Two Truths and a Lie

by Ashley Stoyanoff

  I can’t.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. I lean in closer to Jason, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Peck notices Jason then. His carefully put together expression falters and hardens. “You mind getting your hands off her?”

  “Why don’t you take a seat, Officer Peck,” Jason says coolly, his tone almost bored, keeping his hand firmly in place. “Elena’s got a few things she wants to say to you and I’m sure she’d feel a lot better if you weren’t trying to creep into her space.”

  Peck says nothing, but he does laugh when Wes grabs the chair beside him and pulls it out. He looks at it briefly before his eyes fly back to mine.

  There’s hatred in those eyes.

  There’s contempt.

  There’s confusion.

  It rattles me.

  “Please sit, Lawrence,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “Just for a few minutes.”

  He ignores me, his gaze going back to Jason. “Who are you?”

  “Jason Pierce,” he says. “Elena’s man.”

  “Elena’s man?” Peck asks, his brow pulling together as though confused, but I’m not fooled. The vein in his neck is pulsing, throbbing.

  He’s pissed.

  Beyond pissed.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Jason says, his hand slipping from my leg as he stands. He gestures to the chair. “Have a seat, Officer.”

  He let go!

  He promised he wouldn’t let go.

  He promised.

  My heartbeat picks up, thrumming so quickly it hurts.

  “Jase,” I whisper, reaching for him as he takes a step closer to the table.

  He doesn’t hear me. Oh God, I barely hear me.

  I want to move after him, but I can’t. I’m frozen in place. Unable to move.

  The skin around Peck’s eyes grows tight and he looks at Jason. “She’s engaged,” he says, his voice agitated.

  “Jase,” I try again, louder this time, though still a whisper.

  Jason chuckles, shaking his head. “No, not yet. Don’t think we’re quite ready for marriage just yet.”

  Peck stares at him and his jaw goes tight. The muscle in his cheek jumps, the vein in his neck pulses.

  Then his gaze comes to mine.

  “Jason!” It comes out as a shout, and Jason swings his head back to me.

  “What is it, darlin’?” he asks, his tone clipped.

  My feet come unstuck and I move in close. So close that I’m pressed up against him, my front, to his side. “You promised,” I say. “You promised.”

  “Hey.” His arm comes up, snaking around my waist, and he pulls me in closer. “I’m sorry, darlin’. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  His other arm comes around me, squeezing me tight, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

  Suddenly, with his arms around me, I don’t feel all that freaked out anymore.

  I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him just as tightly, feeling his solidness and his strength, and my heart slows into a steady rhythm.

  “You’re okay,” he whispers against the top of my head. “Not gonna let anything happen to you, babe.”

  “Right,” I say against his chest. “I know that. I’ve got this. Just a little—”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Peck shouts, before I can finish my thought.

  Chairs scrape and clatter against the floor and I pull my head from Jason’s chest, to see Wes and Vance blocking Peck’s path to me. He’s glaring at them, glaring so hard it looks as though his eyes are about to pop out, but he doesn’t try to get past them.

  Smart, I think.

  Wes and Vance are big guys, and with their arms folded over their chests, standing at full height, they look huge.

  Tension chokes the room.

  The silence is just as thick.

  Seconds pass, though they feel like hours, before Peck finally takes a step back, and it feels as though the room itself takes a deep breath.

  “Elena,” Detective Cruz says, drawing my attention. “You ready, honey?”

  I nod, keeping my tight hold on Jason.

  Cruz steps toward the table, picking up a manila folder and hands it to Peck.

  Peck takes it and steps away, his face studiously blank as he flips it open and scans the contents. “A restraining order?” he says and laughs, his eyes coming up to mine. “What crazy lies have you been telling these people, El?”

  “I won’t press charges,” I say, ignoring his comment. “I just want you to leave me alone. Please, please, just leave me alone. I’m happy here. I … I … I want to stay here.”

  He regards me for a moment, a swarm of emotions passing across his face. Anger, pain, more anger, shock, fury, sadness. “El, baby—”

  “I’m not your baby,” I say, cutting him off. “I never was.”

  He opens his mouth, and then closes it, seemingly at a loss for words, and his eyes fall back to the folder in disbelief.

  “Officer Peck,” Detective Cruz says. “If you’ll come with me, I can answer any questions you have about the complaint that’s been filed against you.”

  Peck’s eyes drift over my face and he murmurs, “Christ, El, what have you done?”

  Jason’s arms give me a squeeze and he answers for me, “She did what she should have done a long time ago.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jason

  My phone rings.

  I open my eyes. It’s morning; the sun is seeping through the cracks along the blinds, lightening the room.

  I’m on my back with Elena at my side, her cheek to my chest, arm slung around my middle, and one of her thighs thrown over mine. Her breathing is even; her muscles don’t contract.

  She’s out cold.

  I reach out, slapping my hand against the nightstand, searching for the phone and trying not to disturb Elena. She hasn’t slept much, probably only a couple hours. After we got home from seeing Peck, and the initial shock passed, she was wired, talking for hours before sleep finally took her.

  I feel the phone and snag it up, tapping the screen and bringing it to my ear. “Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice low.

  “Her brother has been picked up again,” Liam says. “Had enough coke on him for a trafficking charge.”

  Goddamnit!

  My stomach coils.

  Peck. Goddamn Peck.

  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ shitting me,” I say, my tone coming out sharp and loud with a sudden spike of anger.

  Elena’s body goes tight against me, and she blinks her eyes open, looking up at me.

  Shit.

  I school my expression, keeping it blank, and give her a little squeeze as I mouth, “Sorry, darlin’.”

  Her lips twitch ever so slightly, a hint of a frown pulling them down, and I force a smile, attempting to reassure her.

  “Nope,” Liam says. “Pretty fuckin’ sure it was a setup, Jase. He took a call, and then booked it to a warehouse. He barely made it out of the doors with his stash before he was surrounded.”

  I’m very aware of Elena’s eyes on me, watching me, assessing me. I consider getting up and slipping out of the room, but I know that will only cause her to panic and stress.

  I stay put, stroking a hand along her spine, and say, “Okay. Thanks for the update.”

  Liam lets out a shocked laugh. “Did I miss something?”

  He doesn’t sound annoyed by my brush off.

  He sounds confused; as though he’s worried he fucked up somehow.

  Glancing back down at Elena, I see the questions burning in her eyes. I let out a sigh. She’s going to ask. She looks like she won’t let it go until she gets an answer, too.

  “Yeah,” I say after a moment. “Elena got a restraining order on Peck. Met with him yesterday and asked him to leave her alone.”

  “Huh,” he says. “What about her parents? Do they know she’s turned up yet?”

  “No, not yet,” I say. “She hasn�
�t brought it up and I ain’t gonna push her to call them.”

  He’s silent for a beat. “Fair enough. What do you want me to do here?”

  Damn good question.

  A part of me wants to tell him to leave it. If Andrew was found with the coke on him, there’s not much we can do, especially since Liam watched him pick it up.

  It’s not like he was forced to do it.

  But I can’t do that.

  Elena would be crushed if I did, I’m sure of it.

  Reaching up, I run a hand over my face and sigh again. “Stick around for a day or two. If bail comes up, post it. If not, go home. Not much more we can do for him.”

  “Will do,” he says. “Keep me posted, yeah?”

  “I will,” I say and hang up, tossing my phone onto the nightstand. When I glance down, I find Elena regarding me wearily, her eyebrows curved up in question.

  It’s a question I don’t want to answer.

  “Morning, darlin’,” I say. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, right away.

  No good morning.

  No pleasant greeting and sleepy smile.

  She’s coiled tight, her body feeling like dried cement against mine.

  I hesitate for a moment, considering what to tell her, before I mutter, “Nothing, darlin’. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

  “Jase!” she snaps.

  She’s unhappy.

  Rightfully so, but I know that she won’t take this well, and she’s got enough on her plate to deal with already. Worrying about her fuck-up of a brother … not really something I want to add to the mix when there is nothing we can do about his situation.

  Truthfully, I think a little time in jail might do him some good.

  At the very least, it’ll sober him up.

  “Relax, darlin’,” I say. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  Her cheeks flush and her eyes flare with anger. “Don’t tell me to relax,” she says, jabbing a finger into my chest. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  I blink at her, stunned by the authority in her tone. Goddamn, she’s hot when she narrows her eyes at me like this.

  Challenging me.

  Pushing me.

  Smiling, I look down at her, taking in her spark-filled eyes looking up at me, and I bend my head, kissing her throat, as I consider whether or not to fill her in.

  I have a feeling someone will tell her sooner or later, and I know it will be worse if she hears it from someone else.

  Elena shoves at my chest, pushing me back. “Tell me.”

  I tuck her back against my chest, holding her tight. The feel of her warm body against me has my mind wandering and my cock hardening.

  Tell her. Get it over with.

  Move on to something more … enjoyable.

  Yeah, right. I doubt she’ll let me touch her after I tell her about her fuck-up of a brother.

  “Your brother’s been arrested for trafficking again,” I say. “Liam will post his bail if one is set.”

  “What!” she shrieks. “You think that’s nothing? That is not nothing! And why are you smiling?”

  “There is nothing you can do about it,” I say calmly. “That makes it nothing. And I’m smiling because I like seeing that fire in your eyes. Don’t get to see it that much.”

  She purses her lips, her eyes narrowing further. “But you said—”

  “I said it wouldn’t be easy for him to close down your parents’ bakery.”

  “But—”

  “Your brother was caught with a lot of coke on him,” I say, my tone matter-of-fact, almost clinical. “Liam watched the whole thing go down. He might have been setup, but the bust happened.”

  She seems to consider this; I can see it in her eyes as her mind works through the situation.

  I also see it when she decides that I’m right.

  She flicks her eyes to mine, a flash of helplessness shining there, before she pouts, full on, dramatic, droopy lip pouts at me. “I really don’t like it when you cut me off.”

  I chuckle. “You gonna get some more sleep?”

  She shakes her head, and as she opens her mouth to say something, I reach over, running my hand up her inner-thigh. She snaps her mouth closed as my fingertips run over the thin cotton covering her pussy, dancing over her clit, and she gasps.

  I’m surprised she doesn’t swat me away.

  But I’m not complaining.

  I circle there, a little harder, and watch as her eyes drift closed, and that beautiful flush rushes up her neck, coloring her cheeks.

  Love that fucking flush.

  She lets out a breathy moan, wiggling her hips, seeking more, and I shift on the bed, making quick work of ridding her of her underwear and T-shirt. She says nothing, watching me with hungry eyes, licking her lips as I kick off my boxers. She doesn’t move an inch as I come back to her, kissing down her chest until I reach her breasts and capture a nipple with my mouth.

  “Oh God,” she cries out, her hands coming up to my head, holding me to her as I suckle and nibble. My hand finds its way back between her legs and she lets out a long moan. “Feels so, so good.”

  I nibble and suck on her breast, pumping two fingers inside of her, grazing my thumb over her clit. Her orgasm comes quickly and hard, her pussy clenching around my fingers as she cries out. I keep going, drawing it out, waiting for her shudders to completely subside, before I move on top of her, rip open a condom, sheath myself, and push into her.

  She wraps her arms and legs around me, welcoming me, holding me. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are curved into a sweet smile, as she looks up at me.

  I lower my head and kiss her, as I start to rock my hips, pulling back and thrusting in. “Love being inside you, darlin’.”

  She gasps and moans. “Love you inside me, too, Jase. Love it so, so much.”

  Elena

  “I don’t recognize anyone,” I mutter under my breath. I’m back in the interview room with a stack of photos before me. I’ve been here for an hour, maybe two, and I haven’t found a thing.

  Nothing.

  Maybe if they showed me images of the officers who worked with Peck, I’d get somewhere, but these images … they all look like hardened criminals.

  Peck’s friends wore suits.

  They had good hair.

  Good teeth.

  Great smiles.

  They were friendly enough, even if they never seemed to notice the bruises marring my skin.

  They were ignorant.

  But I don’t think they were criminals.

  Maybe if I picture these people smiling? A smile can really transform someone’s appearance. Why don’t people smile in mug shots?

  “You only just started, darlin’,” Jason says, from his seat beside me. “Just keep looking. You knew this wasn’t gonna be a quick solution.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I mutter, and I let out a dramatic sigh, causing him to chuckle, before turning my focus back on the photos.

  We sit in silence, me flipping through images and Jason working on his phone.

  Another hour passes.

  And another.

  When Cruz comes in, Jason slips out for a bit. I wonder if they’re discussing Peck. The jerk is still in town, staying at the Apex Hotel. He even tailed us to the station this morning.

  I guess I knew he wouldn’t just pick up and leave like I asked.

  But I hoped.

  Good God, did I hope.

  Or maybe there’s something new on my brother.

  Ugh. My brother. I don’t even know what to think about that. Jason’s right. There’s nothing we can do. Logically, I know he was bound to get thrown in jail sooner or later.

  And really, it shouldn’t be bothering me so much. He traded me to Peck. He put me in this mess.

  But … he’s still my brother.

  Jason comes back in, and gets right back on his phone. He’s texting, I think, and suddenly, I find myself thinking about Mr. Chapman.

&
nbsp; I turn to Jason curiously. “Um … Jase?”

  “What’s up?” he asks, prying his eyes away from his phone to glance at me.

  I consider my words carefully before opening my mouth, and he watches me with a curious expression on his face. “Did Mr. Chapman … I mean, your dad, is he still around?”

  Jason’s expression falters. “Yeah.”

  That’s it.

  That’s all he says, before turning his attention back to his phone.

  I should probably let it go.

  He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, but … I’m curious.

  So, so curious.

  “What happened between you two?” I ask.

  He glances back up at me; his expression turns hard, the warmth I’m used to seeing when he looks at me, gone. “It’s in the past,” he says. “Better to leave it there.”

  “Don’t do that,” I say. “I know you care about him, even if you don’t want to. Maybe talking about it will help.”

  He keeps his hard expression fixed on me and for a moment, I’m worried that he’s mad at me. I’m not trying to push, but I want to know.

  I need to know.

  “It’ll change the way you see him,” he says seriously. “You sure you wanna know?”

  I hesitate. How bad could it really be? My gut tells me that whatever Jason has to say won’t change anything.

  Mr. Chapman has betrayed my trust one too many times.

  Not much can be worse than that, right?

  And I want to understand. A small part of me is looking for a reason, any reason that could explain why he’s done everything he has.

  I nod. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to understand why all this crap with him is happening.”

  Jason closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open again, a speck of warmth has returned to his gaze. “Fine,” he says softly, and nods as though he’s trying to convince himself that telling me this is, in fact, fine. “Richard Chapman was a good cop, and then he wasn’t. He was dirty, rubbing palms with a few different gangs who sold drugs and guns. He welcomed them into our home, used our basement as a storage unit, and when he got too deep, he started cleaning up their messes.”

  I gape at him. Mr. Chapman was a cop? A dirty cop? I was living with a dirty cop?