All the Lies She Told by Melissa Shirley

Author:Melissa Shirley [Shirley, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

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Heather hadn’t just disliked Juliet. She hated her. Had no respect for a woman who couldn’t keep her man from fucking around. And Heather had been the one keeping Jackie’s fingers and his cock wet since two days after she started working at his pawn shop.

How that bitch Juliet ended up with the hot cop made Heather bug-eyed stupid when she tried to figure it out, so she’d stopped trying.

Now, she watched the bitch get out of her poor dead sister’s car. Jesus. That whole day had been a colossal fuck up. She shook her head, glad Jackie didn’t know yet. It would ruin the surprise. And Heather loved a good surprise.

She’d almost been seen at the mall. The sister walked right past her. Stopped to talk to the surfer boy. Truth, he was a little old to be a surfer boy, but he had the blond hair and tan. And the sister had looked almost happy to see him.

“What are you doing here?”

He’d smiled down and brushed a piece of bottle blonde hair from her forehead. “We have to talk.”

Instead of leaning in like Heather would’ve done—surfer boy was the kind of magician who could make panties disappear with that smile of his—the sister stepped back.

“I can’t do this anymore. I love Grant.” But she’d let him kiss her, and for it to be just on the cheek, it was as hot as some open-mouthed French kisses she’d seen. To Heather, it looked like the sister might have been playing some beach blanket boingo with her surfer. And good for her, too. Karma, unfortunately, didn’t agree.

And then the bitch chose that soap opera moment to arrive, and Heather had to get the hell out of there because, while she loved her hair—light auburn with some amber highlights—it was hard to stay incognito with a mop of uncontrollable flaming red drawing the usual looks. She gave the nod then went outside, hid behind an A/C unit so she could get the video footage.

But right now, this was the moment. Her moment. Thank God for Ryder, the motorcycle guy she kept on the side. He’d showed her how to stage a murder/suicide. And she’d already set the scene. Trashed the downstairs like there’d been a fight. And thanks to Jackie’s fucking attitude these last couple weeks, she knew exactly how it should look. Even planted the sister’s wedding ring under the table. Had the Zip drive in her pocket.

She couldn’t decide whether to “hide” it on Jackie or make the bitch watch her smash it. Fortunately, she had time. Because this wasn’t a one-hour kind of thing. There was a method to death. Ryder taught her that, too. He also showed her how to drag that method out.

Juliet’s heels—who the fuck wore Jimmy Choo’s to her own murder—clicked on the kitchen tile. The creak of a cabinet hinge told Heather her guest was looking for a weapon. But Heather had already found the .45 he kept in the kitchen. The .

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