Shadows and Lies

by Eden Butler

  He’d left the room when I came back and all night, and the next, I lay on the sofa right were Ryan had sat, thinking about his hand on my neck, the warmth of his eager touch, wondering what it would be like to have him inside me.

  “Fuck,” I said to the balcony, throwing the unsmoked cigarette onto the street. This was a complication I didn’t need. Ryan and sex and me would be too damn complicated, too messy. But he was fucking with my head, making me think stupid things, impossible things like being normal and not jacking things that weren’t yours and folded laundry and damn Sunday lunch at his partners’ parents’ house.

  “God.” I shook the image of me and Ryan and his insane friends around a dining room table from my head and went back inside, inches from grabbing my full bag of clean laundry and just taking off. But I wasn’t a welcher and I wasn’t stupid. Not only had I promised Ryan he would get into that auction, but someone out there wanted to hurt me and, sad and unbelievable as it may be, Ryan was the only one I trusted to watch my back.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when the call button from the lobby sounded and I hurried to the speaker next to the door, frowning when I didn’t see anyone on the screen. The lobby was mostly quiet and the sound of heels on marble caught my attention, but I didn’t know who’d buzzed up wanting in and wasn’t sure if I should ask. My creeper had balls. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d tracked me down to Ryan’s place, but then the rough curse of “holy fuck” echoed from the speaker and Misty stepped in front of the camera and I smiled as she stepped up on her toes to look into the camera. “Is that you, sugar? I can’t see shit.”

  “It’s me. Come on up.”

  The elevator pinged once before the door opened, but I heard Misty’s loud cackle behind the closed doors. “That’s right, darlin’, you just come on over and give them this card.” When she emerged from the elevator, I spotted a very elderly old man with Misty’s business card in his hand and a furious looking woman pulling on his arm trying to get that card from him before the doors shut closed.

  “Are you fucking with someone’s happily ever after?” I asked her as she walked away from the elevator.

  “Shit, honey, there ain’t no such thing.” I loved that crazy woman. Misty didn’t care for one second what anyone thought of her. She was all bravado and moxy and wore bright red lipstick and corsets whenever the hell she wanted to because, she’d always claimed, her lips were “delicious” and her cleavage was “a work of art.”

  Misty didn’t wait for an invitation and moved right past me into Ryan’s place with a black Prada bag swinging from her arm and those three inch, red-soled heels clicking against his concrete floors. “Well that cute lil SEAL is living large, ain’t he?”

  “I suppose,” I said, hurrying to the sofa to move Ryan’s stack of neatly folded clothes, ignoring Misty when she cocked her eyebrow at me. “What?”

  “You keeping his house?”

  “No. I’m just…”

  I flipped her off when she laughed, knowing my friend wasn’t being cruel, but behind that tight smile I could almost read her mind. Me in this apartment with Ryan, likely looked a little too cozy. “You want something to drink?”

  “No, doll, I don’t have time for that.” Misty left her purse on the sofa and walked around Ryan’s living room, gaze shooting to his sleek entertainment center and the rows of pictures along the shelves. “Nice and cozy, that’s for sure.” She sounded distracted, as though whatever she said was an afterthought and I knew Misty was taking it all in, probably wondering how I fit in with Ryan’s ordered picture frames and comfortable furnishings.

  When she stopped in front of the balcony, I sat on the sofa, waiting for her to get whatever it was that had her leaving her club said and done. “Very, very nice,” Misty continued.

  “It is.” She finally turned to face me and the second that forced smile didn’t shift or move on her mouth, I knew she’d been sent with a message. Misty often played messenger when Timber wanted something delivered, especially to clients or associates who needed sweet talking. Not many could resist that sweet Uptown accent or the big, bright eyes. Even inching toward forty, or thirty-cough-cough-five as she claimed, Misty was still regal, elegant and very convincing when she put her mind into the effort.

  I, however, didn’t buy the bullshit.

  “Say it, God, before your Botox runs out.”

  “You are so not funny,” she said walking away from the balcony to sit next to me on the sofa. “I don’t use Botox.” Misty slapped my leg when I snorted out a laugh. “I do have a message to deliver.”

  “I bet you do.”

  “When the hell are you getting a new phone? It’s been weeks.”

  “I don’t know. Is that the message? Timber wants me to get a new phone?”

  “No, you little shit, I do. Here.” She opened that big Prada and pulled out an unopened iPhone, still sealed in the box. “It’s under my account, fucking Friends and Family, but don’t go on about it and don’t tell me you can’t accept it. If I need to talk to you, I don’t wanna have to drag my ass all the way down to the Warehouse District to talk to you.”

  Misty was stalling, that much I knew, but I also knew how stubborn she was, how much she cared and so I took the phone when she waved it at me.

  “Yes ma’am. Phone. Check.” I pulled my feet up, sitting on them when Misty started looking around the apartment again. “And the message?”

  She moved her gaze back to me and released a little sigh. “Timber doesn’t want Ryan at the auction.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get upset. It’s not really that big of a deal.” She pulled out her cigarettes, but rolled her eyes when I pointed to the French door. “He says whatever Ryan wants he can get for him, but he doesn’t want to see him there.”

  “Why the hell would he get anything for Ryan?”

  “Oh, sugar, you know it’s not for Ryan.” She took a drag, blowing the smoke in the general direction of the door, looking for all the world like she wanted to avoid my eyes. And then, I knew. Misty was crap at disguising her emotions, especially when it came to me. She’d taken care of me when I left Wanda’s. She’d let me clean her office or schedule her performers because she thought I was smart and had an eye for the especially talented ones. But Misty still was in Timber’s pocket and she still had to do things for him that weren’t strictly something a successful businesswoman should do. Like deliver awkward, bad news.

  “So it’s for me.” She nodded, and headed over to the French doors to flick her ash between the grates in the balcony floor. “And Timber is willing to give Ryan whatever he wanted at the auction so long as I keep him away? For a price.” Another nod, this one not quite as confident and I closed my eyes, pulling my palms into my sockets. “Son of a bitch.”

  “It’s just one more time, sugar.” She tossed her smoke over the balcony and hurried to my side on the sofa to wrap her arm around my shoulder. “Was it… I mean last time, was it so bad?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I didn’t like the look on Misty’s face, how she frowned, how she pretended she didn’t know how cruel Timber could be. She was damn well aware, and it was moments like this one, with the closest thing to a friend that I’ve ever had telling me I should let my former boss burn and scar and fuck me one more time that reminded me how different our lives really were, from every other person in the world.

  Ryan had no clue this is how we’d always lived. He didn’t understand, likely never would, that sometimes we did truly horrific things for a moment just to get to past a hurdle. The auction was the hurdle now. Specifically Ryan being there.

  “And if I say no?” I asked her, not squeezing her hand back when she touched my fingers.

  “I don’t know, sugar. Something’s going on. He’s working on something big and I think Ryan makes him skittish.” Misty titled her head, eyes sharp on my face as though she needed to see me make up my mind. “I get the feeling if Ryan shows up, it won’t en
d well.” I frowned at Misty, silently asking what she knew, but my friend waved me off with a small shake of her head. “Instinct, hon. That’s all.”

  “I can’t…”

  “Alex, it’s what he wants. It’s going to happen again anyway.” I know Misty was trying to make me see reason, the reason that made sense to her. This was our life. This is how we lived it and with her hand on my wrist and one pitying look, she told me not to fight the inevitable. “One night and Ryan gets his item.”

  “And then what?”

  “Sweetie, I don’t know.”

  But I did. Timber thought if I said yes then Ryan would want to have nothing to do with me again. He thought he’d damage me so bad, that no one would. And he’d be there to pick up the pieces. “You think I should say yes?”

  Misty moved her lips together as though she had to fight to keep what she really wanted to say from passing her lips. Then, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhaling. “I think you don’t have a choice. I think if you don’t agree to this then Timber will hurt Ryan.” She moved closer, looping our fingers together. “You care about Ryan?”

  I didn’t answer, didn’t need to. Misty had known me since I was eighteen. She saw everything I tried to hide from the world and just then she saw something in my eyes that was answer enough for her.

  “Then maybe you should consider it, honey.”

  I wanted to tell her I couldn’t. I wanted to say that Ryan and his ideas already had me wanting to take off, to get clean outta Dodge, wherever that was, even without Timber and my stalker thrown into the mix.

  But Timber’s request changed things. Nobody else knew, but my brain had been in overdrive lately. Suddenly I saw an opportunity. His request changed everything, and damn, but I wanted to tell Misty that. I wanted to explain to her how I wouldn’t have to decide, that maybe I had a way to keep Ryan safe and get him at that auction without Timber knowing or without me sacrificing another inch of my skin and my pride. But I didn’t tell Misty any of that, because right then there was a clank from the front door and Ryan strolled in.

  He had a puppy dog expression on his face that would have normally made me laugh and I half expected him to say something stupid like, “Honey, I’m home,” but then his gaze landed on Misty with her holding my hand and that eager grin on his face vanished.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, walking the rest of the way in.

  “Of course. Just a little friendly catch up.” Misty was cool, unflustered and once again plastered that tight smile across her lips. “I was just missing my little Alex and wanted to say hi.”

  I knew he didn’t buy it, but then Ryan was smooth and kept his curiosity to himself, letting me walk Misty to the door without so much as a nod back at her.

  She took my hand, looking over my shoulder as Ryan messed around in the kitchen. “Think about it, okay? I know you hate this, but sweetie, I don’t think Timber’s playing around anymore.”

  “Does he ever?”

  “I…”

  “It’s fine. I get what you’re saying. Mission accomplished,” I told her, with what I hoped was a cheeky grin, and nodding her away from the door so I could close it. I almost rested my head against the dark wood, needing a second to figure my point of attack and how I was going to jump this hurdle. But Ryan cleared his throat and I turned, lifting my eyebrows at him. “What’s up?”

  “We might have a lead on a new job.” He was only making small talk, tapping his fingers against the back of his recliner.

  “Cool,” I said, trying to grab at ideas, wondering what I was supposed to do with my hands and when refolding his already squared up clothes came off as stupid and obvious, I started packing and unpacking my bag.

  Ryan watched me, quiet, focused as I bundled my bras onto the sofa. “So what was that about?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Alex.” He took my only good black bra from my hand and held my arms still so I’d look at him. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s not… It’s nothing.”

  “Uh huh.” That wasn’t Ryan being distracted. It was a tactic he utilized whenever he wanted to extract information. He’d done the same thing last week when Sammy tried bluffing him during their weekly poker game. One mention of some dancer in Belize and Sammy forgot all about the bluff and Ryan won the pot.

  The “uh huh” was a pause in the interrogation, but I tried to play if off, working my clothes back into my bag as he wandered to the fridge to grab a beer. “Nothing,” he said over the pop of the cap coming off.

  “Umhmm.”

  He tossed the cap into the trash and we both listened as it ricocheted against the metal can. Then Ryan sauntered slowly into the living room, pulling on his beer as he sat on the sofa, all the while keeping his focus on me. “So Misty just missed you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, and now I was distracted. “I put your shirts over there.” I sounded like an idiot, babbling, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking at me as though he could read my thoughts.

  “You don’t have to do my laundry, Alex.” Another sip and the flippant tone of his voice had me looking down at him.

  “I know I don’t.” Ryan tried to hide his smirk behind that damn bottle, but I saw the dent on the side of his mouth. “In fact, I should just unfold them. I don’t do this sort of shit.” He nodded and took another sip. “I was just doing mine and did yours at the same time.”

  “That right?”

  God, I hated when he did that. And I knew exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted me all keyed up, all indignant about doing house chores and then he’d swoop in and get me talking about what I didn’t want to talk about. Bastard.

  Poor, silly Boy Scout.

  “You know,” I said, enjoying the way Ryan’s eyebrows rose, how he didn’t resist me when I pulled his bottle from his hands. “You didn’t offer me one.”

  He licked his lips, dipping his chin as though he couldn’t see me clearly. “In the fridge, Alex. You’re welcome to as many as you’d like.”

  “I mean,” I started, resting my knee on the sofa right next to his thigh. “I did slave away on your grubby t-shirts.” He tried acting unaffected. He shot for the cool that Ryan almost always maintained, but I saw how his eyes moved, how that heavy gaze of his stayed on my leg, the hem of my shorts. He popped his knuckles as though he needed to keep from touching me. “That was some damn stinky laundry.”

  “I bet it was.” He reached for the beer, but I jerked it to my mouth and Ryan stilled, watched as I exaggerated my movements, took a deep gulp. He wasn’t the only one good at distraction and when I felt the muscles in his thighs tighten next to my leg, I smiled against the glass bottle, thinking I’d won. He wouldn’t ask about Misty. He wouldn’t tease me about laundry.

  But Neil Ryan was a SEAL and a damn good cop. He was also a lot bigger, a lot stronger than me and when I handed him back the bottle, he didn’t take it.

  He took me instead.

  “Enough.” And Ryan shot up from the sofa, cupping me under my ass, pulling one of my legs up to his waist before he attacked my mouth.

  It had been coming for weeks, probably since the first time we met. I didn’t worry about not being the right woman for him or that he’d been a cop. Ryan’s body was wide and strong, his touch fierce, demanding and I craved it. He didn’t touch me in order to control me. He touched me because it’s what he wanted, what I wanted.

  “God you taste good,” he told me, keeping my head still with one hand and my ass uplifted with the other.

  “It’s the craft beer,” I shot back at him and he snorted, but then his mouth was back on mine, his tongue probing, and I loved the feel of the warm slickness, of his delicious mouth leading, controlling and working my pussy into a wet frenzy with just the touch of his lips and tongue.

  We were just kissing, tumbling against the sofa, limbs and fingers teasing, mouths eager, hungry, with me loving the way he felt against me, how he held me tight, how he placed his large hand at the center of my back as he c
ontinued to ravage my mouth.

  “Ryan,” I breathed against his neck, needing to taste his skin so he would know that he felt like nothing I’d ever had on my tongue, all cotton candy and beignets and warmth. I never wanted to stop tasting him, never wanted him to stop touching me like he was then, all desperate and growling and pulsing against my clit as I rolled my hips against him.

  “Shit.” His voice was deeper then, coming out somewhere between a growl and a moan that only made me wetter and when Ryan fished his hands along my stomach, brushing aside the stretchy waistband of my shorts, I thought that sound only vibrated into something melodic. His hand slipped even lower. “Alex, I can feel how hot you are.” He grazed my clit and I shuddered, making a weak, lost sound that he caught in his mouth. “I make you wet, darlin’?” I could only nod, making stupid, pointless attempts to keep my arms steady and still Ryan continued torturing me with his large fingers and those words that were both filthy and delicious. “You wanna come on my fingers? You want to feel me here?” And then Ryan didn’t wait for my answer, slipping two fingers inside me while he pushed his free palm on my lower back, guiding, moving my hips and ass against his large fingers buried deep and before I understood what was happening or how quickly it had started, my pussy clenched and that swelling, sweet buzz against my clit vibrated and I came hard riding on Ryan’s fingers.

  “God… I… shit.”

  But he didn’t let me come up for air and took my mouth again, continuing his attack with his hands and tongue, guiding me on top of him. I didn’t know what he wanted, if this was just Ryan wanting to play or if he had a plan. Honestly, I didn’t care about anything but how he felt, the strong, wide expanse of his well-defined chest, the aggressive, desperate grip of his fingers tugging into my hair, urging my tongue deeper into his mouth.

  “Can’t… think when I taste you,” he said, cupping my face like he was greedy, like my lips were a meal he’d never finish. “Fuck, I want you, baby. So damn bad.”

  I knew he did. Problem was, I wanted Ryan too. I hated myself for admitting that. I hated that I’d let this complete stranger, a cop no less, work his way into my brain. I knew it was my fault. I knew I’d been careless but it was too damn late. Ryan had been a hustle I hadn’t counted on losing. He’d been the one great score that I didn’t know I wanted. I’d forgotten that I wasn’t supposed to have this for myself, that a good man would make me feel like I could be a good woman. He touched me like it meant something, like I did, and as I rubbed against him, his hands all over me, the scent of his sweat and the taste of his skin teasing my tongue, I realized that I wanted too much. I wanted it all.