Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1)

by Michelle Watson

  He nods numbly.

  “The one who jumped off The Suicide Bridge?”

  Max nods again. “He molested her throughout her childhood.” His voice is dead and flat.

  My heart plummets to my stomach. I knew Earl, never hung around him. But still. Everyone couldn’t help but know Earl. He was very kind. But I guess the ugliest of monsters smile too. “It started when she was ten and ended when she turned sixteen, the night he took his life. I had no idea. None. Do you know how many times me and Earl were around each other? Lily was suffering and I didn’t have a clue.”

  My hand runs the length of his spine, attempting to comfort him. “It isn’t your fault.”

  Wetness touches the inside of my neck from his thick lashes. “It is. I could have stopped him.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “He hurt Lily.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I was about to hurt her.”

  “You didn’t. It’s not your fault,” I repeat, my throat burning from unshed tears.

  “She loved me. She trusted me. I was going to hurt her,” he whispers emotionless.

  I grab his face with both hands and stare him in the eyes. “It’s not your fault.” His face becomes blurry from my tears.

  We hold each other as we cry.

  This lasts a while.

  “I think I want to get drunk now,” he whispers into my hair.

  Chapter twenty-six

  Morning After

  The sun is muted by the thick maroon curtains. I lie in Max’s huge bed with him passed out next to me. I am still fully dressed; Max is just wearing his boxers. Max drunk until he couldn’t anymore, I just watched in agony. After he destroyed two six packs I put him to bed. I called Falcon so he could come and get me, but Max begged me to stay.

  I did.

  I got up a few times to rummage through his house.

  Max sleeps like the dead.

  There is nothing of interest here.

  He has nothing to hide.

  Max proved that last night.

  I should tell him about GreenFrog.

  Maybe he can help.

  I mean, he’s a cop.

  He has way more knowledge about solving crimes than I do.

  Max is good guy and a great cop.

  Yeah, I should certainly tell him.

  I’m obviously overwhelmed with this.

  “Max,” I whisper, poking his ribs.

  Nothing.

  We’re face-to-face and our legs are mingled together. I’m so very close to his stunning face, his warm breath fans across my lips. Max is savagely gorgeous in such an intense, masculine way. This kind of beauty should be impossible to achieve, like Hunter.

  I press my lips against his smooth cheek, skimming it lightly. “Maxi-Pie, wake up.”

  He stirs a little but he is still very much asleep, his warm hand gliding underneath my jacket and shirt, up my stomach and cupping one of my breasts. He shifts his powerful knee between my legs.

  My breath hitches in my throat in a sharp inhale.

  His hand just rests there, not moving.

  My heart is thundering in my ears. Not from fear or nerves. His hand feels good there. I curl my fingers in is inky black, thick hair. My fingers feel good there too. I tug it by the roots whispering in his ear, “You want me to make you coffee, Maxi-Pie?”

  Nothing.

  Feeling playful, I flick my tongue against the shell of his ear, nipping the lobe. “Wake up, zombie man.”

  He growls low in his throat, a gruff sound that I feel right between my legs. “Mmmm.”

  “Is that a yes?” I tease.

  Max presses his lips to the base of my neck, dragging them up, his hand fondling my breast. “Hmm?”

  “I like how you wake up, Maxi-Pie.”

  His lids flutter open and bright, bewildered lavender eyes meet mine. “Pumpkin?”

  I can’t help but smile. “The one and only.”

  Max’s eyes drop down to his hand on my boob and further down to his knee wedged between my legs. He flinches back so quickly. “God, I’m sorry. I thought you were…Lily. She’s the only person I’ve ever woke up with.”

  Moving closer, I run my fingers down his horrified face. “Yeah?”

  He nods. “If you haven’t noticed, when I wake, I’m a groper. Lily liked it. She liked it so much she gave me blowjobs just about every morning.” He laughs softly at the found memory and gives his head a slight shake.

  “Really?”

  He wipes his eyes with his hands. “Yeah.”

  “That’s hot,” I murmur, definitely turned-on.

  Max blinks at me.

  I smile back. “So you want coffee?”

  “Mm. That sounds nice.” He grins and my heart clenches.

  “How do you take it?”

  “Three teaspoons of sugar. No cream.”

  “You have a sweet tooth,” I whisper, still smiling.

  He hooks a finger in the belt loop of my jeans, pulling me closer. His lips brush mine as he speaks. “You have no idea.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  I practically convulse right here in front of him. Nose to nose, we stare at each other for the longest moment.

  Unbelievably beautiful.

  I watch in complete fascination as his eyes sparkle. “You gonna stare at me all day or get me coffee? I’d be pleased either way.”

  My lips move against his when I speak. “Make you coffee.”

  His eyes partially close when he smiles massively. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I mumble as if dazed.

  I am dazed.

  He takes his finger from my belt loop and I reluctantly slide off the bed. When I reach the kitchen, my cell vibrates in my pocket. I fish for it as I discard the old, saggy filter in the trash and replace with a new one that sits in stack on the countertop next to the huge tin can of coffee.

  It’s Hunter.

  Pressing ignore, I place the phone back in my jacket pocket. It continues to buzz as I pop open the tin lid and dump the grounds and measure the water, then start the coffeemaker. I smile as I flop down in one of four chairs at the square oak table.

  I’m not smiling because Hunter is calling; I’m smiling because I used to make my father coffee. It’s something me and my mom did together, every morning, and he loved it when we brought it to him in the mornings. He had the biggest smile on his face.

  My eyes dart to Max sprawled out on the bed, resting on his back. His mouth is partly open with his forearm thrown over his eyes. Sitting the mug down on the stand next to him, I crawl in bed and watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  He sleeps so peacefully…

  The nonstop buzzing in my pocket draws my attention. Sighing, I swing my legs off the bed and move to the living room, collapsing on the couch. I snatch my phone from my jacket and glare at the screen.

  Ten missed calls.

  All from Hunter.

  It begins to vibrate in my hands. I answer it and press it to my ear with an unfriendly and hostile, “What?”

  “What?” he asks in a definite hostile manner.

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Is that how you always answer your phone?”

  “Yes, when you’ve called multiple times. Clue in Hunter, if I didn’t pick up the first five times then, well, that means I am busy.”

  His tone changes from unfriendly to vigilant. “Busy with what?”

  “Not you” I snap.

  “Where are you?”

  “Not with you.”

  “Where are you?” he growls, his voice lowering to menacing level.

  “What do you want? Because, like I said, I am busy.”

  “Where the fuck are you?” The intensity in his voice makes my stomach flutter with dread and anxiety. He’s losing patience with me.

  “That’s none of your business. Why don’t you do something productive, like, say, fuck Candy senseless. I’m sure she will be eagerly aw
aiting your call.” The sharp edge of bitterness is evident in my voice.

  “You’re hurting. I hurt you, baby. I’m so sorry about that,” he taunts spitefully.

  My heart stutters painfully in my chest, so much so that I try to rub away the ache.

  “Stop,” I say barely a whisper, knowing he’s playing a game with me; the first one who breaks and hangs up is the loser.

  “Are you crying, baby? Don’t cry, ’cause I can fuck you like that, too.”

  “Promise?” I say innocently, sarcasm leaking from my tone.

  “Yeah, baby, I promise. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worrying, baby, but only because Max took care of me last night, good care of me. I was nice and warm. You should thank him for that, after I do with round six. He can go on forever, that Max.”

  There’s a deathly silence that seems to suspend time before he mutters, “Stop being a bitch, Isabel.”

  “I’m not a bitch!” I gasp.

  “You sure are acting like one. Now are you going to tell me where you are or are we going to play this game all day, ’cause the way I see it, baby, you’re gonna lose. Badly.”

  I exhale an exasperated sigh. “God, what do you want from me?!” The tears sting my nostrils as I try to hold them in. I don’t know why Hunter and I clash like we do, like we’re in a death and life combat, fighting desperately to destroy one another for survival. I told Hunter I loved him yesterday. He didn’t say it back and it certainly didn’t affect him. Even when I try to get away from him and maybe move on, Hunter won’t let me go. It’s like he’s haunting me.

  God, I’m so freaking stupid, stupid and hopeless.

  “You’re crying,” he states quietly.

  I sniff, roughly wiping my dripping nose with my sleeve. “Yeah, so? You win. What do you want, Hunter?”

  “You’re not a bitch, Isabel,” he says in the same quiet manner.

  “I know.”

  “You gonna come outside?”

  “What?”

  “Are you gonna come outside. I’m parked in front of Max’s.”

  “I didn’t tell you where I was.”

  “Didn’t need to. I went to Falcon’s house to drop something off for you, you weren’t there. I asked about your whereabouts and Falcon smirked. He didn’t have to say a word. I already knew where you were.”

  “So why did you ask me where I was?” I say curiously.

  “I wanted to see how honest you would be and, baby, I wasn’t expecting you to be blunt.”

  Another blow to the chest.

  “Isabel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come outside.”

  “Max’s sleeping. I already left one time without saying goodbye properly,” I tease.

  “Well, say goodbye and come on out. I don’t have all day.” Without another word he disconnects.

  When I peep into Max’s bedroom, he is still in the same position, out cold. The blue mug on his stand appears untouched. Instead of waking him, I scribble a note on a back of a used envelope:

  Though the atmosphere was somber and depressing, I sort of had a good time last night. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth. That truly touched my soul in a way you can’t even image. I programmed my number in your phone and vice versa. I hope to treat you to Lucky Charms very soon.

  Maybe two separate halves of a different whole can fuse together and become something else entirely.

  Your Pumpkin-Isabel

  I leave the envelope leaning next to the mug. After a short but satisfied moment of watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, I tiptoe out the front door and hold my head up high when I march to Hunter’s truck (without looking at him), swinging open the passenger door and hop in, slamming it behind me.

  “Feel better?” he questions, amused.

  “Nope.”

  He laughs, at what, I have no freaking clue.

  I stare at the window as he backs out of Max’s driveway.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Nope.”

  I can feel him glance at me, the heat of his eyes boring into me. “Too bad, you’re eating. Chocolate chip pancakes?”

  “Nope.”

  He tries to stifle more laughter but fails, miserably. “Are you gonna be pissed at me forever?”

  “Yep.”

  “So ‘nope’ isn’t the only word you’re gonna say to me?”

  “Nope,” I mutter, smiling to the window. Then something very close yelps and licks my elbow. “What the…” I turn my head to an adorable black and white cocker spaniel puppy in Hunter’s lap. Hunter’s hand is curled under the puppy’s belly and his other hand is on the steering wheel. “You have a dog?” I ask, rubbing its head.

  “Nope. It’s yours.”

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Birthday Christmas

  Holding the puppy close to my chest, I glare at Hunter as I stuff huge forkfuls of chocolate chip pancakes in my mouth. Hunter, Candy and I all sit at the bar. Candy sits on the left of me and Hunter sits on the right. I’m stuck in the middle, and after I witnessed them going at it like wild animals, I can’t help but feel…uncomfortable. I don’t know why I’m here. Hunter clearly has company. He should have dropped me off at Falcon’s house.

  “She’s just the cutest thing ever,” Candy coos, caressing my puppy. “Have you named her yet?”

  “No,” I mutter hastily.

  “What about Daisy? That’s good name, right?”

  “No,” I reply just as quickly and irritably.

  “What about Tootsie?” Her jolly tone is annoying me beyond belief.

  “No. That’s a stupid name, just like Daisy,” I snap, feeling childish and overwhelmed with anxiety.

  Candy flinches as if I threw scolding grease on her and drops her hands, turning to pick over her pancakes. I risk a glance at her and she looks like she’s about to cry, but as I examine her face, I notice that actual tears are pooling in her eyes.

  Damn.

  I feel bad. Knowing Candy is not the type of person to ever retaliate makes me feel worse. She’s too abnormally kind to ever be a bitch.

  I didn’t want to make her cry. She’s too sweet and too…innocent in some weird inexperienced way.

  Hunter’s arctic eyes narrow at me. “Isabel, I need to speak to you. My room. Now.”

  Gliding off the stool with puppy in hand, I stroll up the spiral staircase, down the corridor to Hunter’s room.

  He shuts the door behind us and turns to face me; his eyebrows snapped together and his forehead creasing. “What’s your problem?”

  I cradle my puppy close to my side, reaching up with my free hand to smooth the wrinkles between in his brows. A face like his should not be twisted with any kind of stress. Most of the anger leeches from his expression. “That’s rhetorical, right?”

  He advances closer. “Why are you acting like that? The dead look in your eyes has vanished only for fury to take its place. Something’s up. What’s wrong?”

  Everything.

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  His studies me with a critical eye for a moment and then tilts his head. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We were friends, once upon a time,” I agree, “before you made it crystal clear we weren’t.”

  He shuts his eyes, tipping his head down.

  “Look, Hunter. I don’t know what you want from me. You said we can never happen and I’m cool with that. But what I’m not cool with is, you being a jerk to me and you demanding to know my whereabouts like I belong to you. Newsflash, I don’t. I think it is best we stay away from one another.”

  He straightens his pose and gazes intensely into my eyes, then cups my jaw, his thumb moving over my bottom lip. “I can’t do that, Isabel.”

  “It’s not your duty to take of me.”

  His hand shifts to my neck and glides down. “But it is,” he whispers.

  My heart thuds heavily in my chest as I sta
re into pure blue eyes that shoot right through me. “Hunter.”

  He moves closer and circles his arms around me, careful not to crush the puppy. “It’s been my duty from the very beginning, Isabel.”

  Every muscle in my body seizes from being so close to him. He embraces me tighter and lovingly strokes my back. It takes no time at all for me to lose this battle and melt completely into him and hold him closer, so our beating hearts pound against one another.

  We stay silent in a monumental moment, until Hunter speaks. “What are you going to name her?”

  “I don’t know. She’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I thought you’d like her. What’s beautiful to you? Maybe I can help you with a name.”

  Taking a moment, I ponder this over. What’s beautiful to me? Tyler was beautiful to me. My mom was beautiful to me. My dad was beautiful to me. They all didn’t live long enough to celebrate the joyous things life has to offer. They didn’t live long enough to celebrate the rest of my birthdays like we once did.

  “Birthdays are beautiful to me,” I whisper into Hunter’s shirt.

  “I love the name Birthday.”

  “Me, too. What were you thinking?”

  “Christmas.”

  “I love Christmas.”

  Hunter squeezes me before he drops his arms. “Birthday Christmas it is then.”

  I glance down at the content puppy in the nook of my arm. “Maybe just Birthday.”

  He nods. “Birthday.”

  “Though, Christmas can be her last name.”

  “That’s a great last name,” he says, smiling and scratching Birthday behind her ears. She is completely lost in Hunter’s touch, wagging her little tail and shutting her eyes into small slits, her tiny tongue hanging out her mouth. “I know Candy isn’t your favorite person in the world right now, but I need you to be at least respectful towards her. Like you, she’s going through some rough shit,” his eyes drift from Birthday to me, “shit she wish wasn’t going through at all.”

  My brows frown. “What? Did she try to…?” I trail off horrified that someone like Candy would even consider suicide an option. I mean, she’s so ridiculously happy and animated. What dreadful matter occurred that made her feel such despair and that made her feel like she had no other choice?