The Truth of a Liar

by Cassie Graham

  “Fine,” I submit, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We’ll need a list of every person you come into contact with in order to be familiar with the people in your life. This can help us best protect you. The last thing we want is to assault a friend because we weren’t fully informed.”

  That shouldn’t be too hard considering I only ever talk to my cast mates. Being in a production, it doesn’t give you much time for a life outside of the theater.

  “I can do that,” I say.

  Lark clears his throat behind me, and Liam looks up, nodding. “Oh, right. One last thing, you’re no longer staying in your apartment. The agency has taken the liberty of getting you a new place where we can keep watch over you.”

  What? I stare at him with a puzzled look on my face.

  “We will escort you home and you can pack your belongings.”

  Again, what?!

  “If you don’t have any questions.” Liam looks at his watch, ready leave. “We can head there now.”

  “A new place?” I clarify, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m sorry, why?”

  “We’ve looking over the threats and they seem to know a lot about you. They knew what you were wearing.”

  My nose flares and I look away, panicking. They’re right.

  Liam gives me a gentle look and the rest of the guys avoid eye contact. “You have to understand how this works, Rowan. These people, they know where you live. We need to relocate you to keep you safe.”

  I gulp past the lump in my throat and scrape my hand through my hair. I could easily cry right now. It’s one thing having my life turned upside down, but not having Zander by my side seems horrifying. “What about my roommate?” I ask. “Is Zander in danger?”

  This time, Lark speaks up. “You’re the one receiving the threats.”

  Threat. That word has become such a pain in my ass lately. Plus, after listening to Liam’s British accent, Lark’s harsh American accent makes me want to flinch.

  I reluctantly accept their offering.

  “All right, then,” I say, standing. “Let’s roll.” It’s my way of offering a little levity, making all of the guys but Lark, snicker.

  Figures.

  “Umm, what?” Zander asks again, looking dumbfounded.

  “Yeah.” I shove my clothes into my suitcase, feeling dazed. “They think it’s best that I stay close to them. All of the apartments here are full. They’d have nowhere to sleep—or shower.”

  “Couldn’t they, like.” He stops to swish his hand in the air. “I don’t know, go in shifts? Or…you know, they can shower with me.”

  I give him a pointed look. “Zander!”

  “What?!” he says with a look of innocence. “They’re hot.”

  “You haven’t even seen them. How could you possibly know they’re hot?” I ask, wrapping my cell phone cord around my hand.

  Zander gives me a level look. “Come on, Rowan, they’re FBI agents. If TV has taught us anything, it’s that it’s in the job description to be yummy.”

  I laugh a little and shrug my shoulder. He isn’t wrong. “I don’t know what their plan is. All I know, is they are here to protect me and I have to do as they say.”

  “This sucks,” he pouts, throwing himself on my bed melodramatically.

  I huff and lug the suitcase onto the ground. “You’re telling me. This is a brand new bed.”

  Zander’s laughter is mumbled by my comforter and he says, “Shut up.”

  “I love you.” I pat his ass.

  “I love you, too,” Zander replies, heaving his body off of my bed and into my arms, engulfing me in a bear hug.

  “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow,” I promise when he refuses to let me go. My arms struggle to get his to unlatch from me, but in the end, it’s no use. We’ve never been apart for longer than a couple days since the moment we met at NYU, and I think I might need his hug. It’s like his embrace is somehow holding me together.

  “Come to rehearsal early tomorrow, yeah? We can talk.” Zander hugs me a little tighter, talking into my shoulder. “We didn’t get to hash out all of the details of today. And you have to tell me who that fox is outside.”

  “That’s Lark.” I nod and purse my lips slightly, letting Zander go. “He’s on Rowan duty tonight, so I’m stuck with him until a shift change.”

  He gives me a level look. “See? I was right. Super hot, yummy FBI agent. I’m not crying for you. Things could be worse.”

  “I don’t know why I feel so awkward. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  I haven’t told Zander about my history with Lark so he doesn’t understand why I’m such a mess.

  “Tomorrow, Zander. Don’t get in to too much trouble without me,” I say, poking his chest.

  “I make no promises.” He laughs. “Go on get out of here.” He smacks my ass, retreating back into his own room.

  Hitching a couple of duffle bags onto my shoulders, I pull the roll-around suitcase on the ground and I take one last look around my apartment. So much of my life has been lived in this place, I’m sad to leave—even if it’s not forever. With a kiss, I wave to the empty living room and make my way to the door.

  Lark’s standing just outside of the apartment with his foot on the wall, leaning against it. Everything from the neck down looks relaxed, but his eyes tell me that he’s on high alert.

  “Good. Ready to go?” His tone is brisk, all business.

  “Yep.” I give a smile, but it’s awkward and he misses it by looking away.

  Taking all three of my bags, Lark sets off for the elevators. When the chime dings, the double doors open and Lark offers me a hand inside. Stepping to the back of the box, he takes stance in front of me pushing the CLOSED button. After the doors close, he sets the bags down in a quiet gruff.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, although, I don’t know why. He just ‘met’ me. He has no reason to confide in me.

  His reflection is easily seen in the doors in front of us, and I don’t miss his crinkled eyebrows. “I’m fine.”

  Okay, then.

  My floor is twenty-seven stories up, and by a third of the way down, the feeling in the elevator shifts. The mood in the space changes, making me pull out my phone to distract me from the awkward situation.

  “No,” Lark chastises, pulling my phone from my hand. “You’re getting a new phone tomorrow. I’ll take this one until this is all over.” He shoves the phone into the pocket on his jacket.

  My eyes go wide and I huff. “What? No. Nope.”

  Lark’s mouth turns up ever so slightly at the corners, like he’s amused at my intolerance, but before I know it, his self-control is back, and the same monotone look returns. “The group targeting you could have all of your information. It’s too risky for you to have it.”

  I cross my arms. “So, what are you going to give me? A burner phone?” Because how will that even work? I need a reliable phone with a number I can give my director and cast mates.

  “Yes.” His way-too formal tone grates my nerves. I want to stomp around this small box and give him a few choice words. Is it acceptable for a twenty-nine-year-old to throw a hissy fit? No? Lame. Being an adult sucks sometimes.

  “How is that even possible, Lark? My director needs a number, my boy—” I stop, shaking my head. Cameron equals very non-boyfriend. “My friends and family might need to get a hold of me.”

  “True. We’ll filter your calls. Everyone will be given the number. Don’t worry, Miss.”

  Miss? Gross. I don’t like the way that sounds coming out of his mouth. It’s unnerving watching him be overly proper and professional. At least I knew what to expect when he was an outright douchebag.

  The doors finally open at the bottom floor, and I follow Lark, sulking. I don’t mind having to give my phone up. But the way he did it, in the you’re-going-to-do-what-I say-no-matter-what way, makes me want to tooth-punch him.

  I have to move and my phone gets taken away? Next thing I know, my mom is going to call an
d ground me.

  “Stay here.” He points to the couch on the far wall in the reception area of the apartment complex.

  I don’t give him any lip, there’s not much use. Any time I try to talk to him, he ends up making me mad. So I do as I’m told, sitting myself down on the burgundy couch. He’s outside checking to make sure it’s safe and that makes me feel better to know I have someone looking out for me. Even if he is sort of an ass.

  He steps back inside the lobby, and gestures me over. Sitting outside, a black SUV with tinted windows waits for us. The smoke from the exhaust plumes in the crisp November air and my heart skips extra fast. That sight means Christmas is on its way. God, I hope my life is back to normal by then.

  Opening the back door, Lark waits with a stoic face for me to hop in. Staring straight ahead, I walk past him and buckle myself once I’m inside. I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone, but is it so difficult to have a little bit of emotion from Lark? I guess I can understand. Emotions probably equal mistakes. I’m a civilian and even I can understand that. So, I make a conscious decision to drop the attitude and wait.

  A song from the 80s—or, maybe the 90s—blasts through the speakers, and I force myself not to cover my ears. I don’t mind the genre, in fact, I kind of like it, but if I have to hear a guy talk about a White Wedding for another second, I’m going to hang my head out the window just so I don’t have to hear it anymore.

  The hour drive to a small town on the outskirts of Connecticut seems like forever. I didn’t think we’d have to travel this far from the city.

  As we make our way from the paved, asphalted roads to a dirt road, I can’t help but feel like I’m back home in Alabama. The houses are spread far in between, each one having a different personality. The farther we venture into the community the yards become greener and larger. Grander, even. Oh, lordy.

  As we come to a stop on the cobble-stoned driveway, Lark speaks low into a phone or possibly an earpiece, but he doesn’t turn off the car. I do what any normal person would do; I reach for the door handle only to find it locked. I look to Lark in the rear view mirror, but he stares straight ahead.

  Seconds pass when Liam Hunter steps outside, signaling Lark. “All set, Rowan,” Lark says in haste, quickly getting out to open to my door. “Welcome to Mason’s Manor.”

  The house has a name? I’m not fancy enough for this.

  The house is quaint but magnificent and it sits alone on what looks like more than an acre of land. It’s dark now but the porch light illuminates the trees just beyond the house. I take in the flowers lining the porch and the little gnomes sitting in the grass. It’s dark, but they look vibrant in the moonlight. Red and blue chairs are scattered about the porch and a white, wooden swing hangs on the far side of the house, swaying in the light breeze.

  Once I pass through the white wooden front door, I’m overcome by the smells of Mexican spices and tortillas and it makes my stomach growl.

  “We’re making tacos,” Liam says, hopping down the hallway. “I hope you’re good with that. Chris bought enough to feed the entire neighborhood.”

  Apparently, while we aren’t in public, they are more like friends than bodyguards. It’ll certainly make this transition easier. Being actual people as opposed to stoic guardsmen is certainly an upside.

  “Sounds great.” I smile, watching Lark take my things up the stark white stairs to my right. The living room on the left is open and inviting. White moldings and warm colored walls, it’s obvious someone put thought in to decorating it. Splashes of color jump as I move my eyes, taking note of all of the details. Bright teal and yellow pillows are dispersed on the snowy-looking couch. There’s a pattered reading chair in the corner right in front of the big bay window. Its orange color in contrast to the subtle walls is enough to make me want to rush up to my suitcase and find a book to read. The red brick fireplace in the center of the far wall looks incredibly beautiful. I rest my hand on the polished mantle to feel its smooth texture.

  “So, I have to admit,” I confess, shouting a bit, making my way down the hallway. “This is weird. Do you guys sleep in the house with me?”

  Liam laughs when I enter the kitchen and I find Chris and Evan sitting at the white, rustic table. The kitchen is soft and easy on the eyes. Nothing like the modern kitchen I have back in New York. “No,” he snickers, again. “There’s another house just behind this one. We’ll sleep there and have someone on watch.”

  I sit down next to Evan and wave, picking at the chips in the bowl on the table. Taking a bite, I say, “I guess that sounds okay.”

  Lark walks back into the kitchen empty handed, heading straight to the stove to stir whatever is in the pan.

  “Oi, get away from that, would you?” Liam reprimands, taking the spatula from Lark’s hand. “Asher uses a very delicate system of techniques. We don’t need you screwing it up.”

  I laugh, looking at Liam. “Asher?”

  Liam slaps Lark’s hand away from the pan and moves to sit next to me at the table. “Oh, right. Chris, I mean. We all call each other by our last names.”

  “Ahh,” I say. “Well, I can do that.”

  “Oh, no, please,” Evan speaks up. “You are welcome to call me by my first name. It’s a nice change, if you ask me.”

  “Me too,” Chris weighs in around a mouthful of tortilla chips.

  “I’m all right with it, too,” Liam agrees with a wink and I can’t help but blush.

  We all look to Lark by the door. And just like before, he’s got his foot up on the wall, watching us all cautiously. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’s fine.” He stumbles over his words.

  We’re all quiet for a few moments, each looking around, and then looking at each other. The feel in the room is definitely lighter but still intense. I can’t believe we’re here in this circumstance. What an odd feeling. “I still can’t believe I’m living with four men,” I admonish, finally.

  “Just think of us as brother husbands,” Liam jokes, referring to the insane craze the world has with that religion all of the sudden. Multiple husbands? Yikes. “We’re just incredibly protective guys who have big muscles and weapons that could kill.”

  And super hot faces…

  I snort a bit and listen as the other guys chuckle under their breath. Even Lark gives a ghost of a smile.

  It’s apparent Liam is the slightly inappropriate one and Lark is the silent one. I’m still learning about Chris and Evan, but I have a feeling with all of us spending so much time together, it’ll be easy to figure out.

  And while I’m in a house with four strong men, who can easily protect me, I can’t help but want to look over my shoulder in fear that someone’s lurking in the dark. The future is so vast. And my current predicament, it’s dark and sinister. How is this going to end? I don’t know if I’m more terrified for the future or for the next minute. Life is up in the air and I’m grasping for any sort of answer. Every time I reach out, thinking I’ve got a hold of something significant, it falls through my fingers and I’m stuck with an empty hand.

  “DUDE, IF YOU HIT ON her any harder, she’s going to start bleeding,” I chastise Liam, silently closing the door behind me taking a seat next to the monitors. The guy is laying it on thick with her and if I have to watch him do it every day, I have the right to ruffle his feathers.

  “Did you see her, mate?” he says, his eyes animated, glinting with mischievousness. “She’s fantastic.”

  Of course I’ve noticed her. How could I not? But I’m not about to say that out loud.

  I ignore him, taking a look at the screens to my left and I watch a car drive by on the road in front of the house. The Department put us in a pretty great area, far out of the way from the city, but it’s not unusual to see someone randomly driving by. When Logan informed us of the new location, I thought he’d keep us in New York, but he thought it would be best to take Rowan out of the city completely.

  I sit down at the table and take a sip of the latte Liam made for me. “She’s a
lso under our protection. What’s the deal, man? I’ve never seen you like this with a woman.” If anyone is all business, it’s Liam. I don’t know what it is about Rowan, but she is having an effect on him. And, even though I don’t want to acknowledge it, she’s messing with me too. I feel like I know her, but I have no idea from where. She’s this anomaly and it’s driving me mad trying to figure it out. I never forget a face, so I more than likely have seen her somewhere, but it feels deeper. Like, we’ve made a connection before but I can’t find the memory in my mind.

  It also doesn’t hurt that the girl is gorgeous. She’s down-home beautiful with a splash of mystery, and I’d be lying if I said she didn’t intrigue me. If I saw her walking down the street, I’d give her a second—or third—look. She’s just got this thing…this unmistakable aurora about her. It’s tough to shake her off.

  “Yeah, she’s our detail. But, she won’t always be. Charm her now, get her buttered up and make my move when everything is said and done,” Liam rationalizes, popping a piece of apple in his mouth.

  I narrow my eyes and try not to give him a verbal smack down. “She lives in New York, genius. How do you expect to make it work if, by some chance, she does like you, too?” Why are we having this conversation? The poor woman is going to want to be rid of us in the next forty-eight hours. I guarantee it.

  “It doesn’t hurt to try, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  I huff and stay quiet. It’s not really any of my business. If Rowan likes him, then more power to her. Doesn’t affect me any.

  “She looks at you odd, you know?” Liam says out of nowhere.

  Looking toward him, I study his expression. He doesn’t say it to be impolite or to dig. He genuinely seems curious by her reaction to me. “What do you mean?” I haven’t really looked at her much. At this point, I want to come off annoyed more than anything. Distancing myself from her seems like the more appropriate action considering the unwanted feelings I have toward her when she talks—or sings. Christ, the girl can sing.