Liars and Liaisons by Sav R. Miller
18
A partof me is very aware of my limited options here.
I think if I keep denying him, he might toss me into the lake. At least, that’s the reason I’ve convinced myself that he brought me out here.
Then again, he really hasn’t pushed me beyond my means. Hasn’t forced himself on me even if the coercion strips me of the real choice. I can’t help wondering if he’d really make me do something if I said no.
If that were the case, if he were a monster without an ounce of control, wouldn’t he have already taken by now? Especially since we’ve already crossed that line once?
Instead, he seems almost desperate enough to beg. Like the idea of seeing me naked or of being with me in an intimate way is vital to him. Like oxygen he needs to breathe.
The look in his eyes confirms the compulsion. His gaze is chaos and anguish. Heat and yearning.
It isn’t like I didn’t know this was a possibility, given how all of this began. The fifty-five thousand dollars I sent to my father hadn’t magically appeared.
I earned it. Sort of.
Plus, we’ve already done this. Presumably. I can’t remember that night, but doing it again—as a refresher—wouldn’t be betraying Nate any extra.
A pang of guilt flashes like lightning through my stomach, and I fold my arms over it, wondering if I’m not as good of a person as I’ve always liked to believe. Maybe genetics have more to do with my soul than I thought, and Kal and I aren’t actually so different after all.
Clearing my throat, I jut my chin at Grayson. “How much?”
He runs a hand through his brown locks, scratching the back of his head. “You set the price.”
I swallow, my eyes darting to his hands and those long fingers. “A hundred grand.” That might put my father in the clear, and maybe I wouldn’t have to stay so hidden anymore. Maybe I could go home.
He doesn’t even blink. “Done.”
This is wild.
Beyond wild.
It’s irresponsible. And yet a small thrill shoots down my spine like a firework, setting my nerves ablaze. My hands tremble, and I press them into my thighs to hide it.
My parents used to do whatever they needed to for money.
“It makes the world go round,” my father would say, although I didn’t know back then that he’d make it just to blow it all away in a weekend.
Still, that grit is something they drove into me. And since I need to make the cash in order to pay back my father’s debt, I’m willing to do whatever it takes.
I suppose it could be more of a hardship.
“If I asked you for a million dollars right now, would you give it to me?”
“In this very moment, I would give you whatever you desired.” He moves closer, reaching for one of the thin straps of my bra, and slips it down a shoulder. “I might even beg.”
“Just to taste me?”
“For the privilege.”
Jesus Christ. How anyone could ever resist this man, I don’t know. Maybe that makes me as fucked up as him, and maybe that’s why I’m giving in anyway.
I like that he doesn’t seem to judge. That I don’t have to pretend not to want things.
“Okay,” I say finally, lifting my chin in what I hope is a display of confidence. Normally, I feel secure in my convictions, but everything about this man makes me uneasy. “What—”
“Grayson!” Micah’s shrill tone reaches us across the yard, and we both glance to our right to see her standing under the beams of a loggia, waving her arms frantically. “You have company!”
He clenches his jaw. As if contemplating ignoring her.
She doesn’t let up though, and instead, he reaches out to grip my jaw. Forcing my gaze up to meet his.
And tosses my clothes into the lake.
“To be continued.”
* * *
Twenty minutesafter Grayson left me at the lake, I’m still standing in my bra and thong, waiting for him to come back.
Twenty minutes turn into thirty and then forty, and I’m left with only a thin film of embarrassment smoothing across my skin like sweat. After the hour mark passes, I wade into the water, pretending I know exactly what lies at the bottom, as if that isn’t what got me into trouble in the first place.
My shirt and jeans are soaked, and I lay them flat on the shore, hoping whatever’s left of the sun might dry them out enough for me to put them back on.
Goose bumps crop up along my arms and thighs, and I huddle down near a bush, peering out at the estate and trying to decide the best way to get back in without being seen. I let my hair out of its two French braids, hoping that might add a little warmth.
In the distance, leaves rustle as a breeze travels through the trees. Branches and twigs snap under the footsteps of forest critters, and I focus on my breathing and not the fact that I’m sort of stranded here. My underwear isn’t that different from a bikini, but I still don’t know who’s at the house, and if it’s Nate, I definitely don’t want to give him the wrong impression.
God, Violet, you are so stupid.
Every decision I’ve made recently feels like the wrong one. It’s like I've spent my entire life being extra careful, making up for the fact that my parents weren’t around enough and being responsible so they didn’t have to, and now, the universe is punishing me for it with an extra dose of bad life choices.
I shouldn’t have come here at all. Shouldn’t have let Grayson tempt me with his money.
Six years ago, I should’ve taken the fucking cash that Kal offered me even if it meant trouble for the family. The terms of my father’s repayment require earnings—not inheritance, gifts, or anything considered a handout. They run the funds through their own little accounting service, and want things like this to be as above board as possible. Anything sent gets filed with the IRS, just so they can continue flying just below the radar with their laundering and gambling schemes.
If you pay the government enough money, they’ll overlook anything.
And since every cent of debt was transferred into my name via credit cards, student loans, and padded savings accounts, the duty of earning became mine.
I’m not even sure how the debt collectors can check that sort of thing, but since it’s the fucking Mafia, I’ve never wanted to test it.
Now, I can’t help thinking how much time I might have saved if I’d just taken Kal’s help in the first place. If the rumors about him are true, maybe he could’ve made all the problems disappear, and I wouldn’t even be here at all.
I could be back home in North Carolina, working at the florist shop downtown. Maybe I could finish my degree one day.
My mother would have been devastated though. Because a deal with my brother wouldn’t have come unattached. I know what the condition is, and I’ve never wanted to be the one to bring his darkness to the family.
Instead, I’ve stuck myself in this place of limbo, where I’m unable to do anything without feeling like the weight of the world is shoving me down beneath it.
Maybe I’d be better off letting the Mafia get to me. At least then, I wouldn’t have to think anymore. Wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else’s feelings or how my actions might affect them.
That’s the thing when you parent yourself, growing up. There is no reprieve from consequence. Even in your own mind.
The sun sets quickly, and only my shirt has had enough time in the light to dry. I wriggle into my clothes, my jeans still soaked through, and stifle a frustrated scream.
A stick snaps, the sound closer than before. I glance in the direction it came from, about fifteen feet up the shore. My eyes scan the surrounding foliage, seeking even a sliver of movement to put my mind at ease. Nothing happens, and my throat tightens, discomfort weaving a dark tapestry in my chest.
Planting my palm on the ground, I search for my phone, keeping my gaze on the distance. Bird chirps carry over the water, and crickets grow louder the quieter everything else gets. There’s a stillness, an essence, that I’ve only felt before in the estate itself.
The sensation of being watched—and not in a physical way. It’s as if the other side, whatever that might be, has its eyes on me. Pressure skates across my shoulders, and I tense against it, as if I might be able to weather the sort of ghosts bound to this property.
Another branch snaps, and this time, it comes from right behind me.
I whirl, keeping one hand on the ground to steady myself. The other curls into a fist, though I’m not exactly sure what I’ll do if I’m in actual danger. I’ve never been in a fight or anything close to it.
There’s a first time for everything.
Across the lake, at one of the edges before it disappears into the mountains, I see shadows. With the backs of my fists, I rub my eyes, trying to figure out if they’re real or not.
When I open again, the shadows remain. Dark, faceless figures that send waves of alarm skirting through my veins, screaming at my legs to get up and run.
But I don’t. I find myself unable to move, afraid that doing so might call attention to my presence. As if they can’t see me otherwise.
Fear clouds within me like thick dust, piling up in my stomach. I try to sink into the bushes, try to make myself as small as possible.
My heart thunders so harshly behind my ribs that they must hear it. It’s all I can hear, and as they drift closer, my skin becomes icy.
“Which way should we go in?” one of the shadows says in a muffled voice. “He’s short-staffed right now, so the south entrance is wide open.”
“We don’t do anything until the security cameras are disabled,” the other one—a female—replies. Her voice equally muffled, like they’re speaking from behind masks. “And preferably when the guests are sleeping. I don’t want any witnesses.”
“Where do you think he put her?” the first figure asks, and my body goes ice cold.
I can’t breathe, can’t think, paralyzed entirely by my terror.
The debt collectors.
Vomit teases the base of my throat, and I pinch the back of my ankle to ground myself. Puking will draw attention, and the only advantage I have right now is that they haven’t seemed to notice me yet.
“Who cares?” the female says. “We’ll turn the whole place over if we need to. I’m not leaving without what’s owed.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I knew I should’ve replied to my father’s messages, but I thought I had time. I always think there’s time, and then the rug is ripped out from under me, and all I can do is brace for impact.
Amid the panic, I can almost hear a voice in my head, telling me to be smart. The element of surprise might be my one ticket out of here since it doesn’t appear my monstrous host is returning soon.
I close my eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath, wondering what my brother would do in my position. If his reputation is to be believed, he wouldn’t let fear rule.
He’d take matters into his own hands.
My life has been a series of happenings. Financial insecurity, familiar infidelity—even my winding up in Aplana Island wasn’t my doing. The events I’ve had little control over, and so I have spent my time grasping at whatever semblances of it I could get.
But not right now. Not here and not with them.
My fingers brush over a smooth, solid stone surface, and I look down long enough to see a gray rock beneath my hand. Dirt embeds under my fingernails as I scoop it into my palm, getting used to the heavy weight.
I don’t have the knife Elena gave me, so this will have to do.
Their voices drop, too low for me to hear, and a few minutes later, the shadows split in two. One moves south, heading away from the lake and around the front of the estate, while the other cuts through the trees, slowly closing in on me.
I hunker as low as I can go, gritting my teeth as I try to calm my breathing. Sunlight teases a corner of the pink and purple sky, just beyond the mountains. It’s enough for me to see out, but the air darkens quickly, and I’m afraid I might soon lose visibility completely.
The figure stops a few feet away, casting their head to one side, overlooking the vast waters. As if listening for signs of life.
A bird bursts through the shrub at my side, scattering leaves and squawking so loud that it drowns out my startled gasp. The figure’s head whips in my direction, and sweat pours down my spine, dripping down the backs of my legs.
A masculine chuckle emits into the air.
I clutch the rock so tight that my fingers go numb.
The shadow edges closer, taunting in their gait. He isn’t expecting an assailant.
He stops just in front of me, the half-dead bush hiding my body, and peers around the tree. Somehow missing me entirely.
Copper springs to my tongue, tangy and bitter. I release my lip from between my teeth, unaware that I was biting into it.
Blowing out a breath, the figure turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. Up close, I see broad shoulders and long black hair and a white mask that covers the top half of his face. The plain black clothing gives nothing else away, and I can’t make out any markings that might help identify him later.
The second he shoves his hands into his pockets, I push up slowly from my crouched position. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, like a spring loaded and ready to unleash. I rear my arm back, heart pounding, head throbbing, and drive the rock into the back of his skull.
He swears and starts to turn, but I do it again. Throwing myself into the motion, I push all of my weight into the hit and strike over and over. And over. And over.
The man doesn’t get the chance to turn around fully.
Liquid sprays across my face, blood gushing from the wound the rock has created, and he slumps first to his knees. I drive the rock in once more for good measure, my heavy breaths suddenly the only sound all around.
Not even the crickets chirp anymore.
When he falls face-first onto the ground, I stagger backward, staring down at the lifeless body without an ounce of pity in my veins. There’s no remorse, only the odd sense of satisfaction swirling around my ribs like an enigmatic smoke.
I wipe the blood from my face with the back of my forearm and drop the rock.
Relief flushes through me, but it’s short-lived when I realize I’m not alone.
A pair of eyes glows silver in the rising moonlight. They take me in slowly, then swivel down to the corpse at my feet. The man’s lips press together, as if he’s trying not to laugh, and then he reaches up and rubs at his jaw with tattooed fingers, adorned with silver rings.
“Well, this is definitely a first.”
