Текст книги "Exposed"

Автор книги: Brighton Walsh

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Chapter Nine

EVIE

Silence descended around us after those few words left my lips. Riley’s eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched hard, every muscle in his body taut, like he was ready to pounce or flee at any moment.

Finally, his voice rough and scratchy, he said, “I’m going to need more information than that, Evie.”

It was still odd to hear my name from his lips—hear my name from anyone—having been so long since I’d been called that. Gage and Aaron had always been diligent to use Genevieve anytime we’d had to speak over the years, making sure we’d lived up to every bit of the elaborate hoax we’d all created.

I took a deep breath and nodded, then twisted my body on the couch to face him, tucking my left leg under me. I rested my hands in my lap, fidgeting as I picked at my nails. “Do you remember me mentioning an accountant back then? Ned Richards? Who was supposedly skimming from Max?”

“Yeah.” Riley’s jaw clenched hard, his nostrils flaring. “We were told he grabbed the gun off one of the guys on the boat and opened fire. Story was that you were shot in the chest twice and fell overboard.”

I shook my head, heat blooming in my cheeks at how easily my life had been swept under the rug for them. To maintain compliance in the ranks of the crew, Max wouldn’t have told everyone the truth. Not the actual truth that I knew, or the lies disguised as truth that Frankie had no doubt told him. And the reason I knew Frankie had told Max some distorted version of the truth was that if Frankie had copped to me escaping, he’d be dead right now.

I’d never had a doubt there’d be a story of some sort—a spin on the truth—but I’d also never known what everyone had been told. I’d never asked Gage, not wanting those details. Not when I was trying to forget about that part of my life. Not when I was trying to start fresh as Genevieve Meyer.

“When Frankie got me on the boat, Ned was already dead.”

Riley froze, every inch of him going still. “He was what?”

I nodded, swallowing. “That’s what started this whole clusterfuck. Ned…” I shook my head and glanced down at my lap, then back up at Riley. “Roughing him up had been Frankie’s first job for Max, but no one else in the crew had known about it. I’d been the only one who’d known he had been brought in. The only one who’d known he was working that job.”

Thinking back now, I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve realized something shady was going down—shadier than the shit we dealt with every day. Because Max only hid something if there was a reason for it. And there were quite literally a million reasons for him to hide this.

“Ever since Max had me digging up info on Ned, getting evidence of his betrayal, of him skimming money from Max, I thought something didn’t add up. So I did what I do best—I dug some more. And I found that Ned wasn’t actually the one skimming the money from Max. Max was skimming the money from Blaine Pruitt, and Ned was helping him cover his tracks.”

“Goddamn…”

I nodded. Blaine was a widely known and hugely successful businessman in Chicago. As such, he made a lot of friends. Made a lot of enemies, too, and because of that, he was one of the top guys who kept Max in business.

“Wait,” Riley said, “if Ned was covering Max’s tracks, why the shakedown? Why was Frankie hired at all?”

“Because Blaine had somehow found out that someone was skimming from him. Max had me dig just far enough that I’d see all the transactions Ned initiated. Once I dug only that far, Max had been satisfied, told me to quit looking, that he could take that to Blaine. He’d had me get just enough evidence so he could set it up so Ned would take the fall for the whole thing.”

Riley shook his head, his brow furrowed. “That still doesn’t explain why there was suddenly a dead guy, and it sure as hell doesn’t explain what the fuck you were doing on that boat.”

“I knew something wasn’t adding up, so even though Max had told me to stop digging, I didn’t. I went further than he knew, and what I found proved I was right—I got the evidence showing that it was Max who was skimming from Blaine … for more than a year. I’m talking upward of a million dollars when everything was added up.”

“Holy fuck.”

Nodding, I continued, “I got cocky, thought I could remain unseen. Even though the evidence was in black and white right in front of me, I needed more. I needed to be certain. I didn’t know who I could go to with the information, if I’d even go to anyone. I only saw as far as the day ahead. So I found out when the shakedown was going to happen, and I followed them—”

“Jesus Christ, Evie, you went there by yourself?” he asked, his voice bleeding with disapproval.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a little late for scolding now, don’t you think?”

He took a deep breath, jaw ticcing, and ran a hand through his hair, the muscles in his biceps flexing against the harsh black line of the short sleeves of his T-shirt with each motion.

I took his silence for acceptance and continued, “That had been Frankie’s first job. Max had pulled him into it, not wanting any of his other guys to sully it, I would guess. I don’t think he counted on Frankie getting trigger-happy and killing Ned. And he definitely didn’t count on me witnessing everything.”

“You saw it happen? All of it?”

I nodded and swallowed, the images of that night blinking through my mind like a flip-book, one bloody image after the other. “Yeah. I saw it, and then I ran. I couldn’t hear what they said after that, but I ran as fast as I could. Got away for a while. I was able to hide the evidence I’d found damning Max, but Frankie caught up with me shortly after that. He kidnapped me, got me out onto the boat with Ned’s dead body, and took off onto the lake.”

“None of that explains how you got away. Or how Max ended up with your locket.”

My hand went up to my clavicle, automatically searching for something that hadn’t been there in years, something I hadn’t taken off since Riley had given it to me more than a year before my disappearance. I could remember everything about that night. How he’d pulled the box from his backpack, tossing it into my lap like it wasn’t a big deal. How he’d feigned disinterest while I’d opened it, covering his nerves and uncertainty with apathy. As if I wouldn’t love anything he’d given me.

Hearing about it now brought the same pang to my heart that was always present whenever I thought of it. It was the only gift Riley had ever given me. He’d saved for months to be able to buy it for me for my sixteenth birthday. It was a silver locket in the shape of a heart, an old-fashioned keyhole right in the center. I’d love it. Cherished it. Whenever I’d worn it, I’d felt invincible. It’d made me feel safe, just like Riley had always tried to do.

I’d never taken it off.

I swallowed, closing my eyes and reliving it like it had been yesterday. “Once Frankie got me out far enough onto the lake, he came over and uncuffed me from the railing, and I tried to get away. He grabbed whatever he could, but I kicked and punched. Then he got ahold of my necklace. I was struggling so hard, he ripped it right off my neck as I took off, then he pulled his gun from his jeans, and I didn’t think. I jumped.”

“Into the lake? Holy shit, Evie, how far out were you?”

“I could still see the lights of the city, but it didn’t matter. If I didn’t jump, Frankie would’ve killed me anyway. At least that way, I had a chance. And, as you can see, it was a chance well taken. As it was, he got a shot in. It wasn’t fatal, obviously, but he must’ve thought it was, otherwise I have no doubt he would’ve gone after me. Fortunately, it was already dark and I was easily lost to him in the water.”

Riley was quiet for a minute, then when he spoke, his voice was rough. “Where?”

“Where what?”

“The bullet … Where did he shoot you?”

I paused for a moment, then dragged the neck of my sweater down, showing the small scar on my chest near my underarm. Riley stared at it, his eyes unblinking, his entire body taut. I wanted to reach out to him, wanted to comfort him now like he’d always comforted me before.

But it wasn’t my place anymore. If the years between us didn’t prove that, the ring on my finger certainly did.

After what seemed like forever, he said, “How long before you contacted Gage?” His voice was hard, accusatory, his hurt bleeding through in his tone.

Though I’d always wondered how he would take the fact that I’d chosen to go to his brother over him, I never thought I’d get my answer. But I got it now, in the hard set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the stiff set of his shoulders. He was pissed. But more than that, I could see hurt in the depths of those eyes. Hurt that I’d inflicted because I’d gone to someone else. At that point in time, though, I hadn’t had a choice. And even if I had, I didn’t know that I would’ve chosen to go to Riley, if for no other reason than to protect him.

“Not long,” I said. “I don’t remember everything that happened. I remember jumping overboard and swimming for what seemed like forever. Next thing I knew, I woke up on the shore, then I ran. I contacted Gage as soon as I could get to a phone. By that time, everyone had already heard the news about me. He gave me a place to meet him, and I went. He’d gotten a guy to patch me up, good as new.” I nearly laughed at that phrase, because that was about as far from the truth as I could get. That was the last day of my life I’d be anything resembling good. I twisted the engagement ring around my finger and stared at Riley. “That was the last day I was Evie Masterson.”

RILEY

Even having known Evie from before, having known how tough and unruffled she was, it was still hard to believe the petite woman sitting in front of me had gone through all that and somehow made it out on the other side.

“So you just left everything behind.” I hated that frustration bled through in my tone, that I was letting her have a glimpse of exactly how much her leaving had hurt me. And now that I knew it truly had been her choice, it was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“I had to, Riley. If I didn’t … if I hadn’t left, it would’ve only caused problems for everyone, you included. It was better all around that Max think I was dead.”

“Better all around?” I couldn’t believe she was saying that. “That’s bullshit. How, exactly, was it better, Evie? I’d really love to know, because it sure as shit wasn’t better for me.”

“What the hell did you want me to do? Hide out in your apartment? Be reasonable, Riley. Running was the best and only option.”

“The girl I knew didn’t run from anything.”

She met my eyes for a moment before she looked away, brushing a flyaway strand of hair back behind her ear. “Yeah, well. I ran from this. I’d never been up against anything this big before.”

“What about your parents?”

Her shoulders tightened, her spine going rigid, and that was enough of an answer without her saying a word, though she said, “What about them?”

“They still think you’re dead, don’t they? You never told them…”

“No, I didn’t. And I’m not going to.” Her voice was hard, brooking no argument.

I furrowed my brow, scratching the scruff on my jaw. Evie hadn’t exactly gotten along with her parents back then, but this was on a whole other level. There was teenage angst, that whole butting-heads-with-your-parents thing, and then there was this. Letting them think she was dead? That seemed a little extreme.

“Never? But why—”

“I said they don’t know and they’re never going to. End of discussion.” She stood from the couch and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and effectively shutting out any response I’d have.

Before, Evie hadn’t ever liked talking about her parents, had avoided it at all costs, but that was nothing compared to the way she’d just slammed the door on my questioning.

The fact that she shut it down so forcefully made me wonder how worried she was … if concern over her parents’ well-being was what had made her run in the first place.

Chapter Ten

EVIE

Despite my exhaustion, sleep still wouldn’t come. Riley had crashed on the couch a bit ago, and in our near proximity, I could hear his smooth, even breathing. Listening to it brought back memories of a time so long ago, a time when I’d crash at his place—anything so I didn’t have to go home—and he’d curl himself around me, the two of us smashed on the couch because he and Gage had only been able to afford a one-bedroom apartment. Like it was yesterday, I could remember the feeling of having him pressed up behind me as he slept, his arms the only solace I’d ever known, all warmth and comfort wrapped up in a lanky kid.

He wasn’t that lanky kid anymore.

He was anger and aggression and determination, the past five years having changed him so much from the boy I’d once known.

It was nearing dawn, the earliest whispers of light brushing against the sky and filling the loft with pale light. I stared at the ceiling and thought about my and Riley’s last interaction, right before we’d crashed for the night. When he’d brought up my parents. Brought up the two people I had no desire to think of ever again.

Riley had always been astute, especially when it came to me. He’d always been able to read me, knowing my signs, sensing my emotions. But with my parents, he’d assumed it was standard adolescent angst, just run-of-the-mill teenage bullshit, and I’d never corrected him. He’d never known the issues I’d had with my parents. I hadn’t told him, and he hadn’t pushed.

He’d never pushed me in anything—not back then. He’d always let me take the reins, let me lead in our relationship. Now, though, that was something else that was different. Something else about him that had changed. He would never be satisfied letting someone else lead, that much was clear in the little bit we’d interacted.

And that worried me, because if he pushed on this … if he didn’t take my short answers at face value, wasn’t satisfied with them like he’d always been before, a whole host of shit I didn’t want to talk about—especially with him, never with him—was going to be staring me down, looking me right in the eyes.

And I’d have no choice but to tell him. To reveal the secrets I’d worked so hard to hide.

The secrets I’d tried so hard to run from.

RILEY

With the loft being so open, it was hard to hide out, but Evie had managed to do it all morning. She’d woken up, headed into the bathroom, showered, and changed into different clothes. Then she’d parked herself on the bed, phone in hand, doing whatever it was she needed to do. Whether she was reading a book on there or surfing the Web or, more probably, talking to her fiancé, I didn’t know.

The thought of that guy—Eric—made my jaw tighten, my shoulders tense. It’d been five years, and I certainly hadn’t abstained from relationships during that time, though relationships wasn’t exactly accurate. After Evie … after learning of her death, I’d slipped into an easy pattern of fuck and flee, and I’d never really gotten out of it. All the women I’d been with had been aware of how I worked, were in it for the same thing I was—physical release. Because after Evie, I’d figured I’d already used up my one chance to connect with someone so much. I’d had it and lost it, and that was it for me.

Seemed she didn’t quite think the same.

When the silence that had filled the loft all damn day finally got to be too much, I asked, “What have you told Eric?”

She snapped her head up, her eyes wide as she looked at me. I didn’t need any kind of answer from her, because her eyes said it all—that panicked stare focused directly on me.

“None of it?” I raised my eyebrows.

Averting her attention to the bed, she avoided my gaze again, but I was tired of being shut out by her. We were stuck here together until we figured a way out of this fucking mess she’d gotten us in, and I wasn’t about to spend it talking to a goddamn wall.

“So he has no idea your real name is Evie Masterson.”

“I’m not Evie. I’m Genevieve.”

“Bullshit you are. That’s a role you play, simple as that.”

She laughed then, a hollow sound, too dark and sinister coming from such a sweet mouth. “Oh, Riley. I’ve been playing a role for a hell of a lot longer than five years.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Ignoring—or avoiding—my question entirely, she said, “No, he doesn’t know any of it. And he won’t, not if I have a choice in the matter.”

“And what if you don’t? What if Max takes that choice away from you?”

She blew out a breath, sank back to the pillow propped against the wall at the head of the bed. “Then I guess I’ll figure it out if that happens.”

I turned around on the couch, hanging my arm over the back, and faced her more directly. “Does he even know where you are?”

“He knows I’m away from home…” She trailed off, her gaze going to the window next to the bed. “He just doesn’t know where or why.”

“And he doesn’t ask?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Our relationship isn’t really like that…”

“You’re engaged to marry him, but you don’t tell each other where you are?” Granted, I’d never been engaged, so what the fuck did I know? But it just seemed to me that was exactly what two people desperately in love with each other would do. In fact, people desperately in love usually couldn’t stand to be away from each other. Which raised another question entirely. “Why aren’t you in London with him? Why’d you stay behind?”

She crossed her arms, her chin jutting up, eyes hard. “I’m not sure it’s really any of your business what I do and don’t discuss with my fiancé or why I do or don’t do things with him.”

I stared at her for a minute, at that defiant glint in her eyes, the hard set of her shoulders, and clenched my jaw, my fists tightening. I didn’t know why her avoidance of my questions bothered me so much. More than that, I didn’t know why I wanted to know the answers so damn bad in the first place. No good could possibly come from delving into her life like that, finding out what made her tick now. Or from learning detailed accounts of what she did and didn’t do with her fucking fiancé.

Giving her a short nod, I said, “You’re absolutely fucking right. Forget I said a word.”

I turned my back on her, though I wanted to do more than that. What I wanted was to storm out, slam the door, and go for a long ride on my bike. Or hit a punching bag until I’d exhausted myself. Or go for a hard, grueling run until I’d cleared my goddamn head. Or fuck out every ounce of aggravation and irritation and frustration I had thrumming through my veins … Instead, I was stuck here, in this too-small loft, with the one girl I never thought I’d see again, the one girl I’d loved and lost … The one girl who’d always managed to turn me inside fucking out.

One thing I was certain of: if I sat here stewing, I’d be miserable all night—hell, I’d be miserable however long we’d be stuck here. Just because I’d gotten used to burning off my aggression in other ways didn’t mean I didn’t have the best piece of equipment with me. I got up and walked across the room, grabbing the bag of stuff I’d had Gage pack for me yesterday and pulling out an A-shirt and basketball shorts.

Evie had dismissed me the second I’d told her to forget I said a word, burying her nose in that goddamn phone again, so I didn’t give it a second thought when I reached back and pulled my shirt over my head, quickly slipping into the white A-shirt. I unbuttoned and dropped my jeans, pulling on the basketball shorts over my black boxer briefs, then shoved everything else in the bag.

When I spun around to head toward the kitchen to get some water, Evie’s eyes weren’t focused on her phone like I’d expected. Nope, they were focused right on me, those gray eyes hidden partially behind eyelids at half-mast, her lips parted, a blush dotting her cheeks.

I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my eyes at her. Though it’d been years since I’d seen it, I recognized that look on her face, had seen it a hundred times before. Evie was turned on. It could’ve been my frustration coming out, or it could’ve been pure curiosity, but I couldn’t help goading her. “Something you need?”

My voice startled her, and her eyes lifted to connect with mine, telling me she’d been staring right at my chest. She shook her head. “No. Um, no. Just wondering what you were doing.”

“Well, you’ve pissed me the fuck off, so I’m gonna run some drills.”

She glowered at me, the lusty—and, yeah, it’d been lust on her face; I’d bet my balls on it—look wiped clean in the blink of an eye. Instead of commenting on the first part of what I’d said, she asked, “By yourself?”

“Not a whole lot of options…” I filled a glass with water, then set it on the counter before going over to the couch and pushing it forward, sliding it to sit right in front of the TV. The space in here wasn’t overly large, but it was big enough to go through some routines. Ones I hadn’t been through in a while—months, if not a year or more. Gage and I always used to do this, back when we couldn’t afford any other method of keeping in shape—no gym memberships for us. And in our business, you had to keep in shape. If you didn’t, you were flat on your back—or worse—before you could blink.

I stretched briefly, warming up with some jumping jacks, push-ups, and sit-ups to get my heart rate up. When I was ready to really get into it, see if I could remember the series of movements Gage had taught me years ago, Evie was standing in front of me. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a light gray tank top and the tiniest pair of shorts I’d ever seen the only things covering her body.

“I’m an option,” she said, her hands resting on her hips. “I always did think it was more fun doing it with someone else.”

I raised an eyebrow at her words and let my eyes take in every inch of her, traveling up from her bare feet, her toenails painted a boring pale pink that so wasn’t Evie, to the creamy smooth expanse of her toned calves and thighs, pausing momentarily at the tiny scrap of material that counted as shorts—or panties, more likely. I knew if she turned around, the cheeks of her ass would be visible out the bottom of that little band of fabric, and I ached to reach around and feel it for myself.

My cock roused in my shorts, twitching to life, and it didn’t settle down as I continued my appraisal, ghosting over the flat plane of her stomach and the sliver of bare skin where her tank top didn’t quite meet the band of her shorts, then darting my gaze up to the creamy expanse of her shoulders, speckled with freckles and nearly bare except for the straps of her tank top. The thin straps that made it clear she, once again, wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that she needed to—her breasts were small, tiny really, but perfect. The thought of them, of what they’d looked like, especially as I allowed my gaze to finally drop and take in the hard points pressing against the fabric, made my mouth water. Made my hands twitch at my sides to reach out, pull the strap from her shoulder, yank down the front of the tank top, and put my mouth to those perfect little tits, suck her nipples into my mouth, and see if I still knew how to make her moan.

See if, this time around, I could make her scream.