The Hidden Truths Series Box Set

by Brittney Sahin

  “What do you think?” Declan unbuttoned his suit jacket and motioned for us to have a seat.

  “It’s great.” Connor gestured for me, and then Lauren, to slide in first.

  Lauren’s brown eyes, enhanced by jet-black eyeliner and false eyelashes, focused on Connor as he sat down. She scooted between Connor and me, her thigh unnaturally close to his. I had to tear my gaze away from her hand, which was draped over her lap, but only a few inches away from his leg.

  Who was she into—Declan or Connor? Maybe she wanted both. Yeah, I could totally see that.

  But Lauren wasn’t Connor’s type, was she? Of course, he may have changed in the last ten years—wait. What was I thinking?

  “You okay?” Declan was snapping his fingers at me.

  Shit, I was losing my edge. Blake thought having Connor involved might help me break the case, but he was wrong. Having Connor around might cause me to lose my damn job—or worse.

  “I was saying that we should enjoy the club tonight and talk business tomorrow.” Declan’s eyes creased at the corners as he pushed a lopsided grin to his face. “What do you think, Liv?”

  I really hated that Declan sometimes referred to me as Liv, but I needed to suck it up like I’d done the last nine months, and smile. I needed to play the smart but slightly naïve girl Declan had come to appreciate, and hopefully, would open up to.

  “Why don’t you two dance?” Declan gestured at Connor and me.

  Connor glanced in my direction with his lips in a straight line.

  I gulped and straightened my spine. “Um.”

  My orders were to get close to Connor. But how close would be too close? I studied Connor’s strong profile out of the corner of my eye and waited for his answer.

  A grin stretched across Declan’s face. “Come on. Enjoy yourself.” He stood up once again, allowing Connor to exit.

  Hesitant, Connor started to slide out of the large booth.

  “Save me a dance,” Lauren said once he was standing.

  He nodded at her but kept his eyes on me. I was still sitting, wasn’t I?

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” I finally said, my bottom glued to the seat.

  “I will, then!” Lauren rushed to her feet and reached for Connor’s hand before he could respond.

  Connor released a barely noticeable breath as he looked away and to the dance area. With slow steps, Connor and Lauren moved deeper into the whirl of activity. Once in the dedicated dance area, Lauren’s hand swooped around to his back, and she pulled herself up against him.

  Why was I watching them? I winced as a hand patted my knee. It was Declan’s. When had he sat back down? And why in the hell was the bastard touching me? “They make a cute couple,” I said, trying not to choke on my words.

  “You have a thing for him, huh?” He removed his hand—thank God—and studied me.

  “What? No!” Resting my hands on the table, I stared down at my short, red painted fingernails, forcing myself to keep from looking over at Lauren and Connor dance.

  Almost ten years since he’d completely abandoned me, and for some Godforsaken reason I was still in heat over the damn man. “Want a drink?” I tried to side-step Declan’s concerns.

  “Liv.” His icy fingers touched my chin, tilting my face in his direction. “Dance with him.”

  “Why?”

  “Go after what’s yours. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  What was mine? Connor wasn’t mine—not even close. Until the other day, I’d forgotten that we shared a planet. I’d written off his very existence a long time ago.

  Okay, so maybe not entirely. Maybe when I got into the boxing ring to spar, I pictured him sometimes.

  And his father, too.

  I half-smiled at Declan as I scooted out of the booth, careful to keep my dress from riding up too high.

  “Good girl.”

  The slap on my ass had my head spinning in his direction as I rose to my feet. I controlled the urge to ball my hands into fists, curtailing the desire to slug him in the face. But I’d been trained at Quantico, for Christ’s sakes. I could handle Declan Reid.

  9

  Connor

  Grabby hands didn’t normally bother me, but knowing Olivia was at the club made Lauren’s wandering paws feel wrong, somehow. I wasn’t cheating, though. It was ridiculous to feel that way.

  Olivia was standing at the bar, her back turned to me, just on the outskirts of the dance area. I’d tossed my suit jacket and rolled my dress sleeves up. The night air was still warm, and I was burning up. My hands slid down Lauren’s exposed back as I pulled her closer, and another sensation of guilt crawled up my spine.

  When I caught sight of Ben, relief slammed into me. Thank God, an excuse to stop dancing. “Lauren, I have a friend I’d like to talk to,” I yelled into her ear.

  She pouted before wetting her lips and leaned in close. Her hand touched my chest and started south, but I caught her wrist and stepped back. Was this girl trying to get me sued for sexual harassment?

  Hell, wasn’t she the one harassing me?

  I released her wrist and shouted out Ben’s name as I fought through the crowd.

  Ben had just set his sights on Olivia, like every other man in the club, it seemed. She tilted her head back and laughed as they talked.

  I cleared my throat, which had little effect given the loud music. “Ben.”

  “Hey, man.” He slapped my shoulder and Olivia’s lip tucked between her teeth as she focused on her drink. “This is—” Ben turned to Olivia and cocked his head, waiting for her to produce a name.

  “Olivia.”

  Standing before them, I started to feel like a third wheel. “We know each other. She works for the man I’m meeting with; the owner of this club.”

  His mouth formed an O-shape, and he nodded and took a small step to the side, offering a little more room between him and Olivia. He studied me for a second, attempting telepathy, perhaps.

  “So, you’re Ben Logan?” She reached for her martini and took a sip, her eyes still wandering. “How do you know each other?”

  Why’d she care? Was she just making small talk?

  “We met in the military,” Ben responded. He grabbed his beer from the bar and looked off into the swarm of good-looking people who danced fast and furious to the beat. Olivia and I used to dance to this kind of music every weekend back in the day.

  “Want a drink?” She finally gave me the gift of her gaze.

  “I’m good.” Olivia’s presence was already intoxicating enough, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself around her, even with just a drink or two. I was so angry with her, but damned if I didn’t still want to pull her against me. Even just for a second.

  “Loosen up, man. Haven’t seen you for a while.” Ben pressed a hand to my shoulder and angled his head. “How about a shot of tequila for all of us?”

  Tequila. Damn. A smile threatened my lips.

  “Ah. You remember?” Ben’s eyes lit up.

  “How could I forget?”

  Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “What?”

  Ben set his beer down, turned toward the bartender and motioned for his attention. “Three shots of tequila.”

  Olivia raised her hand in the air as she shook her head. “Oh no. I’m working.”

  Ben ran a hand through his dark hair and narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh come on, if you can have a martini you can have one shot.”

  Despite the shouting and loud music, Olivia’s voice was alluring. “Only if you tell me about your tequila story.” She set her martini glass down on the bar and folded her arms.

  “We were both between tours. We took a trip to London, and—”

  “She doesn’t need to hear this,” I interrupted, warning him not to continue with the clenching of my jaw.

  “Oh come on,” she begged.

  “No.”

  “Let’s just say the Hangover movie had nothing on us. He woke up naked near Buckingham Palace and had the nerve
to taunt the soldiers and—”

  “Stop, Ben.”

  “You weren’t arrested?” Her mouth edged open in surprise.

  “Um, yeah! I had to bail his ass out of jail—once I gained consciousness.” Ben laughed.

  “Ignore him. It wasn’t that crazy,” I lied.

  “So, what do you say?” Ben grabbed two shots, handing them to Olivia and me.

  “No salt?” Olivia teased.

  “Nah,” Ben answered.

  What the hell . . . We clinked our glasses and a splash of liquid spilled on Olivia’s hand. I wanted nothing more than to take her hand to my mouth—but I didn’t. Instead, I gulped down the shot and focused on Olivia as her shoulders arched back and her face puckered.

  “So, are you working tonight or having fun?” Ben asked as he set his glass down on the bar.

  I looked at Olivia. “I guess I’m off tonight.” This was all so strange. Had my father been in charge, would he be at the bar with Olivia right now? I scanned the dance area, searching for Lauren, and spotted her pressed up against some muscle-bound guy with tattoos. “Where’s Declan?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I assume he’s mingling with the A-listers . . .”

  “And what are you supposed to be doing?” I asked.

  “I was ordered to dance with you, actually.” She was staring down at the empty shot glass in her hand.

  “Really?” Was she nervous? If she even apologized to me for what happened when we were together, could I forgive her? Probably not.

  “You should dance.” Ben’s eyes were laser focused on a tall brunette standing off to the side of the dance area. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He started for the woman, and within in a minute he had the woman smiling. Ben, always the charmer.

  “So?” The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. A forced smile, maybe.

  “I guess one dance won’t hurt.” Maybe I needed another shot, something to alleviate the tension circulating throughout my body. “Come on.” I didn’t reach for her hand like I wanted to, nor did I get a shot. I moved to the center of the crowd of dancers, and she followed.

  A mixed Avicii song blasted through the speakers, as I touched her back and pulled her closer. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I reached for her wrist, slinging her arm over my shoulder.

  She inhaled sharply and peered into my eyes. The vibration from the bass poured through me as we moved like old times.

  I couldn’t hear the music after a few minutes. Everything was white noise. Nothing else existed except Olivia.

  At some point, I realized we’d been dancing for a hell of a lot longer than one song. My shirt was practically sticking to my body, and I noticed her long neck glistening. “You tired?” I whispered into her ear, and her body shuddered at my breath.

  “Looks like you’re having a good time.”

  Olivia jerked away from me in one sudden movement with Declan at our side. Her cheeks were already red from dancing, but I could have sworn they deepened to crimson as she focused on Declan. “I should walk around. Check on how things are going.” She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

  “Relax. Everything’s going great. You don’t need to work,” Declan responded.

  “If that’s the case, I might head to my room.”

  “I’ll walk you.” The words had slipped from my lips before I had the chance to stop them.

  “Come back, man. The night has only just begun.”

  I checked my watch. It was quarter past one already, but yeah, in Vegas, that was like ten p.m. “Sure.” I rested my hand on her elbow, and she nodded to Declan before we headed inside.

  There was no one standing by the elevators, but why would there be? No one would leave the grand opening of a club this early, except Olivia. I was surprised Declan didn’t object to her leaving. I figured he’d want her there until the sun rose.

  “Do you regret what happened between you and me?” I couldn’t help myself. The past was hanging in the air between us, heavy and thick.

  She pressed the elevator call button. “Regret?” she snapped and squinted at me. “I’d hardly—” The elevator doors opened, and a few people strode out of it, pushing past us, cutting her off.

  Olivia entered the empty elevator and faced the glass window. Apparently, she didn’t intend to finish her thought. Following her inside, I hit the first-floor button and rubbed the back of my neck as the doors closed. “Liv . . .”

  Her shoulders slouched forward at the sound of my voice, and she slowly faced me.

  I blew out a breath, exhausted from the emotions pulling at me, and closed the gap between us.

  “I don’t want to talk about the baby.” Her voice was low and grave but coated with a tender sadness.

  “Neither do I,” I rasped before I banded my hand around her hip. I pulled her against me, my lips on fire as they touched hers.

  Olivia

  This wasn’t a part of the plan. Kissing my ex-boyfriend wasn’t how I wanted to get the information I needed. But, holy shit. He tasted so damn good.

  His tongue mingled with mine, stealing my breath. His hand fisted my hair, and my head tilted back. “I want you,” he growled after breaking the kiss.

  The elevator doors chimed, and I shifted away from Connor’s hold. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I was both embarrassed and angry with myself for giving in. How could I still feel something for this man?

  I stared down at the red carpet as I brushed past him and exited the elevator.

  “Liv.” He reached for my arm and spun me toward him, not giving a damn about the people who were still standing in line outside the elevator. “Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Sure.” I nodded like an idiot, moving my head up and down like some lifeless being. “Tired.” I pulled my arm free from his grasp. I couldn’t handle the way his fingers burned my skin, sending shivers of desire through my body.

  He motioned for me to walk, and I was grateful he didn’t say anything. What was there to say? We’d kissed. It’s not like we hadn’t done it before.

  Men were supposed to get better with age. Was that possible? Connor had been incredible even when we were young. I swallowed back the memories of his sweat-slicked body riding me atop the rooftop of his apartment when we were young.

  “Where’s your room?”

  Goosebumps crawled across my skin as we walked through the casino and toward the main lobby. The swarms of people at the machines and the green felt tables, pissing their money away were tiny blips on my radar. “Eighth floor.”

  Fluorescent lights bathed the lobby, mimicking sunshine to keep gamblers awake and spending. We entered a hallway filled with depictions of Greco-Roman art along the walls. The silver-doored elevators gleamed before us.

  “You have your key?” he asked once we stepped inside the elevator.

  I bit my lip for a moment. “In my bra.”

  His eyes averted immediately to my cleavage. “You’re kidding?”

  I turned away from the camera, which was perched in the top right corner of the elevator, and slipped my hand inside my bra. “See?” I revealed the small white card.

  His light green eyes steadied on mine, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me again.

  Instead, he blew out a breath and waited for the doors to open. “Left or right?”

  Why was he even walking me to my room? It wasn’t like there was a safety issue at the hotel. What were his intentions? His almost bruising kiss popped into my head. Did he want to take it further?

  It sure didn’t seem like it, the way he was acting.

  Blake’s orders came to mind. Did Connor know anything? If I tried to pump him for information, what could he possibly tell me?

  Of course, if he didn’t know anything now, he might know something later. If I gained his trust . . .

  I wanted to scream. I hated this. And I hated how I felt like a teenager again, unsure and aching inside.

  “What’s up?” Connor was smiling—one of the
first times he’d smiled at me like that since we’d bumped into each other. It wasn’t a forced, tight-lipped smile, but a real knock-your-panties-off kind of smile.

  Once outside my room, I swiped my card, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Want to come in?”

  “Not sure if that’s a good idea.” His palm went to the wall just outside the door, and he leaned in closer to me. I tilted my head to look up at him, noticing his strong forearm and the way the material of his shirt constricted against the swell of his muscular chest.

  “We should talk,” I suggested in a low voice, worried if I spoke above a whisper it would crack.

  “About what?” The muscle in his jaw tightened, and his eyes creased as he narrowed them at me. He was Mr. Serious, now—a man I’d never met when I was younger. Connor had always been the live-free-or-die guy. The bungee jumping, skydiving, dancing in a restaurant even though it was, well, a restaurant, kind of guy.

  “I don’t know. There’s all this tension between us, and we have to work together now. I meant what I said at your office. Put the past behind us and be friends.” God, that was total bullshit. I wish it could be true, but how could I ever trust him enough to be friends? Besides, my job was in the way.

  “Olivia,” he leaned closer until his face was inches from mine, “you and I were never meant to be friends.”

  I wet my lips, drawn into his pull. “What were we meant to be?” My eyes closed, and I waited for his lips to touch mine again.

  But when my eyes fluttered open, he was standing a foot back with his hands tucked in his pockets. “I should go.”

  What?

  His eyes were cast down and focused on the carpet. “Please, can we try?” I had to do this—I had to win him over. It was my job, right? I didn’t want to make amends with him for any other reason than that.

  “Try what?” he asked with a terseness to his voice that set me on my heels. His eyes were now on me, and something dark was there—something I’d never seen when we were younger. I know the military can change a person, but this was pure and utter hatred.