Lie to Me

by McAdams, Molly

  Swallowing back all the reasons why he should be there without me, I simply nodded and let him lead me into the kitchen.

  And went still when I nearly ran into a wall of muscles and tribal tattoos and oh my God.

  The man didn’t need an introduction or a uniform for me to know he was a cop. Everything about him screamed it.

  And he was easily the most terrifying man I’d ever seen.

  His stare darted over me, quickly assessing as he took a careful step away and offered me a comforting smile that in no way comforted me.

  “Emma, this is my uncle Mason,” Reed said between calling out something to someone across the kitchen.

  I nodded shakily and forced out something that might’ve resembled a greeting before I was excitedly greeted by Mason’s wife and then released to continue meeting more people.

  “Breathe,” Reed said in my ear. “I swear to you, no one in here would ever think of hurting you.”

  “He was terrifying,” I admitted, unable to keep the words in.

  A scoffing laugh climbed up Reed’s throat. “Yeah, he looks it. Fucking teddy bear, though. Just wait.” He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back and jerked his chin to where Kennedy’s identical twin was sitting at the table, holding one of her newborn babies. “Let’s finish introducing you to everyone.”

  “We’re having a party?” Reed’s mom yelled as we were walking over so I could meet her and her husband. Her wide eyes slowly shifted to where her husband was leaned up against the kitchen island, trying to hide his smile.

  “That’s what Reed said,” Kennedy explained, waving her hand in our direction.

  “That’s what Dad told me,” Reed argued. “That’s why we’re here.”

  Their dad’s face scrunched up on one side, the exact way Reed’s did, and their mom smacked his shoulder. “Logan Kash Ryan,” she snapped, “is there something I need to be aware of?”

  A breath of a laugh left him as he held out a hand toward Reed. “I didn’t know if he’d show up if I just said Kennedy was coming.”

  “Wow,” Kennedy said dryly. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Fuck you, old man,” Reed said, grabbing a carrot from the counter and launching it at his face. But his dad caught it and threw it back.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” his dad challenged, a grin shaping his lips and mesmerizing me for a moment because it was like looking into the future with Reed.

  Other than the years separating them, they were remarkably identical, down to their expressions and how they held themselves.

  I jerked into Reed’s side when a foam ball went soaring just past my face, then turned to find Mason with a large toy gun aimed at the kitchen. Eyes wide as he pointed at a sleeping infant, trying to pin it on him.

  Reed’s chest shook against me as he pulled me close. “Did I mention he’s also a child?”

  “Can we be clear that I don’t need to prepare for a party tonight?” Reed’s mom asked.

  “No party, Sour Patch.” Her husband winked when she glared at him, then turned to me, dipping his head in a nod. “I’m Kash, by the way. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “And we’re really glad you’re here. My husband just likes to make things difficult,” Reed’s mom said with an irritated sigh even though the corner of her mouth kept lifting with affection. “I’m Rachel.” She placed a hand to her chest before gesturing to me with it. “Really . . . we’re so glad you decided to come. Sorry we’re not more normal.”

  A breathless laugh left me because I wouldn’t know what normal was if it was placed directly in front of me. “You guys are fine,” I hurried to say and watched another foam ball go soaring past me, landing in the pile of food.

  “For the love of God, Mason,” Rachel snapped. “I’m not making pancakes. Get over it.”

  Kash lifted his hands, looking past me. “What do you want from me? I tried.”

  I drew in a quick breath as things started making more sense. “Pancakes,” I muttered. “I see where it comes from.”

  A rumble of assent sounded in Reed’s throat as he pressed his mouth to my shoulder. “You hungry?”

  “Starving, and that all looks so good.” My gaze darted over the different bread, meats, cheeses, and vegetables laid out to make sandwiches, reminding me so much of Lala.

  When Kash called out for everyone to eat, Mason asked, “So, Emma, how’s our Reed treating you?”

  My lips parted, and I desperately prayed that I didn’t look as flushed as I felt as that early morning in Reed’s bed flashed through my mind.

  “Because we could kill him for you, you know,” Mason went on, forcing a stunned laugh from me and effectively pushing away all thoughts of that morning. “Hide the body. No one would ever know.”

  “Jesus.” Reed rolled his eyes, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth as he looked over his shoulder. “You could try.”

  Another foam ball sailed past us in response.

  “Could I use your restroom?” I asked Rachel to get out of responding.

  She gave me a look as if she thought I was funny for even asking. “Of course. There’s one right next to Reed’s old room—Reed, show her where you’re staying. Let her get settled before she’s forced to deal with us.”

  “Oh, that isn’t what I—”

  “Honey, did you somehow miss the middle-aged man shooting NERF balls because I won’t make pancakes or my husband who lied about a party to get my son home?”

  “I got him here,” Kash said, feigning offense.

  She sighed, her eyes rolling. “And the fighting hasn’t even started yet.”

  My gaze drifted from Reed back to his mom in time to see her point from Kash to Reed.

  “These two,” she explained. “They can’t be around each other long without fighting. And with Kennedy here . . .” Her brows lifted. “She’s just like them, and they all fuel each other. One of them says something, and the others go off.”

  “She talks about us like we’re a bad thing,” Kennedy said from where she was setting her toddler up with food.

  “And that’s our cue,” Reed said as he slipped his fingers through mine.

  Rachel just winked as he led me from the kitchen, stopping to grab our bags on our way through the house to his bedroom that was so similar to the one in Colby—all masculine furniture and colors and unreasonably tidy.

  “This is us,” he said as he set down our bags on the edge of the bed.

  My stomach dipped. “We’re sharing a room?”

  Reed stilled, his eyes taking me in, gauging my reaction. “Unless you don’t want to?”

  “But this is your parents’ house. Isn’t that . . . I don’t know.” I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how these things work.”

  A breath of a laugh tumbled past his lips as he stepped back to close the door, his eyes narrowing playfully as he reached for me. “If my parents want you to sleep in another room, they’ll make a point of saying it, and it’ll be because they don’t like you. Trust me.”

  “You realize I’m going to be worrying over them telling me to sleep in another room now,” I said as I let him pull me into his arms. “Right?”

  His responding laugh was rich and full and had a warm shiver moving down my spine.

  “Oh my God, Reed,” I hissed softly when he stepped back and fell onto the bed with me still cradled against his chest. “We can’t—”

  He silenced me with his mouth to mine, his lips moving soft and sure before he gave me the faintest tease of his tongue against my own.

  “Gonna kiss you now, Emma,” he muttered before capturing my mouth again. Kissing me until I was leaning into him and forgetting the world outside that room.

  Until my legs were tangled up in his, and his hands were in my hair.

  Until the only thing that mattered was Reed.

  Every touch was slow as we undressed and he eased me on top of him. His strong hands gently guiding my movements between reverently learning the curves of my body.


  Every thrust of his hips was powerful yet somehow still so tender when he rolled us over and settled between my legs again. Kissing me as if he needed me to breathe, and stealing all my breaths in return.

  Every look was a silent claim and vow, slowly taking the rest of my heart until I knew I’d fallen for Reed Ryan in an eternal, irrevocable way.

  I woke to palms shoving me away, the fear exploding from her sliding over my skin like a disease as I fought the reactive instinct to being woken that way.

  Gripping her hands and flattening her palms against my chest instead, I said, “Emma, it’s me,” as she whispered, “Oh God.”

  I searched out the horrified gaze that matched her tone, her head shaking in apology.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” I curled one of my hands around both of hers and slowly reached up to cradle her cheek in my palm. “Babe, it’s fine.”

  Her chest shook with a ragged exhale before she lowered herself onto me. “Maybe I should just offer to sleep in another room,” she tried to joke and then stilled. “Oh God, how am I supposed to face your family?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as I wrapped my arm around her to trail my fingers up and down her back.

  “They’re going to know what we’ve been doing in here.” She sat up a little, looking around. “How long have we even been back here?” She inhaled quickly when I rolled us to the side so I could grab one of our phones off the floor, her eyes wide with shock when I settled back against the bed. “Thanks for the warning.”

  My lips twitched into a smirk that had her fighting her own smile. Glancing at her phone, I noted the time and then breathed out a laugh when I saw the message she’d just received a minute before.

  Lala: Make sure you’re feedin’ that poor boy for me.

  “We must’ve just fallen asleep—we only got to my parents’ about forty-five minutes ago,” I told her. “But I think I know what woke you.” Turning the phone so she could see it, I watched as her eyes rolled before she dropped her forehead to my chest.

  “Oh, Lala,” she muttered before sitting back and shifting away from me. “That doesn’t answer how I’m supposed to face your family. What are they going to think?”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

  “I do.”

  My eyebrows lifted, my grin widening. “Is that right?” Wrapping my arms around her waist again, I pulled her back to me. “The girl who doesn’t care what anyone thinks cares about my family’s thoughts?”

  Her eyes narrowed for long moments before she conceded with a sigh. “Don’t go reading anything into it,” she muttered, but the ghost of a smile crossing her face offset it.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  A disbelieving hum sounded in her throat as she sat up, reaching for my hands to pull me off the bed with her. “Bathroom?” she asked once she was dressed again and stepping into her heels.

  I watched as she rose a handful of inches, bringing her nearly eye level with me, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth when she sighed contentedly. “You comfortable like that?”

  Her eyebrows lifted in question until I glanced down. “Not you too,” she murmured. “Lala says something about my shoes every day.”

  “Just asking a question, Emma.”

  “As comfortable as I was in your clothes,” she said, some of that shield slipping in as she turned and opened the door, leaving my room before I had the chance to stop her.

  My eyelids shut as a curse slipped free.

  After dragging in a steadying breath, I followed her out into the hall. Propping up against the wall with my arms folded over my chest and my head rested back.

  “I don’t know what Lala says, and I don’t care what you wear,” I began once she’d left the bathroom and met me where I was waiting halfway down the hall. “It was a question because they don’t look comfortable, yet you seem like you’re comfortable in them.”

  Her head bobbed a few times. When she spoke, her tone was soft and repentant. “Like I said . . . as comfortable as I was in your clothes.”

  “All I know is how much I liked seeing you in them.”

  “Is that right?” Amusement and mischief danced in her eyes and abruptly faded to shock when we exited the hallway. “What . . .” she whispered, steps slowing as she took in the scene in front of us.

  A huff pushed from my chest as I listened to the razzing and watched my sisters’ husbands trying to escape multiple zip ties and duct tape.

  “What is going on?” Emma asked.

  “They’re escaping—trying to,” I said, then gave her an unapologetic look. “This is my family. I tried to warn you.”

  “Dad, I thought you trained him,” Kira complained, pointing to where her husband, Rhys, was still struggling.

  My dad and uncle just raised their hands as if Rhys’ ability to escape his current predicament hadn’t been their responsibility.

  Kennedy was on the floor next to Liam, trying to coach him through what to do.

  “Cheating,” I called out, gesturing to her.

  “Fuck you, you would know!” she yelled back.

  “Someone’s still bitter.”

  She flipped me off.

  “Cheating?” Emma asked softly, drawing out the word.

  “Kennedy’s always been mad that I’ve been able to get out so fast.”

  “Of this,” Emma said doubtfully, gesturing to where the guys were in the middle of the living room—all the furniture having been pushed back to make room.

  A rumble of assent built in my chest and turned into a rough laugh when Rhys managed to break through the tie keeping his bound hands and feet connected behind his back.

  “You can get out of that?” she asked, voice still skeptical.

  I glanced at her, a smirk slowly creeping across my face. “Did you not listen to the stories I told you on the way here?”

  “Yeah, but there was never anything about being . . . hog-tied,” she sputtered.

  “This is nothing. This is more of a long-running family challenge than training.” I slanted my head toward the living room. “Obviously.”

  Her gaze fell to my arms, studying and gauging before slowly drifting over the rest of my body.

  “Are you checking me out, Emma Wade?”

  Those eyes snapped back to mine and narrowed. “I’m just trying to figure out how it’s possible.”

  “Ouch . . .”

  A playful huff tumbled past her lips as her stare caught on my arms again. “You’re well-aware that isn’t what I meant. But the blond one,” she said, looking back at the guys.

  “Liam,” I offered, never taking my eyes off her.

  “Right. He’s a lot bigger than the other guy—I mean . . . the other guy is really big too,” she hurried to add.

  “Are you checking out my sisters’ husbands, Emma Wade?” I asked, voice all mischief with a hint of jealousy.

  “I am not,” she hissed, color rising to her cheeks as she turned so she was facing me fully. “I’m never going to be able to look at them again without worrying I’m checking them out.”

  My next laugh was sharper, fuller, and only built when she pushed her hand into my side. “Liam looks stronger,” I admitted as I wrapped my arm around her. “But that won’t give him the advantage. The girls can get out of them too. You just need to know how to break a zip tie—breaking the one connecting your hands to your feet is what makes it difficult.”

  I looked over when Kennedy bit out a curse to see Rhys free just as Liam was reaching for the duct tape binding his ankles together.

  “Dad?” Kira asked, looking at him expectantly, but he and Uncle Mason were trying not to laugh.

  My mom smacked his shoulder and glanced at the phone in his hand, answering, “Just under ten minutes.”

  “Is that bad?” Rhys asked from where he was sitting with his arms resting on his knees, looking exhausted.

  “In general, or compared to when we were six?” Kennedy aske
d, laughing when Liam glared at her. Turning her stare on me, she gestured to the open living room. “Let’s go, small-town.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “No?”

  “I could get out of that three times over and still have time to watch you break free.”

  A wicked grin slid across her face. “What about between you and the old guys in the corner?”

  Uncle Mason looked behind them as if there’d be a couple old men standing there. Challenge lighting up his expression when he realized she was talking about him and my dad.

  “I understand if you’re scared,” Dad said with a shrug, already handing his phone to Mom.

  “Scared you’ll break a hip,” I shot back easily, squeezing Emma closer to me before slipping away.

  They were twice my age, but that didn’t mean shit.

  They’d trained all of us and still did plenty of daily training that kept them at military levels.

  “Emma, honey, did you want to eat now?” Mom asked. “This will be over as soon as it begins.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kennedy muttered.

  “I’ll wait,” Emma said, voice hesitant.

  I glared at Kennedy as I passed her. “I don’t trust you.”

  She just lifted the zip ties and duct tape as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

  Jerking my head toward Dad and Uncle Mason, I said, “Since you like to cheat . . . do theirs first.”

  A scoff left her as she went between the two of them, securely wrapping their ankles and then tying their hands, making sure the zip tie wasn’t so loose they could slip out but wasn’t so tight they could easily break free. Then loosely bound their hands and feet behind their backs.

  “Satisfied?” she sneered as she turned to me.

  I responded by lowering myself to the floor on my stomach, emptying my head of everything else other than the sound of the tape and how many times she was wrapping it. The feel of the ties—