Dare to Lie

by Jen McLaughlin

  “Because they’re expendable.” Chris tucked his gun away, looking down at the one I’d choked out, his jaw tight. “Is that one dead?”

  “No.” I stepped in front of him, grabbing the kid’s ankles. “I wanna keep him that way. Help me drag him off.”

  Chris bent and grabbed the kid’s shoulders, nodding once. We picked him up, and I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Frankie come up behind me. He stared down at the kid, frowning. “What are you guys doing?”

  Chris flinched, and for a second, I saw the regret he held deep in his soul, hidden away from the world, just like me. He didn’t like this violence any more than I did. It was why he’d joined me. To help stop this shit from happening. Being with Molly had changed him. “Cleaning up,” he said immediately.

  Brian came to our side, too. “What happened here?”

  Frankie and Tommy went across the street to the other guys.

  Chris faced him, any sign of regret disappearing. “We were on our way to the clubhouse when they attacked from behind.” Chris touched his nose gently, flinching. “We took down these two, then the other one tried to help his buddies. I shot him, too.”

  Brian nudged the kid—Bobby—with the tip of his boot. We still held on to his ankles and shoulders, and he was suspended in air. “And this one?”

  “He’s . . .” I wanted to lie, but Bobby chose that moment to moan. “He’s alive. But I thought it might be good to question him, and send him back with a message.”

  “I’ve got no questions to ask,” Frankie said casually, spitting on the sidewalk at the kid’s feet. I hadn’t heard him come back. “Drop him.”

  Me and Chris let go, and Bobby hit the sidewalk hard.

  Tommy stood behind Frankie, watching me closely. “What kind of questions do you want to ask?” His phone rang, and he pulled it out, turning his back and talking quietly.

  “I don’t know. Maybe ask where Bitter Hill is recruiting these days,” I said slowly, knowing Brian was my only hope at saving this kid since Tommy was on the phone, more than likely talking to Tate, and Frankie had grown ice-cold during this war. But I couldn’t push too hard. I wasn’t supposed to have a conscience, after all. “He’s just a kid.”

  “A kid who tried to kill you,” Frankie pointed out, crossing his arms.

  Chris stepped forward. “He had no idea how to fight. He’s not a threat anymore.”

  “Until he comes back, and takes out one of us because we let him walk,” Frankie snapped. He looked at Brian, holding his hands out. “Since when do we let people who try to kill us live?”

  Brian hesitated, rocking back on his heels, eyeing me curiously. “We don’t. They attacked on our turf. The message was clear.”

  “Exactly.” Frankie lifted his gun, aiming. “And this is the best message to send back. We’re at war. We can’t afford to play nice because Bitter Hill keeps sending kids with guns our way.”

  Brian turned away, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but still willing to do what needed to be done. I got it. I did. But still . . . “Do it.”

  Frankie pulled the trigger.

  Chris stared at the sidewalk, his jaw tight.

  I forced myself to remain still as dark blood pooled beneath the kid’s striped shirt, staining the broken gray concrete. The white shoelace on his Nike sneaker was untied, and it dampened to pink as the blood from his fallen colleague touched it. The kid hadn’t even bothered to tie his shoe before he tried to kill me. I didn’t know why I found that so disturbing . . .

  But I did.

  I really fucking did.

  He wasn’t much older than I’d been when I joined, but the Sons had kept me safe. When you recruited new members, it was your job as a lieutenant to keep the newbies safe. To show them the ropes and make sure they could survive out there when the bullets started flying. But Bitter Hill hadn’t given a damn. These kids were cannon fodder. Bobby looked impossibly young lying there, now that his tough-guy attitude had been stripped away by death.

  Anger choked me.

  This kid should still be alive.

  Tommy waved from across the street, hanging up the phone and shoving it in his jacket pocket. “Let’s go. Boys are coming.”

  We all walked, tucking away our weapons, our strides long and fast so we could be inside before the cops showed up. They didn’t usually bother in this section of town, but I guess this time there were too many gunshots to ignore. I glanced over my shoulder, gritted my teeth, and quickened my steps.

  “We’ll have to sell the guns. Too risky to keep on us with all the slugs left behind,” Brian said, his face ashen as we walked. “We’ll get replacements at the warehouse later.”

  Across the street, a block away from the scene of the crime, a mother knelt in front of a child who was about six years old. He smiled down at her as she tied his shoe, hugging his teddy bear to his chest, and something inside my chest ached. Would this kid grow up to be like the ones behind us, lying in pools of blood?

  “Scotty?” Brian said.

  I snapped out of it, looking away from the child and his mother. “Yeah. Good idea.”

  Chris gave me the side-eye. “You okay, man?”

  “I’m fine.” I forced a grin. It hurt. “You’re the one with a broken nose again. Molly’s going to kill me, or you.”

  “Or both of us,” Chris agreed, touching it again, his brown eyes shadowed. “I’ll straighten it in the bathroom once we’re inside.”

  “How many times is this?” Brian asked, his tone light, despite the tense way he held himself. Something told me he didn’t like that dead kid we’d left behind either . . .

  But it hadn’t stopped him from giving the order.

  Did that make the Sons as dangerous as Bitter Hill?

  “Five,” Chris admitted. “Maybe six.”

  Tommy laughed, and he didn’t seem upset at all. Why should he be? We’d been attacked, and we’d lived to tell. In his book, we’d won. “Shit, man.”

  “I don’t know why people like breaking my nose so damn much,” Chris gritted out, glancing over his shoulder.

  I did the same. No one followed us.

  “It’s big. That’s why. Easy target,” Tommy said, laughing.

  Chris flipped him off with a bloody finger.

  Brian laughed. “Watch yourself, O’Brien. Tommy’s already geared up for a fight, and he ranks higher than you.”

  Frankie glanced at us. “No fighting. That’s an order, and I rank higher than all three of you. We need to save our strength for the fight ahead of us—with Bitter Hill.”

  How many more kids would be killed before we put an end to this? If they’d grown up somewhere else, somewhere where gang activity didn’t run rampant, where there were options, would those kids have been different? Would they have been on a court with a ball in their hands, instead of guns? Would they have stood a goddamned chance?

  I opened the door to the clubhouse, holding it for the others, still not speaking.

  Frankie went in without a word.

  Brian clapped me on the shoulder. “You did good today, man.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to say, because I hadn’t done good. If I’d done good, at least one of those kids would have walked away. And the fact that they thought I’d done good by killing . . . it had never occurred to me before, but these men—my brothers—were just as ruthless as Bitter Hill. They hadn’t hesitated to kill an unconscious kid. They might die for one another, and they might die for me, since they didn’t know my secrets, but underneath that loyalty . . .

  They were killers.

  What did that make me? Was I with them, or against them? Was I Scott Donahue, DEA agent, or was I Scotty Donahue, Lucas’s little brother, who whored around and killed people without thinking twice?

  Was I a good man . . . ?

  Or a bad one?

&nb
sp; When I remained silent, Tommy frowned and pointed to my arm. “Are you okay? Does that need stitches? I can call the doc.”

  I could have saved him. If only—

  Chris cleared his throat. “Scotty.”

  I jumped slightly. “What?”

  Tommy narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly. “I asked if you needed the doc.”

  The one on our payroll. He patched us up when we needed it because hospitals reported gunshot wounds. Chris was pretty good with a needle, too, though, so I’d just go to him if it needed work. “Nah. It’s just a graze. I don’t even feel it anymore. Thanks, though.”

  “You’re lucky,” Tommy said, turning to Chris and frowning. “You’re both lucky. No more walking in from wherever you two were until this is over, and that’s an order. Drive here, and park out front.”

  Tommy outranked us, so we didn’t have a choice in the matter. When you were given an order in the Sons, you followed it. Tommy’s authority was only outranked by Brian, Frankie, and Tate. “Yes, sir,” Chris said, saluting him cockily.

  Tommy eyed me. “Where were you two, anyway?”

  “Heidi’s old bar.” We’d gone to the Patriot to discuss the latest developments with the DEA, and the ambush plan. “Whiskey’s half price on Wednesdays.”

  Tommy didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Then: “Well, no more bars, and no more cheap whiskey. You wanna drink, do it at home or here. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I replied.

  He went inside, leaving me with Chris, who frowned at me the second we were alone. “I get why you’re upset, I don’t like what’s happening either, but you need to pull yourself together, man. Molly’s life could be in danger, and I’m not risking my girl’s life for anyone.”

  “I agree. I wouldn’t risk her life either.”

  Chris leaned in. “Then get your head in the game. You’re distracted. You were distracted before all this shit went down, and now it’s even worse.”

  “I’m fine. My head is fine.” I inclined my head toward the men inside. “We should probably go in, before we raise suspicion.”

  “All right.” Chris leaned in close, his tone soft but his eyes anything but. “But don’t forget to mess up your hair, Scotty boy. It’s still slicked back.”

  I gritted my teeth and didn’t say anything.

  He walked into the clubhouse. He was right, earlier. About my head not being in the game. I was distracted. I had four deaths that rested on my conscience. I’d been too busy daydreaming about Sky to pay attention to my surroundings. If my head had been in the game like it should’ve been, maybe I could have stopped the attack before it started. Maybe those kids would still be alive.

  It was time to stop ignoring how ruthless the Sons really were.

  Yes, they’d taken my brother and me in, and yes, they’d die for me. But they’d kill for me, too. And if they learned the truth about me, they would pull the trigger as effortlessly as they’d pulled it back there on the street. From now on, I had to make sure I was one hundred percent focused on the war at hand, on both wars, and on keeping me and Chris alive.

  I couldn’t be fantasizing about soft hair, smooth skin, and sweet kisses. I couldn’t afford to be caught up in the false normalcy of a relationship, when my life wasn’t even close to ordinary. And I sure as hell couldn’t risk dragging Sky down with me if I messed it all up again.

  Pulling out my phone, I jotted off a quick text. Can’t come over. Sorry.

  After sliding my phone into my pocket, I dragged a hand through my hair to mess it up, took a deep breath, and ignored the buzzing of a text message in my pocket.

  It was time for me to choose what side I wanted to be on.

  To decide what kind of man I was.

  CHAPTER 14

  SKYLAR

  The early dawn sky was beginning to lighten, banishing the darkness, and casting away the shadows overhead. September sunrises were the best, with that hint of autumn peeking through the orange-and-pink sky. I sat in front of the window inside Starbucks, watching, but I focused my attention down to my textbook instead, ignoring the early morning crowds around me. The words all blurred together into one unintelligible blob, making it hard to focus.

  I’d hoped that by leaving my apartment, I would stop being so distracted. I’d heard Scotty come home two hours ago. He’d thumped around in his bedroom for a little bit before all went silent.

  I’d never hated thin walls as much as I did then.

  No matter how many times I told myself to knock it off, I kept straining to hear a feminine laugh. He’d told me he couldn’t come over, and then ignored my texts for the rest of the night. They showed as read, but he hadn’t sent a reply. Not a single one.

  I might not be experienced in dating and matters of the heart, but it seemed to me like he was brushing me off. That his silence was an answer all on its own.

  I was pretty sure we were done.

  But I wasn’t sure why.

  Things had been going well. We’d developed a sort of silent understanding that we were together, and it would continue until one of us decided otherwise. Two nights ago, when he’d made love to me and then held me close, kissing my bare shoulder as he fell asleep, he’d shown no signs of wanting out of our arrangement.

  Until last night.

  What had sent him running? Maybe it had been the dinner I made for him. He’d mentioned offhand what his favorite meal was, and I’d decided to make it for him. It hadn’t meant anything. I’d just been trying to be nice. But maybe it had been too much.

  Too girlfriend-ish.

  Yawning, I picked up my coffee and took a sip, forcing my mind off Scotty and whatever I’d done to make him pull away from me. A shadow fell on the table, and I glanced up. A red-haired man stood beside me . . . but not the one I was trying to get off my mind. “Hey.”

  “What are you doing out here so early?” Tate asked, sitting across from me and plopping his latte on the table, his back to the sunrise. He wore a black suit, a white shirt, and a blue tie that matched his eyes. His red hair was combed to the side and slicked down to perfection, and he was clean-shaven. He looked every inch the professional CEO he liked to present to the world. “You don’t usually show your face around here till after seven thirty.”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I finally gave up and came here for some caffeine.” I leaned back in my chair, cradling my salted caramel mocha and breathing it in. “Why are you here?”

  “I crashed here last night, in my old apartment. I never cancelled the lease. I like having somewhere close to you, if need be,” he said, smiling. “I have a meeting at eight, and this is closer to my office, so I figured I could sleep a little later. Big deal going down today, and I have to oversee it to make sure no one messes everything up, so a good night’s sleep was essential.”

  “Micromanaging again?” I teased.

  “Always.” He reached out and tapped my book, his motions light and smooth. “What’s all this?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I said, smiling sheepishly. “My brain isn’t working very well, though.”

  He lifted his coffee. “Drink faster.”

  “I’m trying,” I said, my gaze wandering toward our apartment building. What would happen if Tate saw Scotty? Would he put two and two together, and figure out we were sleeping together? I could only hope he left before Scotty came out of the building. At least Tate had his back to the window, so he might miss Scotty if he appeared. “What deal are you working on?”

  “Just boring work shit.” He let out a sigh. “Nothing you’d be interested in. It’s stressing me out, that’s all.”

  “Why?” I asked, tearing my attention off the sunrise. I kind of wanted to go outside, feel the brisk autumn air on my skin, but I didn’t move. Now that I looked closer, he had bags under his eyes and, his desire for a good night’s sl
eep aside, he looked like he hadn’t slept in at least a week. “What’s wrong?”

  He scanned the crowd around us like he searched for some unknown threat in the shadows. He was always on the lookout for danger. He and Scotty had that in common. “Do you always wander around alone before dawn?”

  I frowned. “I go where I want, when I want. It’s one of the benefits of being an adult. Why?”

  “No reason.” He lifted his cup. “Crime has been rising lately, and I hate to see you out and about in the dark alone.”

  “You’re out,” I said slowly. “And alone.”

  “I’m also a black belt.” He cocked a brow. “Are you?”

  “I have black belts,” I joked. “Does that count?”

  He frowned at me.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Tough crowd.”

  “I don’t think you being hurt is funny.”

  “I’m not hurt.” I gestured around us, pointing out everyone else who was either staring at their phone or just sitting there, trying to wake up. Boston ran on coffee, ever since we went and threw all the tea in the harbor. “No one here is going to do anything. We’re all half asleep.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You look tired . . .” I reached out and covered his hand with mine. “Instead of worrying about me, worry about you. When’s the last time you slept?”

  He slowly turned to me. “I’ll always worry about you. I’ll never stop.”

  “I know.” I licked my lips and lowered my head. “And I worry about you. When’s the last time you slept?”

  “I got a few hours last night. More than you, I’m sure. It’s just this work thing. It’s . . .” He focused on something over my shoulder, and stood. “Oh. Hi.”

  I glanced over my shoulder . . .

  And froze.

  Craaaaaaap.

  Scotty stood behind me, wearing a button-up blue shirt, a pair of gray khakis, and a frown. When he saw me, he stopped walking, one foot still in the air. His brow was furrowed as he spotted me sitting with Tate. I couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of setup. A way for Tate to see us together and make sure I wasn’t messing around with the wrong guy.