Love & Lies

by Julie Johnson

  Chapter 25

  Faith

  YOU CAUGHT ME

  * * *

  “Faith, wait up!”

  Shit.

  I pasted on a happy smile and turned to look at Istvan, who’d abandoned his post by the back door and was hurrying to my side with a determined look on his face.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Glad I caught you before you left,” he said, smiling broadly when he reached me.

  “Me too,” I concurred, though my true feelings couldn’t have been further from that statement. I’d been avoiding this interaction for over a week. “What’s up?”

  “I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.” His smile was confidant, his tone self-congratulatory. “I made reservations at my favorite restaurant.”

  Talk about presumptuous. “Um… Istvan…”

  “The table is ours at eight, but we’ll want to walk around a bit before we eat. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “Istvan…”

  “You’ll love it.” He reached out to squeeze my bicep in what was supposed to be a soothing, seductive gesture. It succeeded only in giving me goosebumps — and not the good kind I got when Wes touched me.

  “Istvan…” I shrugged away from his touch and took a step back. “I’m sorry, it’s really nice of you to offer, but I can’t go out to dinner with you tonight.”

  He looked a little crestfallen, but quickly recovered. “Tomorrow, then,” he said decidedly.

  “I can’t go out with you tomorrow either, Istvan. Or the night after.” I sighed. “Not any night, really.”

  The warmth faded from his eyes and they seemed to harden as I watched, turning to steel and narrowing on my face. “Why?”

  I gulped as I considered his question. Wes and I weren’t officially dating, or anything. We’d never talked about labels. In fact, we hadn’t talked, period, since he’d pulled his Houdini act the other night. Technically, I was free to go out to dinner with anyone I wanted.

  “Um…”

  Istvan’s brows rose.

  What the hell — a little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

  “Well, I’m seeing someone.” I felt the nerves begin to stir to life in my belly as soon as the fib left my lips. “I mean, sort of. Strictly speaking, we aren’t a couple or anything. Not officially. But I suppose we’re dating. Practically dating, anyway. Maybe.”

  I forcibly bit my lip to stop myself from spewing any more idiotic word-vomit.

  “Maybe,” Istvan echoed, his expression still chilly. Evidently, he didn’t find my nervous talking cute.

  “Look, I’m really sorry.” I swallowed roughly. “I think you’re a great guy. If the situation were different, I’d love to go out with you.”

  Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. He scared the ever-living shit out of me and I’d rather eat my own hair than consume a meal sitting under that spine-chilling stare of his for an hour. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  Istvan’s eyes went so cold, I worried I might contract frostbite if they lingered on me a moment longer. Thankfully, he clamped his jaw shut, nodded curtly, and turned on a heel. Watching his back as he walked away, I felt a relieved sigh slip from my lips, grateful the conversation was over. Now, maybe things would go back to normal between us.

  Unless he’s some kind of psycho-killer who’s going to exact revenge on you for shutting down his ego, my snarky internal voice offered.

  Jeeze, if I became just a tad more paranoid, I’d turn into my sister Saffron, who’d spent her childhood convinced our next door neighbors were spies and to this day believed that SLEEPY’s mattress stores were a front company for the mob.

  I shook some tension out of my shoulders, hauled in a deep breath, and headed into the lobby, determined to put my odd day at Hermes behind me.

  * * *

  The first thing I saw was Anna.

  Ugh.

  You know those women who talk incessantly about how much they “hate girls” and insist that they have only male friends because they simply “get along better” with men? Those same women who, when you aren’t looking, will steal your boyfriend or stab you in the back because they refuse to respect the Girl Code all members of our ovarian-sisterhood inherently follow?

  Anna was one of those.

  She didn’t have girl friends because she was a shitty one herself. She was untrustworthy, flirty, and almost constantly at odds with the women in her life. She made a point to befriend every man in the office and every boyfriend who came to visit his girl during shift breaks. It didn’t help matters that she had a huge amount of T&A, spoke in a bubbly voice, and was a self-proclaimed “hugger.”

  We didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.

  So, when I stepped into the front atrium after my shift, approached the wide glass doors, and glanced out to see her petting Wes’ bike with one hand and stroking the arm of his leather jacket with the other, I saw red. The blood began to boil in my veins, pure fury bubbling through my ventricles and vessels like lava, until I thought steam might start leaking from my ears. Even when I saw Wes shrug off her touch and step to the other side of his bike on the sidewalk, my anger didn’t cool.

  I didn’t question why he was here, picking me up like it was an average afternoon, after three days of radio-silence.

  I didn’t care that we weren’t exclusive and hadn’t talked about labels.

  I didn’t give a single shit that I was about to look like a crazy person.

  I heaved in a deep breath, blew past Irenka, who was glaring at me from behind her bodice-ripper, and pushed open the doors with a determined shove. Storming down the front steps, I beelined for Wes’ bike, a glare already on my face. I could hear Anna’s syrupy sweet voice as I approached.

  “…such a nice bike. I wonder what it feels like to have that much power between your legs,” she purred, her eyes on Wes.

  I swallowed a scream.

  “Maybe you can take me for a ride sometime?” she asked, leaning over the bike so her ample cleavage was on full-display. Wes, to his credit, didn’t react. His eyes were cool when his mouth opened to respond.

  I beat him to the punch.

  “Anna, have you really ridden so many men in Budapest that you’ve been forced to move on to inanimate objects to get your thrills?”

  I heard her gasp in breathy outrage, but my narrowed eyes were locked on Wes. His gaze snapped to mine, startled by my abrupt arrival, and I thought I saw his lips twitch with humor.

  He was amused by this? I was going to kill him.

  “And you,” I spat at Wes. “I told you from the start that I don’t like games. I especially don’t like to play when I can’t figure out the rules or the other player’s intentions. So I’m about ready to cash in my chips or turn down my deck or fold in my cards or… whatever.”

  Damn, my metaphor would’ve been so much stronger if I knew anything about cards.

  Wes’ lips twitched again. “You’ve never played poker, have you Red?”

  “Shut up,” I muttered, my cheeks flaming. “So not the point here.”

  “Well, will you tell me the point so we can stop fighting? ‘Cause I’d really like to kiss you hello at some point, but I’d prefer to do it when I know you aren’t gonna bite my tongue off for trying.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “The point is…”

  Crap, what was the point? It was so hard to hold onto rational thought when I was looking into those dark chocolate eyes.

  His brows rose in question.

  “I’m mad at you, that’s the point!” I unleashed my coldest glare. “And you bet your ass I’ll bite you. These lips are closed for business, mister.”

  His crooked grin appeared and he held his hands up in surrender.

  “Are you her boyfriend?” Anna asked suddenly.

  My icy gaze slid over to examine her. She hovered a few feet to Wes’ left with one hip jutted out in a sultry pose.

  “Are you still here for a reason?” I growled.

  Wes
snorted. My arctic eyes moved back to him.

  “Did you just laugh?”

  His lips clamped together and he shook his head. “No, definitely not.”

  “Good.” I looked back at Anna. “And no, he’s not my boyfriend, but let’s not pretend it would stop you even if he was.”

  “Whatever, bitch.” She pursed her lips in an unattractive pout and turned her eyes to Wes. “Call me if you want to take that ride,” she said, taking a step in his direction and sliding a small piece of paper inside the front pocket of his jacket. With that, she winked at him and sauntered away.

  I clenched my fists as I contemplated tackling her from behind and ripping out her hair extensions.

  “If you’re going to hit her, I’d go for the fake boobs,” Wes said in a dry voice. “One good punch and those balloons will explode on impact.”

  I glanced back at him, eyebrows raised. “You were looking at her boobs?”

  He grinned. “No, definitely not.”

  I huffed, still fuming.

  “What, are you jealous?” he scoffed, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.

  Unfortunately for him, his words had the opposite effect — my fury boiled over.

  “Great job, Wes! You freaking caught me!” I waggled my fingers at him in an exaggerated fashion. “I admit it. I’m jealous. I don’t want anyone else and I certainly don’t want you to want anyone else. And I don’t need to keep it quiet. I’ll happily scream it from the rooftops, even if it freaks you out.”

  I heaved my shoulders back, set them firmly, and glowered as I watched the humor fade from his eyes. His face went from smiling to stony in a matter of seconds, morphing into the closed-off expression I was unfortunately becoming quite familiar with. I didn’t let it deter me, this time. If he threw up his walls, so be it. I had things to say, damn it.

  “I say I’m sorry a lot. I mess up. I’m stubborn as hell. I babble and over-analyze and make a big deal about things that shouldn’t matter. I have a potty mouth and I hate to cook and if it were socially acceptable, I’d wear pajamas every day and never brush my hair. I’m not a trophy or a prize or anyone’s freaking cup of tea.” I swallowed roughly. “But you don’t seem to care about any of that. For the first time in my life, I feel like I don’t have to put on an act. I can just be me and, for some crazy reason, you put up with me anyway.”

  I blinked away tears as I held his gaze, determined to remain strong.

  His reaction was barely detectable, unless you knew him — which, thankfully, I did well enough to look for the slight clenching of his jaw as he fought back whatever words were forcing their way to the surface. I didn’t let his silence bother me. I pushed on, past the bullshit, past the boundaries.

  “I have my flaws. I’m fully aware of them. All my cards are there, on the table. I’m an open freaking book!” I took a deep breath. “But you! You are the most impossible, guarded, closed-off, challenging person I’ve ever known. You pull me in and push me away. You play games with my head, even if it’s not intentional. You don’t want me to worry about you, to care about you — well, too damn bad, Wes. I care about you.”

  I stepped closer and felt my heart turn over when, for a single moment, his guard fell and fear flashed in his eyes.

  “I care about you,” I said softly. “Why can’t you just let me?”

  He was silent for a long time, his jaw working as he warred with himself. I looked at him and I saw the terrified street-kid, alone in the dark. Afraid to trust, afraid to love. Never letting down his guard or opening up to anyone. I tried desperately to hold onto my anger, but I felt it slipping away as my eyes moved over his face.

  He was a man lost in shadows.

  I knew I might never be able to pull him to the light. But, for now, I’d gladly slip into the darkness and keep him company there. I’d find him in the pitch-black night and wrap him in my arms until morning came.

  He just had to let me.

  His gaze finally lifted to meet mine, and I held my breath when I saw the intense emotions burning there. His voice was hushed, fervent.

  “All my life, even when I was with other people, I was alone. I’ve never, not even for a second, known who I was.” He paused, cleared his throat, and moved a fraction of a step closer to me. His voice dropped even lower, but lost none of its passion. “That was until I met you.”

  I felt a breath slip through my lips as he took the final step and closed the gap between our bodies. I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t cry as I felt the last bit of anger fall away.

  “I know I’m a bastard, Red. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I didn’t show up. I’ve been sorry since the moment I left you.” His hand came up to cup my face and I felt his fingers tremble a bit as they landed on my skin. “But, the thing is… I’m hoping you’ll forgive me anyway.”

  I opened my eyes so I could look at him. He was watching my face, his expression filled with fragile hope. In a deliberate move, I leaned my cheek into his touch, so he was supporting my face with the span of his hand. He knew I forgave him.

  Sometimes, actions speak louder.

  “See, I’m about to go on this adventure,” Wes whispered, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. “And I’ve realized they’re a hell of a lot more fun when you’re with me.”

  He held out his free hand for me to take and my eyes snagged immediately on his knuckles. They were split and swollen. Terribly bruised, like he’d been on the losing end of a bar fight. I wanted to ask what had happened, but I held back.

  I could’ve walked away. Could’ve turned my back on him and gone on alone, angry and unsatisfied. But holding a grudge against Wes wouldn’t make me happy. The only thing that might do that was spending time with him.

  So, I slipped my hand into his, careful not to squeeze his injured knuckles.

  “Take me for a ride?” I asked in a terrible imitation of Anna’s most seductive voice.

  Wes laughed, laced his fingers through mine, and pulled me into his arms. I sighed as they tightened around me, content for the first time in three days. No matter what he did, it didn’t change the fact that being with him was always better than life in his absence.

  * * *

  We went on an adventure, as Wes had promised.

  I was beginning to learn that he wasn’t the stay-home-and-watch-old-movies-in-our-pajamas-all-day type. He didn’t do lazy — there was too much adrenaline pumping in his veins for that. He was a thrill-seeker, the ultimate danger-junkie. I couldn’t help but wonder why this lover of all things risky and heart-racing wanted me — an admitted coward and scaredy cat — as his companion. But, as long as he let me tag along, I wasn’t going to question it.

  He drove his motorcycle far too fast as we left Budapest behind and merged onto one of the main highways. It was the first time I’d left the city proper since my arrival in the country. I was a little nervous as I watched the spires and hills of the capital fade from view, especially since Wes refused to give me so much as a single hint as to where we were going.

  My nerves were all but forgotten as soon as we headed into the countryside.

  It was gorgeous. Green and lush. Peppered with quaint, centuries-old towns and more pastures than I could ever count. I’d never seen anything like it in my life.

  We whipped along for more than two hours, but I was so enthralled by the view, it seemed a much shorter time. When we reached our distant destination of Gyula, a village at the furthest reaches of Hungary, practically straddling the Romanian border, it was late in the day and I was starving.

  Wes slowed to a crawl when we reached the town outskirts. The roads were more congested with cars the closer we got to the central square. I could hear music flowing down the streets as we approached and felt my eyes widen in wonder when I saw dozens of people dressed in traditional folk costumes walking the cobbled streets. The stunning red and white fabrics, intricate embroidery, and colorful headdresses looked like they’d leapt off the pages of one of my history te
xtbooks.

  Screw Professor Varga and his boring lectures. This was the history I wanted to experience.

  “What is this?” I breathed in Wes’ ear, my chin propped on his shoulder as the bike crawled down the road.

  He turned his head slightly so I could make out his words. “It’s the summer festival. There’s dancing, food, crafts, music…” He trailed off. “I have to meet someone for a few minutes — work stuff. But I thought you could explore on your own while I’m tied up. I’ll find you as soon as I’m free.”

  I was at a loss for words. A grin split my face as I watched two girls in matching dresses skip hand-in-hand down the road, heading for the small castle at the heart of the town, which seemed to be the epicenter of activity.

  “I just thought…” Wes’ voice was casual, but there were undercurrents of unease in his tone. “If you don’t like it, we can leave. I’ll come back another day.”

  “Wes.” I squeezed his torso so tight, I’m pretty sure I cut off his oxygen for a few seconds. “I love this. History geek, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  I felt my heart turn over. Of course he’d remembered.

  “Now, will you park this damn bike already so we can go explore?” I demanded in a gruff voice, trying to avoid thinking about how perfect he was for me.

  It was no use.

  Wes Adams was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to me — and, though he might not be aware of it, I certainly was.

  Chapter 26

  Faith

  GYPSY CURSE

  * * *

  “How much?” I asked in horribly mispronounced Hungarian, praying the young girl in the stall would take pity on me.

  She smiled warmly and rattled off the number of forint I’d owe if I wanted to purchase the gorgeous bracelet I’d been staring at since I spotted it on my first pass by her table over an hour ago. As I’d wandered the festival, I’d seen all different handicrafts, from beautiful embroidery to carved horns to finely-worked leather, but nothing had captured my attention quite like the horsehair bangles, earrings, and necklaces displayed on her bright red tablecloth.