All the Pretty Lies

by M. Leighton

  Dad scoots his chair back and stands to face me, bending a pinch so he can see into my face. “Life is short, Sloane. When I wanted to forget just how short, you reminded me. Every day for a couple of years now, you’ve reminded me. But you know what? You were right. Life is short and you need to live it, as much as you can for as long as you can. If I could go back and add a few more years or days or even hours with your mother, I would. In a heartbeat. And I would never want to do anything to cheat you out of times like that. Moments like that. So you think long and hard about these, Sloane,” he says, touching my hand that’s holding the cards. “And if there’s a way to forgive him, if you think he might be worth it, then go talk to him. Give him that chance. Don’t live with regret like that for the rest of your life. When you’ve got a lot of regret to look back on, a short life can seem like an eternity in hell.”

  With a fatherly pat to my arm, Dad steps past me. He looks back at me before he leaves the room. “You okay? Your face is red.”

  I touch my cheek. It’s warm and I’m still not feeling up to par, but I give my dad a comforting smile. “I’m fine, Dad.”

  With an answering smile, he walks away. I hear him start to whistle when he gets to the kitchen and I smile bigger. He used to whistle all the time when Mom was alive. Now, it’s rare. And considering all the trouble our family has seen lately, it’s even more special. I know it’s thoughts of Mom—the good, happy kinds of thoughts—that put the song in his heart. Just remembering a love like that can turn everything around. It can turn life to shit for a while, but in the end, it makes everything worth it. I just have to decide if, with Hemi, it’s worth it.

  ********

  The next day, a loud pounding wakes me from my nap. It’s difficult to fight my way out of sleep, to separate reality from the dream world I was so happy inside. But reality is much more persistent, especially when it comes in the form of my brother.

  “Sloane, answer the door. I mean it,” Steven blusters from outside my locked bedroom door.

  “Whatever it is can wait, Steven. I’m sleeping.”

  “It’s not even eight o’clock. Why are you in bed already?”

  That’s an excellent question, one I have no answer for. I thought around three thirty that a Sunday afternoon nap sounded great. I think nearly five hours is a touch more than a nap. But I’m just exhausted!

  “I’m getting up. Just give me a minute.”

  I stir myself as best I can and make my way to the door, turning the lock on the knob and stepping back so my brother can bluster on this side of it.

  “Did you know about this?”

  He wastes no time in jumping down my throat when he steps inside.

  “Know about what?”

  “About that asshole Hemi investigating me? About how he targeted our family?”

  “Not at first. Why do you think I don’t see him anymore?”

  I slump down on the end of the bed and watch Steven pace back and forth. He’s furious for sure, but behind that, I can see that he’s hurt. And betrayed. Not by Hemi, but he makes an effective scapegoat.

  “I knew I didn’t like that prick. I knew it!”

  “Steven, like him or not, Hemi was just doing what he had to for his family. And he might’ve even saved your life.”

  “How the hell has he done anything good for me?”

  “This is about Duncan, isn’t it?”

  Steven says nothing, but I can see the muscle along his jaw flex in anger.

  “Duncan isn’t the one who was using—”

  “Yes, he was, Steven. Duncan was wrong in so many ways. I know he was your best friend and your partner, and I know you feel betrayed, but you can’t make excuses for him. He stole your security pass while you slept, Steven! That’s a pretty shitty thing for a decent friend to do. Do you know how much trouble he could’ve gotten you into?”

  “At least he didn’t get our house shot up,” he spits.

  “Yes, he did. It was his associations, his illegal activities that even led people to think it was you to begin with. Why do you think he used your pass? This is every single bit Duncan’s fault. The only thing Hemi did was stumble upon it.”

  Steven stops pacing and stares daggers at me. “He used you to investigate our family.”

  His words sting. Because they’re true. And I’m still struggling with it.

  “I know that, Steven, but put yourself in his position. If I were killed in the same way, at the hands of a dirty cop no less, what wouldn’t you do to bring my killer to justice? What wouldn’t you do to make people pay for their deeds?” I get up from the bed, crossing to my brother where he’s standing like a huge, stiff Hulk in the doorway. “Steven, you would’ve done the same thing. Maybe even worse. There are no limits to what we’d do for the people we love.”

  “I can never forgive him. You realize that, right?”

  “Hemi isn’t the one who needs your forgiveness, Steven. The only thing he’s guilty of is granting my request for him to teach me how to tattoo. He may have had an ulterior motive, but he did nothing wrong. He gave what little information he had to a trusted legal official. Yet he’s apologized for it anyway. But he doesn’t deserve your anger. Put your outrage where it belongs. Duncan betrayed you in the worst possible way, and an innocent man died because of it. Let’s not forget who the real villain is here.”

  “You’re going to stand there and defend him? After all he’s done?”

  “He didn’t do anything we wouldn’t have done, Steven,” I remind him softly. As I watch, I can see the anger my brother feels warring with the truth of my words. He wants to be mad at Hemi, but he knows it’s not justified. All this can and should be laid at Duncan’s feet. Period. Hemi would never have put our family at risk had he known, really known, things would take the turn that they did. He’s not that person.

  With a shake of his head, Steven turns to walk away, pausing before he closes the door behind him. “If he didn’t do anything wrong, and he doesn’t deserve my anger, then why aren’t you seeing him anymore?”

  I see Steven’s lips draw up into a smirk just as he shuts the door. He thinks he made his point, but all he did was remind me of how wrong I’ve been. Defending Hemi to Steven made me see what was right there all along.

  Yes, Hemi neglected to tell me what was going on. Yes, he took me on under false pretenses, but I know deep in my heart that what happened between us was real. However it began, it ended up being real. And I could see on his face how much he hated what he did to me, what he did to my family.

  But what I told Steven was the truth. Hemi didn’t do anything the members of my family wouldn’t have done. He doesn’t deserve my anger or my hatred. He needs my understanding. And my forgiveness. The two things I haven’t yet given him.

  Yet, I think to myself. But the night is still young.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO- Hemi

  I take a sip of my tequila and lean my head back against the edge of the hot tub, concentrating on the pounding of the jets against my sore muscles. I’ve been so tense lately. Between dealing with my old coke dealer, Sebastian, to find out who has the beef with Sloane’s brother and throwing enough money at it to make it stop, I feel like I’ve relived all the hellish parts of my life as it led up to Ollie’s death. So tonight, I skipped work to hole up at my house and get shitfaced in the hot tub.

  When my phone rings, I consider not answering it, but I quickly discard that notion. I’m waiting on too much important information, too many important calls to skip one because I’m in a piss-poor mood.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Mr. Spencer, this is Winston at the gate. You have a visitor, sir. A Miss Locke. Shall I open the gate?”

  My stomach clenches. “Yes, let her in.”

  I sit back in the warm water for a few seconds, wondering why she would just show up here when she won’t even take my calls. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I don’t give a shit. I’m just glad she’s on her way, that I get to see her and talk
to her again. Even if it’s just once more.

  What this says to me is that I’ve got one shot. One. More. Shot.

  I drag myself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around my waist and carrying my glass inside to refill it. I drain it again before refilling it a third time and taking a small sip.

  I hear the whiny purr of Sloane’s engine just before it cuts off out front. I walk to the door to open it and wait.

  When Sloane rounds the corner of the walkway, she sees me and comes to a dead stop. Her eyes travel over my chest and down my stomach to the towel cinched there. I will my dick not to react. But damn, it’s hard!

  I grit my teeth and step back, giving her plenty of room to walk by me, which she finally does. When she passes, I smell the clean scent of her shampoo, the same kind she always uses, and that unique aroma that’s just Sloane. My mouth waters reflexively and, again, I put a choke hold on my libido.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as I shut the door behind her.

  Sloane waits until I am standing in front of her, eye to eye, before she answers.

  “You said you wanted five minutes. Well, I’m giving them to you. This ends now. One way or the other.”

  That phrasing makes my chest tight, but I can’t say that I’m totally blindsided. I can see why she would write me off forever. What I did to her was pretty bad. Unforgiveable even. I guess I’d just hoped that maybe she could. Forgive me, that is. That she would. That somehow she’d view what we had as worth another shot. I know I do. I’d give her a thousand shots if it meant she’d stay and never leave me.

  “In that case,” I say, draining my glass yet again and walking to the edge of the dining room to the wet bar, where I pour myself another. When I turn, Sloane is standing near me, her eyes fixed on mine, her expression guarded. “I wanted to tell you that I found the people who threatened your brother. They won’t cause you or your family trouble anymore.”

  She doesn’t look surprised. She just nods. “Thank you.”

  I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t so I continue. “I also have my brother’s attorney friend looking into any and all leads that might’ve had something to do with what happened with the dirty drugs. I’ll find out who it is and I’ll make this right with your brother. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she says softly, reminding me of a conversation we had a lifetime ago.

  “I don’t. I make promises that I’ll either keep or die trying to keep.”

  She says nothing, just watches me. Finally, after a long pause, she asks, “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. “Partly.”

  Sloane glances down at her watch. “Well, you’d better get to the other part.”

  I waste a few seconds looking her over. She’s wearing a black shirt with a deep V neck, a short, silver skirt and silver sandals. Her toenails are painted bright red, as are her fingernails, which I notice as she smoothes her skirt over her thighs nervously. I realize when I see her gesture that this is just as hard for her as it is for me, maybe more so. It’s time to go balls out.

  I take a step toward her. I don’t know if she’ll welcome my closeness, but I’m not waiting around to find out. I’m jumping in. Head first.

  “From the very first time I saw you, there was something in your eyes that I felt like I connected with. I chalked it up to all kinds of other things, like physical attraction, having been without companionship for a while, you name it. And then when I saw how innocent you were…even though you had this kick ass sex appeal…oh God! I didn’t know how the hell I’d ever be able to resist you. I knew I didn’t need a distraction like you, which is why I told you I wouldn’t teach you how to tattoo. But then I saw you with your brother. I knew that I’d probably never have another opportunity like that again—to be able to find out more about someone I considered a suspect. So I took it. I told myself that I would stay away from you in every way except to teach you. And in the meantime, I’d pick your brain about your family. And I got what I thought I wanted, what I thought I needed. As soon as I heard you confirm that your brother had a connection to Tumblin, I ran with it. I mean, all I’ve been able to think about for two years was finding my brother’s killer. But that was before I met you.

  “Even when I believed I had found the right guy, I felt like shit for passing on that information. I knew it would hurt you, but I did it anyway. And every day that passed, I felt worse and worse about it. Hurting you wasn’t worth it. It didn’t bring my brother back. It just tore my heart out. And now I know why, I know why it hurt me so much to hurt you. Even then, I was already falling in love with you. I resisted you as long as I could, telling myself that it was just sexual and that once I had you, you’d be out of my system. But that was not the case. If anything, that just made it worse.”

  Sloane hasn’t said a word, but at least she’s listening. And the more I talk about the way things were, about the way she makes me feel, the more drawn to her I feel. So I step even closer, close enough to touch her.

  “It’s addictive, having something that no one else has touched. It made me want more. I didn’t just want to have you. I wanted to possess you. I wanted to make you mine, to mark you so deeply that you could never be anyone else’s. I want you, Sloane,” I confess, reaching out to stroke her satiny cheek with the back of my index finger. “I always have. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough just to have you once or twice, or for a little while. I want you to be mine. Forever. Because I love you even more than I want you. And I never want to let you go. Never.”

  Looking into her eyes, I see the break. I see the moment she lets down her guard enough that I can see that she still feels something for me other than hate. “Please tell me you can forgive me, Sloane. Please. Tell me it’s not too late.” It’s when I see her lips part to release a shaky breath that I lose the tight grip I had on my control. “Ask me to kiss you, baby. Please. Please, God, ask me to kiss you. I need you, Sloane. I need to feel you.”

  I’m crowding her. I know I am, but I can’t help it. I want to touch her, to kiss her, to take her in my arms so bad that I can almost taste it. Beyond the tequila, I can remember what she tastes like on the tip of my tongue. And beyond the tequila, I crave it. Like I’ve never craved anything else. Not even revenge. Or justice.

  I raise my hands to cup her face, begging her, “Please, Sloane. Please.”

  She searches my eyes for so long that I actually ache for her. In my chest, in my gut, in my groin. In my head. I want her with everything I am. And I want it all. All of her. Body, heart and soul.

  And then she mutters the words that turn my world around. “Kiss me.”

  So I do. I take her soft lips in a kiss that’s as sweet as the love I feel for her. I drag my tongue over the crease between them, drawing her bottom lip into my mouth and sucking gently on it. I feel her groan, her minty breath warm on my face.

  When my tongue enters her mouth, hers is there, licking at mine, teasing me with the memory of her. I reach behind her, pressing my palm to her lower back and crushing her body against mine. I feel her fingers weave through my hair and hold on tight, driving me up to the next level of my repressed desire.

  I hold fast to the reins of my passion. Now is not the time to lose it with her. She needs to feel what I’m trying to say to her, she needs to feel how much she means to me. She needs to know that it’s not all about sex; it’s all about love.

  Sloane jerks back, startling me as she looks up into my face. There are tears in her eyes and a tremor in her voice.

  “Make love to me, Hemi,” she demands quietly. “Make love to me and promise me that everything is going to be all right.”

  “I thought you didn’t want promises.”

  “I’ve never wanted to believe one more than I do right this minute. So tell me. Tell me all the pretty lies. Tell me everything will be okay.”

  One tear spills from her lashes and I kiss it away with th
e feather light brush of my lips. “Everything will be okay, Sloane. I promise you. I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to make it that way. I’ll do anything for you. Anything to make you happy. Just say you’ll stay. Say you’ll stay with me and I’ll never have to feel miserable without you again.”

  More tears puddle in her eyes. “I’ll stay as long as life lets me.”

  And that’s enough for me.

  When she presses her lips to mine, I let go of all that I was holding onto. All the reservations, all the anger, all the fear, and I dive into Sloane.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE- Sloane

  My hands on Hemi are urgent. Touching. My lips on Hemi’s are desperate. Tasting. My heart on Hemi is certain. Exploding. I love him. And he loves me. There is no more perfect day than today. After all the pain, there is joy. Joy unspeakable. And I have no regret. It was worth it. Worth it all to hear him say he loves me.

  Hemi’s skin has never felt smoother under my palms. His mouth has never tasted so sweet. It’s like rediscovering him, like falling for him all over again. Only this time, there’s a net to catch me. He’s my net because he loves me, too. And that makes him worth the risk. Worth anything.

  My hands find their way to the towel wrapped around his waist. I loosen it and let it fall, dragging my hand over his hip until I can curl my fingers around his rigid length. He groans into my mouth and I inhale it. I inhale him.

  “Sloane,” he whispers, his hands hard and demanding, yet soft and giving on my body. With great care, he peels my shirt off, then my skirt and panties, even bending to slip my sandals from my feet. When he straightens, he backs up and lets his eyes wander my naked frame. “You are so beautiful. And you’re all mine. Always. All mine.”