Page 55 of Wicked Lies

“Are you done?” He pushed out of the chair, and in three steps surrounded her with heat radiating off his body.

Her traitorous hands reached out to him, and again, she froze as the light caught the side of his face.

“What happened to your face?” Her fingers traveled to his stubbled, bruised jawline. “Who did this?”

“It was just a screw-up.”

She grazed his cheekbone, careful not to exert pressure on his sensitive skin. “Pretty big screw-up.”

* * *

”Forget about it.”Nick kept his voice light, hoping to avoid the inevitable questions.He wasn’t accustomed to anyone fussing over him, and although he enjoyed her attention, being laid-open and vulnerable was not his style.

“Forget about it?” She ran her hand over his forearm. “Tell me what happened.”

For a split second, he considered arranging his feelings into words, but itpassed, and he reverted to what worked for most of his adult years—covering his ass and shoving his emotions down until they no longer existed.

“C’mon, tell me something.”

“Frank had a cop on his payroll trash the new club, then had the same cop work me over.” Nick shrugged. “He’s just flexin’, trying to show me who’s boss.”

“I’d say he’s doing a pretty good job. Samson’s got broken ribs.” She stroked his cheek. “And you got your face smashed in.”

He reached for her, but she side-stepped around him. “Hey, c’mere.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

His ambition thrust himself and others into danger, but he refused to gamble with Cheryl’s safety. She’d had enough bad guys in her life, and the thought of her at risk slammed him with fear. He contemplated an all-out lie, but she was way too savvy.

“Frank doesn’t want me and Samson opening the club in Midtown.”

“Why?”

He weighed his answer because if he wanted their relationship to be real, it had to be about trust.

“Because we’re breaking away, not cutting him in for any of the profits.” Nick sat on the edge of the bed. “He thinks he owns us, thinks he can tell us what to do.” Old anger bubbled up in his chest.

“And he thinks this because . . .”

“Because he took us off the corner. Gave us a shot back in the day.”

“But I’m guessing you did things that weren’t exactly legal?”

“Sure, coming up how I did, I was looking for any way out,” he admitted. “And I’m not gonna lie. In the beginning, I loved the power and how people treat those they think have it. Wearing the clothes, driving the cars—it’s addicting.”

“But something changed.”

“Yeah.” He lowered his head. This was way fuckin’ harder than he thought.

“I told you about all the stuff Jimmy and I did.”

He wanted to be honest with her, but he feared his truths might scare her or drive her away.

“Come on, Nick. Can it be any worse than the things I told you?”

He sucked in a deep breath, and the pressure pushed against his bruised ribs. He braced his palms against his thighs.

She stayed silent, forcing him to continue. “My father was an abusive son of a bitch, and one day he went too far.” He dragged in another deep breath and exhaled. “He beat my mother so bad . . .”

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