The Complete Truth Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  Cora

  “Mmm,” I purred as he kissed down my chest. “Take it off.”

  We were on week two of Penn ignoring my sexual pleas—and I was going insane.

  Every night, we made out like teenagers. But like the good teenagers with good parents who filled their heads with fears about getting pregnant from oral sex.

  Penn never went below the belt, which was nice a week ago. Now, it was obnoxious.

  “Slow, Cora,” he murmured.

  “One of these days, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

  “Far as I know, that has never actually happened to a person.”

  I arched off the bed. “Then I guess you’ll have the privilege of witnessing a scientific phenomenon. Congratulations.”

  He chuckled, palming my breast, kneading as he continued kissing down to my stomach. It felt so incredible that I couldn’t bring myself to complain anymore.

  Well, that is until he got to the elastic waistband of my sleep shorts. His tongue trailed a wet path, making me desperate all over again.

  Lifting my hips off the mattress, I pleaded, “Okay, then, take those off.”

  I felt his smile, and then his teeth grazed over the sensitive flesh above my hip.

  “Oh God,” I cried as a burst of pain morphed into pleasure and then radiated between my legs. “Please.”

  “I gotta get back to work, baby,” he murmured, kissing his way back up my stomach. “And you gotta get back to talking.”

  I threw my head back against the pillow. “You are such a tease.”

  “Don’t act like you’re the only one suffering here.” He rolled his hips, his hard length finding purchase against my thigh.

  “Penn,” I breathed, hooking my arms under his and turning into him. “Neither of us has to suffer. You know that, right?”

  He pecked my nose, grinned, and then he was gone. “Tonight, we do. Because I want to hear what you got to say.”

  He tossed me my tank top, which I’d thrown nearly halfway across the room the second his lips had met mine. It’d made him laugh. Putting it back on made me want to cry. “Ah, the curse of a good storyteller.”

  “Precisely.” He winked, something so beautiful that I released a breathy schoolgirl sigh.

  This again made him laugh, but he did it shaking his head. And then he got back to work, prying up the tack boards that had once secured my carpet.

  He’d ripped that up a few nights before. He’d cussed the whole time. But when he’d thrown it over the railing and into the parking lot, his whole body had sagged like it had taken every ounce of his strength with it.

  Truth be told, I’d hated that carpet too. It was an ugly brown that had made the whole room feel dark and dreary. Seeing Penn’s reaction had made me hate it that much more.

  I was still using my old mattress, but according to him, it was only until he got the new wood floors down. I wasn’t sure how big this savings account Penn had squirrelled away was—or how I felt about him spending it on me—but I wasn’t about to tap into my Freedom Account. I’d been siphoning that off the Guerreros for the last five years. So, if he was adamant about getting me a new bed, then who was I to argue?

  I flipped to my stomach, put my elbows to the bed and my chin in my hands, and watched the muscles in his back ripple beneath his plain white tee.

  “Stop creeping and start talking,” he ordered without looking at me. He tossed another strip of wood into the small pile in the center of the room.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. None of the girls would ever rat us out.”

  “You positive about that? Because I gotta be honest: I don’t give a damn what anyone has to say about us, but I can’t imagine Marcos or Dante would be real happy to find out we have something going on. I don’t want one of the girls running their mouth about how much time I spend over here, giving the Guerreros an excuse to pop up unannounced when I could be out at the hardware store or chauffeuring Drew’s ass home from a bar.”

  I crossed my legs at the ankle, bent at the knee, and rocked them back and forth above me like a true coed. “Yeah. Trust me. They hate Marcos and Dante.”

  “Then why do they work for them?”

  Now wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “Different reasons, I guess.” I shifted uncomfortably. “The first floor is here because they love the job.”

  He quirked an incredulous eyebrow like anyone who wasn’t in the business would.

  “Yeah. I know. It’s a hard concept to understand. But some like the attention. Some like the money. Some just don’t believe they can do any better. But trust me, Penn. If they weren’t here, they’d be working somewhere else.”

  He scoffed. “You’re telling me they’re here by choice?”

  “I guess, in one way or another, we’re all here by choice.”

  His eyes flashed dark. “Including you?”

  I shot him a tight smile. “Lie. And yes.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “So, what about the girls on the second floor?”

  “They’re the new ones or those who haven’t made up their mind yet. Most have been assaulted by Dante in some form and are still confused about how they ended up here and haven’t really decided if they want to stay. I keep a special eye on them.”

  He threw another tack board into the pile. “And what if they want to leave? Can they?”

  I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Physically? Yes. With the right support system, they could get out. Dante would probably go after them, but it’s been done before. It could be done again. But it’s mental sometimes. The abuse before they get here. Women don’t find themselves in this life because they seek it out. They find themselves here because the world has beaten them down to the point that even the darkest knight looks like a hero.”

  Kneeling in the corner, he stopped what he was doing and gave me his undivided attention. “Is that what happened to you after Nic? Dante start looking like a hero?”

  My stomach rolled. “No,” I answered firmly.

  He arched a dark brow. “Lie?”

  “God’s honest truth. Dante has always been the villain in my story.”

  “You want to elaborate on that?”

  I held his gaze. “Truth. No.”

  His face flashed hard, dozens of follow-up questions dancing in his eyes. But I wouldn’t answer any of them—at least not with the truth.

  “Dante’s good at what he does.” I shifted back to the original topic. “He gets into their heads and pulls all the right strings that will make them believe that this is the best life they can ever have.”

  “Tell me you don’t believe that, Cora.”

  I allowed the truth to blaze from my eyes. “No. I don’t.”

  He looked visibly relieved. It would have been sweet had it not been insulting.

  “I’m not stupid, Penn. I’m not brainwashed. I’m not…whatever you think about me.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “Whoa, slow down. I don’t think anything about you.” He paused, breathed a curse, and then continued. “That was a lie. I actually think a lot of things about you. But none of them are bad. Okay?”

  I cut my eyes to the door to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rise to his full height. Then his boots thumped on the concrete as he walked over, the mattress dipping when he sat on the edge. I tried to roll away, but he didn’t let me go far. Using one hand, he guided my head into his lap and then used the other to hook my legs so I was curled like a kitten around him with my thighs flush with his back.

  His face was soft, his posture relaxed, and his voice raw as he leaned in close and pointedly stated, “Then you’ll get none from me.”

  I focused on his stomach. “It didn’t seem that way—”

  “I’m here too, Cora. You were right. We do all have our reasons. I’m just trying to understand yours.” He brushed the hair out of my face, the tips of his callused fingers trailing across my ch
eek and down my neck. As if he knew what it meant, he stopped before he reached my star necklace. “And that means getting to know you. So if you have secrets you’re not ready to share yet? Fine. Play your game of lies. But don’t ever mistake my asking questions or wanting to know everything about you as some kind of judgment or pity.”

  Damn. That was sweet.

  And it made me feel like crap.

  My cheeks heated. “Sorry. I haven’t done the talking thing with anyone in a long time. I mean…I talk a lot. But not usually about myself.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll fuck this up, too. I’m not exactly the most open man in the world.”

  “No, you definitely aren’t.” I hazarded a peek up at him.

  He was smirking. “You got something you want to ask me?”

  “Oh, about a million things.”

  “What do you say we play a little Truth or Lie tit-for-tat? I think I’m done working for the night.”

  I smiled wide. Partially because I was beyond eager to learn more about the mysterious Penn Walker, but also because being done working meant he’d probably lie in bed with me, talking and holding me close until I fell asleep.

  “I see you like this idea.”

  I nodded several times.

  He slanted his head toward the top of the mattress. “Come on. Get under the covers.”

  I watched with rapt attention as Penn unlaced his boots, set them at the foot of the bed, hit all the locks on my bedroom door, and then slid into bed beside me. I giggled as he wrestled me into a comfortable position on his chest.

  Once his arm was crooked behind his head, he kissed the top of my head and mumbled, “Shoot.”

  I decided to start out small. “Favorite color.”

  “Truth. Blue.”

  “Light or dark?” I tilted my head to peer up at him and he put his chin to his chest to look down at me.

  “Nope. Tit-for-tat. My turn. Favorite food.”

  “Lie. Veggies.” I winked.

  He chuckled. “You forgot I saw you maim that cupcake a while back.”

  Grinning, I bulged my eyes at him. “I said lie.”

  He glared at me, but he did it with twitching lips.

  “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” I asked, teasing my fingers under the hem of his T-shirt.

  His eyebrows shot up, and he caught my hand, stilling my ascent up his chest. “Who says I’ve lost it?”

  It was my turn to glare.

  And his turn to laugh.

  When he sobered, he answered and then continued with the rapid-fire questions. “I was sixteen. Danielle Rogers in my bed while my parents were at work. Favorite flavor ice cream?”

  “Chocolate.”

  “Shocking,” he deadpanned.

  “Did you graduate high school?” I asked.

  “I did. Top of my class.”

  My mouth fell open. “No shit?”

  “Your surprise isn’t doing good things for my ego. What about you?”

  “I got my GED a few years ago,” I replied, suddenly feeling super inadequate.

  He gave me a reassuring squeeze on my hip. “Don’t say it like that. Hard work is hard work. Be proud of that, Cora.”

  My cheeks heated under his praise. “Did you go to college?”

  “Um…” He swayed his head from side to side. “Lie. Florida State.”

  I laughed.

  He shrugged. “What about you?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. I’d been in college for years, taking one class at a time. At first, that had been all I could afford. Cash hadn’t always been easy to come by. But, more recently, time had been the hardest commodity to come by. Most of the classes I took were online, but without a computer at home, I had to hit the local library. My coming and goings weren’t monitored by any means, but that was only because I’d never raised suspicions. If I started disappearing for hours a day, who knew what would have happened. Flying under the radar was always the safest. And that included keeping my mouth shut about my accomplishments even when I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

  I shot him a flirty wink and parroted, “Lie. Florida State.”

  “Right,” he chuckled. “Your turn.”

  I snuggled deeper into his side. “Do you have a relationship with your parents?”

  “They’re dead,” he answered curtly. “Drew’s all I got left.”

  Wincing, I whispered, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. They lived a good life. Loved each other. Loved me. I loved them. Nothing to feel bad about.” He was silent for several seconds after that, lost in reflection. So I allowed him his time, but I did it while lazily drawing circles over his abs.

  He abruptly cleared his throat. “Shit. Ah, okay. I’m up.” His hand anchored in the curve of my hip, trailed up my side. “You got any friends?”

  “I have a lot of friends.”

  “No, Cora. I don’t mean the women in this building. I mean girlfriends that you stay on the phone bullshitting with for hours on end. Or get dressed up, go out to a bar, and cut loose with, laughing too damn loud while annoying every patron in the building, yet still attracting the eyes of every man.”

  “Oh. Then no.”

  “What about that Catalina?”

  My head jerked back and my entire body turned to granite at the mere mention of her name. “What?”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Relax. I’m only asking because you mentioned you two used to be tight, and short of River and Savannah, I haven’t seen you be anything even resembling tight with anyone else.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I mentioned we used to be tight?”

  He put his chin to his chest and looked down at me. “Yeah, babe. While you were trying to kick me out of your apartment and accusing me of reporting back to Manuel.”

  I blinked, racking my mind. I rarely said anything about Catalina. Though that particular night, I hadn’t been thinking straight. My aching heart and furious mouth had been running that show, so it wasn’t exactly impossible that I’d mentioned something. I just didn’t remember it. Which, depending on what I’d said, could be a dangerous thing. Even if I’d only said it to Penn.

  “What else did I say?”

  “Nothing. Just that and that you didn’t know where she was followed by a whole lot of, ‘Get the fuck out.’”

  I blew out a relieved breath. “Okay, good.”

  His brows shot up, crinkling his forehead. “Something you want to tell me?”

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. “Nope. And truth. No, I don’t have any girlfriends that I get dressed up and go out with. That’s not a luxury I’ve ever had. Not when Cat was still around and not since she’s been gone, either. Though that does sound fun. Maybe when the weather gets cold again and things slow down, I’ll suggest a night out to some of the girls.”

  He shifted, inching down at the same time he pulled me up until we were sharing the same pillow. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

  “Course,” I whispered, pecking his lips. It was only a half-lie. I did feel comfortable talking with Penn. I loved this little game of tit-for-tat. But not at the risk of Catalina’s life. “My turn. How’d you get the name Penn?”

  He frowned, ignoring me. “You miss her?”

  My stomach knotted—at the question and the answer. “Every day.”

  “You think she’s still alive?”

  I didn’t want to hear the alarm bells.

  I didn’t want to feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise in warning.

  And I definitely didn’t want to see the rapt interest as he held my gaze waiting for my reply.

  But it was there. All of it.

  And it made a panic build within me until I was ready to bolt.

  “I’m going to grab something to drink. You want—” I turned away and started to sit up, but his hard front became flush with my back. His strong arms folded around me from behind, tight enough to restrain me, loose enough that I could easily escape.

  Pure Penn.<
br />
  “I hate that you’re alone,” he rasped. “I hate that you spend ninety percent of your time trapped between these four walls. I hate that the only friends you have are women who need you rather than want you. I hate that you have no family to lean on. And, while I fucking love that every night you’re waiting for me to get here, I fucking hate that I’m not shoving people out the door in order to spend time with you. You need good people in your life, Cora, and Catalina is the first and only person I’ve heard you mention as being that to you. So I’m sorry if talking about her upsets you, but if there’s something I could do to get that back for you, I’d like to at least try.”

  His explanation mildly relaxed me, dulling even the loudest alarm bells, but as it was so often said: the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  “The best thing you could do for me is to stop talking about her,” I hissed over my shoulder, my pulse thundering in my ears. “If she’s still alive, it’s because she doesn’t want to be found.” I placed my hand over his and threaded our fingers together. “Yes, Penn. I miss her. Yes. I’d give anything to have her back. But knowing she’s not stuck living with her abusive husband and that she’s out of reach from her psychotic father and brothers? Well, that does more for me than any girls’ night out.”

  “Shit,” he breathed, his arms convulsing around me.

  “You might mean well, but I’m begging you to let it go—let her go.”

  He nodded, his chin resting on my shoulder, as we both faced the dingy wall on the other side of my bedroom.

  He was staring at nothing.

  I was staring at the trim above the doorjamb and envisioning the two hundred thousand dollars hidden behind it.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Not yet.

  But I was getting closer.

  And, therefore, so was Catalina.

  “It’s a family name,” he whispered before placing a kiss on my shoulder. “Dad, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather. We were all Penn.”

  I nodded and glanced at him over my shoulder. “Maybe we should quit for tonight.”

  Half of his mouth tipped up. “Probably a good idea.”

  Without further conversation, we both settled in for the night.

  Penn on his back.