The Dead Don't Lie

by Anne Russo

  “Is that Katherine talking or you?”

  Ian shuddered and kept drinking as Mei continued. “Or is this about Rhys? I know he’s Adam’s father.”

  Ian froze and placed the glass on the bar before turning slowly in his seat to face her, at a loss for words.

  “You let it slip, after Grady, you were out of it, but you said enough for me to figure it out. Is that the reason you can’t be with him? Because of Rhys, because you were in love with him?”

  Ian jumped to stand, the stool scratching against the sticky linoleum. He reached for his wallet and threw the rest of its contents on to the bar.

  “Ian, wait.” She tried to stop him with a hand on his arm, but he shook off the gesture.

  “Don’t you dare tell him,” he ordered as he grabbed his jacket and hurried from the bar, panic following every step.

  Chapter 18

  The summons came at midnight. A simple text message: Now.

  Ian slid out of bed and dressed, dread heavy in his chest as he braced himself. Yet, Ian was ill prepared for the reality of facing Katherine’s wrath. The frosty stare she leveled, informing him in no uncertain terms that his worst fear had come to fruition. She’d found out what they had done. Blind panic overtook, bringing with it the brief but wild instinct to take Adam and run and never stop running.

  “What have you done?” Katherine demanded as enraged as he’d ever seen her.

  Ian flushed with shame, powerless to speak. The mantra of bitter voices in his brain surged forward, berating him until he was sure he’d go mad under their assault. He was well aware of his screw up, and he couldn’t live with himself as it was. What more did she want? Did she need him to swear to her in blood he’d never touch her precious son again? Katherine forged on with scant regard for the pain her words inflicted. She continued to lay into him, going straight for the jugular with each cruel, biting remark.

  “Is my son that irresistible, or is it the thrill of forbidden fruit? Help me understand how you could be so stupid?”

  Ian winced as Katherine went on, chastising him. He fought the urge to protest, to defend his and Adam’s actions but he didn’t dare utter a word. The truth was, he had no real defense; she had conveyed from the beginning that Adam was off limits. And now he’d have to pay the consequences for his defection.

  “Answer me!”

  Ian shifted on the balls of his feet. Sickness rolled in his gut, his body itchy with the secrets he kept, secrets begging for release, a scream aching for recognition locked somewhere deep inside.

  “I’ve made it clear to him it won’t happen again,” Ian attempted, hoping the answer might soothe her. It didn’t.

  “That is not good enough.”

  “I know.”

  “This is by far the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever done!”

  “I know,” he repeated.

  “Quit trying to appease me,” she fired back, glaring. “That won’t work. Not this time.”

  “I—I care for him,” Ian offered, blurting the words out before he’d had the chance to rethink them.

  She threw back her head, laughing, harsh, and shrill. Ian recoiled from the contempt he detected, her absolute loathing for him. “You care for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ridiculous,” she snickered, brushing the admission aside. As if it hadn’t taken every ounce of strength for Ian to confess. “You don’t have a caring or loving bone in your body.”

  “Who wanted it that way?” Ian lashed out, flinching from the wounded pain he heard in his own voice. Surprise came from uttering those words out loud. The instant surge of panic after as he grappled with the inclination to take them back.

  Katherine’s expression clouded. A deepening inferno built as she unleashed her tirade, piercing him to the core. “You blame me? You were your father’s son long before I entered the picture. He built this for you, Ian. Liam’s wish, and Rhys’s. Did you know it was he who begged to bring you home? Begged. So if you want to bemoan your lot in life, I suggest you dig up that worthless traitor and air your grievances to his corpse.”

  Ian clenched his hands into tight fists, nails breaking the skin. The urge to retaliate was overwhelming. He struggled to steady his breaths, his chest aching from the strain.

  “After everything I’ve done for you. You betray me. For what? A fling? A one off?” Her lips curled in a sneer. “Tell me, do you think you can make him happy? That you’re even capable of it?”

  Deep inside, Ian saw she’d been right; he didn’t do attachments, affections. Unlike other people, he was defective, broken, and the worst part was they both knew it.

  “Who told you?”

  Katherine’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Oh, I have my ways. Did you or he expect you’d fool me for long?”

  “I—I never intended—” Ian stammered, but she raised a hand, cutting off his attempts to apologize.

  “Enough with your blubbering. Do you see what this weakness has done to you? How pathetic it’s made you?”

  “What do you want me to do? Just tell me what to do. And I’ll do it,” Ian insisted, no longer able to stand the way she glared at him as if he were a thing unworthy of existing in her presence.

  “You’ll fix this, Ian,” Katherine stressed each word, every one a twisted stab to the gut. “So help me, you will fix this and make it right.”

  * * * *

  Later, Adam lay across his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other rested on his chest. To control his racing mind, he focused on counting every inhale, exhale, marveling at his body’s desire to continue functioning. Desperate to turn his memories into nothingness, wanting to forget the world and everyone in it.

  A knock on his door startled him. Adam sighed and took his time answering, stopping by the mirror in a cursory attempt at making himself presentable first, a decision that pleased him when he found Ian leaning against the frame, glaring.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Adam announced with a careless shrug, barring his entrance. “What the hell do you want?”

  Ian frowned, dark eyes missing nothing as they swept over Adam’s disheveled state. Sighing, he shoved his way into the room over Adam’s protests and shut the door behind them.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Adam let out a grim chuckle before flinging himself face first on his bed. “What isn’t the matter with me?”

  “Are you drunk again?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Adam grumbled into his pillow.

  Ian snatched the pillow out from under Adam’s head, hurling it to the floor. “We need to talk.”

  Adam pushed up on his forearms, glaring. “So talk.”

  Ian drew in a shaky breath, raking a hand through his hair, as he toed the carpet. “Look, we both have a job to do, so I suggest—”

  “My job?” Adam guffawed, stopping him. “Are you serious?”

  Ian tried switching tactics as if sensing the storm brewing. “Yes. But more importantly, for your own sake.”

  “You know, your ignorance astounds me. You think I’m mourning for you? Fuck you!”

  “You haven’t been yourself,” Ian pointed out, glancing at his bandaged hand.

  Furious, Adam leapt from the bed to get into Ian’s space. Once more, he wished for the power to see beyond the impenetrable wall between them.

  “We were drunk, and we got what we wanted, right?” Adam demanded, high and shrill. Immediately cringing at the sound, the hysteria told him he fooled no one, least of all himself.

  “Adam—”

  “Why can’t I hate you? I wish to God I could just fucking hate you!”

  Ian reached for his arm, but Adam snatched it away. “Why the hell are you here? What the fuck do you want me from me?”

  “What happened between us should’ve never happened in the first place, but that’s my—”

  “Why?”

  Ian tried to answer but couldn’t, shaking his head, as if at a loss for words. But Adam refused to be deterred by his silence.
“Why, Ian? Tell me why we can’t be together. Just tell me what or rather who is standing between us.”

  Adam waited as Ian struggled for an answer. “There isn’t…anyone else. I’m just—I’m not the right man for you, Adam. Alright? You don’t want to be with someone like me. You don’t.”

  “Then why did you stay that night?”

  “I don’t know,” Ian admitted, gaze skipping around the room, landing everywhere but the bed, Adam’s face. “I tried to tell you—”

  “You don’t know? You tried to tell me?” Adam exploded. “You could’ve fucked anyone else in the world that night. Anyone! But instead, you knocked on my door. And do you know the worst part of it is that it wasn’t just a fuck for me, Ian! I slept with you because I thought—hell, I thought you cared about me!”

  “I can’t care for anyone!”

  Adam winced, struck every bit as much by the ferocity of Ian’s admission and his own.

  “I know,” Adam whispered, willing away the sting of tears. “I pity you for it. And envy you because right now, I’d do anything to switch my emotions off for good.”

  Ian sighed, lowering his head, unwilling to look at him. “If you only knew what was at stake—”

  “At stake? What? The pile of millions that Mommy’s made turning you into a psychopath?”

  Ian flinched, eyes narrowing as he unleashed his fury on Adam. “Shut up! You have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I do. You, you’re the one who hasn’t the faintest clue what they’ve done to you,” Adam continued, powerless to stop the twisted darkness building between them. An insidious ivy, strangling everything and everyone starting with themselves. “People don’t do this, Ian. They don’t hurt each other like this!”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Ian offered his voice a low tight whisper.

  “Then, what is this? Why are you pushing me away?”

  “I don’t know how to make you understand‒—”

  “It’s simple. Either you want me or you don’t.”

  Ian moved away, turning inward, shoulders hunched, shaking. Adam noticed and crept closer, his tone gentler as he leaned in, resting a tentative hand on Ian’s back, afraid of spooking him.

  “What is it? You’re holding me at arm’s length for a reason. Tell me why.”

  Ian spun around to face him, desperation etched in every line of his face. “You have to let this go. I know, I fucked up. But for your own sake, just let it go.”

  “Let it go! Do you hear yourself right now?” You fucked up? You fucked up my entire life! You want to undo this, let me out of this freak show!”

  “Goddammit, you know I can’t do that,” Ian tried reaching for him.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t,” Ian stressed.

  Adam fought his way out of his grip, livid. “You’ve no idea what it’s like being a prisoner! Forced into doing things you never imagined yourself capable. Not even in your own worst nightmares.”

  “Don’t I?”

  The question stopped Adam in his tracks, realization dawning. Ian was right. Was he not every bit as trapped here as he? Still, Adam refused to let him deflect him from the rage that was his due.

  “And yet, here we are. Trapped or not, you’re the one who wanted this. And now you want to pretend it never happened!”

  Ian threw his hands up.

  “Me? You’re the one who wanted it! So, I gave you what you wanted, and it’s still not enough for you.”

  “Gave me what I wanted? I wanted you to use me like a dirty sock? Something for you to come in and then go? You asshole! Get away from me!” Adam used both hands to shove Ian as far from him as possible, but Ian refused to budge.

  Outraged, he attacked again, but Ian grabbed his swinging wrists, yanking him forward. “Stop it! I didn’t mean for it to go this far, I swear—”

  “Get off me,” Adam struggled to free himself from his grasp. “I mean it, Ian. Let me go. You’re hurting me.”

  Ian glanced between them, as if stunned by the brutal hold he had on Adam’s wrists. The tips of Ian’s fingers dug in hard enough to bruise. Ian released him, stumbling back from him as if scalded.

  “I’m sorry,” Ian’s face crumbled, his words a desperate plea. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  “Did you hurt me?” Adam circled him, pressing, still itching to drive the knife in as deep as possible. “Yeah, Ian, you hurt me.”

  “I know that,” Ian answered, still shaking.

  “I’m going—I should go,” Ian started for the exit.

  “Ian? Does Katherine know what happened?”

  Ian shuddered and shook his head. “No, and let’s keep it that way, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Adam agreed.

  “Good,” Ian replied, closing the door behind him. As if fleeing from Adam’s unconvinced stare, burning into his back as he fled.

  * * * *

  September was nearly over and October, and the autumn soon upon him. The month marked the first anniversary of Adam’s kidnapping. In the space of twelve months, the life he’d once had, a world which had once shone with so much promise, was reduced to smoldering ashes. The people Adam loved, their faces slowly erased and stolen from view.

  Adam, pensive, watched colored leaves twirl as they fell. Their brilliance magnified against the golden glow of the setting sun, low and warm in the distance. A few couples strolled past Adam’s car window, a few with their dogs. Others carried armfuls of groceries as they passed with nary a glance. The car’s tinted windows thankfully barring the returned scrutiny of the outside world. To Adam, they appeared as unreal images of mundane and ordinary existence. An existence he could sometimes scarcely believe he’d himself had once lived.

  Adam reached for his third coffee of the day, long since gone cold. He took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste as he returned it to the cup holder. He sighed. “How long have we been here?”

  Mei, in the driver’s seat, shifted to face him, grinning. “Jeez, and I thought Vince was bad—”

  “It’s stuffy as hell in here,” Adam moaned, resting his head on his elbow.

  They’d been waiting for the better part of the afternoon for the girlfriend of Mei’s latest target. A shrewd and despicable lawyer named Raymond Brookes who had made a fortune by getting off war criminals. His society fixer girlfriend, Penelope, no stranger to shady deals of her own, lived in the lovely three story Upper East Side brownstone they were stalking. Only one of many such apartments and penthouses the couple owned spread throughout the city,, which made trailing either of them a difficult and thankless task. For the better part of the week, Adam had accompanied Mei on her assignment, keeping her company while she attempted to keep tabs on the pair. A decision he’d long since regretted.

  “Crack a window,” Mei offered. “I’m going to close my eyes for a second. Watch that door.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adam retorted with a sarcastic eye roll, one rewarded with a quick slug to the gut before Mei made herself comfortable, closing her eyes.

  They sat in the quiet for a while, Mei’s soft snores lulling Adam into a light doze. While he’d been able to distract himself from his chaotic thoughts by engaging with Mei, now that the car was silent, he couldn’t help but replay his earlier conversation with Ian. Or rather the argument he and Ian had, one that had resolved little between them. It’d only left Adam more confused, more uncertain of who Ian was, and his real intentions. The brief glimpses of genuine emotion Ian showed only to retreat further. There was something, someone holding Ian at bay.

  Was it Katherine? There had been moments where Adam had caught her disparaging remarks toward him. Then, of course, was the way she’d accused him of stealing Ian’s focus. She’d be the last person who’d want them together but was there another piece or pieces. Ian, for Adam, was a series of broken pieces but with no understanding of what they meant. He thought back to the pain he’d spied in Ian’s eyes, his helplessness. He’d only seen that expression before
when he talked of one other person. Adam sat up in his seat, a creeping awareness settling over him.

  “Tell me about Rhys,” he blurted out and paused, unsure if Mei had heard him, but she had.

  She peered at him, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “What?”

  “Tell me about him.”

  She adjusted her seat, wiping her face. “Did Ian say something?” Her voice was a tight, hushed whisper.

  “No, that’s the thing. Ian doesn’t like to talk about him, but when he does—”

  “I wouldn’t open that can of worms if I were you.” Mei rested her hands on the steering wheel, looking uneasy.

  “Why?”

  “If I tell you about him, I need you to triple pinky promise me you’ll keep this between us.”

  “I promise.”

  “Now, I’m sure you’re aware that Rhys was Ian’s mentor. But the truth is the man practically raised him. More so than his father. Rhys and Ian’s father, Liam, were tight, closer than brothers. They’re the ones who built this place from the ground up. From my understanding, they met sometime in the 1970s. The marines, specials ops, well, that led to some contract killings, murder for hires. They were good at it, damned good. So, they went into business for themselves. After Liam died, Rhys stayed and handed the reins more or less over to Katherine. The way Ian tells it, Rhys never wanted the power, the burden of running the place day-to-day. But to hear Ian tell it, there wasn’t a man in the world tougher than Rhys, more skilled. And truthfully, if Ian’s talents are any sign, he might not be far off. But anyway, Ian worshiped the guy. Even now, you’d think Rhys Meyers walked on water and was bulletproof. But he wasn’t. Not even close.”

  Adam swallowed around the lump in his throat. “How did he die?”

  Mei took her time answering. “I—I’m afraid that’ll have to be a story for another time.”

  Adam sighed, disappointed to receive yet only another piece of the story but no more. “Ian loved him. Didn’t he?”

  “Very much so. That’s why I wouldn’t mention Rhys. It’s a sore spot for everyone.”

  “But you wanted me to know about him? Why?”

  Mei shifted, chewing her lower lip for a moment before she replied. “Because not everything in this world is black and white. We want it to be, but it just isn’t. And the people we lose, the people we love, leave a mark whether we want them to or not.”