Buried Lies

by Brittney Sahin

  “And?” he pressed.

  I relaxed my shoulders but kept my eyes on his through the reflection. “I heard your friend Tim tell you to hit on the bartender—that was my sister, and you said she was too young for you. You only dated older women.” My voice faltered as I spoke, and I hoped he didn’t notice. “Well, if my sister was too young for you, then you’d never be interested in me. I was younger than her. And so when you asked me out, I said no. Not only was I too young for you, but we ran in completely different circles.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you lied.” His voice was thick, cutting.

  I turned to face him, and his eyes focused on mine. His face was all hard lines and his jaw ticked, noticeable even beneath the stubble.

  “You wouldn’t give up. I figured you’d go off to grad school or something, not hang out in the city. Anyways, I told you I took time off high school, which was why I was only going into my sophomore year. I just didn’t want to let myself even hope there could ever be a world where someone like you dated someone like me. I never thought we’d last more than a few dates.”

  “Someone like you?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. I was barely nineteen, poor, and had a shitty life. You were twenty-two and rich.” God, it sounded so pathetic, saying it out loud. But I’d been young and foolish. I was different now. Wasn’t I?

  “I kept coming to that club every weekend because of you. Hoping that you’d finally say yes.”

  “And I did.”

  “But why lie?” He scrutinized me, probably wondering if I’d lie to him again, right now.

  I lowered my head and stared down at the hardwood beneath my feet. “I thought that once you discovered I was so young, that I was only allowed at the club because my sister had got me a fake ID . . .” I couldn’t continue. I didn’t want to think about her. It hurt too much.

  I leaned forward and pressed my hands to my thighs. At the moment, I wasn’t a tough FBI agent. I was a young kid again, someone broken and afraid.

  “Olivia?” Connor was at my side, his hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you would’ve at least come to her funeral.” I stood upright and stepped away from his reach, trying not to cry.

  His eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?” He was shaking his head.

  “You don’t know?” How could he not have known what happened? No, he ran off to the Marines as my life spiraled out of control.

  A stabbing, burning pain bubbled in my chest, and I pressed my hand to my throat, struggling to breathe. “I’ve worked too hard to let you do this to me.”

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded as he moved in front of me and cupped my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

  “Jessie died,” I gasped as tears pooled in my eyes. “She was shot while bartending at the club.”

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry.” His hand dropped heavy to his side, and he took a step back and turned away from me, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up.

  “She was caught in the crossfires of a turf war between the Russians and Irish. I didn’t know the place was owned by the Irish mob; that’s how she got me the fake ID. I never would’ve taken it had I known . . .” My mind flashed to the night, and my body trembled. “I saw it happen. I was at the club that night. Drinking my sorrows away. And I couldn’t save her.” My voice cracked. “The club cleared out during the gunfire. She motioned for me to run before she ducked down behind the bar.” My beautiful sister. My only real family. Our bucket list had been extensive, and it included doing so many things together.

  “I’m so sorry. If I’d known—” He pulled me to him. His arms were warm around me. “I’m so sorry,” he said once again, his voice breaking.

  “A bullet ricocheted and hit her.” My body was shaking. The emotions pulling at me were too strong to fight. After years of bottling everything inside, turning to my work to hide the pain . . . I sobbed.

  He didn’t try hushing me. He just held me, rubbing my back.

  After I calmed myself and wiped the tears and black streaks of mascara from my face, Connor scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. He shouldered open my bathroom door and gently released me.

  I leaned against the counter, rubbing my arms, and watched him move to the bathtub and start the water. “What are you doing?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder as he tested the temperature of the water and adjusted the knob. “How about a bath? I’ll be right back.”

  He came back with a full glass of wine and set it next to the tub. “I’ll be just outside in the living room—I don’t want you falling asleep in there. Take your time.” The back of his hand touched my cheek, and I sucked in a breath.

  “I’m sorry for—”

  His finger touched my lip, silencing me. “Try and relax,” he said in a low voice as his light green eyes held mine for a few long beats.

  He blinked, shook his head a little, and left.

  Once the door was closed, I retrieved candles and matches from beneath the sink. I peeled off my clothes in a haste after lighting the candles, turned off the lights, and rushed into the tub. I shut my eyes once the water swallowed my body, and I tried to ignore my brain’s protestations. How damn odd it was to be in a bath while my ex was just outside. And not just any ex, but a man I needed to spy on—and possibly arrest.

  The pain eased up a little as my body relaxed. My thoughts drifted as I heard the rain pound hard on the streets, which were a couple stories below my apartment. I really hoped the case would end soon. I wasn’t sure how much more I could bear.

  A twinge of guilt poked my core. And then the guilt expanded to a gaping hole in my stomach.

  “Connor?” I called out, not sure what the hell I was doing.

  “Yeah?” he answered, his voice muffled by the door.

  “You can come in.”

  The door opened slowly, and I was grateful for the bubbles and dim lighting.

  Connor leaned his back to the counter, folded his arms, and faced me. He didn’t look the least bit skittish. In fact, he appeared comfortable standing in my bathroom while I was naked a few feet away. And his confidence turned me on.

  My skin flushed and warmth spread through my limbs. I wanted him. And God did it hurt. I stared at his magnificent body. He’d popped open a few more buttons, exposing his tanned chest and throat. His sleeves were rolled up, his shoes were off, and his jaw was tight. Resolute.

  I wondered what God was thinking when he’d designed such an amazing specimen of a man. Did he draw up some architectural plans first—carved, sculpted, chiseled . . . a little of this, a dash of that . . .

  I must’ve been more than tipsy, I realized.

  “Are you okay, Olivia?” His voice was low and gravely. I wondered why, but then I caught sight of his massive hard-on.

  Oh wow, did that make me forget everything. My knees popped up above the water, and I sat up a little more without thinking, my nipples lifting above the surface of the water.

  Connor pushed away from the counter and stood above me, his eyes darkening with lust.

  I wanted him, even just for tonight. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore my brain, which was shouting, “I can’t. I’m undercover. It’d be wrong!” But when my eyes opened and focused on his mouth, that voice grew silent.

  “Connor,” I said his name like a cry.

  The water raised as Connor, fully clothed, stepped inside the bath. I stared at him, part in shock, part in awe, as he braced the sides of the tub. Oh my God. I found his legs and my hands slid up his slacks. I shifted forward onto his lap.

  His dress shirt clung to the hard muscles of his chest. His large hands held my face as he guided me closer to him, crushing my lips with his.

  My naked body pressed against his clothed one, and I moaned into his mouth, wishing I could feel his skin. I needed him, more than I’d ever needed him before.

  Just for tonight.

  Only for tonight.

&
nbsp; My lips parted from his as I steadied my eyes on him. “I need to touch you.” It had been so long, and yet it felt like we’d first made love only yesterday.

  Connor slipped me off of him, and I groaned at the loss of his touch. He stood and unbuttoned his wet shirt. No, he didn’t rip it off—he wasn’t some overplayed Fabio—but as I watched him tug off his shirt, I almost thought he was. The shadows from the flickering candle flames played off his muscled chest and perfect abs as he reached for the button of his pants.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I stood up, offering him full view of my body.

  His eyes dropped down to my breasts and continued until he pulled his gaze back up. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped.

  I stepped up to him, trying to ignore the fact that I was now freezing. Goosebumps scattered over my body and my nipples were fully erect from the cold.

  Although his pants were still on, he reached for me and pulled me into his arms, leaning over to sweep my legs from under me. I reveled in how warm his chest felt against mine.

  He carried me into the bedroom and yanked at my bedspread with one hand. “Thank you,” I said as he lowered me onto the bed. I covered my body with the comforter and studied him.

  A smile teased the corners of his lips as he dropped his pants and removed his socks. He pulled back the covers and joined me in bed. “Are you sure you want this? After what you told me tonight—” He reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine.

  The time would never be right, but I wasn’t sure if I could tell him now. A dim sense of responsibility battered my brain, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  My eyes opened as he released my hand. He was getting out of the bed. He must have known I was having second thoughts. “I let myself get carried away.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Let me throw your clothes in the dryer.” I pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around my body.

  He looked down at his boxers, which were wet, and crooked a smile my way. “You don’t happen to have anything big enough to fit me while they dry, do you?”

  I came around to his side of the bed, the white bedsheet clinging to my body. His smooth muscled chest, his trim waist, the oh-so-sexy shadows below . . . I captured the memory of him in my mind.

  ***

  Connor

  I couldn’t believe what had almost happened. We had been so close. But, no. It didn’t feel right, not after the revelation about her sister. We’d both lost control in the bathroom—our bodies had taken over—but thankfully, we came to our senses.

  We were wrong for each other. It hadn’t worked before, and I had the scars to prove it. But the woman was making it hard for me to hate her. I couldn’t even pretend to, anymore. Not after what she went through with her sister. I couldn’t imagine losing Mason, my brother. It would kill me.

  And Olivia and Jessie had been close. Her sister practically raised her after their father remarried . . . and her mother—well, she’d been out of the picture for a while. That was why Olivia and I made the decision to keep the baby. To raise the baby together. To give the baby a family.

  Or at least, that’s what I had thought we had decided.

  It had gutted me when she changed the plan without telling me.

  “Connor, your clothes are dry.”

  I pushed my thoughts to the side and forced my attention on Olivia. “That was fast.” I rose from the couch, clutching the blanket around me, and grabbed my clothes from her. “Thank you.”

  “You can use my bedroom.” She forced a smile to her face—one of the fake smiles I’d learned to know.

  I nodded and moved into her bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I dropped the blanket to the floor, holding only the clothes in my hands.

  We had spent the last twenty minutes in silence in her living room, both feeling the pangs of discomfort. Thankfully, she’d changed out of the sheet. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle seeing her wear the sheet any longer without sporting a painful hard on.

  “Sorry about tonight,” she softly said when I came out.

  I finished buttoning my shirt and looked up to meet her eyes. The pain and sadness were still there. “I’m so sorry about Jessie. Did they catch whoever was responsible?”

  Her face blanched as white as the sheet she’d worn earlier. “No.” But then her expression changed and a mask veiled her face. But the mask was thin, and I could see through it—I could see her. She couldn’t hide from me, not even after all the years between us.

  “Will you be okay?” I worried about leaving her alone.

  She inhaled a breath through her nose, her mind obviously working. “Yes,” she whispered and rubbed her arms.

  I wanted to comfort her again, but I knew if I touched her, I wouldn’t want to stop. “I should go,” I rushed the words from my mouth before I could change my mind. I grabbed my keys off the end table by her sofa and shoved them into my pocket. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I asked again, unable to shake my concern.

  “I’m fine,” she drew out the words with obvious emphasis. “Really.”

  I wanted to protest her answer, but I turned away and started for the door.

  “What are you going to do about Declan?”

  I placed my hand on the doorknob. “You think we can work together?”

  “Do you?”

  I turned to face her, and she was standing only a few inches away. I touched her shoulder, and she flinched, but I kept my hand there anyway. “I think I can.”

  Her lips became glossy after she wet them. “We can make it work,” she answered in a somewhat strained voice.

  “Then I’ll call Declan tomorrow. I’ll make the deal.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olivia

  “He was at your place pretty late. What happened?”

  I gasped and took a step back from Blake, crossing my arms. “Were you spying on me?” I wondered if my eyes were bulging with the rage I felt.

  Blake glanced over at Sean, who was standing a few feet away with a laptop in his hand. “Can you give us one sec?”

  Sean nodded at us and retreated to the bedroom. We were at our meetinghouse in Brooklyn, not too far from the Metro Detention Center. That was the federal prison I hoped Declan would wind up in. He deserved to be thrown in the hole for twenty-three hours a day. And Konstantin and the Russians he was partnered with? Well, they were worse; they merited a special place in hell.

  “Were you watching me?” I asked Blake again, with grit in my voice.

  He touched my shoulder, but I jerked back free of him. “Olivia, I was just keeping an eye on you. Connor could be dangerous. We don’t know.”

  “Nothing happened, Blake. He spilled something on his clothes, and I had to dry them.” Not quite a lie to my apparently jealous superior.

  He rubbed his jaw and eyed me.

  “Did you find anything on Lauren Tate?” I maneuvered to a different topic.

  “She’s clean.”

  I turned my back to him. “I find that hard to believe. There’s something off about her.”

  “Trust me. I would’ve found something.”

  “Alright.” Maybe she was an opportunist and saw dollar signs when she looked at both Declan and Connor. Hell, maybe I just didn’t like the way she looked at Connor. But that was insane. Connor wasn’t mine—not anymore.

  Still, the ripcord had been pulled, and there was no stopping now—the memories began parachuting in my mind the second I had laid eyes on Connor at the club.

  I’ll never stop loving you, Liv. There’s nothing in the world that could make me run away. Connor’s words from the past planted root in my mind.

  Everyone runs, Connor. I had responded to him, remembering my mother, my father.

  I’ll never leave. We’ll grow old together. I’ll die first because I wouldn’t survive a day without you, he had told me. I’d actually believed him.

  But I shouldn’t have. He took off like everyone else in my life had.

 
“What did you learn last night?” Blake’s voice slipped into my ear, interrupting my thoughts.

  Turning around, I took a deep, grounding breath, and answered, “He’s going to make a deal with Declan.”

  “And what’s the deal?”

  I pressed my back to the window, irritation pushing through my body, making my legs feel shaky. “His company invented an EMF railgun. A hand-held one.”

  “What?” That was Sean from the other room—apparently eavesdropping. “You’re shitting me?” He re-entered the room, taking quick steps toward me. His eyes darted to Blake and back to me.

  “Declan obviously wants the weapon.” I described everything I’d remembered from the meeting, hating myself for keeping the truth from Connor. He wouldn’t do the deal if he knew how deep this whole thing ran, would he?

  “Wow. That weapon is like Sci-Fi shit. I’d love to see it,” Sean remarked.

  I reached into my pocket and handed Sean a folded piece of paper. When I’d gone to dry Connor’s pants last night, I found the printed image of the weapon folded in the pocket. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too badly damaged by the bath.

  Sean eagerly unfolded the paper and studied it. “This is sick.” He handed the paper to Blake and pushed dark strands of hair out of his eyes.

  “And what did you find?” I asked Sean and slouched onto the couch.

  Sean grabbed his laptop and powered it on. “We stumbled upon the holy grail.”

  “Don’t get too excited.” Blake held his hand in front of him.

  I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, nervous apprehension spiking inside me. Sean sat next to me, but Blake remained standing before us. “What am I looking at?”

  “This is an aerial photo of a location just outside Baghdad.” Sean pointed to the screen. “This guy here is the Russian general Josef Zhuravlev. And he’s meeting with what looks like a group of insurgents. They’re trading crates for briefcases. The assumption being money is in those briefcases.” He zoomed in on a cargo box off to the side of Zhuravlev. “Recognize that?”