Buried Lies (Hidden Truths)

by Brittney Sahin

  I didn’t see Lauren anywhere, but she might have already met up with Declan.

  Blowing out a nervous breath, I closed the distance between myself and Connor and cleared my throat.

  The blonde turned, and her dark green eyes narrowed on me. She kept her hand on his back as she tilted her head up, letting me know he’d been claimed.

  “Connor?” His shoulders flinched. The woman’s hand dropped to her side as her red lips pursed together. “Hi.” I smoothed a hand over my black dress.

  His green eyes settled on my mouth once he faced me, and his chest swelled. “Olivia. How are you?” The deep timber of his voice made my core clench.

  “Good. Declan sent me for you.”

  “Give me a minute.” He turned back to the table as if unable to stand the sight of me and slid a stack of chips to the double zero. What was he thinking? That had to be twenty grand.

  “Looks like you’ve figured out what to do with your father’s money.” Shit, I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “It’s my money,” he was quick to respond.

  “Same thing, right?” Damn. Damn. Damn. I needed to stop.

  He was clearing his throat, his back still to me. “My money from before. My job paid well.” He shook his head. “Not that I need to explain myself to you.”

  “Double zero!”

  Some kind of luck.

  The woman placed her hand on his arm. “Nice!”

  Connor turned to me, ignoring the woman who swooned over him as large denomination chips were pushed his way. “I don’t plan on keeping my father’s money. Or the business. FYI.” There was grit in his voice.

  Maybe he wouldn’t make a deal with Declan, after all. “Really?” I tried to sound disappointed. Angling my head down, I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. I had to play the part.

  “Okay if my friend comes to the club?”

  I blew out a breath and looked over at the woman. She stared back at me, and her eyes went round, her plump injected lips curving into a smile.

  “My friend, Ben, lives in Vegas. I invited him. Hope that’s okay?”

  The temptation to smirk at the woman faded as Connor took a step closer to me, pushing all the oxygen from the room. “No problem.”

  Connor turned to the woman. “Have a good night.”

  I couldn’t hide a smile as we left her behind. “How was your flight? Mine didn’t have any turbulence.” Thank God. I wasn’t sure if I was capable of making small talk with him, but I’d give it a shot.

  He glanced down at me from over his shoulder. He was tall—more than half a foot taller than my five foot seven, and his broad shoulders made me feel that much smaller. I combed my fingers through my hair, and realized that could be considered flirtatious . . . but I didn’t mean it like that. Did I?

  “The flight was fine.” He was cold. Hard. Icy, even. The muscle in his square jaw tightened as we walked.

  Why was he so angry with me? I had every right to hold a grudge for the way he’d abandoned me, but what in the hell was his excuse?

  I needed to focus. He was a job now.

  “Does your boss always do business like this?” he asked as we weaved our way to The Phoenix. He must’ve already scoped out the location—the hotel was a maze.

  I shrugged. “I guess so.” How much did Connor know about Declan? I couldn’t believe that Connor would ever do business with a criminal. Of course, on paper, Declan appeared to be a legit businessman. I couldn’t exactly enlighten Connor on the truth through.

  What if Connor blew my cover?

  Even after all these years, it was hard to turn off the switch on my feelings. We’d been together for a year. Still, that was the longest relationship of my life.

  We stopped for a minute on our way to the club. “Let me text my friend,” he said. I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands as he tapped at his iPhone. Those hands had once touched every inch of my body . . .

  I didn’t know I was biting my lip until I saw Connor staring at my mouth. Something dark—dangerous, even—lurked behind his eyes. “You ready?” I checked the silver Movado on my wrist. It was half past eleven.

  “Yeah.”

  We bypassed the line and headed through the lobby of the club, which was lit only by black lights. I nodded to the two men standing guard outside the two elevators. I halted just in front of them and turned to face Connor, but he must not have been paying attention—he plowed right into me. My back pushed up against the closed elevator doors, and he sucked in a breath as his hand braced against the door.

  I shot him an apologetic look.

  He stared down at me, and even in the dim light, his eyes flickered.

  “You okay, Miss Taylor?” Seth, one of the bodyguards, asked.

  Connor kept his eyes on mine as he took a step back, giving me room to breathe. I could vaguely hear a few of the women in line nearby: “Hot.” “Sexy.” “So fuckable.” I couldn’t disagree.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Seth.” I swallowed, looking back at Connor. “What’s the name of your friend? So I can put him on the list.” I rubbed my semi-sweaty palms against the sides of my dress and wondered whether my chest had grown overnight. Or perhaps the dress had shrunk. It was far too snug tonight.

  “Ben Logan,” Connor said, directing his attention to Seth.

  Seth leaned forward. “Looking fine tonight, Liv. You put these girls to shame,” he whispered, jerking a thumb at the line behind him.

  Connor’s jaw tightened as his eyes focused on Seth, like Seth was a predator I needed protection from. It was enough to make me laugh. Connor was far more dangerous to me than Seth could ever be.

  Connor’s hand touched my elbow, and he motioned when the elevator doors chimed and opened. “Ready?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

  Blinking a few times, I followed him in. “There’s plenty of room,” I said to Seth.

  Seth held up his hand and shook his head while groans slipped from the lips of women in line. “Just you two.”

  After the doors had closed and we began our fifty-one story trek up to the club, Connor said, “You should think twice before wearing a dress like that to work.” His voice was rasping, hoarse.

  My lips parted as my eyes grew wide. Who the hell did he think he was? Our gaze met in the mirrored elevator doors. “And I think you should keep comments like that to yourself,” I hissed.

  He took a step back and turned away from me, looking out the glass wall as the lights of the city shrank below. “Nice view.” He tucked his hands in his slacks pockets.

  I all but jumped out of the elevator once it opened. “Declan’s waiting outside.”

  “Outside?”

  “Yeah. There are two dance areas, but the best one is on the rooftop.” I tried to ignore the uptick in my pulse and began down the dark, narrow hall, which was lit only by the flickers of phoenix-from-the-flames drawings. I welcomed the fresh air as we stepped out on the patio of the nightclub, which was nestled at the top of the hotel.

  “Nice place.”

  I stole a look at Connor out of the corner of my eye. He was checking the place out, probably as enamored with the club like everyone else.

  The DJ was spinning hip-hop and the stripper pole in the middle of the dance floor was sans stripper . . . for now. “This way.”

  Connor’s eyes remained on the crowd, a mesh of bodies smacking against each other to the music, some dancing well, others rhythmically-challenged.

  To get into the club, people have to be invited. Even those waiting in line downstairs were on the list to get in. This wasn’t just for the grand-opening, Declan planned to maintain the hyper-exclusivity of the place.

  It took me a moment to find Declan, but as I scanned the room, I spotted him tucked away in one of the VIP booths off to the side of the bar, with Lauren standing at attendance. My stomach lurched at the sight of her, and I wasn’t sure why. As we approached the booth, Connor trailing a few painful steps behind, I noticed that Lauren’s barely-the
re red lace dress looked like it was pasted on her body. Was this her business casual attire?

  “Declan. Lauren.” I fixed a smile on my face as we stopped near the booth.

  Declan scooted out and rose to his feet, dressed in a tailored, three-piece retro brown suit. He looked sharp. Lethal.

  “What do you think?” Declan unbuttoned his suit jacket and motioned for us to have a seat.

  “It’s great.” Connor gestured for me, and then Lauren, to slide in first.

  Lauren’s brown eyes, enhanced by jet-black eyeliner and false eyelashes, focused on Connor as he sat down. She scooted between Connor and me, her thigh unnaturally close to his. I had to tear my gaze away from her hand, which was draped over her lap, but only a few inches away from his leg.

  Who was she into—Declan or Connor? Maybe she wanted both. Yeah, I could totally see that.

  But Lauren wasn’t Connor’s type, was she? Of course, he may have changed in the last ten years—wait. What was I thinking?

  “You okay?” Declan was snapping his fingers at me.

  Shit, I was losing my edge. Blake thought having Connor involved might help me break the case, but he was wrong. Having Connor around might cause me to lose my damn job—or worse.

  “I was saying that we should enjoy the club tonight and talk business tomorrow.” Declan’s eyes creased at the corners as he pushed a lopsided grin to his face. “What do you think, Liv?”

  I really hated that Declan sometimes referred to me as Liv, but I needed to suck it up like I’d done the last nine months, and smile. I needed to play the smart but slightly naïve girl Declan had come to appreciate, and hopefully, would open up to.

  “Why don’t you two dance?” Declan gestured at Connor and me.

  Connor glanced in my direction with his lips in a straight line.

  I gulped and straightened my spine. “Um.”

  My orders were to get close to Connor. But how close would be too close? I studied Connor’s strong profile out of the corner of my eye and waited for his answer.

  A grin stretched across Declan’s face. “Come on. Enjoy yourself.” He stood up once again, allowing Connor to exit.

  Hesitant, Connor started to slide out of the large booth.

  “Save me a dance,” Lauren said once he was standing.

  He nodded at her but kept his eyes on me. I was still sitting, wasn’t I?

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” I finally said, my bottom glued to the seat.

  “I will, then!” Lauren rushed to her feet and reached for Connor’s hand before he could respond.

  Connor released a barely noticeable breath as he looked away and to the dance area. With slow steps, Connor and Lauren moved deeper into the whirl of activity. Once in the dedicated dance area, Lauren’s hand swooped around to his back, and she pulled herself up against him.

  Why was I watching them? I winced as a hand patted my knee. It was Declan’s. When had he sat back down? And why in the hell was the bastard touching me? “They make a cute couple,” I said, trying not to choke on my words.

  “You have a thing for him, huh?” He removed his hand—thank God—and studied me.

  “What? No!” Resting my hands on the table, I stared down at my short, red painted fingernails, forcing myself to keep from looking over at Lauren and Connor dance.

  Almost ten years since he’d completely abandoned me, and for some Godforsaken reason I was still in heat over the damn man. “Want a drink?” I tried to side-step Declan’s concerns.

  “Liv.” His icy fingers touched my chin, tilting my face in his direction. “Dance with him.”

  “Why?”

  “Go after what’s yours. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  What was mine? Connor wasn’t mine—not even close. Until the other day, I’d forgotten that we shared a planet. I’d written off his very existence a long time ago.

  Okay, so maybe not entirely. Maybe when I got into the boxing ring to spar, I pictured him sometimes.

  And his father, too.

  I half-smiled at Declan as I scooted out of the booth, careful to keep my dress from riding up too high.

  “Good girl.”

  The slap on my ass had my head spinning in his direction as I rose to my feet. I controlled the urge to ball my hands into fists, curtailing the desire to slug him in the face. But I’d been trained at Quantico, for Christ’s sakes. I could handle Declan Reid.

  Chapter Nine

  Connor

  Grabby hands didn’t normally bother me, but knowing Olivia was at the club made Lauren’s wandering paws feel wrong, somehow. I wasn’t cheating, though. It was ridiculous to feel that way.

  Olivia was standing at the bar, her back turned to me, just on the outskirts of the dance area. I’d tossed my suit jacket and rolled my dress sleeves up. The night air was still warm, and I was burning up. My hands slid down Lauren’s exposed back as I pulled her closer, and another sensation of guilt crawled up my spine.

  When I caught sight of Ben, relief slammed into me. Thank God, an excuse to stop dancing. “Lauren, I have a friend I’d like to talk to,” I yelled into her ear.

  She pouted before wetting her lips and leaned in close. Her hand touched my chest and started south, but I caught her wrist and stepped back. Was this girl trying to get me sued for sexual harassment?

  Hell, wasn’t she the one harassing me?

  I released her wrist and shouted out Ben’s name as I fought through the crowd.

  Ben had just set his sights on Olivia, like every other man in the club, it seemed. She tilted her head back and laughed as they talked.

  I cleared my throat, which had little effect given the loud music. “Ben.”

  “Hey, man.” He slapped my shoulder and Olivia’s lip tucked between her teeth as she focused on her drink. “This is—” Ben turned to Olivia and cocked his head, waiting for her to produce a name.

  “Olivia.”

  Standing before them, I started to feel like a third wheel. “We know each other. She works for the man I’m meeting with; the owner of this club.”

  His mouth formed an O-shape, and he nodded and took a small step to the side, offering a little more room between him and Olivia. He studied me for a second, attempting telepathy, perhaps.

  “So, you’re Ben Logan?” She reached for her martini and took a sip, her eyes still wandering. “How do you know each other?”

  Why’d she care? Was she just making small talk?

  “We met in the military,” Ben responded. He grabbed his beer from the bar and looked off into the swarm of good-looking people who danced fast and furious to the beat. Olivia and I used to dance to this kind of music every weekend back in the day.

  “Want a drink?” She finally gave me the gift of her gaze.

  “I’m good.” Olivia’s presence was already intoxicating enough, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself around her, even with just a drink or two. I was so angry with her, but damned if I didn’t still want to pull her against me. Even just for a second.

  “Loosen up, man. Haven’t seen you for a while.” Ben pressed a hand to my shoulder and angled his head. “How about a shot of tequila for all of us?”

  Tequila. Damn. A smile threatened my lips.

  “Ah. You remember?” Ben’s eyes lit up.

  “How could I forget?”

  Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “What?”

  Ben set his beer down, turned toward the bartender and motioned for his attention. “Three shots of tequila.”

  Olivia raised her hand in the air as she shook her head. “Oh no. I’m working.”

  Ben ran a hand through his dark hair and narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh come on, if you can have a martini you can have one shot.”

  Despite the shouting and loud music, Olivia’s voice was alluring. “Only if you tell me about your tequila story.” She set her martini glass down on the bar and folded her arms.

  “We were both between tours. We took a trip to London, and—”
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  “She doesn’t need to hear this,” I interrupted, warning him not to continue with the clenching of my jaw.

  “Oh come on,” she begged.

  “No.”

  “Let’s just say the Hangover movie had nothing on us. He woke up naked near Buckingham Palace and had the nerve to taunt the soldiers and—”

  “Stop, Ben.”

  “You weren’t arrested?” Her mouth edged open in surprise.

  “Um, yeah! I had to bail his ass out of jail—once I gained consciousness.” Ben laughed.

  “Ignore him. It wasn’t that crazy,” I lied.

  “So, what do you say?” Ben grabbed two shots, handing them to Olivia and me.

  “No salt?” Olivia teased.

  “Nah,” Ben answered.

  What the hell . . . We clinked our glasses and a splash of liquid spilled on Olivia’s hand. I wanted nothing more than to take her hand to my mouth—but I didn’t. Instead, I gulped down the shot and focused on Olivia as her shoulders arched back and her face puckered.

  “So, are you working tonight or having fun?” Ben asked as he set his glass down on the bar.

  I looked at Olivia. “I guess I’m off tonight.” This was all so strange. Had my father been in charge, would he be at the bar with Olivia right now? I scanned the dance area, searching for Lauren, and spotted her pressed up against some muscle-bound guy with tattoos. “Where’s Declan?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I assume he’s mingling with the A-listers . . .”

  “And what are you supposed to be doing?” I asked.

  “I was ordered to dance with you, actually.” She was staring down at the empty shot glass in her hand.

  “Really?” Was she nervous? If she even apologized to me for what happened when we were together, could I forgive her? Probably not.

  “You should dance.” Ben’s eyes were laser focused on a tall brunette standing off to the side of the dance area. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He started for the woman, and within in a minute he had the woman smiling. Ben, always the charmer.

  “So?” The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. A forced smile, maybe.

  “I guess one dance won’t hurt.” Maybe I needed another shot, something to alleviate the tension circulating throughout my body. “Come on.” I didn’t reach for her hand like I wanted to, nor did I get a shot. I moved to the center of the crowd of dancers, and she followed.