Lit up in an inferno of red, there is a little stage where a singer in a beaded shift dress croons into a microphone, where a trio of saxophones sing, and piano keys dance.
People sit enraptured at the tables near the stage, on the couches along the fabric walls.
“Took you long enough,” a familiar voice says from a couch close to the entrance. “I didn’t know we could bring friends.”
Reeve watches us with amusement as a clean-cut man in a white button-down and suspenders plays with the corded necklaces that sit on Reeve’s chest.
“Looks like you found a friend yourself.” I cross my arms over my chest as if that’ll protect me from the glare he sends my way.
“Ah.” Reeve pats his friend’s head before pushing away and sliding off the couch. He moves with the grace of a cat. “He was just a means to pass the time since my boy here,” he waves a hand in Noah’s direction, “was uncharacteristically late. At least I now know why.”
Speaking of cats…
“How’s Pan?” I miss my little fluff ball so much. I’ve asked Noah to let him come back and he’s still firm on the ‘no animal in my house’ rule, but he lets Reeve still come over soooo it’s not the strongest argument.
“Didn’t you get the picture I sent you?” He tilts his head to the side in question.
Reeve sends me pictures of him almost daily, going so far as to making Pan pose with different props. The one he sent this morning had Pan wearing a top hat, bow tie, and a suit jacket with coattails. He looked adorable in his outfit and murderous expression.
Noah mimics my stance of arms crossed as he draws the conversation away from my cat. “Where’s Gabe?”
“The handsome Gabriel couldn’t make it tonight, unfortunately.” Reeve frowns. “We had a fight.”
“About what?” I take it the two men hardly ever fight from the way Noah’s watching Reeve.
“Oh, just something trivial. Nothing of relevance.” He waves Noah’s concern away. “Not like your reasoning for bringing her.”
He says it as if I’m not standing right in front of him. “Uh, hello. Hi. I’m right here. And he brought me here because I asked him to.”
Reeve squints at me. “I don’t remember you talking back as much.”
“I feel like it’s a recent development,” Noah chimes in. “Apparently I bring it out of her.”
Again with the talking like I’m not in hearing distance! “As thrilling as this talk of my sass is, aren’t we here for a different reason?”
“Yes, we are, Baby Brooks.” Reeve rotates his entire body to face me. I don’t like the look on his face, like he wants to put me in my place. One far, far away from him. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and tell us why your sister would come here.”
He knows I don’t have the answer to that, I see that as his lips curl into a cruel smile. I didn’t know my sister came here at all. I’d sooner place her at an axe throwing competition than at a soothing and decadent place like this.
Reeve’s smile grows the longer I’m quiet and I force myself to dig into my memory. Searching for any clues. And the only connection to this place I can make is hearing her sing in the shower.
Sure, let’s go with that. Why not? “She came to sing?”
Once I say it, I wish to swallow the words up immediately. She came to sing? Really, Sayer? I see the same question on Noah’s face. Reeve doesn’t even pretend to be polite as he laughs, a deep belly laugh, at my answer.
“No!” He grabs his stomach like it’s pinching him from all his amusement. “She came here for him.”
He points to a man behind the bar, with dark skin and bright eyes, which are trained on us even as he pours a drink.
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” I glare at Reeve.
“You weren’t. Which means you shouldn’t be here. Luckily we’re close enough to the door. Go wait outside while us big kids play.”
His condescending tone grates against my skin.
“I’m staying,” I say the same time Noah growls, “She’s staying.”
Reeve snarls but doesn’t further comment. It doesn’t take a genius to know which one he actually listened to, but I’m going to pretend it was me.
“Why would she come see the bartender?” I ask Noah since Reeve is already stalking over to him. We’re following at a more relaxed pace.
“He’s a dealer. And they were sleeping together.”
“Is he going to tell us anything?”
“He’s the one that tipped us off.”
Reeve, the perpetual flirt, is already leaning across the bar tracing the rolled up sleeve of the bartender’s shirt by the time we arrive. “Miss me, Rand?”
“Still straight, Reeve.” His eyes flick from Reeve to Noah, to me, where they stay.
“Everyone is a little gay.” His fingers dance up Rand’s.
Rand pushes him away. “Who’d you bring with you, Kincaid? I don’t recognize your friend.”
“Then I guess you’re not reading the paper.”
My face has been plastered next to his every time we go out. I like that Rand doesn’t already know who I am. In a city where recognition is everything, it’s nice to live with a little anonymity. Where I can be Sayer Brooks the person instead of Sayer Brooks the name.
Rand’s lip curls. “I’m not one for elitist lies.”
“Sure don’t mind sleeping with them, though,” Noah drawls.
Tension weaves between the four of us.
“I’m Sayer.” I step toward the bar with my hand stretched out. Always one for manners even when trying to diffuse the thick tautness around all three men.
Rand stares at my hand before gripping it with his own. “You’re the sister.”
“I prefer Sayer, actually.” We’re still shaking hands and Noah clears his throat. I feel his hand at my elbow, pulling it out of Rand’s.
Rand shoots him a look while I can barely contain my smile. Is Mr. Kincaid a little jealous of Rand holding my tiny hand?
“Enough niceties,” Noah growls, glaring at Rand. Why, yes, I do say he is. “Why’d you contact us? Did Harlow reach out to you?”
He nods, reaching into his back pocket. He slides a piece of paper across the bar and Reeve snatches it up. I careen my neck to read what it says, but the ass has it tilted just enough for me not to see.
Looking unhappy, he passes it to Noah. “You’re a little late on inviting me to your lover’s rendezvous.”
“And you’re a lot late letting us know about it,” Noah snarls, his eyes looking up from the paper.
Noah hands me the paper, but I don’t need to read it to know what it says. Rand met up with my sister. Rand saw my sister. My sister is near. Or at least, she was. And we’re too late.
I look at Noah to see his face cold, jaw hard and his eyes blazing with a thousand fires as he stares down Rand. “Why contact us at all, then, Rand?” He leans across the bar and pulls the other man in close by the back of his neck. “Wanted to rub it in my face?”
Despite the rage on Noah’s face and the grip on his neck, Rand smiles. Cool and indifferent. “She wanted me to give you a message.”
Noah lets go of Rand and pushes him away.
Rand stumbles a few steps and his keen eyes latch onto me. I glare at him. His stare makes me uncomfortable, holding secrets I can’t touch, but I’m not going to look away. I won’t cower under this stranger’s scrutiny. He’s heard stories about me from my sister. He expects me to shake and crumble. I’ve always been the scared little rabbit in the eyes of my sister.
But this rabbit has learned to grow a pair of horns and satisfaction fills me as I see the surprise on his face when I raise my middle finger and flip him off.
“Yo.” Reeve snaps his fingers in Rand’s face. “The message, fuck boy.”
Annoyed, Rand looks to Noah. He smiles. “She’s going to win.”
Noah slams the door at the top of the stairs. It rattles on its hinges, giving away just how angry he is. I give hi
m a wide birth as we walk back down the hall, Reeve decided to go find the new friend he made, leaving me alone with Noah and his temper. It pulses off him like a radiator.
When we were younger, he used to scare me like this. When he’d storm the hall of our prep school with his lacrosse stick in hand and blood on his knuckles. Now, the man has control over the anger the boy did not. He internalizes it.
I can practically see the wheels churning behind his eyes. He’s thinking, plotting.
As a man who always needs to be the smartest person in the room, needs to be several steps ahead of all his opponents, he’s internalizing too much. Overthinking to the point of flaws.
And he’s not going to pull himself out of it alone.
As we’re walking out of the hall and through the library, I grab his arm and pull him between the stacks. His eyes blaze bright and nostrils flare as I grab his face. Forcing him to look at me.
“Calm down,” I order. My voice is calm, soothing.
It doesn’t work. Noah’s not even focused on my face. He’s not focused on anything except his thoughts.
“Noah,” I try again, but he doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink.
He’s shaking under my palms. Vibrating with anger. My sister was here. Under his nose and he didn’t know. None of us did.
Not knowing what else to do, I do the one thing that seems to always work in the movies.
I kiss him. Up on my toes, lips pressed to firm lips.
Nothing. No reaction.
It’s like having my lips against a brick wall, rough and cold. Unresponsive.
Looks like the movies have this wrong—
Noah makes a noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a moan and a growl, that vibrates against my lips. From my lips down to my toes, that’s where I feel it. Everywhere.
And he’s kissing me back. Taking the helm and pushing me against the shelves. Pinning me there with his hands, his hips. His lips.
All that aggression, frustration is put into his kiss. Bruising his lips against mine. His fingers bite into my waist, pulling me closer.
Closer and closer until there’s no space between us.
More, I want to moan, but there’s no space for words. No wasted breath, not when Noah’s too busy stealing mine with the way he holds me. The way he’s devouring me.
More, more, more. I pull at his hair, his neck. The more I touch him, the harder I kiss him back, the more he melts under my touch. That anger thawing into something else. Something more.
Calming. Savoring.
His lips move down my neck, finding the sweet hollow spot that has me gasping under his match.
He’s the fire and I’m the kindling. He feeds me, burning me from the inside out and making me forget where we are or how we got here or what happens next.
I’m not focused on anything except—
He pushes me back hard enough for the shelf to wobble. I pull away with wide, dazed eyes.
The library. We’re in the public library.
Noah’s forehead goes to mine. “God, Sayer. What’re you doing to me?”
Husky and like sandpaper, his voice has my heart pounding.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I challenge in a whisper. Surprised I can even get that much out as I stare at his lips and resist the urge to bring them back to mine, wishing they traveled to other places as well.
“You’re a siren sent to tempt me.”
“And do I tempt you?”
I lean in close only for him to pull back. Heat simmering in his gaze.
“More than I anticipated.”
An elevator closing isn’t as satisfying as the sound of a slamming door. How I long for the sharp, angry sound of a good door slam right now.
“NOAH!” I yell, stomping into the apartment.
I get no answer.
But I know he’s here.
He wasn’t at the club. He wasn’t at the casino.
When I called Thea to ask where her asshat of a friend was after he took it upon himself to ruin my day, she told me he went home to work.
He never works from home.
Which lets me know he orchestrated this on purpose.
“NOAH! YOU STUPID PRICK!” I stomp toward the steps, taking them two at a time until I reach his office.
The door crashes into the wall as I throw it open.
There he is. Sitting at his desk. Waiting for me.
“You yelled?” His hands are folded behind his head.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Each word is spat through gritted teeth.
“What’s wrong, BB?” he asks, grinning.
“You towed my car!”
He smirks in answer.
My fists clench tighter “You made me miss my lunch with Brin!”
He keeps his smirk. “You’re welcome.”
Momentarily, my anger washes away, replaced with confusion as I stare at him and his smugness. “Excuse me?”
“You. Are. Welcome.” He punctuates each period harder than the last.
“Noah, if you don’t stop being vague-mystery guy I am going to—”
“There was suspicious activity around your car while you were in class. Thea went to go check it out and noticed something strapped underneath it.”
Air leaves my chest.
He stands from his desk, walking toward me.
“Wh—what?” I whisper, unable to process much of what he said, only that it’s left me cold. Numb. So numb, I barely feel his thumb brushing my cheekbone.
Jerking away from his touch, I demand an explanation.
“Will a video do?” he responds.
He has a video?
I nod, making a hand motion for him to hand it over. He doesn’t, instead, he holds the phone in front of me.
I press the play button.
In black and white images, a person with a hood pulled over their head glances around the parking lot before dropping to the ground and crawls under my car.
The video feed doesn’t show what happens underneath, but after a few minutes, they crawl out and walk away.
Oh my God.
“We thought it was a bomb,” he says, returning his phone to his pocket. “Turns out he only cut the brakes.”
My eyes widen. “Only?”
“Compared to an explosive, yes.”
So many thoughts float in my head. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I look to find his face blank. “Did you catch him?”
He shakes his head. “We’re working on it.”
I nod, but it does nothing to reassure me. Why me? What did I do to bring this on? According to Noah, nothing. But cutting my brakes doesn’t feel like nothing.
“They’re not going to touch you,” he growls, protectiveness creeping in.
“But if they do?” I can’t help but worry.
“They won’t,” he vows. A promise as strong as a contract, as the mountain ridges.
“Noah—”
“When are you going to realize that you’re mine?” He pulls on my hair, voice husky. “That no one is going to touch you.”
“Around the same time you realize I’m not a pet to be owned.”
He grabs my wrist, twisting and pinning it behind my back, pulling me close. “I think it’s about time you learned something, Baby Brooks.”
“And what’s that?” Defiant. Always a joy. Challenging him.
I like the taste of defiance on my tongue, full of empowerment and steel.
It tastes freeing.
By the way Noah’s eyes dance, I think he enjoys it as much as I do.
“I don’t want to own you.” Noah’s fingers drift under my chin, directing my gaze to meet his wicked eyes. Eyes of a man who knows what he wants and won’t stop until he gets it. “I want to see the world from your point of view. I want to taste you and fuck you until I have every inch of your skin committed to memory.”
I shiver, face heating with his words.
Since the morning he took me to my granddad’s old apartment, things have
been different. Noah hasn’t been as cold, almost playful. And he’s been around. Every morning, I might wake up alone, but all I have to do is travel downstairs to find him seated at the bar.
We still play our chess game, with one move a day. It’s slow going, but it’s one of my favorite parts of the day.
“Be careful with those words, Noah, or you might have me catching feelings.” I smirk while a small voice inside me hisses, too late.
I try my best to ignore it.
“That’d be the stupidest thing you could do.”
I ignore the sting his words bring. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen. Logic and the heart don’t always go hand in hand. If it did, I would’ve never stepped foot back in this town.
Originally, I came in here to ream his ass out but now, this close to him, wrapped in the intoxication that is Noah Kincaid, I’ve decided I want something else.
I run a hand down his tie, feeling his gaze as I wrap it around my hand. Once, twice, pulling him close until there’s no space between us.
Stretching on my tiptoes, I lean in until our lips are a hairsbreadth away. “How much do you want me, Noah?”
He doesn’t answer save for his fists clenching at his sides. His sharp intake of breath.
He doesn’t need to.
Not when I have my answer in the form of his hard-on brushing against my stomach. Steel encased in a custom suit, just waiting to be let free.
I loosen my grip on his tie, smoothing it on his chest as I sink to the ground.
“Sayer.” His voice is gruff, fist clenching my hair.
My eyes dance as I look at his dick still straining against his zipper.
It’s a struggle to keep from licking my bottom lip.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “You look so perfect on your knees with those flushed cheeks and plump swollen lips, just waiting for my cock.”
My thighs clench as lava churns deep in my core.
His thumb traces my bottom lip while heat and desire simmer in his eyes. “Do you want to suck me off?”
“No,” I tell him as my eyes betray me by drifting toward his erection. My fingers itch to let him free.
“I think you do.” Each word is more strained than the last. He’s struggling, edging on losing control.
Under the Lies Page 20