Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology Book 2)

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  It’s going well, my tactics working a treat, but my delighted smile is soon wiped from my face when something hard connects with my arse. The contact ignites the heat in my recovering cheek and sends me jolting forward on a grimace of pain. ‘Shit.’ I make to swing around, set on finding the offender and returning the favour to their face. But I don’t make it very far. Two solid arms come around my body and lock me securely to an equally solid chest. My eyes widen, shooting to Lucy.

  She’s grinning. It worries me for a split second, but then the moulding of his body into mine eases me. ‘Mr Magnificent!’ Lucy squeals, kissing the tips of her fingers on both hands and throwing her invisible kiss over my head. I hear the sweet sound of Becker’s chuckle in my ear, then his wood-and-apple scent invades my nostrils. My hands rest on his across my stomach and my head cranes back, trying to see him.

  He smiles, lopsided and cute, his hair mussed and sexy and gorgeous, his eyes glimmering behind his glasses. ‘You were putting on quite a show,’ he muses, swaying to meet my slowed rhythm.

  ‘I knew you were watching me.’ I join him in his light banter as Lucy staggers over to the bar and scoops up more wine.

  ‘Is she rat-arsed?’ Becker asks as she flops onto her stool and draws the proverbial daggers from where she’s safely stored them.

  ‘Totally,’ I confirm, turning and throwing my arms around his neck. He accepts willingly, and though I know the appearance of my Mr Magnificent has caught the attention of many women nearby, I let the looks of awe go straight over my head. Being an outsider to Lucy’s situation has had clarity explode around me, making my own situation perfectly clear, even in my slightly drunken condition. All the women who I’ve seen as threats are nothing more than a mild inconvenience. I have this sinful bastard’s heart, and I’m keeping it. ‘I love you,’ I declare, loud and proud, shouting over the music, hoping everyone in the bar hears me.

  Becker grins wickedly and lifts me from my feet, blowing my hair from my face when a few wayward strands slip free. ‘And I love you, you corrupt, drunken little witch.’ He lands a forceful kiss on my lips and starts carrying me from the floor.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ I ask, once I’ve been placed on my stool.

  ‘Heaven, princess.’ He flips me a wink, moving back so I get his full height in view. He looks perfectly casual in a pair of worn jeans and a white T-shirt. God, I could jump his sinfully sexy self.

  ‘Oh, that’s cute.’ Lucy interjects, throwing a wobbly fist into Becker’s bicep. ‘He’s a charmer.’

  ‘How are you, Lucy?’ Becker asks, running dubious eyes up and down her half-naked frame as he tosses a couple of twenties on the bar. ‘Whatever the girls are having,’ he says to the barman. ‘And I’ll have a Haig on the rocks.’

  ‘A-fucking-mazing,’ Lucy slurs, pointing her empty in the general direction of Mark’s group, who are now all huddled around a tall table doing shots. ‘My boyfriend is fucking amazing, too.’

  Becker looks across to where Lucy is pointing, then to me on a frown. I shake my head. It’s a tell-ya-later look, and he catches it swiftly, handing me my wine.

  ‘You ready to settle your bill?’ the barman asks, obviously concluding that Lucy and I are well on our way to a drunken oblivion and will probably be stumbling home soon.

  ‘How much?’ Becker asks before I have the chance, going back to his pocket.

  ‘One hundred and sixty-eight.’

  ‘What?’ Becker looks at me in shock, eyeing up the drink he’s just placed in my hand, maybe considering confiscating it.

  ‘Eight mojitos at sixteen quid a pop. Plus the wine and your Haig.’ The barman slides the bill across the bar for confirmation, but Becker waves it away, throwing down a pile of notes.

  ‘You okay?’ he asks, now clearly concerned by the confirmation of how much alcohol has passed my lips.

  ‘I’m being supportive.’

  ‘By getting blind drunk?’

  I shrug guiltily on an innocent smile. ‘I’m a good friend. And I feel fine. I think all the secrets I’m keeping are burning away the alcohol.’

  He rolls his eyes as his tumbler of amber liquid rises slowly to his full lips, and my rapt stare journey with it. ‘Cheers,’ he says, tipping the neat whisky back. ‘What’s going on?’ Becker indicates across the bar to Mark. ‘Have they had an argument?’

  I’m not worried that Lucy will notice us talking about her like she isn’t here. Because she isn’t. Not in mind, anyway. She’s gone full-force into glaring mode again. ‘That leggy blonde is what’s wrong.’ I discreetly nod at Melanie, prompting Becker to seek her out.

  ‘Whoa,’ he blurts out, resulting in a swift jab in the shoulder from me. ‘Sorry.’ He smiles nervously. ‘But she’s hardly unnoticeable with one tit hanging out.’

  ‘What?’ I throw my eyes past Becker. ‘Oh my days.’ He’s right. One boob has broken free from her low-cut dress and is jiggling happily while she throws a shot back. All eyes in the bar are on the girl from floor eighteen, except the men aren’t staring and licking their lips, despite it being a rather attractive boob. They’re looking embarrassed for her. She’s clearly steaming drunk, and when she throws herself at a very horrified-looking Mark, I know immediately that Lucy’s invisible daggers could, quite possibly, turn into very tangible ones. I see her leaving her stool like an eject button has been pressed. ‘Stop her,’ I shout, pushing Becker, who quickly cottons on and seizes the top of Lucy’s arm.

  ‘Hold your horses,’ he says calmly, pulling her back. ‘Mark’s doing a pretty good job of fighting her off himself.’

  We all look and find Mark pushing Melanie away, an offended look on his face. ‘I’m cool,’ Lucy snaps, yanking herself free from Becker’s grip. Mark seems to be handling a steaming drunk Melanie perfectly, but she’s blotto and determined, and tosses an evil scowl in Lucy’s direction before she makes a beeline for him again, which confirms that she really is a nasty player. ‘Oh no she didn’t,’ Lucy laughs coldly, and is suddenly gone from Becker’s side. This time, he doesn’t catch her, and I can only watch as she flies across the bar like a rabid dog, frothing at the mouth.

  ‘Oh God, you have to stop her.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Becker grumbles, slamming his glass down and going in pursuit. I’m hot on his heels, fearing the worst. I can’t blame Lucy for snapping. She’s endured enough. Heck, I’ve endured enough.

  Becker is fast as he swoops across the bar.

  But Lucy is faster, and she’s apparently in no mood to handle the situation delicately. No, she goes in like a bull in a china shop, practically ripping Melanie off Mark and tackling her to the floor. They hit the deck with ease, alcohol assisting, and start rolling around like a pair of brawling men. I reach the inside of the circle that has naturally formed around their scrapping bodies and skid to a stop. I’m so stunned by the scene playing out in front of me, I just stand, watching . . . a bit like Mark, who’s next to me, his beer held limply in his hand as he gapes at the two women rolling around on the filthy floor.

  ‘Oh, Lucy,’ I sigh, my palms coming up to my cheeks in despair. For someone who always acts so cool on the outside, she’s acting pretty uncool right now. She’s brought the whole bloody pub to a stunned silence, which means everyone can hear every word being screamed.

  ‘You piss-taking piece of shit!’ Lucy screeches, lashing with her nails at Melanie’s dress. ‘Keep your filthy paws to yourself!’

  ‘He wasn’t complaining in the printer room,’ Melanie retorts, grabbing onto Lucy’s hair and yanking it, making my friend hiss in pain.

  What I’m witnessing now is, quite literally, a cat fight, each woman hissing, thrashing claws, rolling around and kicking out their legs. It’s ugly. I glance blankly up at Mark, and his eyes fall down to mine, all wide and lost. ‘What the fuck?’ he splutters uselessly as my friend does an amazing job of falling spectacularly from
grace. Or crashing. What is she thinking? I search for Becker in the crowd, wondering where he’s disappeared to. He’s probably concluded that he wants no association with this, and I wouldn’t blame him.

  I roll up my proverbial sleeves and prepare to dive in and split them up, but just as I put one foot forward, Becker appears through the dense gathering of people. My gratitude is immense, my relief profound . . . until I notice that he’s carrying something.

  Something big.

  And red.

  ‘Oh . . . no,’ I breathe, watching as he locks and loads . . .

  A fire extinguisher.

  He wouldn’t?

  I half close my eyes, stepping back and wincing.

  He fires.

  And the loudest whoosh of noise erupts, followed by an explosion of white foam.

  He would.

  My hand slaps over my mouth, watching in horror as Becker soaks the two crazy women, walking forward with the canister in one hand and the hose in the other, ensuring they get the full hit of white stuff. The shouting has stopped, being replaced with shocked gasps, and the two scrapping women have been replaced by two huge foam monsters, slipping around unattractively on the floor. The deafening hissing of the fire extinguisher seems to stretch on for ever, and once Becker’s finally drained it, he tosses it aside and brushes his hands off. ‘Sorted,’ he says, completely unfazed, as he brushes down his T-shirt.

  The audience – which is basically everyone in the bar – flicks astonished stares from Becker to the silenced women, back and forth. Then the doormen come crashing through and Becker takes my arm. ‘Time to go.’

  I’m hauled through the throngs of people, my feet working fast out of necessity rather than obedience. Becker has a determined hold of me and judging by the look on his face, I’d do well not to object.

  Once we make it outside, he releases me and scans me up and down with worried eyes. ‘You okay?’

  Me? I shake myself to life and point aimlessly over my shoulder. ‘I’m fine, but I don’t think Lucy is. We need to get her.’

  He stops me from going back and reaches forward to wipe something from my cheek. ‘You’re not going back in there.’

  I hear an almighty crash from behind me, and Becker peers over my shoulder before dropping his chin to his chest and groaning. I turn, finding Lucy being hauled out by a doorman, followed closely by Melanie. And they’re at it again, both fighting to free themselves from the clutches of the bouncers.

  ‘For the love of God.’ Becker’s patience is wearing thin, and he starts to lead me away determinedly, but I shrug him off and step back, ignoring the aggravated expression that gets thrown my way.

  ‘I can’t just leave her here.’

  ‘Where’s her boyfriend?’ he asks, scanning the crowds for Mark. ‘She’s his problem, not mine.’

  ‘No, but she’s my friend, therefore my problem.’ Just as I say that, I hear a vicious curse, and then a loud rip. Bracing myself, I investigate the sounds, finding Melanie’s exposed boob has company. The whole top part of her dress is missing, and Lucy is laughing wickedly, like some unhinged psycho woman.

  ‘You skank!’ Melanie shrieks, grappling to cover her dignity.

  ‘You’ll do well to keep your hands to yourself.’ Lucy breaks free of the doorman’s hold and starts to pull her non-existent playsuit into place, before pointlessly brushing her soggy hair from her face. She looks a state. Any attempts to regain any self-respect or composure will be futile.

  ‘Is she always such a handful?’ Becker asks dryly, pulling me close into his side.

  I say nothing, shrugging him off and turning on my heels. I march over to my friend to claim responsibility of her, dragging her away. She doesn’t fight me, and it isn’t because she’s exhausted after ten minutes straight of bucking like a donkey. ‘What has got into you?’ I say, turning Lucy around and shaking her.

  She seems to snap out of her destructive mode the moment her eyes land on mine. ‘Mark,’ she says, her expression panicked. ‘Where is he?’

  Mark appears behind Lucy, his bearded jaw tight. Long gone is the dumbfounded expression. Now he looks hacked off. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he asks shortly.

  Lucy’s blue eyes dull, anxiety filling them as she swings around to face him. ‘She was all over you like a rash.’

  ‘And I ignored her,’ he replies calmly.

  ‘She was goading me.’ Lucy sounds desperate as she rushes to spill her excuses for her behaviour. ‘I couldn’t take it any more.’

  Becker moves in close to me. ‘We should go.’

  ‘I’m not leaving her,’ I reiterate firmly, stepping away. I need to be here for Lucy, because this isn’t going to end nicely.

  ‘Princess, your friend has just been brawling in a bar. I’ve just tampered with fire safety equipment. The police might be on their way, and I don’t want to be—’

  ‘Then go!’ I snap. ‘Don’t let me inconvenience you.’

  Becker’s up in my face quickly, his face tight. ‘You’re not an inconvenience, princess, but being arrested might fucking be.’

  My eyes widen. Yes, because then he would have to talk to the police. I fly around and find Lucy screaming bloody murder. I hurry over, arriving by their side, not that either of them notices my presence. ‘Lucy, let’s go.’ She needs to calm down. And we need to get out of here.

  ‘You shagged her!’ Lucy screams, demented, huffing and puffing. ‘In the printer room at work!’

  ‘I’ve told you over and over. It meant nothing,’ Mark roars, flinging his body around and stalking off. ‘And we weren’t even together.’

  Lucy runs after him, and I follow, keen to get her home before she does any more damage, or before I hear blue sirens. ‘Lucy, please, come on.’ I reach to grab her arm but miss by a mile when she dives forwards and pushes Mark in the back.

  ‘She wants you!’

  He slams to a halt, as does Lucy, as do I. Then he turns slowly and breathes in deeply. His calm actions force Lucy to keep her gob shut. ‘I love you, Lucy. She’s nothing but a woman I scored with because I could. Because she was free and easy and throwing herself at me. She was a means to an end during a drought. Nothing more. How many times have I got to tell you?’

  This is the point when Lucy should back down. But no. ‘Tell her that!’ she screams in his face, staggering forward on unsteady legs.

  ‘I fucking have!’ he yells, pushing her arm away. They quickly become entangled in a blur of flying arms, Lucy lashing out in her drunken stupor and Mark trying to restrain her mad arse.

  Oh, Jesus, could this get any worse? Becker stalks past me and puts himself in the middle of it, his patience frayed, and Lucy’s flailing limbs are soon restrained. ‘I have her,’ Becker says tightly, securing her back against his chest. ‘Go, mate. We’ll sort her.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Mark straightens himself out, looking at a heaving Lucy with a mix of annoyance and pure frustration before he hails a cab. One pulls over quickly. ‘It’s over, Lucy. You clearly don’t trust me and I can’t be in a relationship like that.’ He gets in and the cab pulls away.

  Becker relinquishes his hold of Lucy as soon as the cab disappears around a corner. And then the wailing starts. Big, heaving cries of despair. I’m not going to patronise her, tell her she’s a twat and that she’s fucked it all up. She already knows that. Taking her jerking shoulders gently, I guide her around, tenderly but hastily, as she shudders under my hold, giving Becker a sorry shrug. He looks absolutely and completely exhausted by it all.

  ‘I’m driving,’ he says, indicating up the road. I follow his extended arm and see his flashy black 5-series a few hundred yards ahead. ‘We’ll drop her off on the way home.’

  There are two things I note. The first, Becker said ‘home’ again, like The Haven is my home, too. Secondly, ‘drop her off’ implies we’ll be leaving her
. The first I’m thinking is best left unaddressed for now. Besides, I quite like the sound of it. The second needs addressing this minute, because I definitely don’t like the sound of that. ‘I’m not leaving her,’ I tell him, loading my voice with determination that he shouldn’t dare argue with.

  But he does. ‘And I’m not leaving you.’ He has a quick scan of our surroundings.

  ‘Then it looks like you’re staying at Lucy’s, too,’ I say quietly, and I find I imitate him, looking around.

  ‘Princess,’ Becker sighs, exasperated. ‘You’re coming home with me.’

  A sniffle and a splutter reminds me of my wreck of a friend who is still in my hold. ‘I’m not leaving her,’ I grate, backing up my declaration with a determined glare. She’s pissed, she’s been dumped, and she’s emotional. ‘She needs—’ Something suddenly springs to mind, and I frown as I glance down and search Lucy’s hands. ‘Our bags,’ I say, looking back at the bar. ‘We left our bags in the bar.’ The crowds have died down, but the doormen are keeping watch, looking rather foreboding. They’ll be fine. I’ll explain the problem, and I’m sure they’ll oblige and let me in to collect our bags. I thrust Lucy towards Becker, a silent demand to hold onto her, and head for the bar.

  ‘Eleanor!’ he yells, and I look over my shoulder, having to hold back my laugh when I see him keeping a weeping Lucy at arm’s length, a wary look on his face. ‘I don’t do emotional women.’

  ‘No shit,’ I mumble, taking off and leaving him to deal with her.

  ‘Princess, get your arse back here now!’

  I ignore him and arrive at the doors, smiling sweetly at the doormen. Both glare at me like I’m something on the bottom of their chunky boots. ‘Go away, little woman,’ the largest one grunts, linking his arms behind his back and looking straight through me. Little woman? If I didn’t need those bags, I’d show him how little this woman is. I had nothing to do with the anarchy inside, but I guess I’m guilty by association.