Page 80 of His Deadly Lies

She blushes, and I know exactly where her mind has gone.

“I’m not staying in your room if that’s what you’re asking.” I focus my eyes on the road. “Greedy girl.”

Out of the corner of her eye, I see her shoulders tighten, and she’s back to nibbling on her lower lip. A sure sign she’s starting to overthink things. My own frustration bubbles over as I watch her face soften, then harden, off and on throughout the entirety of our drive.

If I focus on her now, then it’s going to take away from the current moment, which is too important to botch any further than we already have.

I let her stew. Let her sit and process things. I need to be processing my own shit over what happened last night, what it meant. Yet worry for her keeps me preoccupied.

She’s silent. Brooding.

The wild goose chase we’re on leads us back into the city, and our guy parks in front of a four-story apartment building. There isn't any other space on the street, so rather than making ourselves a target, I loop back around. We’re in a pretty nondescript car, but it’s daytime. There are people around, and there’s bound to be someone who isn’t distracted by life or their fucking phone who will notice something peculiar.

It’s not the right time to stop. Decision made at the last minute, I throw the car into reverse and head for the highway.

“Are you kidding? We need to corner him!” Mia blurts out. “What are you doing?” judging by the look on her face, if she had a gun, she would have pistol-whipped me.

“We need to change our plan,” I tell her. “At least now we know what the guy looks like and where he is.”

“None of this makes sense.”

She’s right, and it’s bothering the hell out of me. Like ants under the skin.

“It doesn’t have to make sense right now. We’ve got a starting point. We can point our men in the right direction.” Whatever our guy was doing at the motel last night, he hadn’t met anyone. No one came to talk with him regarding a drop-off or otherwise.

Which meant he’d been there for other reasons, personal reasons maybe, and I’d taken advantage of the situation by fucking Mia.

That’s the only thing we accomplished by our little side trip.

Mia reaches over and squeezes my leg to get my attention. Electricity zips through me at the contact, and I find myself smiling when I glance back at her.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

“You know. In case we aren’t alone again for some time. I want to touch you while no one is watching us,” she murmurs.

Well fuck me.

The next time we’re stuck at a red light on our way to the highway, I take her by the back of the neck and kiss her smartly.

It’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough. Mia is the kind of woman that is irreplaceable, and a single taste of her barely scratches the surface of what I want to do.

The way she softens around me, how she’s so willing to give herself over to passion, it’s exciting to witness. To partake in.

Things were not supposed to go this way, I wonder to myself. The on-ramp is clear, and I manage to merge onto the oncoming traffic with ease, even as they all pass us at ninety or so miles an hour. Things with Mia were supposed to be simple. She stays in her lane, and I’m in mine, the two of them crossing only when business necessitates contact.

How the hell am I going to get my shit accomplished now?

How the hell am I going to keep my hands off of her and act like she means nothing to me?

Surely her father is going to see right through to the core of me, then my charade is done. Blown right out of the water.

I’m an actor, but I’m not that fucking good.

Especially not when looking at her, studying her, makes me smile like a fool. A lovestruck sap who can’t control himself even when everything depends on said control. If I slip too far, then someone else is going to take advantage of the lapse and finish what they started, putting her at further risk. Or worse.

There are far more horrible things in our world than death. The thought of anything like that happening to Mia has me grinding down my back molars.

Once we pass through the front gates of the Balestra compound, things change. We’ve got no choice, but the change is abrupt, and I hate it more than I want to admit. My shoulders draw back, my face hardening just as Mia throws her cold persona over her features like someone donning a coat in winter. She leaves no hint of the vulnerability or the softness from our time at the motel.

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