Dangerous Lies

by A P Foote

  The drive home is short, it only takes about ten minutes to get from the bar to Valley Lane. My empty driveway comes into view, and so do the two bikes parked in front of my mailbox. I sigh and let out a groan. “Shit. What the hell do they want?”

  I park the American muscle, careful not to hit the Harleys on my way in. Not for their sake, but for my own; her custom paint job wasn’t cheap.

  The first one catches my eye and the only person that could belong to… the only one of them who rides a flat black Harley DYNA SGS with custom T-bars is Clyde. I haven’t seen him in a minute, so I can only imagine what he wants.

  Cabe, his dirt bag Enforcer, is perched in my rocker on the porch. Now I’m gonna have to burn it.

  “Beautiful night isn’t it?” Cabe’s soulless stare watches the stars. He isn’t thinking about what lies beyond the Galaxy’s edge, he’s probably trying to figure out how to light his bubble with one of the gas giants.

  “Sure. He inside?” I question the brute. He nods, sparing me only a glance before going back to staring off into the distance, the rocker coming to a stop.

  My fucking door can’t open fast enough, and whatever Clyde wants he can shove it up his ass.

  “What do you want?” I venomously spit, slamming the front door behind me, making the picture on the wall rattle. Clyde’s sitting at the kitchen table watching me intently with those gray and hazel eyes.

  “Can’t I stop by and say hi to an old friend?”

  “Yeah, but you see the problem with that is I’m not your friend,” I snark back, sending my bag and keys clattering to the surface in front of him. I’m irritated that he’s here in my house to begin with.

  The chair he’s sitting in scrapes against the tile as he stands. Fucking Edward Scissorhands scrapping a chalkboard sounds better than that sound. It’s been eight months since I told Clyde to leave me alone, and for the most part he has. At least, I haven’t seen him with my own eyes since then, but every now and then I do catch Nix lurking around.

  Clyde rounds the table, subsequently stopping in front of me, I have to look up to see his face. “It’s been a while.”

  “That’s a good thing,” I admit, stepping away, creating a safe space between me and him. He’s too close to me; every time he’s that close bad things happen.

  His hand whips out, his finger looping through the front of my pants pulling me flush against him.

  “Don’t.” My fists bunch in his shirt, just under his leather cut, and his neutral smell mixed with cow hide filters through my senses.

  His head dips to the crevice of my neck and his free hand secures itself through my hair, holding me in place. “Wanna tell me what happened tonight?”

  Sucking in a breath, my fucking brain starts failing. It decides now not to preserve my dignity by letting myself feel, or maybe his question throws me for a loop. I wasn’t expecting it. Or this.

  I give him a push in my lame attempt to pry him off me, but it doesn’t work. He pulls me in tighter to him, the bulge in his jeans purposely skimming the brim of my pubic bone. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Mhm… you don’t have to worry about that Prospect again,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath, blowing goosebumps over my skin, imbedding deep into my spine. Have. To. Get. Away.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that I really do, and I know you’re not good with personal space but let me go.”

  He pulls back, his inquisitive stare seeking answers through mine. “Who’s the guy you hired?”

  “Are you serious?” Now he’s gone too far. My pulse thumps faster, my breathing increases. Anger, that’s what the fuck I’m feeling right now. How dare he come in my house and question me about my business. “You have no right questioning me about my personal life or business.”

  “Ah, so it is personal. Does he fuck that sweet pussy like I do?” he whispers breathlessly, nipping my ear, his fist tightening to my hair.

  My knee ascends, fast and hard until it connects with the ego between his legs. He groans in pain, his hands going straight to his dick to protect it and them, meaning his balls, from another attack.

  “Fucking bi—” I spin going for my gun, but before I can get out of Clyde’s reach, I’m yanked back. “Get back here.” He’s got ahold of my hair, the pain so excruciating I swear every strand wrapped in his grip is ripping from the follicle taking my scalp with it. I cry out when my boots leave the ground and my back slams onto the dining room table.

  A tinge of fear encases me, but only for a fraction of a second.

  His massive hands grip my knees, forcing my legs open, positioning his body—primarily his hips—between them. His hands are rough, it takes only one of his to cover mine completely, securing them above my head against the cold table. The other reaches behind him, grabbing something from his waist band.

  “Stop moving!” he grunts, and sharp, cool steel glides across my skin. I suck in a sharp breath at the contact. My heart hammers in my chest and I start panting like a dog in heat at the excitement. It doesn’t cut me but the pressure he applies does have me worried. I know it’s a knife. Has he finally snapped and now, because he can’t have me, no one will?

  “Isn’t this how you like it, baby?” He drags the knife higher, slicing my favorite shirt in half. “You begged for this last time if I remember correctly. Knife play has always been your kink.”

  I stifle a moan; I don’t want to give in to him but my body’s betraying me. Need pools between my legs, fire igniting my core. It’s been eight months since I had an amazing fuck, and that was Clyde. I moan, relaxing against the hard surface.

  “See how easy it is to just give in?” He leans over me, his tongue darting out to wet his full, tantalizing lips. They gently brush against mine, the touch causing my clit to thrum and the heat inside me to escape. He grinds himself against me, his thick, hard dick rubbing against my sex.

  “Mm.”

  He smirks pressing harder into me and brings the knife up to my neck. The tip of the blade drags along my jaw, starting from my ear, causing goosebumps to rise all over my body.

  “Not tonight,” he whispers, his body leaving mine like it was never there. A ghost in the fucking wind.

  “What?” I ask, shocked and confused at what the hell just happened. He gets me all hot and bothered then decides he’s done. This is why I left him; all he does is toy with me. I’m not someone who’s going to be constantly played.

  “Fuck you, get out!” I curse standing, ripping my shirt the rest of the way off and throwing it at him. I know, effective.

  “I knew you wanted me.” He laughs, reaching into the front of his jeans to adjust himself. He stalks closer to me until I have no choice but to look up to see his face. “I just needed clarity and for you to finally figure that out. You’re my old lady, you have been since you were eighteen. No piece of shit Prospect or pretty boy barback will change that.”

  “Humph, you can think that all you want, Clyde, but we both know me being your bitch will never happen.” I promise. I take purposeful strides to the front door and force it open, jutting my hip out. I squeeze the door handle in an attempt to keep my composure. I can’t think when I’m around him, I just need him out. “Leave and don’t come back.”

  He parades forward in my direction, leaning in to kiss me, but I turn my head away, a clear-cut sign of rejection. “We’ll see. Clean yourself up.” I don’t say a word, I just want him out of my fucking house. His thumb brushes against my jaw before letting go and walking out the door.

  Slamming the door shut behind him I double check to make sure it’s locked, and the fucker can’t get in without making a lot of noise. The shower’s calling my name because, fuck, it’s been a long fucking night. The bar was slammed with people, I got robbed, hired a new barback if he shows back up, and now Clyde. When it rains, it fucking pours.

  My alarm blares and Five Finger Death Punch’s song Bad Company booms throughout my little abode. I sleep heavy, especially when I don’t get my eight hour
s in, so the louder the better.

  Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes doesn’t help. Might as well be smearing butt paste all over them.

  When I was seven my mom knocked over a gallon of some type of cleaner that ironically splashed into my eyes. My dad came home shortly after it happened, and when he heard me crying, he ran to my side to see what was wrong. He found me on the floor in my room balling with my mother nowhere to be found, so he alone rushed me to the hospital.

  They were able to save my sight after a ton of surgeries and rehab, but I guess my tear ducts were damaged pretty bad. Now every time I go to sleep and wake up there’s always this gunk built up. I haven’t seen the bitch since.

  My fist misses the alarm clock about five times before I knock it off the damn nightstand. Fingers reach blindly for the drawer below the surface in search of the baby wipes I keep there for my eyes, and the sweet sound of the crinkle is music to my ears. Pulling one out I clean the heavily caked sleep away and toss it into the can on the other side of my bed.

  It’s noon and the bar doesn’t open until five, but I have to figure out the safe situation and how the hell I’m going to get my shit back. I’m hoping Cass does show back up; I really don’t want him involved and it’s unusual for me to hire strangers, but he did awesome last night. He kept the kegs and wells filled all while serving drinks and keeping the lushes happy. The problem is I’ve never seen him around. Bay Lake is such a small place that everyone knows everyone, but I don’t know him. No one seems to.

  I throw on a black kami, my gray Victoria Secret sweats, and a pair of sneakers, before grabbing the bag hanging on the hook and setting off for today’s adventure, more or less.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when I open the door. Cass’s bright and fully awake face is standing on the other side, one arm raised, ready to ring the doorbell.

  “Shit. You scared me.”

  “Sorry I would have called but I don’t have your phone number.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He’s even cuter during the day. Those blue eyes and that sandy blond hair… My eyes wander down his neck, over the white V-neck shirt that hugs his chest and showcases his impeccable, sculpted physique, and skim the murals that paint his body. He’s so…

  Cass clears his throat, bringing me back. Damn I really need to get laid.

  “Oh, no you’re fine.”

  He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking everywhere but at me.

  “Did you need something?”

  “Oh, yeah here.” He holds up a black backpack for me to see. “Found Jim. He wasn’t willing to hand everything over, not at first anyway. He changed his mind.”

  Hesitantly, I take the bag. It’s intriguing that he found Jim and got what he stole from me back. “Thanks…How did you find him? I figured he would have been five states away by now.”

  Crouching low and resting the bag on the porch I open it and begin searching its contents. He could have taken the most important thing and sold it already. Or gave it to… him.

  “I have my ways.” Glancing up, the sun half-blinds me, but I manage to crack a smile anyway and catch a peek of Cass’s pearly whites.

  “Hey, I was wondering…”

  I stand throwing the bag over my shoulder. “What were you wondering?”

  “Do you wanna grab some lunch?”

  Lunch? I would love to if there weren’t eyes on every corner watching my every fucking move. It pisses me off, and now that Clyde’s made it clear he won’t be staying away, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to Cass because of me.

  “I would love to, but I have a shit ton to do today before I open the bar.” The disappointed look on his face kills me; not only for him but for me. I haven’t had fun in a really long time. I haven’t sat down and had a conversation with someone new or who doesn’t know me in… I can’t remember.

  “That’s okay, I just thought it would be nice getting to know my new… employer.” The corner of his mouth lifts before he retreats down the steps.

  You know what? Fuck it, I can have lunch with whoever the hell I feel like. Clyde isn’t my old man, nor is he my dad.

  “Hey!” He abruptly stops with an eager look on his face. “I get to pick the place.”

  He smiles from ear to ear, his shit-eating grin becoming contagious. I reciprocate, locking my house up. “You want to put the bag up?”

  “No, it’s safer with me.” I clear the stairs, standing next to him on the sidewalk. “How about you put your bike out back and we take my car?” I offer happily.

  “You’re the boss,” he admits, leading the way down the sidewalk.

  As he walks past me, the smell of the ocean mixed with mint wafts with the artificial breeze his muscular frame emits. I try to be slick, leaning in a little to get a better smell. Who wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous, damn good help, and he smells delicious.

  My eye’s fall to his ass lingering longer than they should. Cass glances back at me, catching me in the act, but I’m a pro at covering my tracks. Immediately I deflect, dropping my attention to the ground, then raising it to the sky. Everywhere I can find that isn’t in his direction. He doesn’t think I hear his hearty, breathy chuckle he coughs away, but I do.

  About a minute passes by with me leaning on my car twiddling my thumbs while I wait for Hot Stuff. He disappeared behind the fence giving me the opportunity to toss the bag in the trunk. I need one of those big fancy safes at the bar, and I need to be more careful when opening it. I’m such an idiot I let Jim, of all people, rob me blind.

  I’m still not sure about Cass, he seems like an amazing all-around great guy, but he’s reserved and not as forthcoming as I’d like. “You ready?” his voice comes from behind me; he’s already standing at the passenger door.

  “Yeah, what place were you thinking?” I pull the handle and slide into the car, his actions mimicking mine.

  “Me? You said you were picking the place.” He grins, waiting for my answer but I just stare at him. I don’t know what he likes to eat, and I eat anything, really didn’t think he took me that serious. “When I came into town last week, I saw a place a few blocks away.” He watches intently out the window, obviously thinking about the life altering decision he’s about to make. “Camden’s?”

  Shifting gear into reverse, my amusement shows. “Sure, I know the place. Been here my whole life and I’ve never once stepped foot in there.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “That’s a good question.” My car dips through the gutter, switching gears into drive to pull away from the house. “I used to ask my dad to take me there all the time when I was little, and he’d always say, ‘No, Kitty Kat, the food there is horrible, or they serve cat as the chicken.’ That’s why I would never see any stray cats around.”

  “And you believed him?” he asks, astounded by my admission. My bag in the back shifts over the speed bump, kind of like where this conversation is going.

  “I don’t think I really believed that was true, but Dad was my world. It meant that much to him, so I never went.”

  “You talk about him in past tense.” Cass watches me. I never take my eyes off the road because, you know, that wouldn’t be safe.

  I suppose I need to suck up my issues with talking about my past; if he’s going to be working for me, we might as well get to know each other better. I dip my head acknowledging the question in his statement. “He died a couple years ago.”

  “I’m sorry, must have been hard.”

  “It was, but hey shit happens, no one lives forever.” The light ahead turns red, signaling me to stop. Bike engines roar behind us, drawing my attention to the rearview mirror only to see Cabe and Ratty riding my ass. Ratty catches my eye and waggles his fingers at me, unhooking just the two of them from around the bars.

  “Shit,” I mumble, focusing back on the road.

  “What?” Cass glances in the side mirror. Plopping his back against the seat he turns to me. “Friends of yours?”

  “Pfft,
they wish,” I say with a chuckle. The light turns green and I couldn’t be more fucking happy to get away from Clyde’s lackies. They probably saw my car and messaged him, and him being the crazy, psycho ex-boyfriend he is, he told them to follow.

  Minutes later we’re pulling into the parking lot of Camden’s. It’s a blue paneled building that’s uhm… a little worse for wear, but it’s cute and quaint. I’m actually pretty nervous. I haven’t been on a date in so long, I mean not that this is a date or anything. It’s business and that’s it.

  I cut the engine and Cass can’t get out of the car fast enough, but he does something I would have never expected and a concept that’s completely foreign to me. He races around the front of the American muscle to open my door. That’s right, he opens my door for me!