Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright © 2015 Cassie Graham
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Cassie Graham
Edited by Sara O’Connor
Cover Design by Sprinkles On Top Studios
Formatted by Formatting by KassiCoop
If you’re reading this book and it hasn’t been bought from a proper retailer or won in a verified contest, please delete and purchase the book from on of its distributors.
For the broken souls, trying to find their own truth in the world. This one is for you.
“I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I got here,” I admitted, astonished at myself. My mouth trembled and I had to force my mind to remain calm. The scruff on my chin scratched my worn hands as I dragged them down my face. I hadn’t grown out my facial hair in years and the months leading up to this moment only proved to be a huge preface. I’d let myself go. I’d messed up. Big time.
The Los Angeles city line sat just outside Whitley’s apartment for me to admire. The lights of the night sparkled in the horizon, but all I felt was emptiness. The world outside the building hummed with life, but I just felt dead inside.
Whitley offered me a hand with empathetic eyes and led me to the couch in her living room. “Sit down, Lark,” she had said.
Whitley moved out of her best friend, Holli’s house last year, and moved to California since Jennings Cohen, her movie star-almost-husband, was off filming. Usually, she’d be with him, but a job at a prestigious private school just outside of L.A. came her way and she no longer traveled with him.
My loss was his gain… or so I’d thought. I had the perfect plan. All I needed to do was implement it. I had found a good, solid, concrete way to make her mine and I knew if I could just get her to sit down and listen to me, she’d see it my way.
But all the endless nights of plotting and planning to keep them apart slipped down the drain in a matter of seconds.
“Lark,” she started regretfully, “you have to understand, this isn’t easy for me. You weren’t supposed to see this.”
She was apologizing to me?
I nodded and scrubbed my hands down my face. “I had no idea I wasn’t supposed to look.” If I had, I don’t know what I would have done. It could have changed everything.
Whitley sighed and closed her eyes. “I know you didn’t. Not many people do.”
“I’m a horrible person,” I conceded. Never in my life had I felt so worthless. The amount of self-loathing that I felt right then was immeasurable. Had I known what her past entailed, I wouldn’t have perused her the way I did. “The burns,” I stopped to gulp. “That bastard Cade gave those to you?”
She licked her lips and looked away, nodding once.
“Why?” I asked in a small voice. The thought of Whitley hurting made my hands ache to lash out at the person that caused her pain.
She scoffed and crossed her arms. “It was Cade’s last memento from our time together. Something to remember him by.”
Cigarette burns. Christ.
What a sadistic bastard.
“What happened to him?” Oh God, if he’s out free, running the streets…
“Rotting in jail somewhere in Kansas.”
A tingling feeling began from my back all the way to my arms, and it took all of my power not to demand more answers. Whit kept the details very limited. Not that I blamed her because by look of the burns, I would have to say it was disgustingly gruesome.
I couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through.
After I had found the marks, Whitley quickly skimmed over the events of the night Cade left her for dead on the highway, and I was okay with her keeping it vague. I may be a heartless prick, but I could never imagine doing anything like that. My heart ached for the first time in years. It burst inside my chest, fracturing into small pieces for this broken girl. This was the same girl who I openly attempted to steal from another man. I had played a part in making her life harder when she’d already been served a pretty awful plate.
When Jennings asked if I loved her last year, I denied it because that’s who I thought I was. I needed to play the bad boy role. I had to save face. Loving wasn’t part of the smokescreen effect I had going on. But the more and more I got to know Whitley and the longer I spent with her, I truly did think I loved her. But, how can I really love someone when I have no idea who they are? Yes, Whitley has always been sassy and a little broken, but the depths to her very being are much deeper than I ever imagined.
I didn’t deserve her. Jennings had found a way to carve into those strong concrete barriers around her heart and broke through.
I didn’t even take the time to try.
That was my tap-out. I had called uncle and needed to let her go. Time to take myself out of this already messed up situation. It wasn’t my game. And I don’t think it ever was.
“Whit, I’m sorry,” I said, pulling at the ends of my hair. The words felt foreign in my mouth. I hadn’t said them in so long. “I don’t know why I didn’t notice earlier.”
Whit turned back towards me and tilted her head. “I didn’t really give you much of a choice. I’m good at hiding what I don’t want found.”
“Jennings must’ve had a compass,” I deadpanned.
Whit leveled her eyes and sat back on the couch. “He’s the only one who had the correct key for the lock, Lark. You’ve done some fucked up things that made me mad as hell, but I don’t hate you.”
That’s because she couldn’t hate me if she tried. Being a hard-ass was no longer a part of her personality. She’s soft now. And I gotta say, it’s a good look on her.
I growled under my breath and shook the images from my head. “I told you Jennings’ secret.” And I’ve done tons of other bad things you don’t know about.
The corner of Whit’s mouth turned up and the light from the outside hit her face in a way that made my heart throb. “That was a really shitty thing to do. But I don’t blame you. And look where I am now.” She motioned around her edgy modern apartment and sighed. “I’m finally happy. I’m healing. You sledgehammered the path to mine and Jennings’ future when you told me about his double identity last year. You could have done it a million different ways, but I needed to know. I’d like to think your intentions were good. You’re not a bad person.”
I cleared my throat.
“All right, well, the escort service makes you a bad person.” Whitley laughed.
The feeling in the room shifted and it seemed like as good a time as any to come out with the truth. “Actually….” I began, knowing what was about to come. “I never had an escort service.”
Unblinking, Whitley looked me dead in the eye. “What?”
I scratched my head and looked around the room, away from her sharp regard. “Shannon was my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” Whit said slowly.
I nodded, guilty.
“Two? You had two girlfriends?”
“I did—well, I guess. It’s over now, of course, but I’d been with Shannon for a few months before I met you. And when you agreed to go on a date with me I told Shannon we were through.” I turned my gaze back to Whitley. “I wanted to be with you. But, she wouldn’t consent to it and begged to keep seeing me. The sex was good, so, why not? I told her that I had an escort service and she could pay me to keep dating and she accepted. It was disgusting.” I’d never really thought about how sick it was until that moment.
“I’ll say,” Whit agreed, turning a shade of green. Her eyes glassed over, taking another shot of betrayal to her armor.
“The good thing is,” I said lamely in an attempt to bring levity to the situation, “all of my bad brought you Jennings. So, it’s kinda like I set you up. You’re welcome.”
Whit moved a couple inches closer to me on the couch and pushed at my shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
I laughed and leveled my eyes. “I really am sorry for not knowing about Cade. I should have tried harder to get to know you when we were together.”
She shrugged. “You were a dick. It’s all right.”
The rain began to lightly tap at the window and Whit unexpectedly got up from the couch to step outside of the apartment, leaving me alone. I positioned my body to look at her through the sliding glass door and as I watched, she wrapped her arms around her middle and looked to the sky, saying something I couldn’t make out. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and smiled, tapping the railing of the balcony three times with her index finger.
“What was that about?” I asked when she sat back down, wiping the tiny droplets of rain from her shirt.
“It’s a Jennings thing.”
I nodded and lifted my wrist to check the time. “I should probably go.” It was getting late and finals were this week.
Whit followed me to the door and I turned to look back at her. She met my eyes and nodded as tears welled in acceptance of my silent apology. I looked around the apartment one last time, taking a mental inventory of every little thing. The light, flowery scent, the outrageous yellow couch in the living room, the loud and funky paintings she strewed across the walls that were all Whitley. I even took note of her new, pink mid-century modern refrigerator in the kitchen. It was a bittersweet feeling. I’d probably never see her again. I’d done too much—thought too many bad things. If I were going to have any sort of redemption, staying away from her would be my penitence.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Whit said in a timid voice. The words came out forced and even though I knew it probably wasn’t what she wanted, I appreciated her saying it.
“K.”
I was about to step through the threshold of the door when Whitley gave me one last offering. “You know, Jennings forgives you.”
I stopped. Dead in my tracks. He forgave me? It had only been seven months since I’d ruined his secret. I smeared it in Whitley’s face and danced on the mess. I gulped and nodded, again. “Tell him I said thank you.”
“You know I will.”
“Have a happy life, Whit,” I said as I walked backwards down the hall of her apartment.
She smiled her toothy, healed grin. “You too, Lark. Be good.”
I saluted her with all of the love I had and reluctantly disappeared around the corner as I contemplated what I was going to do next.
Six years later…
WE ALL KNOW HOW INTRODUCTIONS work, so I won’t bore you with mundane details.
I’m the villain. I’m the heartless, jealous antagonist who promised an un-happy ending for Whitley and Jennings. And if you don’t know the story, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Jennings Cohen is my famous, movie star cousin. He fell in love with Whitley Hayes. Now, Whitley and I dated. I thought I had claim on her. She was mine. And when Jennings took her from me, I didn’t take it well. In fact, I did things I’m not entirely proud of. That’s a hard pill to swallow, let me tell you. Little did I know though, Jennings was hiding a secret, one that I used to my advantage in hopes of winning back Whitley. That didn’t go so well. When I decided to let the cat out of the bag and tell Whitley that Jennings was lying to her about who he really was, it blew up in my face and all it did was help me lose Whitley and Jennings. I may not be Jennings’ number one fan, but he was still family and I had treated him like dirt.
No one deserves that.
You think you know me. And maybe on some level you do. I’m just like any other non-hero. I’m selfish and arrogant, I really only care about myself. That much hasn’t changed. I love women and I love money. But now, I also found a love for something that isn’t toxic or potentially tragic.
The FBI. Yep. Me, Lark Hawthorne, landed a job with the most prestigious, intelligence-gathering agency in the United States.
I’m sure you are all wondering how I got here, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. I’d gone from this bad guy frat kid in college to a respectable adult. Well, adult-like, at least. That doesn’t just happen.
But the answer is a no-brainer.
Whitley.
I may not love her or even talk to her much, but something stuck with me the night I bowed out and decided to move on. Living life one way and expecting it to go in another was naive.
I left Whit’s apartment with a plan: I needed to change my future.
I didn’t have a traumatic beginning like she did. My childhood was normal and boring. My parents loved each other and I had a decently happy home. I did all of the stereotypical activities in high school, football, soccer, and baseball. I had a steady girlfriend and held my head high as I navigated my small town. I held the key. I had the Midas touch. Yet, something in me itched to get out. It started slow. Like a small kindling in my belly, only flaring up in certain situations. I’d let the fire burn for a while until I felt like dousing the flames.
Lying felt wrong at first. It was dirty and wicked, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it once I started. It was almost like a drug induced high. It made me feel powerful. I’d let the lies turn me into someone I didn’t recognize. And before I knew what was happening, I was this new person. I was unrecognizable. I’d encompassed the lies and let it become who I was.
By my senior year in high school, I’d become someone I didn’t recognize and I didn’t care enough to change. Lying Lark got what he wanted. I’d gone though life taking a backseat to those who made things happen. I didn’t know how to do it truthfully, so I did what any seventeen-year-old would do. I lied.
It came with growing pains just like any sort of life change would. I lived with guilt and apprehension. I worried if I’d be found out so I had to cover my tracks. But the thing that comes with becoming a good liar is you’re—well, good at it. Practice makes perfect, as they say, and I had become a perfectionist. And I never simply saw the problem with it.
But little by little, the constant lies stripped away at my humanity.
Six years have passed and I still feel this sick need to lie. Although I’ve pulled back on the reigns, my instincts still want me to do what I know. It’s like walking. I don’t have to think about it or have any premeditated thoughts before I do it, I just do.
And this job helps.
Soon after my epiphany with Whitley, I put myself on the straight and narrow to get me the position I wanted most.
In order to do that, I had to get my head on straight. No more booze, no more drama, no more lying. I relinquished my position at my fraternity and attempted to rebuild the bridges I’d burned.
I found my way back to my family in Alabama. I apologized for being the bad son I knew I was and reconciled with my parents—well, my mom, at least. Dad, on the other hand, was a tough guy to crack. After
all of the things we went through, I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to find a way back to the close father/son relationship we once had. I find myself missing him more the older I get. There’s a certain camaraderie that comes with having a good dad and I wish I could have that with my Pop’s. I just don’t know if our past relationship is strong enough to mend the one we have now. It’s broken and tainted with a tragedy. Those things aren’t easy to forget.
I also made things right with Jennings. He’d been a good enough man to forgive the things I’d done. The least I could do was let him know I was done with the lying and the mingling in their relationship.
It was obvious I’d lost.
After I’d done the important groveling, I went back to school. I’d always had good grades. School was the easy part of my life. No lying or deceiving required. I went to class, I studied, I did the work, and I passed the tests. There was no gray in college. I was good at it. It was the only thing I was actually able to do without any problems. So, I devoted the rest of my time to getting out of Camden-Hale University and moving on with my life.
I didn’t suffer too many losses. I reinvented myself and it worked to my advantage. I befriended people who wanted to get into the justice system just like me and I found a place to belong. My integrity had been compromised in all of those years of unneeded deception and if I wanted to become an operative with the FBI, I needed to make it all stop. Stop the temptation. Stop the attraction. Stop the allure.
My life wasn’t about finding my next lie anymore. It was about working toward the ultimate one.
My act was squeaky clean now. Thankfully, I hadn’t done anything too bad and my record was just as spotless. That’s the thing when applying for the FBI. You have to be as pure as an untouched virgin. The Bureau interviewed everyone in my life. From my parents to the guys I’d hung out with in college. We all were interviewed and judged before they let me into their coveted organization.
It was all worth it.
I graduated at the top of my class with a Bachelor’s in Public Safety from Camford-Hale University, got the certifications required, served in the Military—Air Force—Security Forces and attended the Criminal Investigator Training Program after my contract was up. I can now speak Spanish, Arabic, and Russian. Speaking more than one language wasn’t my idea of fun, but it could benefit me later. I had the skills to do different jobs within the institute and I hoped to be offered something. I didn’t care where they put me, I just wanted to be there.
The Truth of a Liar Page 1