by Ella Miles
Desperate Lies
Lies 2
Ella Miles
Copyright © 2020 by Ella Miles
EllaMiles.com
[email protected]
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Lies Series
Prologue
1. Liesel
2. Langston
3. Liesel
4. Langston
5. Liesel
6. Langston
7. Liesel
8. Langston
9. Liesel
10. Langston
11. Liesel
12. Langston
13. Liesel
14. Langston
15. Liesel
16. Langston
17. Liesel
18. Langston
19. Liesel
20. Langston
21. Liesel
22. Langston
23. Liesel
24. Langston
25. Liesel
26. Langston
Also by Ella Miles
About the Author
Lies Series
Lies We Share: A Prologue
Vicious Lies
Desperate Lies
Fated Lies
Cruel Lies
Dangerous Lies
Endless Lies
Prologue
Liesel
I want to kill Langston, but I’d also die for him.
He ruined my life.
He made me so desperate to get my life back that I’m about to murder in cold blood.
Langston took every-fucking-thing from me.
He took my money.
My career.
My heart.
My soul.
My life.
He took the one person I care about above all.
Langston couldn’t just be happy taking me, controlling me, demanding I give up my life to pay for my sins—he wanted more.
And he won’t stop until he has everything.
I’m pretty sure he already does.
But at least I’ll take the one thing from him he truly loves. I’m desperate to find out the truth, to find out if he really took everything. This is the only way to separate the truth from the lies.
I’ve always been the huntress, but I’m about to become the killer…
1
Liesel
I lied—those words flood me as I run down the beach.
Should I run on the sand where it’s easier to run, but I’m an open target? Or should I dart into the jungle where I’ll have to fight through thick brush, but I won’t be spotted?
I decide speed is better than cover and keep running down the beach, away from Langston’s house, and toward the airport.
I lied.
I’m not really married to Waylon.
Langston lied, too, right?
We lie—that’s what we do. All we’ve done is lie to each other since we were kids. That’s what we were doing—lying. Not letting the other person see our cards.
He definitely lied. There is no way Langston is married to my cousin, Phoenix, and already has two kids. Siren or Kai would have said something to me.
Right?
RIGHT?
Yes.
Langston is just as single as ever.
He may be dating Phoenix, hedging his bets so if I don’t marry him, he can still marry a Dunn and go after my inheritance.
Boom.
I duck at the sound, covering my head like somehow my hands are going to be able to stop a bomb.
I shield my eyes as I glance up at the sun, trying to see if we are being attacked from above. I don’t see any planes.
It’s a ground attack; probably someone who wants Enzo and Kai’s empire like usual. There is a reason I don’t really hang out with them anymore—this is why. I’d rather not be ambushed and spend my time running from guns, bombs, and dangerous people every second of every day.
I prefer to be able to go to an excluded beach island to actually relax and not worry about bombs being dropped on my head—call me high-maintenance.
I hear gunfire behind me.
Jesus.
How did I end up in this world? When will it end?
I decide that I should take the jungle route after all. I slip between some bushes, scratching my arms and causing some nasty red bumps to pop up.
Another loud bomb goes off.
I stop and turn my head in the direction of the house.
“You better not destroy the house!” I yell into the jungle. I plan on taking the house from Langston someday. I may not like Langston anymore, but I dreamt up that fucking house when I was eight—it’s mine.
I turn back in the opposite direction of the house, hoping to eventually find the runway we landed on.
I take a step, and a green leaf with tiny razor-sharp teeth digs into my thigh. I take another step and almost trip over a branch. One more step, and then I stop.
There is no clear path. I realize now that when I followed Langston to the house, he was clearing the path for me, stomping down leaves and branches. He was making it easier for me, even if he was teasing me by letting his branches hit me.
Now, I’m all alone to make my own path. I like being an independent woman carving my own path.
I sigh, covered in sweat dripping down my forehead and pooling around the base of my neck. Getting off this island is going to take forever.
I curse to hell whoever it is attacking. I’d rather be stuck talking to Langston than running for my life through the hot jungle.
Why am I running?
Does Langston think I’m not strong enough to stay and fight with him?
Will he be too worried about me if I’m nearby while he’s fighting?
Or is he hiding something?
My money is on Langston hiding something. He doesn’t want me to know who’s attacking. Or he doesn’t want them to know that I’m here.
Either way, he’s hiding.
That alone should make me turn my ass around and demand answers from Langston.
My leg is straddling a fallen tree; my hair is stuck to my face. I would do anything for some water to fix my bone-dry mouth, too.
I look left then right.
What do I do?
Do I run back to Langston, into the danger, and demand answers?
Do I do as Langston said and run? And run? And run?
I’m already running; I’m not turning back now.
He said to run as far as I could tonight, and then to come find him tomorrow.
He’s crazy if he thinks I’ll return to him—back to being his captive and back to the place where he said he’d end my life.
There is no way I’m going back now.
Langston promised me answers. He promised to give me one clue from his half of the torn paper.
I look left—toward Langston—man, do I want to know what his half of the paper says. I want to know what my dad’s last message to me was. I want to know because I’m curious—not because I give a damn about the treasure.
I make my own money—I don’t need any inheritance or treasure.
I may have had some help from Enzo, giving me enough money to go to college and feed myself, but after college I got a job. I worked hard. I’ve even offered many times to pay Enzo back. He just never accepts my money.
Good riddance, I huff, pulling myself over the log.
A mistake—I come crashing down into a pile of mud on the other side.
Can this day get any worse?
My shoulder throbs, reminding me of my bullet wound. Memories flash, reminding me of the rape, the abuse, the child I gave up.
Yes, this day can get a lot worse.
I sit up as I hear more gunfire.
Langston said to run.
No one can move very quickly through this thick brush, but I should start moving faster in case anyone starts following me—mainly Langston.
So I force myself to get up.
I force my legs to run.
And run, and run, and run.
I stop thinking about Langston.
I stop wondering and analyzing his words—trying to determine if he lied or not.
I stop worrying that a stray bullet or misplaced bomb is going to blow me into a million tiny pieces.
I focus on putting one step in front of the other.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the sun has set.
Until it’s pitch-black outside.
And even then I keep going.
I refuse to be killed.
I refuse to be anyone’s captive.
I refuse to let any man control me.
I take another step.
This step makes all the difference.
I may not be able to see very well, but I don’t hear the crunch of leaves. I don’t have to dodge low hanging limbs. I don’t feel the brush of branches scratching my mud and sweat covered skin.
My feet sink into sand.
Did I take a wrong step toward the beach instead of walking in a straight line to the airport?
Or did I make it?
I take another and another.
The concrete of the runway greets my feet.
I smile for the first time all day. I bite my bottom lip as the grin spreads.
My lip—Langston’s kiss.
No, stop thinking about him, brain.
Focus.
I made it to the runway. There are no airplanes stored here, but I’ve spotted a handful of planes landing on this island while I’ve spent my time here. There are planes that fly here that don’t belong to Langston Pearce.
There will be a plane if I wait here long enough for one to land.
Tomorrow, come find me, huntress.
Langston’s words ring in my ear.
I don’t have time to wait—to get lucky.
I make my own luck.
There is a small building near the runway. It looks more like an outhouse than an actual building, but I have to try something.
When I get to the entrance, I realize there isn’t even a door.
I exhale loudly.
I’m not counting on there being anyone inside, or any electronics to call for help.
I step inside anyway.
The room is dark. I search the wall with my hand, but I don’t find a light switch.
I should just leave, but it’s the middle of the night.
The explosions and gunfire stopped—not that that’s comforting. It means Langston is probably looking for me now. If I head into the jungle again, I have to deal with jaguars, venomous snakes, poisonous spiders.
I need sleep if I’m going to have any energy to face tomorrow. This tiny building is better than sleeping on the jungle floor.
There isn’t a door, but there are at least three walls to protect me.
I lie down on the floor and curl up in a ball as I hear rain starting overhead.
Please, let the roof be waterproof.
I cross my fingers, squinting my eyes up at the dark roof.
After five minutes pass and I’m not wet, I realize my luck might have changed. At least the roof is holding.
A soft smile spreads as I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep from exhaustion with the help of the lightly tapping rain. The rain will make it harder for Langston to find me. And he won’t think I made it all the way to the runway in one night.
Tonight, I’ll sleep soundly. Tomorrow…
A buzzing wakes me up.
I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I’ve been sleeping in a closet, and this room isn’t much bigger than that, but it’s not Langston’s closet.
I moan, wishing a buzzing noise would stop and let me sleep. It’s still dark outside. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but it can’t be more than a couple of hours at best.
More buzzing.
Wait—buzzing!
There is something electronic in this room. It’s probably just a battery-powered alarm clock, but I can hope.
I move onto all fours as I pat around the floor, searching for the source of the buzzing.
I feel a strap.
A bag!
It’s sitting on a small chair in the corner.
I pick up the bag and put it on my lap, as I furiously search inside.
My heart races. Could I really find a phone? A way to make contact with the outside world and escape?
I touch a piece of glass.
My heart thumps to a stop.
It’s too big to be a phone.
I pull out the device—an iPad.
My heart flutters, not knowing if I should be elated or crushed.
I click the home button to get the screen to light up—praying that the iPad has a cellular connection. I doubt there is wifi.
Please, please, please.
I stare at the screen after the split second it takes to light up. I silence the alarm buzzing the device.
My eyes dart to the upper right corner.
It has cellular reception.
Thank god.
I pull up the phone app and am about to call Waylon when my fingers suddenly stop.
I don’t know what island I’m on. I care about Waylon. He’s a smart man, but he’s never had to worry about money, never gotten scrappy or creative, never dealt with dangerous people. The most he’ll be able to do is call the police or FBI to search for me.
By then, Langston will have found me and moved me to another island.
But who else do I have on my side?
Enzo?
No, he’d take Langston’s side.
Kai?
She’s sweet, but becoming a leader has made her tougher. She will do whatever is in the best interest of the empire she controls, which means not pissing off one of her best employees—Langston. She would help me and then rat me out to him.
Zeke?
He’s always hated me. He wouldn’t help.
Siren…?
Siren! She’s my answer. Yes, she and Langston have a weird relationship that I will never understand. They say they are just friends, but I’ve always wondered if Zeke and Siren have an open relationship. There is no way she and Langston got so close without fucking each other’s brains out.
That might seem to make her the last person on earth I should call to help me, but because Siren is so close to Langston, she will call him out on his bullshit. There is no way any of them: Enzo, Kai, Zeke, or Siren would be okay with Langston kidnapping me and threatening to kill me.
But three out of the four will stand by Langston because he’s one of them. Sure, they’ve been nice to me over the years, but I’ve never been one of them—not truly.
Siren is the only one who will put a stop to this.
I dial Siren’s number from memory. Most people in this day and age don’t have many numbers memorized. Call it a skill I learned from being poor, but you never know when you are going to not have a phone, or when you’re going to be in a dangerous situation and need someone’s help.
Like right now.
I don’t expect Siren to answer—I’m calling from an unknown number. And it’s the middle of the night, or at least, it’s the middle of the night in whatever time zone I’m in.
“Hello?” Siren answers on the second ring.
I let out a long, steadying breath, putting all of my trust into this woman.
“I need your help.”
2
Langston
I watch Liesel run away from me.
Somehow, I keep my feet firmly planted in the sand.
I try to ignore all of her features—her toned legs, tight ass, feminine curve of her hips, long untamed hair. It’s like all of her features were specially designed just for me. She’s my ultimate temptation; one I will never succumb to.
I kissed her to wake her up from her nightmare. That’s it. That’s all that kiss was. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t losing control. It wasn’t a slip.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Liesel keeps running down the beach, around the edge of the island, until the jungle brush blocks my view. I don’t know if she stays on the beach or bolts into the forest. She’s gone, and I have no idea if she’s coming back.
My throat dries, turning into ash at that thought. She has to come back. I don’t have all the information I need from her.
Married.
That’s what she said. She’s married to that old fucker.
Liesel just said that because of what was on her half of the letter. I suspected that marriage was the first step in searching for Liesel’s inheritance based on what my half of the letter said.
But Liesel married—it doesn’t make sense to me. She would never get married just to go after some treasure, and I don’t think the woman is capable of falling in love.
No, there is no way Liesel Dunn is married.
My skin begins to boil in jealousy just thinking about Waylon touching her. Proposing to her. Her saying yes. Planning a wedding. Saying I do. And then fucking as husband and wife.
I’m lying to myself. It was all too easy to imagine her married.
I hear gunshots, and I know I can’t focus on Liesel anymore. She’s safe. No one knows she’s here. It’s for the best until I can figure out who’s attacking us and why.