Page 27 of His Deadly Lies

As frustrated as I am, blood rushes to my cheeks at his look and his nearness. The blush might easily be confused as me being an excited bride. Even if it’s just a part I’m slipping into. I’ve been faking things my whole life in order to learn the ins and outs of this business.

Like this is anything different, I assure myself.

Another role to add to my repertoire. I’m better than any actress. Life or death relies on my performances.

I sigh and stare him down. Then, without another word, I stride toward the main exit door, and Carter shifts to keep up with me. I’ll have to be careful not to push him too far. He will report back to Ricardo, no doubt. One wrong turn of phrase, and the deal might be off.

Still, I’ll make it hard on Carter to keep up.

He’s been in this game a long time, judging by the color of his hair and the way he carries himself. Old before his time. It’s difficult to judge his real age. The mercurial cast of those blue eyes might put him in his thirties, but the hair, his bearing, and his attitude all point to an older man.

I school those thoughts like a rigid mistress.

His age doesn’t matter.

Only how willing he is to bend away from Ricardo and how much information he’ll drop into my lap.

Shaking my head, I storm out of the guesthouse into the golden light of afternoon. It’s instinct to pause for a moment with my face lifted to the sun. I almost laugh out loud, remembering how undone that simple guard dog made me at Lakeside earlier. How his touch caused a fire to burst to life inside of me. I’ve never had a man impact me in such a way.

Well, hardly ever.

I don’t claim to be experienced, but I’ve flirted with my fair share of men at the club. Kissed a few. Even had a few below-the-belt experiences that never amounted to anything.

Why Carter?

Maybe this will be fun, I tell myself.

The main house looms across the yard, done in shades of white and taupe with copper accents. I push in through the back door, up the stairs, all the while listening to the heavy thud of footsteps close behind. I stop at the door to my bedroom and turn to see Carter only a few paces back. “Excuse me,” I say, offering a syrupy smile. “I just need to change.”

The door slams in his face.

Something’s been bothering me since I recognized Carter in scrubs today, I muse, crossing to the window. How had he known I was in the hospital? It’s been fucking plaguing me because there shouldn’t have been any leaks. Papa made sure to keep the information tightly under wraps.

Somehow he must have found out, through whatever channels he uses, and gone to get a look at me for himself. Had he been forewarned about Papa’s choice of future husbands today too? Even before me?

It’s difficult to believe but not impossible.

There are ways of getting people to talk. It goes right back to Papa employing second-rate workers. No doubt that’s where Carter found his opening. Only a handful of people knew where I was within our organization.

Wariness creeps up and overtakes the slight nauseous feeling. Perhaps he’s even gotten more information on the shooting.

He, or my father.

Someone has to know more than I’ve been told. And good luck getting a private minute alone with Edward, who always retreats into his office to have a moment alone after meetings with the other clans.

He’s probably in his recliner now with a cigarette and a glass of fruit juice.

Rather than think of an excuse to ditch my new bodyguard, I slip out the window and onto the roof of the porch below, shimmying down the lattice ladder I convinced Papa to install. Since I’m so convincing.

Sarcasm intended.

My muscles warm by the time I clamber across the porch and jump to the ground, moving to the front door. No, not the front. I change direction at the last minute. The entrance in the garage. It’s closer to the office and will make sneaking around a bit easier. Grinning, I roll up the garage door—

Only to see Carter leaning against the fucking car, waiting for me.

“You fucking going somewhere, Princess?”

8

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