Professional Liar by Monica Corwin

Author:Monica Corwin [Corwin, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-14T18:30:00+00:00

Ten

Katherine

Pierce followed me into the house. I adjusted my own clothing as I walked, but I stopped short inside the door. Ten of Pierce’s crew milled around, shuffling papers, talking on phones.

My husband closed the door and tossed his clothes in a pile on the floor. I could only offer an…“Uh…”

“What?” he asked.

I held up my hands, hoping they explained why I stood there gawking. “This is not a military operations center. If it were, I’d have much hotter men to look at.”

“Hey,” came a disgruntled shout from the corner of the dining room.

Pierce grasped my upper arm and gently propelled me into the thankfully empty kitchen. In a rough whisper, he said, “We need to ascertain if the attack came from my side or yours?”

I yanked from his tightened grip. My short fuse inches from ignition. “What do you mean my side?” I asked, careful and slow.

“We need to know if the attack came from one of the families, or if outside of it all. That’s what the crew is doing now.”

The ground shifted slightly underneath me, and I caught myself on the edge of the counter. Suddenly, I felt woefully out of my depth here. I’d only ever dealt with a physical attack once, and my job involved laying in a hospital bed while I pressed a morphine administration button. “Should I call people, do something?”

He scanned my face and traced the edges of my lips with his thumbs. “If you want to call someone, you can. Otherwise, I’ve got this.”

I reached up to cup his fingers in mine, but he pulled away and put the length of the kitchen between us. “I think it’s time we both lay our cards on the table. I trust you, Kat. Do you trust me?”

I’d always been aware we didn’t go into much details about our lives, or our families. We knew the basics about each other and kept it that way. Not out of distrust. I’d always trusted him, through the games, the lies, the manipulation. Not a second passed where I felt he might harm me.

Hurt me…yes.

He ripped me open more times than I could track. But irreparably, physically, no, never. “I trust you.”

He ducked his chin and realized he purposefully hid his eyes from mine. A tactic I depended on more times than I cared to admit.

“Are you ashamed?” I asked.

At first, he only shook his head but then he finally dragged his gaze to mine and held it. “Most of the syndicates assume my family runs drugs. Or that we are involved with drugs in some capacity.”

Basically my assessment all these years. Further queries into what he did were never necessary. How could I have used him for his attention, his time, his body for so many years without knowing. It seemed foolish now.

“We don’t do anything involving drugs. We actually take care of women.” He continued.

I leaned down and unzipped my black knee high boots. They were too stiff around the ankle and this conversation would require comfort.

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