The Truth About Lies

by Aly Martinez

  “Jesus, Cora,” he murmured as he made it to me in three strides. “How ya doing?”

  “I’m…fine.” I flicked my gaze back to Penn. His body was rigid, and his face was nothing more than a cold mask.

  Drew gave my arm a squeeze.

  Curiously, I watched Penn follow the movement of his brother’s hand.

  Even more curiously, I immediately stepped away from Drew despite the fact that his offer of comfort felt nice. But not as nice as Penn’s would have been.

  “I’d love to tell you two that stuff like this doesn’t happen often.” I cleared my throat to keep the emotion at bay. “But, well, I… All I can really tell you is that I’m sorry and I hope like hell it doesn’t happen again.”

  Drew bent at the knee, bringing us to eye level. “Are you kidding? Don’t apologize.” It was soft and sweet, everything a woman in my position should have wanted to hear, but once again, I looked at Penn.

  “Thank you. For, ya know…trying.”

  His eyes closed and his chin jerked to the side like I’d wounded him rather than praised his efforts. “Yeah. No prob,” he replied on a pained chuff.

  A suffocating amount of awkward silence ensued until I finally gave us all a break by turning my attention to the badge-wearing elephant in the room.

  “Hey, Larry,” I said, offering him a weak smile.

  His salacious gaze raked over my bare legs up to my breasts. “Cora.”

  Larry was as crooked as cops came. And despite the wedding ring on his left hand and the fact that he was old enough to be my grandfather, he was also as fucked up as johns came. This was most likely why he found himself at the beck and call of the Guerreros.

  I noticed the familiar coffee mug in his hand and turned to arch an eyebrow at River. She shrugged. She’d no doubt been doing the hostess-with-the-mostess bit to buy me time to collect myself. But, now, it was time for her to do the get-the-hell-out-of-here bit.

  “Can you do me a favor and go check on Libby?” We didn’t have a Libby.

  Dipping her head, she focused on her feet. “Do I have to? I’d rather just go back to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what she was playing at, when it suddenly dawned on me that Savannah was nowhere in sight.

  God, my girls were smart.

  “Yeah. Go ahead,” I said and then watched her head down the hall. Before Larry could hear River’s soft knock or Savannah opening the locks, I got to talking. “What can I do for you?”

  A wolfish grin split his mouth. “Oh, I could think of a lot of things you could do for me.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I shot him a bored glare. “Yeah, well. I don’t have enough time, energy, or Viagra to make that happen. So let’s try this again: Why are you still here?”

  Drew coughed to cover his laugh, but the only thing that came from Penn’s quadrant of the room was a whole lot of pissed-off energy and a death glare.

  Larry sucked through his teeth and rested his palm on his gun at his hip. “Woman, you got a record a mile long. I put you in cuffs in the back of my car, you’ll die in a cell. One of these days, you’re going to learn to watch your mouth.”

  He was full of shit. I had a record exactly two sentences long: two drug charges. Fun story—I’d never so much as smoked a joint in my life. The real story was I spent three years in jail for pissing off Marcos and Dante. It was a pure power play for them. And seeing as I was riding the wave of thirteen years under their control, it had worked. Now, though, I was on the wonderful list of what the State of Illinois called Habitual Offenders. Three-strikes-you’re-out kind of deal.

  “I’ll be sure to start working on that.” Snapping my fingers, I motioned for the return of my coffee mug. “She’s dead, Larry.” God, that burned, but I tucked it away in its own little disgusting drawer in my subconscious and powered through. “You can fill me in later on the details about how and where you claim to have found her in case any of your buddies start asking questions. But, right now, you have to get the hell out of my apartment. I need a shower, a metric ton of coffee, and then I have a building full of grieving girls to check in on.”

  Passing my mug back, he held my stare. “Watch yourself, Cora.”

  I gave him the most honest answer I’d ever spoken. “I always do.”

  His lips formed a thin line as he scowled at me for several beats longer.

  Jerking my chin to the door, I prompted, “Have a good night, officer.”

  On a muttered curse, he turned on a toe and walked out, leaving the door wide open like a surly teenager.

  Once he was gone, I blew out a ragged breath and reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose, jerking it away when I saw the blood caked under my nails. My stomach rolled.

  “Oh God, I really need a shower.” I glanced up at Penn. “You do too. Let me just grab my shampoo and I’ll make sure none of the girls are in the other bathroom for you. It’s the least I can—”

  “You got this?” he clipped at his brother.

  “Yeah,” Drew replied on a sigh.

  Before I had the chance to inquire with the obvious, Does he have what?—the answer clearly being me—Penn all but sprinted out the open door, slamming it behind himself, also not unlike a surly teenager.

  Confused—and a tad insulted—I peered up at Drew. “Did I say…”

  He shook his head and hooked his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug. “Don’t worry about Penn. You’ve got enough shit on your plate without adding his to it. He’ll be fine.”

  I immediately shifted out of his hold. “What kind of shit does he have?”

  “The kind that no one can fix. So wipe that look off your face.”

  Challenge accepted!

  “Who’s Lisa?” I asked.

  Drew’s gentle face morphed into stone-cold fury, and his voice turned to gravel. “What did you say?”

  I squared my shoulders. “Lisa. That’s what Penn called Angela when he saw her on the floor.”

  Visible relief sifted through his features until he was back to Mr. Nice Guy. Gripping the back of his neck, he replied, “He probably just got confused. Thought that was her name or something.”

  Yeah, judging by nothing more than Drew’s reaction, that was a load of bullshit. But we all had our secrets. God knew I had a mountain of my own. So I let it go.

  For now.

  “Yeah, that had to be it,” I mumbled.

  He offered me a gentle smile. “Now, for real, you gonna be okay?”

  I shrugged. “It’s kinda my only option.”

  Penn

  I fell to my knees as I violently threw up in the trash can.

  I couldn’t breathe. And the pain was relentless—not even my numbness could block it out.

  Lisa’s face.

  Lisa’s blood.

  Lisa’s cries.

  And then…

  Cora’s face.

  Cora’s desperation.

  Cora’s pleas.

  My failures.

  My failures.

  My failures.

  Just as another wave of nausea tore through me, I heard the door crack open and then quickly close. Seconds later, I felt a towel being draped around my shoulders. His knees cracked as he dropped into a squat beside me.

  “It wasn’t her.”

  “I know,” I choked out, using the back of my arm to wipe the sweat off my forehead.

  “Do you? Cora said you called her Lisa.”

  Fuck.

  Bile rose in my throat, and I leaned deeper into the trash can, ready for another seizure in my stomach. “Yeah. Sorry ’bout that.”

  His hand landed on the back of my neck in what I assumed was supposed to be comfort, but it felt as though it singed my skin. “Penn, man. It wasn’t her.”

  When my gut ended its revolt, I settled on my ass with my back to the wall. “I fucking know it wasn’t her. I was actually there for the woman tonight. Lot of good that did.”

  His ja
w snapped shut, which was quite possibly the smartest thing Drew could have done. I’d listened to the it wasn’t your fault bullshit too many times. The last had been the day before he’d gone to jail. It had ended in blows.

  Using the edge of the towel, I wiped my mouth. “What the hell is wrong with this place?”

  “I warned you it was a different world,” he replied, dropping beside me to his ass.

  “A different world?” I scoffed. “This is a whole other planet.” I raked a hand through my hair. “For fuck’s sake, we’ve not even been here twenty-four hours and we’ve got teenage addicts hiding from pimps who sexually abused them, women slicing their wrists, corrupt cops trying to get their dicks sucked. Don’t even get me started on those EMTs. If I wasn’t a hundred percent positive that the girl was already dead, I’d have killed them both on the spot. Swear to god, Drew, one of them winked at Cora when he strolled in with all the urgency of a slug.”

  With a sigh, he lowered his chin to his chest. “That’s another thing. We need to talk about Cora.”

  “Oh, no. We are not fucking talking about her.”

  He gave a low whistle and shook his head. “The way she looks at you?”

  Oh, I’d seen it. And I’d give anything to be able to forget it.

  She looked at me like I was a hero.

  Like I was some sort of savior sent from above.

  Like I could possibly drag her from the pits of hell.

  I couldn’t even save myself and she thought I could save her?

  And, fucking worse, I wanted to.

  But I wasn’t that man.

  At least not for her.

  “I don’t care how she looks at me,” I lied.

  “You should. Because after you pulled the damaged-white-knight routine tonight, I don’t have a shot in hell at getting in there.”

  I blinked at him, in an honest-to-God stupor. “You’re kidding me, right? I ruined your game by trying to help that dying woman?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just sayin—”

  I shot to my feet. “Nothing. You’re saying nothing.”

  I was marching down the hall, desperate for space, when he stopped me in my tracks.

  “She’s under your skin and it’s freaking you out.”

  It was the most shockingly accurate thing he had ever said, even if it did confuse the hell out of me. But admitting that I was copping a case of the feels for the broken, brave, and beautiful Cora fucking Guerrero was a whole lot like accepting it. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

  Planting my hands on my hips, I wheeled around. “Fuck off, Dr. Phil. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That why you were hovering all around her when I showed up tonight? Standing guard at her door like some kind of sentinel? For fuck’s sake, Penn. You’re covered in blood, but I couldn’t drag you out of there until you knew she was okay.”

  “Excuse me for being a decent guy.”

  His face took on the strangest expression. “You know it would be okay if you did want her.”

  A searing blaze of pain hit me in the chest. “The hell it would be okay!”

  “Lisa’s been gone for four years.”

  “Yeah, I’m well aware of that.”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. Cora seems to have the Mother Teresa thing down pat. Maybe she could rub a little of that on you.”

  Rage built within me. “And then what? She and I just ride into the sunset while Lisa sits buried six feet under? Have you forgotten everything we’ve worked for?”

  “I’ve forgotten nothing!” he boomed. His body became taut as he let out a frustrated growl, yanking at the top of his short hair. “Fuck. Fucking fuck.”

  I stood there with my chest heaving, watching his meltdown. God knew he’d watched enough of mine. He paced a path in the floor, kicking anything he came into contact with. The couch. The stool. His duffel of clothes. Everything was fair game.

  Finally, he stopped his assault on inanimate objects and shot me a glare. “I need you to do this.”

  I needed a lobotomy. “I can’t and you know it.”

  And then, as though he were flicking a match into a puddle of gasoline, he announced, “Word is Marcos usually stops by a day or two after shit goes down. Roughs her up. Little reminder to keep her girls in check.”

  Visceral fury ignited inside me.

  She’d been sporting a bruised cheek. This should not have been a shocker.

  But try telling that to my roaring body.

  My heart thundered.

  My lungs seized.

  My mind screamed.

  And, this time, it was Cora’s voice begging, “Penn, please.”

  One in. One out.

  One in. One… “No one touches her.”

  Drew’s lips lifted into a sinister smile. “Now you’re talking. We’ll switch shifts keeping an eye on her.”

  I nodded.

  And, goddamn it, fuck me seven ways to Sunday—she wasn’t even in the room, but as my heart slowed and my anger evaporated, I felt the warm curl of that woman sinking deeper under my skin.

  Cora

  “No. Dante, please. It’s not her fault!”

  I was in a cold sweat when I jolted awake to the sound of my ringing phone. I had no idea what time it was or when I’d fallen asleep, but the overwhelming terror I’d felt in my nightmare while watching Dante drag River away from me had followed me into consciousness.

  It had been twenty-four hours since we’d lost Angela. My chest still ached and my mind was still a swirling mess. But, much to my surprise, none of the Guerreros had shown up to issue their personal brand of punishment—yet. They would. Eventually. Of that much I was sure.

  I just had to be ready when they did.

  “It was a dream,” I told myself, blindly slapping around on the nightstand until I found the offending device. “Hello,” I croaked.

  It was Mindi from the second floor. “Hey, Cor, I’m home.”

  “Good. What about Jennifer?” I had finally memorized the new girl’s name.

  The line went silent.

  Squeezing my eyes tight, I sent up a prayer that she was just checking Jennifer’s room, but when her response never came, I sat up with a groan. “Mindi?”

  “I, uh… She didn’t text you?”

  While the women on the first floor were free to come and go as they pleased, I required the girls on the second and third floors to text me when they got home as long it was before four a.m.. After that, they had to call. They sometimes forgot and I read them the Riot Act. And a mere twenty-four hours after losing Angela, I wasn’t cutting them any slack.

  “No. She didn’t. Is she there?”

  “She’s…um…in her room.”

  I exhaled in relief and used my thumb and forefinger to rub my eyes. “Go wake her up and tell her to call me.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  Touching the end button on the screen, I stared up at the glowing stars Nic had once upon a time stuck to the ceiling above our bed. The crooked letters were created from the luminous points. When I’d moved after he died, I’d taken every single one of those stars with me, and when I’d been sentenced to a life in that apartment building, I’d re-adhered them with little balls of putty in the exact same design he’d once created. It wasn’t the same—but the sentiment was still there.

  I could still hear his voice.

  “You want the moon, Cora?” he’d said with a wicked grin, those dark eyes of his dancing in the moonlight. “Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

  I’d smiled, the sweet intoxication of first love making me feel like I’d been floating. “I don’t care about the moon, Nic. I just want you…and maybe the stars.”

  A single tear rolled down my face just as my phone started ringing.

  I coughed to clear the emotion. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Cor,” Jennifer said sadly.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, rolling out of bed. I was wearing my usual sleep uniform
: panties and a thin camisole. Since my robe was up in smoke, I grabbed the quilt at the foot of the bed and draped it around my body, holding it tight with a hand at my chest.

  “Nothing… I’m home. Sorry. I forgot to call.”

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” I pressed. Using my shoulder to hold the phone against my ear, I unlocked my door and headed down the hall, though I paused on my way out to test River and Savannah’s knob. Thankfully, it was locked.

  “Yeah, positive. Mindi just woke me up—that’s all. Look, I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She hung up without so much as a goodbye.

  Forget about the morning. She was going to see me in about, oh…one minute.

  Three more locks and I swung my front door open…

  And then promptly had a heart attack.

  My phone went flying from my hand, skittering across the concrete, as a baleful silhouette rose to its feet across the breezeway. Blood roared in my ears as I took in his black sweatshirt, the hood pulled up to cover his head. From shape alone, I knew it wasn’t Dante or Marcos, but with only the moon serving as light, I couldn’t make out his face.

  That is until he tilted his head up, shoved the hood back, and found my gaze with a tangible weight that nearly crushed me.

  “Jesus, Penn.” My heart slammed in my chest partially because he had scared the hell out of me. But mainly because he was staring at me.

  Hard. Penetrating. Acute. I had not one doubt that he was reading me down to the marrow in my bones, and for the strangest reason, with him, I was okay with that.

  A rush of heat pinked my cheeks as I managed to stammer out, “Wh…what are you doing out here?”

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” he countered, leaving me to question if he actually could see through the quilt.

  I glanced down, finding that my trusty quilt had split open, revealing my legs all the way up to my panties. Quickly shifting, I used my other hand to hold the bottom closed as well. “I was just running down to check on Jennifer.”

  “Naked and in the dark?” He remained eerily still, his hands at his sides, his feet set shoulder-width apart, and his eyes locked on mine to the point that I could barely breathe.