Dangerous Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  There was something both gorgeous and terrifying about a woman with a tuxedo jacket and red spiky heels. Isla was the type of woman who could become an army general and terrify even the biggest jackass of the group. Her words had a way of slicing right through a man, causing irreparable damage. And the way she held her body? She was always positioned to strike. A lesser man would have been intimidated. Isla was the type of woman who would wear stilettos until her toes bled then lie about the pain just to see your reaction.

  Five minutes.

  That was all it took—five minutes after being introduced to her I decided that I wanted to strangle her more than I wanted to kiss her. She’d followed me around like a puppy that first night—she even went as far as to stalk me to the bathroom and lock the door behind her while I was mid pullout—all in an effort to throw me off her scent.

  The scent of a general in a tuxedo jacket.

  A wolf dressed like a stupid-ass sheep.

  I crossed my arms again and waited as the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement got closer and closer, and it seemed more purposeful, like she hoped the loud noise would scare me away.

  Bullshit, I was going to destroy her the same way she destroyed me, from the inside out.

  I rubbed my chest.

  Irritated that I still felt upset, heartbroken, betrayed—those words didn’t even begin to cover the feelings I had toward Isla and what she’d done to my reputation. Granted, my ex-wife didn’t have to go to the press. But she wouldn’t have been as pissed as she was if it wasn’t for Isla and Blaire.

  Blaire.

  I shook my head.

  My best friend’s girlfriend.

  Yeah, didn’t see that coming. I’d been pursuing her for a month when I finally found out my best friend had already done the conquering and planted his flag where mine should have been all along.

  Which brought me back to Isla. Everything always came back to her—she’d conveniently shoved them together while pulling me and Blaire apart.

  I could forgive a lot of things.

  And it’s not like I enjoyed watching her through binoculars like a stalker.

  She grimaced and nearly tripped on the sidewalk, as her breasts tried to slide out of her sheer blouse.

  Definitely not a hardship watching her.

  At least when she wasn’t speaking.

  “Jessie.” She said my name like an expletive. I tried not to be turned on by the way her breasts slid against that silky material but I couldn’t pull my eyes away—I was a red-blooded male, sue me, I didn’t have to like her to appreciate the gift of her banging body.

  But the fact still remained.

  The minute she and Blaire poked their heads into my business, I was put on the fast track to disaster. My ex-wife went to the press, told every dirty detail about our falling-out and the reasons behind it—mainly because she was pissed she didn’t get any money in the divorce—and here we are.

  I was asked to step down from my job as chairman of the charity I helped build. The same charity that helped get clean water into third-world countries and build schools and orphanages. I’d poured my life into that charity. But the board of directors didn’t think it was wise for me to be the face of the charity anymore.

  And I couldn’t blame them.

  I was on every fucking gossip rag in America.

  Even some in the UK.

  And every article speculated on my relationship with my ex-wife, the farce I kept up with, the lies I helped her tell. Isla didn’t just give my ex, Vanessa, the means to ruin me, she helped her do it.

  Yeah, I could forgive a hell of a lot.

  But I’d bled for the reputation I had.

  My worst fear had come true.

  And I only had one person to blame.

  One person who was currently eyeing me like she’d rather run me over with her car than say one word.

  But I refused to be the first to speak.

  Her right eye twitched. “Did you need something, Jessie?”

  I shrugged. “Just bird watching.”

  “Bird.” Her chest heaved as she stutter-stepped. “Watching.”

  “That’s what I said.” I grinned. “Been walking in heels long?”

  “There was a pothole.” She sniffed and looked away, then back at me. “Look, there has to be a way we can discuss this like normal adults, not ones who stalk with binoculars and make petty threats.”

  “Oh, so now my threats are . . . petty?” I took a step toward her. “I’m not making empty or petty threats—I fully intend on ruining this little business of yours, maybe then you’ll know what it feels like to lose everything.” I tried not to flinch at the guilt that poked me in the chest, the guilt that I was also bringing down her business partner, Blaire, who I used to date a long time ago and who was now engaged to my best friend, Colin.

  Blaire? She would be just fine.

  Blaire? Wasn’t as emotionally invested as Isla now that she had Colin, at least that’s what I told myself.

  And that was the point.

  Isla breathed this business.

  Blaire merely worked for it because she wanted to stick it to any guy who tried to cheat.

  But for Isla? It was personal. It was beyond personal.

  It was her life’s blood.

  Her face was cold as stone.

  Damn, she was brutally frigid.

  Not one straight black hair out of place.

  Bright-red lipstick and just enough makeup to be taken seriously but not so much that you got lost in it.

  Every accessory thought out, from the gold bangles on her wrist to the tiny teardrop necklace that plunged down her blouse.

  She didn’t move a muscle.

  Didn’t even blink.

  And finally said, “I didn’t do anything. That was all your ex-wife, so if you want to point fingers, I think she’s somewhere in Hollywood trying to sleep her way into the next Avengers movie.”

  “You”—I jabbed a finger toward her—“took her on as a client based on false information.”

  She scowled. “Everything checked out, we do our homework. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a two o’clock I can’t miss.”

  I pressed my lips together in a smug grin. “Another life to ruin, Isla?”

  “Jessie.” Her façade cracked, and I felt my resolve weaken. “I’d like to think we used to be friends—”

  I flinched at the word.

  Yes. We were friends.

  We were friends until I realized she’d stuck a knife in my back in order to further her business, her career, until I realized she was on my ex-wife’s team all along. She betrayed me.

  “Friends,” I rasped, “don’t screw each other over. Do you even know what people are saying about me? The gossip is through the roof! Didn’t you know? I’m a liar. A cheater. I’ll do anything to look perfect. I’m a sick fuck, that’s what they’re saying. My reputation is shit because I chose the wrong woman who in turn chose you to fix something that never could be fixed in the first place. Our marriage was already too far broken, so don’t sit there and talk to me about friendship.”

  I shoved past her and got into my car, then turned on the engine.

  She stood in front of the car, arms crossed, then finally hung her head and stepped out of the way as I spun out.

  Chapter Three

  ISLA

  By the time I made it to my appointment I was fuming! He had no right to blame me for his ex-wife’s behavior. Sure, did we take her on as a client in an effort to find out if he was cheating?

  Yes. But that’s what PIs do! It’s our job. Literally.

  I grabbed my necklace and gave it a little tug before I cut off the engine to my Lexus GS hybrid.

  He was just angry.

  And when people were angry they were hardly rational—I should know, I was in the business of angry couples.

  After a few weeks he’d cool off, he’d see that we weren’t in the wrong, and everything would be fine.

  Totall
y. Fine.

  Feeling immeasurably better, I snatched my white leather purse from the passenger seat and opened my door. The warm LA winds tangled my hair around a bit as I maneuvered my way toward The Ivy.

  It was my least favorite restaurant to meet people at, mainly because it was a place most people wanted to be seen.

  And I hated the limelight.

  After years of being in it by way of my stupid director fiancé, the last thing I wanted was to run into him while he was tongue deep in yet another actress, or worse—actor. Because the lovely thing about him? He was a lover, not a fighter. Didn’t really pick sides, that one. He just loved attention and would take it any way he could get it.

  Female.

  Male.

  Horse.

  Plant.

  Okay, slight exaggeration, but I still found great humor in imagining him trying to seduce a horse then getting trampled to death.

  I plucked off my sunglasses and approached the small brown table. “Yes, I have lunch reservations under Isla Turner.”

  She beamed up at me through black spectacles and a toothy smile. “Right this way, Mrs. Turner.”

  “Oh, it’s Miss.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Actually.”

  I got Mrs. a lot.

  I told myself it was because I looked classy—not old.

  Single.

  Unattached.

  I glared into my water glass. “Could I get some extra lemons, please?”

  “Absolutely.” She handed me a menu. “Your waiter will be arriving momentarily.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced back to my pristine menu and tapped my fingernails against the table, a bit irritated my new client was late.

  A shadowy figure appeared near my right, I glanced up and choked on the sip of water I’d just taken as Jessie Beckett plopped down in the seat opposite me.

  “Okay, you’re seriously taking your stalking to the next level.” I gritted my teeth and pasted a fake smile on my face as people started whispering and staring. Great, just great. The last thing I needed was more attention, especially since my client had requested a semi low profile.

  Then again, why The Ivy?

  I shook my fuddled head just as the waiter approached. “Would you two like some more time?”

  “He’s not staying,” I hissed.

  Jessie just grinned that cocky grin and looked smugly up at the waiter. “I’d love to see the wine list.”

  “Sweet cheese and crackers,” I muttered under my breath. “He doesn’t need the wine list, because he’s not staying.”

  The waiter looked between us in confusion.

  “Don’t mind her, she’s just hangry.” Jessie nodded. “Wine list, and let’s start with two Caesar salads and some calamari.”

  “I’m allergic to calamari,” I lied.

  “Extra calamari.” Jessie winked at the waiter.

  “Alright . . . then.” The waiter slid a wine list onto the table and walked off.

  “Go away!” I leaned in and jerked the wine list from Jessie’s hands. “You’ve already done enough damage, my client should be here any minute!”

  “Oh, he’s here.” Jessie blinked innocently. “Sitting across from you, gazing into your venomous eyes, and wondering how your brand of manipulation got my ex to burst into tears with your lies. Don’t people like you recognize each other?”

  I took a soothing breath and reminded myself that murder would land me in prison, even if it was justified, the bastard. “You tricked our secretary into booking an appointment with me? Why?”

  “I didn’t have to trick her.” He shrugged his muscled shoulders. “I just told her I was a potential client and willing to pay out the ass if I could have an appointment with you.”

  I scowled. “You’re paying for lunch.”

  “A gentleman always does,” he said, confusing me further.

  His light eyes twinkled a bit before he shut down whatever he was thinking. “You’re a menace to society.”

  I let out a breath and leaned back against my seat as a headache pulsed between my eyes. “And you’re like a dog with a bone. We don’t do anything illegal and this isn’t going to make you feel better. Shutting down my business may seem like the solution, but think of all the other things you could do with your time!”

  “Shutting down your business,” he said calmly, “shows the press that I was caught in a bad situation, it tells the charity that I was wrongfully fired, and hopefully proves I was wronged. At least the media gets to feel sorry for me—I can find a way to get back on top.”

  Anger burned through my chest, making it hard to swallow. “It’s all the same with you power-hungry celebrities, isn’t it? If life isn’t perfect. If you aren’t on top, if the cereal isn’t perfectly alphabetized just in case someone takes a picture of your freaking pantry and sends it to TMZ for the world to see what an OCD freak you are!”

  He growled low in his throat, his teeth snapped together. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “It has everything to do with this,” I said softly. “You want something back, something you think has been wrongfully taken from you, by me, but I think if you look at the facts you’ll see that being on top only means one thing—”

  “Oh yeah?” he snarled. “What’s that, Isla?”

  “There’s always further to fall when you aren’t the golden boy anymore,” I said softly, reaching out and touching his hand on instinct, because it’s what I did in my sessions with clients, because it’s what I did when I put my heart into things I had no business putting my heart into.

  He stared at our touching hands as a tether of awareness slithered through my fingers like he’d just caressed me.

  A few seconds went by, both of us staring down.

  I would have been happy to spend the rest of the lunch trying to figure out why my skin tingled.

  Except a whiny voice interrupted. “You sure move on fast.”

  I pulled my hand away and stared up in horror as Jessie’s ex glared at both of us with disdain then looped her arm through her poor date’s arm.

  My ex-fiancé.

  Wayne.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  Hard to think.

  “Hi, Isla.” He grinned like he owned me, like he was seeing my naked body respond to his touch, like he had a right to look beyond my clothes.

  I felt my entire body pale.

  And then Jessie’s hand was on mine again, not soft, but firm. He gripped it tight and then glanced up at Wayne and said the unthinkable. “Who exactly are you?”

  I wanted to groan.

  I wanted to throw myself off a cliff.

  Or maybe just crawl under the table and hide from his leering eyes.

  Wayne’s smile was still in place, but it was fake. I knew that smile, I’d been on the receiving end of it more times than I could count. He was pissed that Jessie didn’t recognize him.

  “Wayne Alvillar.” He held out his hand.

  Vanessa beamed. “He just directed the last action series to make over half a million in a weekend! We’re out celebrating!”

  I just bet they were.

  Stomach suddenly queasy, I tried to keep my posture perfect, my smile in place, my eyes from watering down my cheeks.

  “Huh.” Jessie looked so comfortable, so normal. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” He shrugged. “Then again, I’m more of a stay-at-home-and-watch-old-movies sort of guy, right, baby?”

  He was looking at me.

  I was baby.

  He had no idea how much he was saving me.

  I played right into it, leaning toward his hand and winking. “My favorite thing to do with you.” I scrunched up my nose. “Okay, maybe top five, you know what number one is.”

  He laughed, and then I swear his eyes smoldered. “Don’t I ever . . .”

  My stomach dropped to my knees, damn it, that smolder, damn it to hell!

  “We were just going, lost track of time.” Jessie stood, threw a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill onto
the table, making my eyes widen briefly before he grabbed my purse, handed it to me, wrapped his arm around me then called over his shoulder, “Have a great lunch.”

  We walked out of the restaurant with heads held high.

  Unfortunately I was parked on the other side, and they were immediately seated in the outside patio where they could see us.

  “Still watching,” I said under my breath while Jessie turned me around in his arms and dragged his mouth over my surprised lips.

  He tasted like lemon water and spice.

  It had been so long.

  So damn long since I’d been kissed that well.

  Maybe ever.

  I clung to the front of his shirt, the combination of heat from his skin and bulging pec muscles was enough to give any sane woman a stroke at thirty-three.

  He placed his hands on either side of my face, gently guiding the kiss, stroking his tongue along mine like he’d been doing it for years.

  When we broke apart, his chest was heaving.

  And I was leaning too close, like I didn’t want him to stop.

  He kissed me again.

  Then grabbed my hand and walked me to my car.

  Of course he knew where it was parked.

  I sighed as he pushed me up against the door, my eyes flickered to Vanessa and Wayne, both glancing our way still.

  Jessie’s eyes met mine as he cupped my face. “You know him?”

  I nodded as tears filled my eyes.

  Jessie pressed his body against mine. “He still staring?”

  I nodded again, afraid if I spoke I’d blurt out the whole horrible story and then get snot stains on his shirt. I’d never worked past it. I didn’t want to. I figured if I did, I’d lose all the anger that kept me going on a daily basis, the anger that helped me have perfect focus on my job.

  Jessie’s forehead touched mine as he left one last lingering kiss on my lips and whispered in my ear, “This isn’t over.”

  “Stop stalking me,” I whispered back, ducking my head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me.

  “You’re a good kisser, Isla.” He tilted my chin toward him. “But it’s not enough—I will shut you down, that I promise.”

  He walked off leaving me hot, breathless, and pissed.

  I opened my car door and tossed my purse in the opposite seat, then pressed my fingertips against my lips and cursed the universe for doing the impossible. Making me feel alive again—by way of my enemy.