Buried Lies (Hidden Truths)

by Brittney Sahin

  “So, did Aiden ever try to find his mom?” She couldn’t help but wonder.

  “He said he’d no desire to—but what boy doesn’t want to know his mum?”

  True. Her shoulders slouched forward a bit. “I guess Aiden can’t be of any help.” Or you. “I’m on my own.”

  Liam reached for her hand this time. “If this Henry is in trouble, I don’t think you should get yourself involved.”

  His warning rang true in her ears. She knew she was naïve to believe she could find Henry before the government could, so why was she trying? Normally she’d be happy to tuck away in some room and disappear. That was who she was, after all—the invisible Ava.

  But she didn’t want to be invisible anymore. Henry was too important. He’d look for her, wouldn’t he? “I can’t give up.” She’d never stop looking for Henry until she had answers.

  “I was afraid you’d say that. I can see you’re a woman with heart. Me and my boy won’t be able to help you, though. Good luck, my dear.” He squeezed her hand before rising.

  She stared down at her hands. When they became somewhat blurry, she realized tears were pooling in her eyes. She swiped them from her cheeks before she started to stand.

  “You’re awfully persistent.”

  She sat back down at the sound of Aiden’s thick Irish voice. “I don’t have much of a choice.” She glanced at him, afraid of what horrid look he’d send her way.

  “If Henry is anything like his sister, you best forget him.” Although he stared at her, void of emotion, she sensed he was working hard to appear aloof. Before she responded, the sound of a pool ball swishing into a pocket had her attention and gave her an idea. “Do you gamble?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Liam said you can’t help me, but . . . “Play a game of pool with me. If I lose, I’ll leave right now and never bother you.”

  “And if you win?” He took a small step closer to her.

  “You give me five minutes of your time.” God, the man was good looking. He was all hard lines, with a straight nose, strong chin, and jaw . . . but his lips were relaxed and oh-so-kissable.

  “You think you can beat me at pool?”

  “A girl can try, right?” She raised a brow and moved toward one of the empty tables, hoping he would follow.

  He hesitated for a moment and responded, “I’ll let you break.” He approached the table and began to rack the balls. He handed her a cue stick, fiercely holding on to her gaze. She could have sworn an electric shock passed between them as she touched the pool stick.

  Ava swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore him as he stood off to the side, arms and ankles crossed, leaning against a wooden beam.

  She gripped the pool stick, leaned forward, and shot. She listened with pride as she heard the sound of several balls slipping into various pockets. “Stripes,” she said, before bending over to take her next shot. “Corner pocket.”

  She peeked over her shoulder at Aiden, whose eyes were burning a hole in her ass.

  She smirked and lightly tapped the next ball in. And she continued to work the table until she had pocketed every striped ball.

  Her gaze shifted to Aiden, and she held his eyes—she didn’t need to see if she made it—she could hear the black eight ball fall into the pocket with a satisfying thunk.

  “I’ve got to say, I didn’t expect you to be a pool shark.” Aiden shook his head and hung up his unused cue stick. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

  She handed him her stick and grinned. “College. I’m kind of good with math—angles and all that. Pool just feels like geometry, to me.”

  The sudden heated look in his eyes caused a strange twinge in her stomach. “A girl that can play pool, well, that’s . . .” He cleared his throat as he returned her stick to the rack.

  “So, will you stick to the deal?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the column once more. His sex appeal was downright dangerous, she decided, as her eyes took in the length of him. The contrast of his dark hair and blue eyes was a delicious sight to behold on a man. It was a feature her twin was known for and, of course, Ava had it, as well. But mixing in the broad shoulders, narrow hips, and swoon-worthy Irish accent . . . she felt at once in strange territory, and yet at home. He was like the best chocolate cake on earth—she wanted to eat the whole thing.

  Aiden squinted his eyes at her a bit, pushed away from the column, and stalked forward, closing the gap between them. “Let me walk you out.”

  “But—”

  He placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. His touch caused some strange shock to parachute throughout her system. “I’ll walk you out, and I’ll meet you wherever you’re staying when I close up the bar tonight.”

  When he removed his finger from her lips, her instinctive reaction was to wet them. “Oh. Okay.”

  His hand rested on the small of her back as he guided her toward the exit of the bar. The cool air slapped her in the face as he pushed the door open. Where had that sudden chill come from? As she turned to say goodbye, she noticed he was laser focused on something behind her. “What is it?”

  He gripped her arm without speaking and tugged her back inside the bar, where he shoved his free hand through already-messy hair. “Why are you being tailed by a Fed?” he asked with a rough voice.

  Her brows snapped together, and she looked down at his firm grasp on her arm and back up into his eyes. “I didn’t think I was.”

  “A damn Fed is parked outside my bar, and I get the distinct feeling it has something to do with you.”

  “How do you know—” Before she could finish, Aiden jerked her forward, pulling her toward the back of the bar. He pushed open a black door that read “Employees Only” and turned to face her only once the door shut behind them.

  They stood in a narrow hallway—he was too close. His edginess rippled from his body in tidal waves of crazy Irish energy. “I didn’t know I was being followed, but I can explain why—it’s about Henry.”

  He finally released his grip and folded his arms. “I don’t want to be involved in this if you are in some kind of trouble with the Feds.”

  “So you’re going to help me? You changed your mind?” Hope bounced around inside her before it came crashing down in the realization of his recent words. “Or . . . you were going to help me—until you saw the Fed?”

  “Stay here,” he ordered before heading back into the bar.

  What the hell? She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone while she waited for Mister Split Personality to come back. No missed calls.

  Before she even realized he had returned, her phone was lifted from her hands.

  “Strip.”

  “What?”

  He pulled her farther down the hall and into an office. “Take off your clothes.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “I need to know you’re not wired.”

  “What is with the paranoia? I’m the one being followed—not you!” She crossed her arms and stood firm. “Or is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “Just take off your damn clothes. Don’t worry, you can keep your knickers on.”

  “My what?” She arched her shoulders as her hand flew to her chest.

  “Your undergarments. Bra and panties . . .” He moved toward her and held out his hand. “Purse, please.”

  She furrowed her brow but handed it over to him. He tossed her bag on his desk and turned back toward her, her cell phone still in his hand.

  “I’m not wired. I promise. And I would know if someone was tapping me. I have showered since I was interrogated.”

  His face fell. “Since what?”

  Oops. “It’s a long story. I planned on telling you later.”

  “Just take off your bloody clothes.” He leaned against the edge of his desk. “I’m powering off your phone.”

  “What is your deal?” She still hadn’t removed an article of clothing. Over h
er dead body!

  “Listen, I’m not helping you if you don’t do what I say.”

  Relief and surprise settled in the pit of her stomach. But after his peculiar behavior, could she even trust him? “So you’re going to help me?”

  “Yes, I’ll help you, but only if . . .”

  She nodded as she searched for some inner lioness to give her strength. “If I remove my damn clothing?” she finished, mimicking his accent. She scowled at him but followed instructions. She pulled her blouse over her head in one swift movement, trying to tuck away the fact of her shyness.

  His eyes shifted from her face to her nude demi bra. He moved toward her, and she took a step back, worried about his intentions. He circled her and jutted his chin forward, waving his hand at her jeans.

  She was pissed, but also strangely aroused to be stripping in front of him. Her hands slipped to the button of her pants, and she unzipped them. She slid them down to her ankles, humiliation brightening her naturally honey-tan skin, which was a gift from her Brazilian grandfather.

  He dipped his gaze down to her nude bikini bottoms and shifted his attention back up to her face. “You can put your clothes back on.” He shut his eyes for a moment as if the image of her standing naked in his office was painful to him.

  “Thank you,” she spat while pulling up her pants. She extended her hand out toward him. “My shirt, please?”

  “Shit. Sorry.” He shook his head and gave it back. “Where are you staying? A hotel?”

  She nodded once.

  “Can’t take you there and I don’t want to bring you to my place. We’ll go to another hotel, for now.”

  First she stripped for him and now he was taking her to a hotel?

  “What is the big deal if the Feds are following me? I assume they are keeping an eye on me to protect me—once I explain what is going on, you’ll understand.”

  His muscular forearms flexed as he crossed them. His hypnotic eyes pierced her, causing another familiar flitter of wings in her stomach. “Until I know the whole story, I don’t want anything to do with the Feds.”

  “Are you some sort of criminal? I couldn’t find any information on you.” Just like your mom.

  He shifted in his stance, appearing uncomfortable. “Hell no, but I don’t trust anyone.”

  She studied Aiden, wondering whether she’d be endangering herself even more by getting involved with him. But at the moment, he was her only lead to finding Henry. “Okay. So, what do we do?”

  “My father can close the bar. We’ll go out the back and find a place that doesn’t require a credit card.” He lifted her purse and reached in for her wallet. “Take your ID and cash—you don’t need the rest.” He handed the wallet to her, and she followed his orders like a stranger—some subservient shadow—and shoved the money and ID into her pocket. “What about my phone? What if Henry calls?” She sucked in a worried breath.

  “He won’t.”

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