Lies
Page 1
Contents
Lies
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
LIES – Web of Sin book 2
Web of Sin Book two
Prologue
1. Sterling
2. Araneae
3. Sterling
4. Araneae
5. Sterling
6. Sterling
7. Annabelle
8. Araneae
9. Araneae
10. Araneae
11. Sterling
12. Araneae
13. Araneae
14. Araneae
15. Araneae
16. Araneae
17. Annabelle
18. Araneae
19. Araneae
20. Araneae
21. Sterling
22. Araneae
23. Araneae
24. Annabelle
25. Araneae
26. Araneae
27. Araneae
28. Annabelle
29. Araneae
30. Sterling
31. Araneae
32. Araneae
33. Sterling
34. Sterling
35. Annabelle
36. Araneae
37. Araneae
38. Sterling
39. Araneae
40. Araneae
41. Araneae
What to do now
Books by New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig
About the Author
Book #2 of the WEB OF SIN trilogy
Aleatha Romig
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of the Consequences and Infidelity series.
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
LIES
Book 2 of the WEB OF SIN trilogy
Copyright @ 2018 Romig Works, LLC
Published by Romig Works, LLC
2018 Edition
ISBN: 978-1-947189-26-3
Cover art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design (www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk)
Editing: Lisa Aurello
Formatting: Romig Works, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
2018 Edition License
* * *
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
LIES – Web of Sin book 2
Blurb
The twisted and intriguing storytelling that you loved in Consequences and Infidelity continues with an all-new alpha anti-hero in the dark romance series Web of Sin, by New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig.
I am...
That’s no longer an easy statement.
Who am I?
Since Sterling Sparrow, a man so handsome he takes my breath away and so infuriating he pushes me in ways I’ve never known, came barreling into my life like a category five hurricane, I can’t even finish that simple statement.
In twenty-six years I’ve lived three lives—been three different people.
Renee. Kennedy. And now, Araneae.
They say that I was named after the spider to make me resilient.
Sparrow would then be a bird.
Birds eat spiders.
I prefer to consider myself a cat. It ups my chance of surviving the world I’m now living.
Maybe that’s only wishful thinking because according to Sterling, my number of lives is running out.
There are people who want to harm me, to learn the secrets they claim that I possess.
The only person to offer me protection is Sterling Sparrow.
Can I trust a man who willingly put me in the sight of danger?
What is real?
What are lies?
Have you been Aleatha’d?
Lies is book two of the Web of Sin trilogy.
Web of Sin Book two
LIES
* * *
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive~ Walter Scott
Prologue
Araneae
The end of Secrets, book #1 of the Web of Sin trilogy
With an air of the status he said I deserved, I made my way through the people and back onto the tall stool. The liquid in my drink quivered as I lifted my glass. With the rim to my lips, I hoped the contents would ease a little of the strange feeling the lady in the bathroom had given me.
I replayed the scene. She was slender with blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist, diamonds dangled from her ears as well as her fingers, and her gown was long and emerald green. If I really thought about it, the eerie feeling began before she asked about my bracelet. I felt it as our eyes met.
My neck straightened as the energy around me shifted, telling me he was near even before his hand landed upon my shoulder or voice came to my ear.
“I told you not to talk to anyone.”
“I haven’t,” I whispered back.
“Then how the fuck did you get that drink?”
I turned to face him, my eyes shooting lasers—if only they could.
His large hand grasped my upper arm. “We’re leaving.”
My gaze went from him to his hand as the pressure on my arm built. “Sterling, you’re hurting me.”
Instead of releasing his grip, his fingers blanched. His mouth barely moved as he growled in my ear. “Get down now, or I’ll put you over my shoulder. We’re leaving.”
Since there was nothing I’d put past him, my heels quickly moved from the bar beneath the stool to the floor. “Is everything all right?” I asked as I stood. “Did it work?”
Our words were low. “You’re safe.”
Was I?
As we began walking toward the elevator with my arm aching under his grasp, for not the first time, I questioned his statement. From whom did I need protection?
“Mr. Sparrow—”
“We’re leaving,” Sterling said, interrupting Evelyn.
A commotion behind us caused both of us to turn.
“Araneae?” the woman from the bathroom questioned, her pronunciation was like that of the real spider. “Oh my God, is it really you?”
My lips opened as Sterling’s grip loosened, and he reached for my waist, pulling me against him.
“Why? How?” she asked, her cheeks red and blotchy and her soft brown eyes flooding with tears. “My God, why? How are you here? And why are you with him? Marrying him?”
The doors to the elevator opened, and the smile on the man inside faded as Sterling escorted me aboard.
“Talk to me,” she pleaded.
“Get us downstairs,” Sterling barked as the man pushed the appropriate button.
I reached out and stopped the doors from closing. “Who are you?”
“Araneae,” Sterling said.
I moved my hand back, allowing the doors to close but not before I heard her answer.
“I’m your mother.”
My knees went weak as I collapsed into Sterling’s arms.
Sterling
“Araneae,” I called repeatedly as the elevator doors closed, and her limp body collapsed against mine. My voice rose with each floor we descended until her head rolled back, and panic flooded my bloodstream. This was more than a reaction to what she’d just heard. “Araneae, you’re all right,” I reassured, uncertain if she cou
ld hear me.
Was she?
What the fuck happened?
She had to be. That was what I’d told her...you’re safe.
Her feet slid on the shiny floor of the elevator as her body dangled in my grasp. Placing two fingers on her neck, I prayed to God, one I’d long ago stopped believing in, asking him, her, or it, for a miracle that I sure as hell didn’t deserve.
I didn’t.
Araneae did.
I prayed for a pulse.
Thump, thump—the swish of blood in her veins pulsated beneath my finger.
I sighed with a bit of relief as I called her name again, my voice coming out more as a growl. My free hand gently slapped her cheek. “Araneae, fucking wake up.”
She didn’t.
“Mr. Sparrow,” Jamison said, his voice barely penetrating the rush of adrenaline swooshing through my ears.
I turned to see his widened eyes as his back flattened against the wall.
“Stop the elevator,” I demanded, needing more time than we would otherwise have, while simultaneously, in one fell swoop, I lifted her, cradling her lifeless body with her legs bent over my arm and face fallen against my chest. The elevator jerked and an alarm sounded as Jamison did as I said. “Take my phone from my pocket,” I yelled over the shrill siren, pushing my hip his direction.
With a bit of hesitation, his eyes moving between the pocket of my jacket and me, he reached forward.
I extended my hand, the one holding Araneae’s legs, as he handed me the phone. With it in my grasp, I hit the button to call Patrick and turned back to Jamison. My tone left no room for discussion. “Get this damned thing moving again.”
“Get the car behind the building, now,” I barked into the phone.
With shaking hands, Jamison hit the button, quelling the alarm and returning the elevator to motion. Thankfully, this particular elevator only stopped at two floors—the club and the back of the restaurant—leaving no concern that anyone else would enter. I narrowed my gaze toward Jamison. “She walked out of this club tonight. If I hear anything different from anyone, it won’t bode well for you or for them.”
Jamison’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded. “Of course, sir. She was faint, but she-she,” he stuttered, staring at her in my arms, “was much better by the time we reached the bottom floor.”
“For your sake and your family’s, that better be the story I hear.”
His head nodded. “It will. You have my word.”
My attention went back to the call as Araneae’s lips parted. The hand in which I held the phone uncharacteristically shook. “Get here now. Call Dr. Dixon and have her meet us at the apartment. I don’t give a fuck where she is or what she’s doing. Get her there!”
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.
No matter how many times I said it, I couldn’t make it true.
A small bit of saliva pooled behind her lips.
I’d made my statement—declaring her off-limits.
Who was willing to challenge me, right the fuck in front of me?
The drink.
My body tensed, knowing in my gut that was the answer. Right under my goddamned nose someone had gotten to her.
She wasn’t lying in my arms because of the news she’d heard or because she’d seen her birth mother. That had been jarring and fucking unexpected. I never would have guessed that Rubio McFadden—senator and potential presidential candidate, not to mention an underworld kingpin and the Sparrow outfit’s biggest adversary—would show up with the crowd that was there with his mistress instead of his wife.
His mistress, Annabelle Landers, was a federal court judge as well as the widow of Daniel McCrie. It was a small fucking world that ran the underground of Chicago. And it was about to get smaller.
Having Annabelle present at tonight’s gathering was one possibility I hadn’t explored.
As soon as I saw her at that table with McFadden, I knew our stay had to be short. I was anxious—too anxious—to stake my claim. Now, Araneae was suffering the consequences.
The elevator came to a stop as I looked at Jamison. “Is there somewhere we can stay out of sight until the car arrives?”
“Yes, sir—”
The vibration of my phone interrupted him as I pushed the button and read the text from Patrick.
* * *
“HERE. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? WHY A DOCTOR?”
* * *
I wasn’t sure how Patrick had done it—how he’d gotten here so quickly. I didn’t care. I also didn’t respond to him. I turned back to Jamison. “Make sure no one sees us.”
Jamison’s head bobbed. “Yes, yes...let me...” He hurried away. A few seconds later he was back. “It’s clear to the doorway, sir. No one will know. As far as the story goes, you both walked out of here.”
I hesitated as my eyes searched. “Cameras?”
“No. Strict club policy. Can’t have cameras in a place that doesn’t exist.”
“For your sake, that better be the case and the story I hear.”
As I flung open the door at the back of the building, Patrick’s door flew open and he raced our way. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you in the car. We need to get the fuck out of here.”
Settling in the backseat with Araneae still cradled in my arms as the back door closed, for a moment something happened, something that I couldn’t recall ever occurring, not since I was too young to remember. The lump growing in my throat since Annabelle came rushing our way grew bigger. Araneae’s paling complexion blurred as moisture filled my eyes. Releasing her body and legs to the seat, I held her face close.
She was positioned as she had been on the beach of the lake in Ontario. That vision came back: her beautiful soft brown eyes staring up at me, asking me for answers, and trusting that I’d give them, that I’d help her.
My voice cracked, the lump now a dam holding back what I refused to release. “Come back to me, sunshine. I can’t lose you now. I won’t.”
The door slammed and my neck straightened as Patrick put the car in motion.
Sniffing back the emotion I didn’t recognize and wouldn’t acknowledge, I moved on to what I knew, something familiar and comfortable—anger, rage, and determination. Clearing my throat, my voice grew louder as I released her face, still secured in my lap and gripped the door handle. “Dr. Dixon?” I asked, my fingers blanching as the wrath within me built.
I could tear the fucking handle off the door, but that wouldn’t save Araneae, nor would it exact the revenge that I planned to inflict.
“She’s on her way, Sparrow. She was on call but said she’ll get someone else to cover. She understands there’s an emergency.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “You know she wouldn’t let you down.” He pounded the steering wheel as our speed increased, and he weaved in and out of traffic. “Tell me,” he demanded, “What happened and who? Who’s going to die for this?”
“Not Araneae. Not on my watch.” I shook my head, recalling the club. “Fuck. I started with Hillman. I wasn’t...” The realization hit me. The person who was responsible was me. I was the one who didn’t do my job. Pushing that away, I tried to think about what happened. “...I wasn’t watching like I should have. She should have been safe.”
“Hillman?”
I recalled the impromptu meeting I’d conducted. “It would have caused World War III if I had gone straight to Rubio. Wendell Hillman’s his bookkeeper, his consigliere.” Patrick knew that. I was simply talking to talk, to recall anything—everything. “I told him that she was here. She was found and most importantly, she was mine.”
Patrick nodded.
“Neither Rubio nor Hillman did anything personally. I was with Hillman the whole time. McFadden was in my sight too...” I replayed it all in my mind.
By the blanching of his fingers, Patrick’s grip upon the steering wheel was as intense as mine upon the door handle. Araneae was important to us all. We’d planned her acquisition together. They k
new how imperative having her with us was for many reasons.
Up until recently, the plan and execution had all been in theory. However, now that she was with us, we all saw her light. How could we not? She brightened every fucking room with simply her presence.
I had a fleeting memory of Patrick telling me that Araneae had demanded that I call her. As he relayed her message, he tried to hold back, but the idea of her commanding me had him laughing his ass off. We all knew she was like no other woman I’d ever had, how she pushed my buttons, and how she made everything...different.
“Fucker,” I went on, concentrating on the story I’d been telling, “wanted to talk to her. Like I’d allow that.”
“Hillman wanted to?”
“Wanted to. I wouldn’t allow it.”
“Did she talk to anyone?”
I shook my head. “Not any of them. The conversation was intense. I didn’t want her to hear what could have been said. I told her to sit at the bar and not speak to anyone.” I looked down and smoothed her blonde hair away from her beautiful face. Her skin was too cool. For the second time, I pushed two fingers against the side of her neck.