Pretty Little Lies (Deception Duet Book 1)

by Morgan James

  Mr. Prescott gave me a brief rundown. “Everyone enters here, then once they have all their equipment, they can head to one of the locker rooms in the back to change.” He pointed to two doorways at the back of the building. One was marked Women; the other, Men. “Keys for the lockers are available here as well as in the hotel. People can store their things and change, then head directly out onto the slope.”

  Our voices drew the attention of a young woman about my age whose blonde hair hung around her face in braids. Jack tipped his head toward her. “Summer, this is Jules. She’ll be taking care of the pro shop.”

  “Cool.” Summer held her hand out to me, and I shook it.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Jack spoke up. “We’ll be installing the furniture today, then we’ll need to move the saleable inventory inside. Do you have it all separated out?”

  Summer nodded. “Almost done.”

  The metal shelving stood about eight feet high and would eventually be filled with all of the rental equipment, from skis and poles to boots. Everything would be sorted by size, from kids’ stuff to adults’. Only about half of the shelving units were full, so it looked like Summer had her work cut out for her.

  “What I would like you to do,” Mr. Prescott said as he turned to me, “is to get as much inventory on the shelves as possible without it looking cluttered. I’ll speak to someone about getting the sales counter installed this afternoon so you can get started.”

  I nodded, already excited at the prospect. It was the first time in my life that someone actually trusted and encouraged me to do something by myself. Most of my life we had help, and I’d been waited on hand and foot. Things changed once I moved into my uncle’s house, and he hadn’t let me interact with the staff—probably because he thought I would coerce them into helping me leave.

  I couldn’t help the tiny smile that flitted over my lips. “I can’t wait.”

  A clattering noise from my right made me jump, and a boy about my age shot me a sheepish smile as he picked up the box he’d dropped. “Sorry.”

  Mr. Prescott nodded at him. “No problem, Sam. This is Jules. She’ll be working in the pro shop.”

  The young man approached and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” A tight smile lifted my lips, and I quickly shook his hand before stepping away to put more distance between us.

  Mr. Prescott gestured to Sam. “Sam works part-time in our maintenance department, but if you need help with anything, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help.”

  Sam turned a smile on me. “Of course.”

  I gave him a polite smile and turned my focus back to Mr. Prescott, my mind already whirling with possibilities.

  Chapter 8

  Eric

  Was it possible to cite someone for stupidity?

  I glanced around at the colorful display of clothing covering the pristine layer of fresh white snow. The Johanssons were a thorn in my side—in everyone’s sides, really—and we were at their place at least once a week. Today’s dispute had called me away from Jack and Jules, and I wasn’t in any mood to deal with their bullshit.

  Beside me, Earl Johansson blustered his innocence. A few feet away, Riley, one of my deputies, was questioning Earl’s wife, Irene, off to the side. Apparently she’d gotten it in her head that Earl had been at the Fox Hole last night and was cheating on her. When he came home reeking of beer and sweat, she had proceeded to toss all of his clothes into the yard. Every article of his clothing littered the snow-covered lawn. And I mean everything.

  Using the toe of my boot, I kicked aside a pair of dingy briefs. The waistband had separated from the fabric, which appeared almost yellow against the blinding white of the snow. “Looks like you could use some new drawers, Earl,” I remarked dryly.

  He shot a glare in Irene’s direction. “Need a new something,” he groused.

  Couldn’t deny that. Irene was meaner than a cornered snake, and I couldn’t really figure out why he’d stayed with her so long. Not that Earl was the cream of the crop, but I was pretty sure I would’ve saved myself the headache years ago and divorced her. But I wasn’t there to offer advice on love.

  I turned to the man in question. “I’m done wasting time coming up here. Get your shit together or one of you is going to jail next time.”

  “But, Sheriff—”

  I held my hand up to cut him off. “Final warning.” He hung his head, and I motioned to Riley. “Let’s go.”

  He snorted as we headed toward our cruisers. “Should’ve taken the stupid shits to jail.”

  I shrugged. “Neither wanted to fess up and throw the other under the bus. Can’t do much if no one wants to press charges.”

  As soon as I got back to the office, I sat down at my computer and logged in, quickly debating the merits of what I was about to do. If Jules wasn’t going to tell me anything, then I only had so many options. I didn’t think she was dangerous or crazy, but her mannerisms worried me. Not to mention the bruise blossoming across her temple. From the color, it appeared to be at least a week old, but it was hard to tell. None of the options that ran through my head were good, and my gut twisted into a knot.

  I felt like an asshole for digging into her past without her knowledge, but it couldn’t be helped. If she was going to be staying with me, at least for the interim, I needed to know what I was getting myself into. The closest hotel was nearly an hour away in Kalispell, and last I’d heard, the hotel at Briarleigh wasn’t yet finished. I figured she was at least safer with me then on her own somewhere, which was precisely why I hadn’t hesitated to bring her home last night. She hadn’t given me her last name, and even if I pressed her, she would probably just lie. So that was a nonstarter.

  I could’ve had Hawkins run her information when he and O'Neill brought the Cavalier in last night, but I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with. Now I was glad I hadn’t. I didn’t really want anyone else knowing that she was here under suspicious circumstances and give them a reason to question her.

  The LEADS database popped up as it connected, and I tapped in the plate number. A few moments later, a man’s face appeared on the screen, and my brows drew together. Roger Egerton was significantly older than Jules, with a broad forehead and a ruddy face. My eyes dropped down the page to find his birthdate. Midforties. I chewed on that for a moment.

  I quickly skimmed the rest of the details. There were no outstanding warrants, no moving violations of any kind. The car, I noted, was not reported stolen. So how the hell had Jules gotten a hold of it? Maybe the man had loaned it to her? That didn’t quite sit well, though. I could understand allowing someone to drive a car for a few days or months even, as long as you were close to them. But everything I’d picked up on so far said that Jules was on the run.

  Maybe the better question was, who was Roger Egerton to her? A relative? A friend? He didn’t strike me as any type of relative. The facial features weren’t even remotely similar, unless the man was far enough down the family line that the resemblance had changed drastically.

  So... Egerton was a friend, then? A boyfriend? He didn’t appear to be her type, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been manipulated by a pretty face. That didn’t sit well in my gut either, though I didn’t want to examine the reason for that too closely.

  If she’d purchased the car legally, she should have transferred it into her name. Unless, of course, she didn’t have the funds—or the desire. As far as traceability went, it was smarter—though much riskier—to not put her name on anything.

  I double checked the DMV database, hoping that LEADS was maybe just not updated, but it showed the same information. I leaned back in my chair and contemplated what to do. I didn’t want to risk spooking Jules by questioning her. She was already well aware that I knew—or at least had an inkling—that her license and registration weren’t valid. Hell, I didn’t know if she had a license at all. She hadn’t offered one up last night when I’d walked up to the car. My gut sank. Tha
nk God she hadn’t gotten hurt while she was driving.

  That thought brought to mind the little Cavalier she’d been driving. It was currently sitting out back, thanks to my deputies on night shift. I snapped on a pair of nitrile gloves, then headed out the back door. A fine layer of snow had settled over the roof and hood, and I brushed it off before pulling it in the back bay. Thankfully we had some extra space, because the Cavalier wasn’t moving for a while.

  I hated being a dick, but there was no way in hell I was giving Jules the car back until I found some answers. She was much safer here than traipsing all over God’s green earth, running from whatever—or whoever—she’d left behind.

  I sifted through the glove compartment and console, then checked between the seats. Aside from a few stray crumbs, I didn’t see much. Leaving no stone—or fabric—unturned, I checked under all the seats, both front and back before checking out the trunk. Two hours later, I’d found a pen, a straw wrapper, a couple napkins from a fast food restaurant, the car’s owner’s manual, and a pair of cheap sunglasses. Nothing else. Even the compartment for the spare tire was empty.

  Propping my hands on my hips, I pressed my lips together in irritation. Son of a bitch. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping to find, but damn. Something—anything—would have been helpful.

  I finished out my shift and made my way up to Briarleigh, my mind spinning. Entering through the side, I cut down the hall to Jack’s office and silently cursed when I peeked inside. Jules was already here. I’d been hoping to catch Jack alone for a second so we could talk. I didn’t want to give Jules the impression that anything was wrong or let on that I’d been looking into her background, though, so I pasted on an impassive expression. Jules whirled around as I stepped inside. The fear on her face quickly leached away, replaced by a carefully blank expression.

  “Are you ready?”

  Her eyes darted back to Jack. “Almost.”

  Jack spoke up. “We were just discussing living arrangements.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine.” Jules smiled inanely at Jack. “Same time tomorrow, right?”

  It was her way of ending the conversation, and Jack hesitated for a long moment before responding. “Sounds good.”

  I shot Jack a quick look that said we’d be in contact, and he dipped his chin in a small nod. I held out one hand and gestured for Jules to precede me. As soon as we were back in the car and headed away from Briarleigh, I asked the question that had been pulling at my mind. “Where are you staying tonight?”

  “Mr. Prescott offered to let me stay in one of the guest cabins, but I declined.” I could feel her turn to look at me, but I refused to give in. “I’ll figure something out.”

  She didn’t have a plan? “Stay with me.”

  That way, I could keep an eye on her.

  Unfortunately, she was already shaking her head. “I couldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

  “Nearest hotel is down in Kalispell, and you don’t have a car,” I pointed out. “What exactly was your plan?”

  She bristled at my tone. “Why can’t I have my car?”

  I snorted. Other than the fact that she’d probably pack all of her shit up if I gave it back? Hell, she’d probably leave tire marks on the driveway in her haste to get away. Hell, no. She wasn’t going anywhere, not until I knew she would be safe. “It needs a little work.”

  Not a complete lie. Still, I felt like shit when her face fell. “Like what?”

  “I had one of the deputies pick it up last night. Said it was running a little rough, so McBride is gonna replace the spark plugs. Nothing major,” I said smoothly. And I really did plan to have the town mechanic look it over—eventually.

  She dipped her head. “When can I get it back?”

  When I know you won’t run. “Soon.”

  She remained quiet until we pulled up to the house and into the garage. She paused with her hand on the handle. “Where else can I go?”

  “Stay here.” I turned in my seat to look at her. “Your stuff is here, and you’re already comfortable in the bedroom.” Hopefully.

  “I don’t know...” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  I almost laughed. “You’re not holding me up from parties or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m hardly ever home anyway. You’ll pretty much have the place to yourself.”

  She thought it over for a second, then countered my offer. “Only if I can pay you rent.”

  “No.” I drew the line at taking money from a woman who so clearly needed it.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then I’m not staying.”

  Damn stubborn woman. “You just started working today. You don’t have the money for rent.”

  If I’d hoped that I could shut down her insistence with my logic, I was wrong. “Jack said he’ll pay me each day. I’ll pay you a little bit each day. Like paying for a hotel each night.”

  Goddammit. I bit back a growl. “Fine.”

  Looking immensely pleased with herself, she climbed from the car. I glared at her back as she moved toward the doorway that connected the garage to the house. She paused with her hand on the knob and threw me a challenging look over her shoulder, the green of her striking eyes glittering like emeralds. Heat raced through my veins, and I fought the urge to adjust myself as my cock pressed against my fly.

  Fuck, I was in so much trouble.

  Chapter 9

  Giuliana

  I stood at the counter that would soon hold the computer system and cash register and stared at the paper in front of me as I chewed on the end of the pen. I’d sketched out a quick design for the way I wanted the shop to look and, so far, I was pretty pleased with the results.

  With my plan solidly in place, I dragged the circular clothing racks into temporary spots on the floor. I entered the room from the front door and walked around, trying to get a feel for the flow of the space. It looked good, but... empty. I decided I need to start getting inventory out so I could get a good visual.

  Boxes of hangers were stacked along the back wall, just waiting to be filled with merchandise. Using a box cutter, I sliced open the first box and pulled out a thick black parka. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground, and I picked it up. Typed beneath the designer’s logo was the name of the coat and a list of sizes. Huh. Well, that was handy. Skimming the inventory list, I discovered that these were all men’s sizes. I made a note on the outside of the box with a thick black marker, then set it off to the side and turned to the next box. I repeated the process with each one, sorting men’s, women’s, and children’s clothing as I went.

  Once I had about a dozen boxes open, I began the process of unwrapping everything. Each article of clothing was placed on a plastic hanger, then moved to the metal racks. After they were all hung, I stepped back to contemplate the layout. I had started with the metal racks first because they had casters so I could roll them from place to place until I was happy with the design. As I pushed the men’s parkas further to the front, a sound from the doorway startled me. I whipped around to find Mr. Prescott there.

  He hovered just inside the room, his dark eyes on me. “Looking good.”

  I dipped my chin. “Thank you.”

  He studied me for another second, then gave a tight little nod. “Yell if you need anything.”

  For some reason, my heart slammed against my ribs as he stood there staring at me. Did he truly mean what he’d said? “I will.”

  After he was gone, I went back to unpacking boxes. The next box held a mannequin, and I pulled it out. I gazed speculatively at the clothing I had just placed on the racks, then turned my attention back to the mannequin. I carried the form to the front of the store and set it just inside the display windows so everyone passing could see. I dressed it in a pair of black snow pants and a trendy zip-up sweatshirt, then finished off the ensemble by draping a thick parka with the furry hood over the mannequin’s shoulders. I was so busy adjusting the clothing that I
never heard the footsteps approach.

  “Ooh, when did we get that?”

  I jumped at the woman’s voice and spun around. A pretty, petite brunette stood there, blue eyes sparkling as she ran her fingers over the material of the jacket. As she inspected the outfit, I eyed her. She was beautiful—except for the cuts at her lip and forehead and the fading bruises marring her cheeks. What had happened to her? Dread congealed in my gut as the most obvious answer came to me.

  “I love this.” She stepped back to eye the outfit more critically, then made a circuit around the mannequin before turning her blue gaze on me. “This looks great.”

  “Thank you.” I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what else to say, not wanting to draw attention to her injuries.

  The brunette shot me a smile and held out her hand. “I’m Mia. Nice to meet you.”

  I shook her hand. “Jules.”

  Mia wandered the racks for a moment, then turned to me. “This is going to look fantastic once it’s done. You’ve done a great job.”

  Once again, I thanked her. “I haven’t decided what to put on the walls yet, but I was planning to do a display of boots over here.” I gestured to the wall to my left.

  Mia nodded. “I think that’s perfect. Close to the dressing room without being in the way.”

  They were my thoughts exactly. Hopefully people would come out of the dressing room and see them, then decided they needed a new pair to complete their outfit.

  “What about accessories?” Mia asked, turning her blue eyes on me.

  “I’m not sure what would be best,” I admitted. “I was thinking of keeping them close to the counter, because they’re small and easy to walk away with.”