Twisted Truth (Truth Vs Lie Book 1)

by Maria Macdonald

  “So what about us?” Darwin asks.

  I’m looking at the floor, but I tilt my head so our eyes meet. “Are you a praying man, Darwin?” He chuckles, and I shake my head with a smile. I hope after all is said and done, we can still smile. I also wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to move forward with Via while this shit is swirling around me.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, coming to sit at the dining table opposite me.

  I glance up at him before grabbing the bottle of vodka on the table and pouring a shot. Slamming it down the back of my throat, Darwin wisely doesn’t comment even after I throw a second shot down.

  I hiss as the alcohol burns through my chest. “I don’t know if I can keep her safe.”

  “Shelly? She’s a fully trained killing machine—”

  I cut him off. “No, Olivia.”

  There’s a sudden silence, the intensity of the moment is thick as we’re swallowed by our thoughts. Darwin lost his sister. The cause of her death was indirectly linked to the life we lead. This life burns us or the ones we love at some point. Darwin was considering joining Black Ops, but his sister’s safety was holding him back. He was all she had. His connection to his first handler, Jenson, meant he was being watched. Nobody told him to be vigilant, even when it was just an option and not a firm decision. She was killed the day he signed his life away—run down at a zebra crossing by a drunk driver. However, we knew better. We always know better.

  The look in his eyes as our stares collide tells me all I need to know. I shouldn’t have ever started up again with Via, but now I have, I don’t know if I can let her go again.

  “I’m fucked,” I complain.

  “Yep,” is all he offers in return.

  LIV

  “He’s disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “Not in the literal sense,” I answer, glaring at myself in the mirror.

  Dragging my fingers through my hair and following the movement with my eyes, I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down harder than my nerves can stand. As the tears spring free, I stare at my reflection, knowing the only dipshit I’m trying to kid is myself. The emotion is a direct result of my pain, but not the pain currently caused by the trickle of blood that’s blossomed from my broken skin.

  “I don’t understand. I thought you reconnected? I thought he admitted his feelings? That you both did.”

  My finger hovers over the round red button on my iPhone. I tremble, fighting the need to cut Helena off. I don’t want to talk about this… I need to talk about it… but I don’t want to.

  “Liv?” Her voice booms out of the loudspeaker and bounces around the silent room. “Liv, don’t you dare cut me off!”

  My body hangs limply from the chair as I lean back, and the tension slowly discharges from my limbs. Permitting a small grin, I’m relieved my friend knows me well enough to call me on my bullshit and pull me out of my own head even if it is from miles away.

  “Liv?” She’s on the verge of a meltdown now.

  “I’m here.” The steady strength my voice usually exudes is sorely lacking as verbal sawdust trickles out instead.

  “You may be there, but you’re not okay, are you?”

  I sigh. “No. I’m not okay, but I will be… I swear.”

  “Liv, remember who you’re talking to. I know how you feel about him. Tell me he hasn’t broken you?”

  I swipe the small line of blood that has travelled down my chin. Hissing when my thumb makes contact with my torn lip.

  “Hel, I appreciate your concern. Honestly. The truth is, I don’t know where he is, all I got was a quick phone call. Apparently, he had to go away for a while.” I shrug at myself in the mirror, not sure who I’m explaining Isaac’s actions to. “He said it was for work and he didn’t know how long he’d be gone.”

  “What about the two of you?” she demands without hesitation.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Olivia.” Helena’s voice is low and serious. “You must have asked how long? Where he was going? What that meant for the two of you?” She fires the questions, becoming more enraged with each one.

  Picking at the blue paint on my nails, my eyes flick to the phone then back to my nails. “I asked. He didn’t know.”

  “He didn’t fucking know?” she screeches.

  Moving around the fifty or so bottles of nail varnish on my dresser, I find my favourite red while smiling at her reaction. I’m due at work in two hours. I want to repaint my nails, and I have to get ready, so this phone call needs to wrap up. “Hel, calm down.” I can hear her huff, and I nibble on the inside of my mouth so I don’t giggle at her. “He said it was related to work, that he had something he couldn’t get out of, but he has no idea how long it will take.”

  “Well, how fucking long can whatever he does take?”

  I pinch the top of my nose and close my eyes. “He said it could be a week, a month, or could be six, he doesn’t know.” Before she gets a chance to interrupt me, I continue wanting to get this over with now. “He told me he doesn’t expect me to wait for him.”

  “He what? That… fuck me,” Hel whispers.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to make of that tidbit. I almost wish he’d asked me to wait, but he didn’t.”

  “Bastard,” she seethes.

  “Look, can we talk about something else? How’s your nan?” I change the subject, not giving her time to argue.

  “She’s doing really well now, she’s much better.”

  My chest eases a little at Hel’s news.

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah. It means I’ll be back in the next few days. We can have a movie night with ice-cream and cake and alcohol.”

  I chuckle at her suggestion, but she knows I’ll be totally down for a girly night in.

  “How’s things going with Noah?” I question, and she squeals. My tattooed, angry, practically emo friend squeals. What the fuck?

  “He was texting me, and we were messaging a lot. Then we started talking on the phone. God, Liv, I only met him a few days ago, but I feel like I’ve known him for ages. We’re going out when I get back.”

  I smile at my phone. “I’m really pleased for you.”

  “Me too, but he’s so… clean.”

  I snort out a laugh at Helena’s disgust with Noah’s lack of tattoos.

  “That just means you could give him his first, leave your mark.”

  Helena hums down the line. “Wow, I never thought of that,” she replies almost dreamily.

  “Right, I gotta go get ready for work. I’ll speak to you later, babe.”

  “Later, Liv.”

  Turning, I press the remote for my iPod dock. Lady Gaga’s ‘A Million Reasons,’ blasts to life, and I finally release my bottled-up tears. I want to say Isaac hasn’t broken me again, that I’m not crushed, but I don’t even know what’s happening—if anything—between us now. All I know is my heart aches, and hope is an evil emotion.

  Bright red fingernails match my lipstick. I add another layer to my mascara and the black winged eyeliner and double check my outfit. Most nights I have underwear on, covered by some novelty clothing… well, usually. Tonight, though, I’ve got a long, skin-tight red dress. It leaves nothing to the imagination, and apart from my five-inch red stilettos, the only piece of clothing I’m wearing is a sheer red thong. I’m going all out. A tiny voice in my head says I’m rebelling. I know Isaac hates me working here, but by wearing so little, I’m sending him a big fuck you—that would work better if he actually knew. But I’m ignoring my innermost thoughts right now. Instead, I’m striding out and sticking two fingers up to everyone, Isaac included.

  I like to be different, I always have. Stripping for me is just another way I can show my personality. While the other strippers choose fast, sexy songs, I like to think outside the box—mostly. So, ready to sashay onto the stage, I nod over to Allegro, giving her the signal to start the song I picked today.


  I breathe out. Placing one foot in front of the other, I slowly ease onto the stage as Aretha Franklin croons ‘Ain’t No Way.’ The spotlight finds me as I stand at the mic pretending to sing—miming for the act. I can’t see the audience tonight, not with the light in my face, but I don’t need to, this act is solely for me. They have no idea I could sing this live if I chose to, and I wouldn’t suck either. But, as every word leaves my mouth—not silent, but still unheard over the original—Isaac consumes my thoughts. I feel torn apart, ravaged, cut down, like there’s a piece missing from my soul.

  I sway sexily at the beginning of the song running my hands up and down my body with the words, holding my wrists together above me trying to fall in line with the lyrics. I wait for the chorus to end, then start bending over, running my hands down my legs. I grip onto the hem of my dress and slowly pull it up my body and over my head, revealing myself. I sing the last verse—how I can’t love him if he won’t let me—with tears running down my face and nothing but heels and a thong on. There is a roar of applause when the song finishes, enough to make me almost lose my balance. Carefully spinning around, I stride off wishing that Isaac could have heard that song, listened to the lyrics, and felt my pain.

  ISAAC

  If someone attacked me now they’d win. There is little doubt in my mind. My body is frozen. Painfully so.

  I stepped away, explained that I needed to work on something, that I had no choice. If I didn’t do what they asked, I’d never be let out of my contract. I might be physically close—now we’re both in London—but I need to keep my distance so she’s not thrown under the bus, especially with the current assignment. I tried to ease her hurt as much as possible. I said I’d find her when I was able, but I couldn’t say when that would be.

  Easing the fists my hands have made, I throw back the whiskey I ordered and stand to leave. It was a mistake to come here, to watch Via on stage again. I hate that she works here. I have no right to demand anything from her. She’s mine, but even so, I should have stayed away. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I guess a song, stripping, and seeing men gawking at her fucking beautiful body. What I got was a knife straight through my heart. Watching her singing that song, I know she wasn’t miming. I know she was feeling every word. The torment was like a storyboard across her face, every telltale look—I’ve never forgotten a single one—played out in her eyes.

  Pulling myself from my thoughts, I start to walk toward the exit. A flash of red catches my eye, and I stop to look across the room. Via leans over the bar and talks to the barmaid who passes her a bottle of water. She turns and starts manoeuvring backstage when some prick grabs her wrist and pulls her back. My feet move before my brain has engaged, and as I get closer, I can see him mauling her tit. My brain switches off. Every sane thought is lost in the haze of anger, and every little thing I’ve ever been taught about keeping calm and managing a situation dissipates like smoke.

  Thankfully, before I get there, Via has wrenched her arm from his grasp and slipped away. I can still see him though, and I can tell what he’s thinking. Glancing around to make sure there are no bouncers, he slips along the passageway after Via. Moving faster, I catch up to him, and his yelp of surprise is the only thing that escapes before I pin him to the wall, my finger and thumb at his throat either side of his windpipe. He can’t speak, he can’t breathe. I watch as his lips start turning blue, and he scratches at my hand.

  “You don’t look at her, you don’t get anywhere near her, you don’t breathe the same air as her. You certainly don’t fucking touch her. Give me an indication you understand me,” I grind out, malice lacing my every word.

  His eyes widen, almost like they’re bulging out of his head, but there’s no way I’ll let go until I know he comprehends my threat. Tears form in his eyes spilling over and racing down his cheeks. There’s a tiny movement, one that most wouldn’t notice, but being that I have him pinned, I am watching for it. I grin and release my grip. He falls to the floor and immediately covers his throat with both his hands. I know he can’t speak, but that works for me as I crouch down next to him.

  “If you ignore my warning, I’ll come back. Next time I won’t be so lenient. Are we clear?” I ask still sporting a small grin.

  He looks up at me, his face red, still holding his throat as tears continue rushing from his eyes, but he nods fervently.

  “Good to see you’re being amenable, that works in your favour. Now get up and go, don’t stop for your friends, don’t stop to grab your coat, don’t stop even if someone calls you. Leave. Never come back and never go near her again.”

  I watch as he scrambles to his feet and practically runs away.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe in through my nose. I need to get over the satisfaction of what shit like this does for me. The darkness is still in me, and Via doesn’t need that. She needs better than me. Cleaner than me.

  I remember the sadness in her eyes from earlier. I put that devastation there. And right now, I can’t deal with it on top of my own agony. So, like a coward, I’m walking away to deal with my current life, but this fucking time, I’ll come back when it’s over.

  ISAAC

  “Where have you been?”

  “Out,” I force the word through my teeth. As team commander, I don’t need to explain myself, but as their friend, I should. Unfortunately, I can’t find it in me right now to think straight and telling them that I’ve been going to ShadowBox to watch Via for the last few nights won’t go down well.

  “Go catch some sleep. We need to be up soon, and we need to be fresh. They can’t get the jump on us because we’re sloppy and tired,” Darwin tells everyone.

  Nodding, they all disperse except Shelly who stays where she is. Darwin glares at her, and she arches her eyebrow back but makes no move to leave.

  I chuckle, shaking my head, and Shelly’s eyes snap to me.

  “What?” She shrugs. “At this point, with the number of missions we’ve completed as a team, especially where you and I have been a couple…” Shelly’s hands come up, making air quotes with her fingers. “I know you just as well as Darwin, I’m worried about you… and her.” Her gaze drops from mine, and I sigh.

  “We all need to stay focused on this mission,” I reply.

  “Isaac—”

  “No. All of us, Shel, that means me, too.”

  Darwin looks from me to her and back again and then scrubs his hand down his face. “Shit. I have a bad feeling.”

  I grind my teeth together. There’s nothing more to say.

  “We have four hours. Go. Sleep. We need to be on our game tonight,” I tell them both.

  After they leave, I grab my laptop and open social media. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I can access—or hack—all forms of social media and have accounts under many names. However, before I left for the Army all those years ago, I had a Twitter account which belonged to me, the real me—Isaac James. Although I never post, my family, my friends… Via, they all believe I never use it. The truth is, I monitor their lives. When I can’t be near, when I want to cling to home to feel close to them, that’s when I log in. I could hack into their personal accounts, but I feel like that would be a step too far, and I need to draw the line somewhere for my own sanity.

  Where Via’s concerned, though, it seems I like to torture myself by reading what she’s been up to over the years, knowing when she’s dating or having fun, living life without me in it. Still, I can’t seem to stop, even now. Opening her Twitter page is just another stab in my heart. Her status makes me grab my phone. I hold it in my hand and will myself not to call or text her before slowly placing it back down.

  Olivia McKenna @Via_McKenna - Pain is the only feeling you can ever really trust.

  I read and re-read her tweet, as though if I stare at it long enough, it will change. I’m just about to log out, to give myself a break when I spot another tweet from her.

  @NoahMaitland - Saturday works.

  And then she’s put a da
mn wink emoji.

  What the fuck? Who was she replying to?

  I click on his name as the profile photo—some sea view bullshit which tells me nothing. The moment it opens up, I read the account information, then scroll down to his tweet to my Via. I relax, realising it’s the guy from the dance studio.

  @Via_McKenna – Wanna dance again?

  Clicking my neck from side to side, I’m glad when the tension eases. Not only does the most recent information I’ve gathered tell me that Noah Maitland is interested and actively pursuing Via’s friend and roommate, Helena, I also watched them dance last week. There was no fire, no passion. Via likes him, but it’s purely platonic. If I ever see her dancing passionately with another guy, then I’ll be concerned. Even so, I should be her partner. It’s what I want, it’s what she wants, but it’s not what she needs. I’m not what she needs. Not yet. But I will be.

  I log off and pull out the notes for the current mission. It’s just after nine p.m. now, and I should be getting my four hours of sleep too, but I can’t seem to stop my brain from running at a million miles an hour.

  We need to be at Crimson, a small dive club in the centre of London, by one a.m. I’ve studied the trend of this ring as much as I can. They seem to always arrive at their chosen spot around one thirty in the morning, waiting for a few hours sourcing and watching the girls. My understanding is that they pick out roughly ten girls, but take just two or three. They hang around until four in the morning waiting for the most sober people to leave and then choose from the girls who remain. It seems it’s easier to collect their packages when the world that surrounds them is drug infused or drink addled.

  I don’t want to put Shelly in that position, but I have no choice. She knows that, it’s her job. No matter what I say, the fact is I’ve become attached to my team, and with the work we do, it’s both a benefit and a curse.