped back, and his hand fell to his side. She bundled up her clothes and motioned toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“Sure.” For the first time in his life, he didn’t want a woman to leave.

Nick contemplated going down to the Pit and calling out the fat fuck after she’d told him about Sal taking her money, then he reasoned if Cheryl had her money, she’d be gone. So yeah, the bastard in him kept quiet for his own selfish needs, but shit, she had him all twisted up.

Twelve hours ago he wanted to throw her out, but he couldn’t do it even though everything about her screamed trouble. She confessed to a stabbing and had Frank blackmailing her after witnessing a murder. Her secrets could easily unravel, sending both of them and his dream club straight to hell. He should give her up before things got messy, yet he had a feeling opening up a million-dollar club in Manhattan against Frank’s wishes would be easier than succumbing to the ache of letting Cheryl go.

He heard someone in the living room and assumed Jax forgot something until Angela walked into the bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Nick heard the edgy surprise in his voice.

Angela closed the distance between them. “I realized I overreacted the other night, and then when I heard you got hurt”—she nodded to his bandaged arm—“I realized how wrong I was and how bad I’d feel if something happened to you.”

First Jax, now Angela. Way too many goddamn people with a key.

“How are you feeling?”

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