Life of Lies

by Sharon Sala

  The camera cut to Sahara as she looked straight into the lens.

  “I think I was as shocked as you all were to hear that I was dead. As you can see, that is anything but the truth. I was so touched to see the crowds outside my family home, and to learn of the mementos being left at the gates. My fans mean the world to me. I take pride in my work and would never want to let you down. It is touching to know that you really care.

  “So, as you can see, I am alive and well, and putting this rumor to rest for good.”

  Then her expression changed. Brendan saw a muscle jerk at the side of her jaw, and when her hands doubled up into fists, his heart skipped a beat. What the hell was she about to do?

  “Now I have another message,” she said, and slowly stood. “It’s for the gutless coward who murdered my parents…the same asshole who’s been trying to kill me.”

  The whole crew gasped, as did McQueen.

  She stared straight into the camera. “Look at me, you slimy little weasel. If you want me dead, you’re going to have to come into my world to do it. Every attack you’ve made has been behind my back, or in the dark. You’ve killed two elderly people, an innocent young woman, an airport mechanic, and got your own hired gun killed—all because you’re afraid to face me. That says coward to me, and I’m not afraid of cowards. If you want me, you know where I am. Come and get me.”

  Brendan strode over to where Buzz was standing. “Cut the feed now,” he snapped.

  Buzz nodded at the cameraman, and the live feed ended.

  Brendan turned around and stared at Sahara as if she was a stranger. He had not seen that coming, and now it was too late to take it back.

  “What the hell did you just do?” he asked.

  She lifted her chin and wouldn’t answer in front of the crew.

  Brendan hustled them out of the house, then ran back to where she was waiting.

  She was standing in the doorway.

  “Why?” he asked, then took her in his arms and held her.

  “Because I’m sick of this, and I want it over. I set the trap. Now it’s your job to figure out a way to make him think I will be unprotected.”

  “Damn it, Travis,” he said, then tilted her chin up and kissed her.

  Sixteen

  Bubba drove around the city until it was full-on dark, rented a room in a motel with a clerk who wouldn’t ask questions, then called an escort service. He was numb, and he needed to feel something.

  When the prostitute showed up, he handed over the money and sat down on the side of the bed for the blow job he’d just paid for. He watched what was happening from a detached state of being. His body was reacting to the prostitute’s wet mouth and long tongue, knowing that the blood rush moving from his heart to his groin was going to explode inside him in a sensuous rush. And when it did, he grabbed the prostitute’s head, pushing it down upon his erection as he came.

  With the ripples of the climax still rolling through him, and the prostitute flailing her arms in wild abandon as she struggled to breathe, he grabbed her head and pulled it back until they were staring face-to-face.

  “Get out!” he said.

  The prostitute scrambled up and left on the run.

  He got up to clean himself, and then ashamed of what he’d done, he began wiping down everything he had touched in the room. He felt that if he left no trace of himself behind, then he could pretend it had never happened.

  He drove back to New Orleans in the slow lane, with the rest of the travelers on the highway whizzing by.

  It never occurred to him that he was losing it. That the decision to kill had split his psyche straight in two. The fact that he could obey traffic laws while blindly disregarding other laws in his hunt for revenge didn’t seem strange at all.

  It was late when he got to his apartment, and he was careful to walk quietly down the hall. He locked the door behind him and put the rifle case in the top of his closet, stripped naked and took a shower before crawling into bed.

  *

  Sahara picked at dinner. Her appetite was a joke, but so was her life.

  She glanced up at Billie. She seemed bothered, too. The smile was gone from her eyes, and she was far less vocal than normal.

  Finally, Billie said what had been on her mind ever since she heard it.

  “Why did you challenge a killer?”

  Sahara reached for her mother’s hand. “To end this. I don’t like being a sitting duck waiting for the hunter to reload.”

  Billie’s chin trembled. She was struggling very hard not to cry.

  “I just got you back in my life. I would not live through losing you again.”

  “You aren’t going to lose me. Brendan won’t let that happen.”

  Billie shook her head. “You laid a terrible burden on his back, child. How can he protect you from the unknown?”

  Brendan interrupted. “It won’t be hard, Billie. At any time, only three other people besides myself are supposed to be in this house, and they’re all sitting here at this table. Anyone else comes in here, and I shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “I don’t get out of his sight, Mama. I’m not stupid,” Sahara said.

  Billie wiped a shaky hand over her face and then stood. “I made an Italian cream cake for dessert. You picked at your food. Technically you should not get a piece.”

  Sahara smiled ruefully. “I remember that rule, but the day I passed thirty I earned the right to skip the entrée and go straight to dessert every now and then.”

  Billie sighed. “And you always outtalked me, too.”

  Lucy was quiet, watching the back and forth between mother and daughter, and wondering how much of Sahara Travis came from her father rather than Billie. She wondered how Billie had coped with giving up her claim to her daughter just to give her a better life. This whole scenario was foreign to her, but it did explain a lot about her boss. She’d always felt like Sahara was a woman with secrets, but she would never have imagined all this.

  McQueen’s phone began to vibrate across the table as Billie got up to cut the cake. He glanced at it, saw it was from Harold and just handed it to Sahara.

  “It’s Harold. You may as well answer,” he said.

  Sahara frowned. “All he’s going to do is read me the riot act. Excuse me, people. I’ll step out into the hall to take this so you won’t have to hear me grovel.”

  “If you go to the hall, I go to the hall,” Brendan said. “Just sit. When someone continues trying to kill you, then you know manners have gone all to hell.”

  Billie giggled. “Answer it and don’t worry about me,” she said.

  Lucy nodded. “Answer it or he’ll have a stroke.”

  Sahara sighed and answered the call. “Hello, Harold.”

  He didn’t bother to say hello. He just started shouting.

  “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? What the hell was Brendan thinking letting you do that?”

  “Stop shouting at me. He didn’t know I was going to do it, so don’t play the blame game. This was my decision, and I’d do it again. I’m sick of living like this. You’re not the sitting duck, I am. I want this over, so I’ve set a trap. The end.”

  “I may never sleep again,” he muttered.

  “Go have a drink. Eat some pie. Chill, Harold. We’ve got this.”

  She heard him sigh, then clear his throat.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for ages, and now is as good a time as any. You mean the world to me. I love you like a daughter. I had hopes of a son-in-law and grandchildren one day. Don’t get all brave on me and screw this up!”

  The call ended with her eyes swimming in tears.

  “He hung up on me,” she said, and gave the phone back to McQueen.

  “You’re crying. What the hell did he say to you?” Brendan asked.

  “It was a sweet thing, not a bad thing. I’m crying because it touched me.”

  “What did he say?” Lucy asked.

  “That he loved me like a daug
hter. He’s expecting grandchildren and me not to screw this up.”

  Lucy giggled. “Harold is never subtle.”

  Billie was a little jealous that a man she didn’t know had fifteen years of a relationship with Sahara that had made them close like family. It was only two years less she’d had with her daughter, but it was so long ago and filled with too many ugly secrets they’d had to keep. If she had it to do over again, she would never have given up her baby to others. But hindsight was a whole other thing, and she was going to have to live with guilt for the rest of her life.

  Sahara wouldn’t look at McQueen, but she didn’t have to. The words had already rattled him. Sahara, love and babies in one sentence was enough to make his head spin. Instead of commenting, he got up and began refilling coffee cups to go with the dessert.

  A short while later the meal finally ended.

  The day had been stressful for everyone, and by the time the kitchen was clean, Billie retired to her rooms.

  The rest of them went to the library for an after-dinner drink. When the conversation hit a lull, Sahara glanced up at Lucy.

  “Remember the other day when you offered to go back to LA to see to the cleanup of the penthouse? Well, I want you to go. Tomorrow.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Okay, but why so sudden?”

  “Because I have invited a killer into this house, and I do not want you in the line of fire. You’ve done so much for me, and I refuse to put you in any more harm.”

  Lucy stared until her chin began to tremble. “Yes, of course. I’ll pack tonight. Do you think I’ll be able to get a flight for tomorrow this last minute?”

  “I’ll find one for you,” Brendan said. “Don’t worry.”

  Sahara’s hands were shaking. This was the first move in acknowledging the reality of the killer who would be coming after her. She cleared her throat.

  “Of course I don’t have a key card to the penthouse anymore, but I’ll make sure Adam has one for you. If there’s smoke damage, then call an interior decorator and have it staged to sell after it’s cleaned as you suggested.”

  “I will,” Lucy said. “If there’s no damage, I’ll get your clothes packed up and stored.”

  Sahara thought of the day she’d moved into the penthouse and how safe she’d felt in her aerie high above the streets. To think it had become a trap that nearly killed her had ruined the magic. She didn’t ever want to set foot in it again.

  “Yes, all right,” Sahara said. “And have someone pack up my kitchen. I want my pots and pans and cookbooks.”

  “What about all the china and crystal?”

  “Yes, that, too,” she said. “And the awards. I spent fifteen years earning them. I won’t throw that away.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get it done,” Lucy said.

  “I’m paying you extra for this. Your annual salary for the year in a lump sum, over and above your monthly salary.”

  Lucy gasped. “I can’t! That’s…that’s so generous of you, Sahara.”

  “You’ll take it, Lucy. I insist. You’re worth it,” Sahara said.

  Lucy ducked her head. “Thank you. I’m going to my room to pack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Give me your cell number and I’ll send the plane ticket and boarding passes to your phone,” Brendan said, then entered the number in his contacts.

  She waved a quick goodbye and left.

  Sahara set her wine aside. “We may as well go up so you can work on her reservations.”

  Brendan slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you rock?” he said.

  “Not and mean it,” she said, and slid her arm around his waist.

  “Then follow me,” he said.

  “To the ends of the earth,” she said.

  He wanted so much to believe this was true as he leaned down and kissed her.

  She groaned as the kiss deepened, and then Brendan stopped.

  “Hold this for later and don’t forget where we were.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Sahara said.

  They left the library arm in arm.

  He set the security alarm in the upstairs hall and then walked her into the bedroom and locked the door.

  “Why don’t you soak in the tub for a while. It’ll help you relax. I’m going to get Lucy’s ticket out of the way.”

  She wasn’t going to argue and began undressing as she walked away.

  Brendan got his laptop. A short while later he was on a ticket search for a one-way ticket to LA.

  Across the hall, Lucy was packing, but with a tumble of emotions. She wanted to be back in LA with Wiley, but it would be different this time. She would be the one in charge. She’d be giving orders and making decisions. She tossed another blouse into the suitcase and then smiled. This might turn into a cool gig, after all.

  *

  Brendan sent the ticket info to Lucy’s phone and got a quick thank-you as a response. He grimaced. She wouldn’t be thanking him tomorrow when she had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to make the flight. To make it up to her, he’d also hired a car and driver to pick her up here at the house. It was the best they could do on short notice.

  He paused to listen, but there was total silence coming from the bathroom. Soaking was in progress, so he opened the file on Leopold Travis and read through his last notes, then picked up where he’d left off.

  He had pared the list of past owners of the house where Leopold was killed down to a woman who fit Leopold’s timeline of payoffs. Now he had to run a background check on her, see if she married, if she had children, and, if she did, match birth dates to the date of the payoff.

  But before he could begin, Sahara opened the door, turned out the light behind her and walked into the bedroom. She pulled back the covers and stretched out on the sheets—naked as the day she’d been born.

  Brendan shut down the laptop, taking off clothes as he turned out the bedroom lights, and was in her bed within seconds.

  Sahara turned on her side to face him, then closed her eyes and began tracing the shape of his face with her fingers.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Memorizing you.”

  His heart sank. “So you’ll remember what I look like after I’m gone?”

  Her hands stilled on his face as she opened her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  He sighed. “Just take this on a day-by-day basis. I’m here now. You already know if it happens it won’t be me quitting you.”

  When she started to argue, he rose up on one elbow, slid his hand beneath her neck and kissed her. Her hair was silk against his skin. Then his mouth was on her breast and his hand on her belly as his search moved lower, then lower still. When his hand reached the juncture of her thighs, she parted her legs and arched against the heel of his hand as he began to stroke.

  Over and over, slow and steady, then faster in a pounding rhythm that mimicked her heartbeat. At that point, Sahara lost focus on everything but the waves of pleasure that slowly turned into a climax on the verge of exploding.

  Brendan felt her fingernails digging into his arms and knew she was close, so close to coming. He kept stroking, making that tiny nub harder and hotter until she gasped.

  Sahara was blind to everything but the blood rush bursting through her body in one overwhelming rush. The sensation of free fall was so real that she grabbed him to keep from crashing to the ground. When she could breathe without screaming, she pulled him down to her.

  “Ah, Brendan…how I love you,” she whispered, as he raised up his hips and slid inside her, and like before, her body adjusted to make room to let him in.

  The deep tenor of his voice was raspy-rough with emotion.

  “I will love you until the day I die, and for however long this lasts between us, and I will ruin you to ever loving another man.”

  Then he began to move.

  One stroke, then another, and another until the joining was a hammer of flesh a
gainst flesh, spiraling into a need so maddening that nothing else mattered. Seconds turned to minutes as the sweat grew on their bodies.

  Sahara kept pace with every stroke as he drove deeper and deeper. That burn in her belly was turning into a fire again as she wrapped her legs around his waist. And then she moaned when he went deeper.

  The sound sent him into another level of need, moving faster, stroking harder. She heard his breath catch, and then he groaned, rocking against her as he came, sowing his seed in the warm fertile bed of her body.

  It was McQueen’s undoing that tipped Sahara over the edge. She came again as his body was still rocking. She kept kissing his face, and then his lips over and over.

  “Love you…so much,” she kept saying.

  “Love you more,” he whispered, then gathered her close as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  *

  Brendan had set the alarm on his phone to wake him before Lucy had to leave, and when it went off, Sahara woke up with him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Lucy’s car will be here in a little less than an hour. I need to carry her bags down the stairs.”

  Sahara brushed a quick kiss across his mouth. “You are the best, Brendan McQueen, and I should tell her goodbye.”

  She got out of bed and ran into the bathroom, only to come out a couple of minutes later with her hair and teeth brushed. She ran into the closet to get clothes and met Brendan coming out already dressed. When they passed in the doorway, he gave her a quick pat on her bare backside.

  “That’s a good look on you,” he said, and winked.

  She was still smiling as he went into the bathroom, and within minutes they were out of the room and knocking on the door across the hall.

  Lucy looked worried when she opened the door. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Sahara said. “Brendan is carrying your bags down the stairs, and I came to tell you goodbye.”

  Lucy smiled. “Really? Thank you so much. I’m already packed. All I need is to get my purse and phone, and I’m ready to go.”