Twisted Truth (Truth Vs Lie Book 1)

by Maria Macdonald

  It barely rings. “Arlo.”

  “Go to Crackers, wait out back and bring King. You’ll know when you’re needed.”

  “Got it,” he replies, and I cut the call, immediately dialling again.

  “Darwin,” is murmured low.

  “Can you see the assignment?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many are around him?”

  “Two. Another four out back. Two in front and four having a heated discussion just inside the entrance,” he explains.

  “On my signal, you’ll be able to get to him, extract him safely?” I question.

  “Do you need to ask me that?” His soft growl makes me smile.

  “See you in ten,” I reply and cut him off.

  I double check my gun and walk back into the main house grabbing my leather jacket.

  “You’re taking the bike?” Shelly asks, a look of surprise passes over her face.

  “Yeah,” I reply grabbing my helmet.

  “And me?”

  “There’s four out back. Arlo and King.” She nods. “Two with the assignment. Darwin.” Once again she nods. “Two out front. You.”

  “Right. And you?” she replies.

  “Four inside the entrance.”

  “Okay, I’ll do my two then come help.” She smirks.

  “Appreciate it.” I grin back, then stride to the garage. Looking between my Kawasaki Ninja and my Honda CBR1000, I sigh. “Sorry, old friend.” The apology makes me grit my teeth as I know what I’m going to do to my Honda. I love my bikes, both black—both dark—just like me. I hate this, but I’ll do what’s needed. Always.

  “You ready?” Shelly asks, pulling up next to me on her Ducati.

  I nod. “When we get there, watch for my hand signal, then hang back for a moment. When you see me go, take five seconds then you’ll be up, full throttle, to take those first two guys out.” She nods back at me, and I pull on my helmet before riding off.

  As I close in on the dark warehouse, I know I’ll only have one chance. It’s late, most of the industrial area around us is quiet. However, the mill next door runs constantly, making a low humming noise. It’s enough to disguise my bike, but in a moment, they’ll hear me. Shelly rides close behind, and we navigate as one, both having already turned our lights off. Just as I come up to the opening, I know they’ll spot me any second, so I wave my right arm out. Shelly backs off slightly, and I pull forward full throttle.

  I can’t hear much over the sound of my bike and my helmet, however, I can see the two guards now shouting, running, and their guns are up. I’m about eighty feet from them now applying the break as the bike starts slowing, and as the back end steps out. I lean back until the bike slides out from under me. I can’t see much as I tumble, but I hear the crash of the bike smashing through the huge wooden doors of the building. As the momentum starts leaving me, I reach for my helmet pulling it off. I hear shooting and noise everywhere now. Coming to a stop on my back, I pull my gun out and up and am about to kill the man running toward me when he’s shot from behind, immediately falling to the ground. Shelly tips her imaginary hat at me.

  I jump up and run inside the building. Shelly has two men on her, and two approach me. There’s a third at my back. He thinks I’m not aware of his presence, but he’d be wrong.

  “You made a mistake coming here,” one of them shouts.

  I point at his head and shoot. My aim is true, and I don’t know what these dickheads expected as their eyes widen. Twisting sideways, I shoot the one behind me with my right arm, while pulling my knife out and throwing it at the other guy with my left. It lands in his thigh, and he retaliates firing his gun twice, missing with the first bullet but grazing the side of my face with the second. I throw my spare knife, and it impales him in the gut. As he drops, I spin to the man behind me. I know I didn’t kill him, and I need to clean up. Taking the four steps to reach him, his breathing is shallow as his lungs fill with blood. I don’t blink as I put a bullet in his head and walk the other way, intent on doing the same to his friend. I lean down and pull my knives from his body, cleaning them on his shirt before tucking them away.

  I look around, my team are all huddled now, and a few dead bodies litter the area.

  “Shelly, call Dean and Brand. Clean up,” I state as my eyes travel further across the expanse of the open warehouse. She nods and moves away pulling out her phone.

  “The Assignment?” I ask Darwin.

  “Here,” he says, revealing a seven-year-old boy behind him. The kid looks scared shitless. He has a few scrapes and is a little dirty, probably undernourished from being with these bastards for four weeks, but otherwise, he looks okay.

  “Get him to base, call Clint and Victor, and tell them to bring Craig and Nicola. He’ll need his parents. They don’t need to know that we’ve found him yet, though. Just take them there but keep them separate from him until I get there.” Darwin nods and moves away flanked by King and Arlo, who’s now speaking into his phone, no doubt relaying my orders to Clint.

  “Are you okay?” Shelly asks glancing at my bleeding cheek now the others have left.

  “Yeah, it’s just a graze,” I tell her still looking around the space.

  “And the rest of you? That wasn’t a small tumble from your bike, which is wrecked by the way. I know you meant to do it, but still…” she leaves her sentence hanging.

  “The adrenaline is still pumping, I’ll be fine for a while, then I’ll rest.”

  “Crazy fucker,” she mumbles before walking toward her bike.

  “Shelly.”

  She turns and waits for me to speak.

  “Keys,” I demand and hold my hand out.

  She rolls her eyes and throws her bike keys at me which I catch while making my way to her Ducati. It’s a woman’s bike—that just my opinion—but I can’t deny, as I slide on and she jumps on behind me, that even with it just sitting idle, it sounds nice. As I pull on the throttle, and we rush forward, I concede I like the power. Maybe I’ll consider a Ducati as my next buy.

  I drive back to our house first, needing to get my Kawasaki and give Shelly her bike back because when this shit is done, I need to go see my brother.

  LIV

  Waking up with a pounding headache, I blink back the curse that sits on the tip of my tongue. I take in the whitewashed sterile walls of the hospital room and pull myself into a sitting position. In films and books, when people have been in hospital, they wake up to a group of family and friends who fall upon them, cooing with joy that the person is awake. I wake up to an empty room. “Figures,” I mutter, falling back on the bed. An internal door swings open making me jump, and Toby bursts through it.

  “Liv.” He rushes out barrelling over to me. “Bloody typical, the minute I go to take a piss, you wake up,” he huffs, taking a seat next to me.

  “Just the vision I wanted.” I deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

  Toby hangs his head, and I give him the time he needs. I know him so well. He wants to apologise, but he’s trying to think of exactly the right words.

  “There’re no words I can throw at you to excuse myself,” he tells me, meeting my eyes with his. I nod. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love him. He needed to acknowledge his behaviour, and he has. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m still not entirely sure what happened.” His head drops down again. “Everything just built and exploded. I guess there was too much… past, present, and foreseeing my future in the same way.”

  “What way?” I ask.

  “In Isaac’s shadow.”

  I frown. There’s nothing I can say. I’m surprised and a little pissed off at him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You said that already,” I snap.

  “Liv?” His head bolts up, his questioning gaze meets my angry one.

  “He’s your brother and your best friend,” I hiss out. “For years he’s been stuck inside a prison cell, and you’ve had your family and friends around you. How could you possibly be in his damn
shadow?” I hurl the words at him.

  Toby pinches the bridge of his nose, and I sigh. “I’m sorry.” I find myself repeating his words back to him.

  “I guess I never felt like I was good enough. Like I was the poor imitation of my big brother. Just not quite hitting the mark.” His tone is one of defeat.

  “You were always good enough,” I tell him and his returning smile relaxes me.

  Toby grabs my hand in his. “I know, Liv. Although, you and I only started dancing together after he went to prison.”

  I open my mouth about to argue then close it again. He’s right. I used to dance with Isaac. The only time I danced with Toby was when Isaac wasn’t around. “I didn’t know it bothered you,” I tell him.

  “It didn’t.” The corner of his mouth twitches and I slap him on his bicep.

  “Wanker.”

  He bursts into laughter.

  “Are we good?” he asks as we both fall silent.

  “Always, Toby.” My words are warm. “No more smashing mirrors, okay?”

  He blanches. “No, not again.”

  Some grudges are worth holding onto, and some actions demand harsher consequences. There are those people who would have made it harder for Toby. Although I’m still annoyed by his actions, I feel like I should give him some leniency. The number of times over the last few years he’s helped me out, saved me, cared for me—times that other people have no idea about—I owe him a little understanding.

  “You like Shelly,” I state.

  “I like Shelly.” He parrots me, and I’m shocked he admits his feelings so freely.

  “Does Isaac know?” I question.

  He shrugs. “Probably now.” He can’t stop the smirk that spreads across his face.

  I blow out a breath, not knowing what to say. Toby doesn’t seem too worried, and I narrow my eyes at him. “What aren’t you telling me, Tobias?” I bark.

  “If there’s something I’m keeping from you, and I’m not saying there is, then it would indicate that it’s something I can’t tell you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I purse my lips. “Good job you’re not a spy, Toby. You’d be crap at it.”

  He forces a chuckle, and I shake my head. Tiredness overcomes me, so I close my eyes, letting sleep take me away again.

  The next morning when I wake I really am alone, but only for about ten minutes until my mum and dad enter and fawn all over me.

  “You’ve come to take me home?”

  “We have,” my mum tells me, fussing.

  “I’m going back to my place,” I emphasise.

  My mum opens her mouth to say something, but my dad steps in. “Yes, if that’s what you want?” I nod. “You know you’re always welcome home, baby,” he offers, and a glisten of emotion coats my eyes before I blink it away and nod in reply.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I whisper. He squeezes my hand as my mum continues gathering my belongings. “Love you both,” I tell them and my mum comes over and cuddles me.

  “Love you too, my baby,” she murmurs into my hair, while Dad mouths I love you to me.

  “What the actual fuck?” Helena shouts, slamming her bag down on the armchair. “I go away for one bloody weekend, and all hell breaks loose!”

  “It’s fine, everything’s fine,” I soothe, patting the seat next to me. She sits down and turns around to face me crossing her legs like we’re still in primary school.

  “Well, you look okay,” she decides, moving to look at the side of me.

  “I’m fine. It’s going to be a couple of days until the bandage can come off my hand, and I’ll need to have the stitches out in about ten days, but I feel okay,” I tell her.

  “What about work?” she asks, and I shrug.

  “I guess I’ll wear gloves for a bit.” I wink.

  She doesn’t look convinced, but she also doesn’t say anything further about it. “Right, well, you with that gammy hand—”

  “My hand is not gammy!” I splutter.

  “Whatever.” She shrugs. “You’re not going to be able to cook. I’m making pasta, you want some?”

  “Please.” I smile fluttering my eyelashes for effect. Helena shakes her head and gets up to make us dinner.

  Picking up my phone I toy with it. I desperately want to call Isaac, but what would I say?

  Hi, I’m okay.

  The hospital was boring.

  I’m going back to work now.

  We have so much to catch up on.

  What happened to you over the last five years?

  Yeah, definitely not the last one.

  Puffing out a breath I sink back into the corner of the sofa deciding not to text him. My life was easier before Isaac came back, but at the same time, I can’t deny that I’m glad he’s here. A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

  “Oi, sunshine, no lazing about, we have company,” Helena shouts from the hall then Holly appears in the doorway.

  “Hey, Hol’s,” I greet. Her face is slightly red as she blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Whatcha got there?” My questioning gaze lingers on the mini suitcase she has at her feet.

  “You, get a chair, I’m doing your extensions,” she answers pointing at me.

  I can’t help the smile that erupts. I was supposed to call her to set up an appointment, but with everything that’s happened, it keeps getting pushed into the background. “Cool,” I whisper and rise from the sofa to get a chair.

  “What do you think?”

  “It looks bloody amazing,” I say twirling like a kid in front of my full-length mirror. Holly’s been working on my hair for hours, but I now have a platinum blonde mane down to my waist, making my tats stand out more. It looks incredible, and I feel great. I’m honestly over the moon.

  “I’m so damn good,” Holly replies taking a little bow.

  Snorting at her, I smile and grab her around the waist. She squeals as I squeeze tight, trying to pick her up. My hair looks amazing, and I’m not even thinking about the fact that Isaac prefers my hair long.

  Not even a little.

  Not at all.

  ISAAC

  “You want to explain that shit with Via to me?”

  Toby shrugs his shoulders and looks away from my stare.

  “Really slowly, so I can be sure to understand your fucked-up reasoning which led to her being in the hospital.”

  I watch as a muscle jumps in his jaw. Good. I’m pissing him off, that might mean I’ll get the damn truth.

  “I didn’t mean that shit,” he bites back turning his angry eyes to me.

  I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Fuck you, Isaac!” he snaps.

  I move faster than he’s used to, and he startles as I pin him to the wall with my forearm. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at with Via, but she’s—”

  “What? She’s yours?” he chokes out, pushing my arm away from his throat. I take a step back more affected by his statement than I expect. “When was she yours? When you were actually in prison for that first year and didn’t answer her constant pleas? When you ignored her for another four fucking years after you got out? When you lied to her time and time again?” He shoves my shoulder, his anger thickening the air around us. “What about when you came back here and flaunted Shelly in her face?”

  “That’s just a front, and you know it,” I snarl at him.

  He leans into me, his nose a mere inch from mine, and if he wasn’t my brother, he’d be dead already.

  “But she doesn’t.”

  He pulls back, and we stare at each other panting hard as our emotions get the better of us both. It’s strange for me, I don’t operate on feelings. I haven’t done for years, not since I let her go. My shoulders slump, he’s only telling me what I already know, there’s no arguing with the truth, but that doesn’t detract from his behaviour.

  “You’re right,” I concede and watch his responding frown. “But that doesn’t mean you can act like a b
astard and hurt Via in the process.”

  He steps away, covering his face and rubbing his palms over the anguish I see so clearly now. Lowering himself onto one of my workout benches, I repeat the process and seat myself on the other one. He found me in my gym at home after I sent him a text ordering him to come and explain himself, but I haven’t gotten to the bottom of anything yet.

  “It all got out of hand,” he whispers.

  “You got out of hand,” I counter, an edge to my voice.

  “Yes, fine.” He throws his hands up. “I got out of hand.”

  “Why?” I demand.

  He studies me for a moment. “Why?”

  Keeping my mouth shut, I nod. Toby sighs dropping his head. There’s a slight sway coming from his dangling arms, and the shadow of them passes across his feet where the sunlight and shade clash. “Two years ago I received a letter from Social Services. They asked me to get in contact with them.”

  Easing the bench back, pushing until it touches the mirror, I try to relax against it, but every muscle is strung tight waiting for something to drop.

  And then it does.

  “I met with a lady at their offices. Apparently, they’d tried to get in contact with you but had no luck, and I was the next in line.”

  “In line?” I question.

  “The next of kin.”

  I bolt up, standing, towering over my brother’s hunched form. “Kin?” I thunder.

  Toby’s head snaps up, and his pained eyes meet mine. “Kin,” he says, and I lower myself back to the bench. I have no words. For once in my life I’m shocked, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m having trouble processing this feeling—very little shocks me.

  “Apparently, there was an aunt who knew about us.”

  I wait, needing to know everything. I’ve pulled myself back from my momentary lapse in self-containment and am ready to take my usual measured approach.

  “She had some things that belonged to our parents. I’m not sure why she kept them for so many years.” He shrugs as if it will answer his question. “But it was in her will, to be passed onto the department, and then sent to us, to you.”