Lethal Lies

by Lara Lacombe

  He’d seen her once, about a year later. He’d been standing on the sidewalk, eating a hot dog with Tony. Just another normal day, on the way to intimidate another low-level dealer. Then Tony had tapped his arm.

  “You know her, man?”

  He nodded, and Alex followed his glance. His heart moved up into his throat when he saw Shannon, standing a few feet away. She was staring at him, her expression a mix of pleasure and confusion.

  “Nah,” he replied, hoping he sounded casual.

  Tony eyed him suspiciously. “Why’s she staring at you then?”

  Alex shrugged. “Maybe she wants to know me.” He turned back to Shannon, who hadn’t moved. “Whaddaya say, sexy? Want to spend some time with me?” He winked at her and grabbed his crotch in a lewd, suggestive gesture. Shannon’s mouth twisted into a grimace, her face going pale. She shook her head, turned and walked quickly away.

  Alex took another bite of his hot dog, trying to ignore the greasy feeling coating his stomach. Chew and swallow, he told himself sternly. If he puked now, Tony would know something was up.

  Tony laughed. “Hey, come back, sweetness!” he called to Shannon’s retreating form. He took a step forward and Alex raised a hand, ready to restrain him if necessary. But the young man stopped, apparently satisfied to just yell after her. “I’m much cuter than he is!”

  Alex tried to play it off, laughing along with Tony. But he couldn’t shake the profound sadness that dropped over him like a heavy coat. How would his life have been different if he’d refused this assignment and stayed with Shannon?

  A few days later he checked his personal cell phone. There was a new message waiting. A two-word text: I’m sorry.

  He stared at the screen for several long minutes, debating with himself. Should he reply? What could he say? There was too much distance between them now, too many new experiences that they didn’t have in common. How could he explain his life to her? Why would he even want to? Bad enough he had to deal with the darkness.

  In the end, he’d said nothing.

  He shook himself free of the memories and pulled on the flannel pants, amused to find they were a few inches too short and just a little too tight. It was the same for the shirt. Although he looked ridiculous, his pride was gratified by the knowledge that he was bigger and more muscular than her ex. He recognized he was being vain, but after the crappy night he’d had, he’d take his pleasure where he could find it.

  And while he still could.

  Chapter 6

  Jillian stood at the stove, absently stirring the pot of soup while she considered her options. The most sensible thing to do would be to call the police. No matter what his true motivations were, Alex had kidnapped her tonight and forced her to treat a known criminal with stolen medical supplies. By all rights, he should go to jail for what he’d done to her, and if she turned him in soon, the police might even be able to catch up to Tony and his gang. It wasn’t as if they could go far in this weather. If the authorities got involved, they could take a few dangerous men off the street tonight—a satisfying thought, given her earlier experience with the gang. Anyone who would shoot first and ask questions later didn’t deserve to be free.

  Furthermore, if she called the police, her little part in this drama would be over. No more injured men, no more guns, no more threats. She could go back to her normal, safe life and pretend that this had all been a bad dream.

  She ran her fingers over the phone in her pocket, sorely tempted to dial the three numbers that would bring help to her door. The only thing stopping her was her memory of Alex’s face as he’d told her his story. The haunted, defeated look in his eyes, like he was so beaten down by it all that he didn’t dare hope he could fix things.

  He could be lying, she thought. Sure, he had a badge and identification, but how hard was it to obtain counterfeits, especially for someone with his kinds of illegal connections? Maybe he carried them around to evade the authorities—if he ever did get caught, all he had to do was to flash the badge and tell them he was an undercover agent and they’d let him go, no questions asked. It was the perfect strategy for a gang member, a nice way to ensure he stayed out on the streets, directing the flow of drugs through the city.

  Except...he didn’t strike her as a dealer or a user. Even from the beginning, he’d seemed somehow different from the gangbangers she was used to treating. And although he had manhandled her in the parking lot, he’d taken care to keep from hurting her, using just enough force to subdue her but not enough to cause her pain. From what she’d seen tonight, the 3 Star Killers didn’t appear to operate with that kind of subtlety.

  Jillian shook her head. He didn’t hurt me, so that makes him a good guy? She must be suffering from some kind of rapid-onset Stockholm syndrome. How else to explain her sympathy for her kidnapper?

  But he did save my life tonight. It was another mark in the pro-Alex column, even though she never would have been in danger in the first place if not for him. He could have easily left her to the mercy of the gang, but he hadn’t. He’d gotten them out of that run-down motel, and been injured doing it. Those weren’t the actions of a traitor or a liar. They were the actions of a good and honorable man. Was she really going to repay him by turning him in to the very people he said he couldn’t trust?

  The problem was that his story seemed so far-fetched. A mole in the FBI? Could it really be true? Maybe Alex had misread the situation—he said himself he’d been around bad people for so long, he felt as though he couldn’t trust anyone anymore. But surely there was someone who knew him, someone who could explain what had happened tonight. Maybe he could call in the morning and get some answers, after everything had settled down. That was probably the best thing to do.

  Jillian pulled her hand from her pocket to take the soup off the stove. She’d hold off on calling the police—for now. Although she didn’t like the situation, Alex had kept her safe tonight, and she felt like she owed him a few hours’ rest before sending him back out to face the unknown. Besides, he was her patient now, and she wanted to check his shoulder in a bit to make sure it looked okay.

  She heard the bathroom door open and turned to greet him. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him walk down the hall toward her. As she’d suspected, Jason’s clothes were on the small side. What she hadn’t anticipated was the way they clung to him like a second skin, giving her a delightful view of his muscled thighs and broad shoulders. There was a small gap between the hem of the shirt and waistband of the pants, providing her with a tantalizing glimpse of lean stomach bisected by a thin line of dark hair.

  She’d seen him without his shirt on earlier while she’d stitched up his wound, but she’d been in clinical mode then, seeing his body as something to be repaired, not admired. Now she looked at him the way a woman looks at an attractive man, and she couldn’t deny she liked what she saw. The too-small clothes should have made him appear ridiculous, but instead he seemed almost larger than life, as though he was too much man to be contained by mere clothing.

  Get a grip, she told herself. She tore her gaze away from his body, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring. She was a doctor, for crying out loud! He didn’t have anything she’d never seen before. Although, truth be told, she didn’t usually get to see such a nice example of masculinity. She entertained a brief fantasy of stripping off his clothes and exploring his body—purely for medical reasons, of course. It was entirely possible he’d sustained additional injuries tonight, and she would be remiss as a doctor if she didn’t fully examine her patient.

  “Smells good.” His voice was a low rumble that she felt as much as heard. She tore her gaze from his chest, taking in his freshly shaved cheeks and slicked-back hair. His skin appeared shiny and smooth, and now that his beard was gone, she had a better view of his high cheekbones and full, sensuous mouth. A mouth that she suddenly wanted to spend some quality time e
xploring.

  “Do you need any help with that?” He gestured to her waist, and for a second, she was torn between embarrassment and arousal at his directness. Then she remembered the pot of soup she held, and her face heated.

  “No, that’s okay. I just need a second to clear the table.” She put the soup back on the stove and stepped toward the table, contorting her body to avoid bumping into him as he moved to enter the small kitchen. He raised a brow at her acrobatic avoidance, his expression questioning her sudden reluctance to touch him after pulling a bullet from his shoulder.

  It was silly of her, she knew, but touching him before had been a necessity, something she’d had to do to treat him. She’d been a doctor and he’d been her patient. Even when she’d hugged him at the motel, the bulky padding of her coat had prevented her from really feeling the contours of his body. Now that only a few thin layers of fabric covered each of them, she had no doubt that touching him would be an entirely different prospect.

  “Why don’t you fix yourself something to drink?” Hopefully giving him something to do would distract him and give her a moment’s relief from the intensity of his dark blue gaze. “Cups are in the cabinet next to the sink, and you’re welcome to anything that’s in the fridge.”

  She left him to it while she quickly gathered up the mail and other debris on the dining room table, depositing everything in the corner so it was out of the way. She frowned at the thin layer of dust on the table surface, casting a covert glance at the kitchen. If she went back in for a towel, she’d have to reach around Alex, a prospect that was disturbingly appealing to her libido. Given her exhaustion, it would be all too easy to give in to the temptation to press herself against his strong back and wrap her arms around his lean stomach. The episode with Tony and his fellow gang members had shaken her more than she cared to admit, and she wanted the reassurance that came from holding someone and being held in return. Since Alex was her only company, he was the prime candidate for her affections.

  Not willing to risk it, she pulled her shirt sleeve over the heel of her hand and used it to wipe the table clean. Good enough. She straightened and looked toward the kitchen just as Alex stepped into the doorway, holding two glasses.

  “I took the liberty of fixing you some water,” he said, holding up one of the glasses with a small smile. “There wasn’t much else to choose from.”

  Jillian shrugged. “I’m not home much. I was planning on going to the grocery store tonight after work, but that didn’t happen.”

  Alex looked down, the tips of his ears turning a dark pink. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.

  She moved around the table, coming to a stop a step away from him. “Let’s not worry about that now. We need to eat before the soup gets cold.”

  He looked at her then, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She waited a beat for him to move out of the doorway, but he stayed in place, forcing her to twist to the side to slide into the kitchen. She caught a whiff of him when she moved past, the familiar vanilla scent of her shampoo and body wash taking on a darker, warmer note that overwhelmed her senses and made her want to step closer. Keep moving, she told herself. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

  Why was she so rattled? She’d had men in her apartment before, of course. Well, one man. And that had been a long time ago.

  Mark had been a fellow doctor at the hospital, an anesthesiologist. They’d seen each other on several occasions when he’d been paged to stabilize the airway of particularly difficult patients. After one such call, he’d asked her out. A few dates later and they’d fallen into a comfortable, if slightly boring routine: dinner when their schedules allowed, and then he would stay at her place. “My apartment isn’t fit for company,” he’d explained. “I only use it for sleeping and showering—I live at the hospital.” As the months passed with no indication that things were changing between them, Jillian had asked him the question despised by men everywhere.

  “Where do you see us going?”

  Mark had set down his glass, his brows rising slightly as if he hadn’t expected her to bring up the topic. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what do you see as our future, long-term? It seems like we haven’t really grown as a couple, and I want to know if you feel the same way, and if you see that changing for you.”

  He reached for his wine again, a puzzled frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. “I’m quite happy with the way things are. I don’t understand why you want to change that.” He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “Why mess with a good thing?”

  Unsatisfied with his response, Jillian had pulled away. Things had fizzled between them after that and a few weeks later she’d discovered that Mark was already married and she’d been nothing but the other woman. He’d fed her a steady diet of lies, and the sad thing was she’d believed every last one of them. The betrayal had rocked her to her core, but before she could confront him, he’d taken a position in California and was gone.

  She hadn’t really seen anyone since. A few dates here and there, but nothing serious. Mark had left her feeling shaken and foolish, and she couldn’t get over the irrational suspicions that plagued her whenever she interacted with men. Then Jason had disappeared and she couldn’t even think about dating. It became something she filed into the category of “someday,” along with those cooking lessons she’d always wanted to take, and the trip to Paris she’d been dreaming about for years.

  So she was surprised and a little disturbed to feel those tingles of attraction again, when she’d been so sure a relationship wasn’t in her future.

  Shrugging off the bad memories, she stepped back into the dining room with soup in one hand and bowls in the other, and found Alex studying her bookshelves. She placed everything on the table and frowned slightly when he didn’t turn around. She walked over to stand beside him, wondering what he found so fascinating. There was a limited collection of fiction and some books from her childhood, along with a smattering of family photos and knickknacks. Most of the space was occupied by texts from college and medical school—interesting reading to her, but boring to most everyone else.

  He was staring at her battered copy of Gray’s Anatomy, the one her grandfather had given her when she’d gone off to med school.

  His face was pale and she could tell by the emptiness of his gaze that he was miles away. “Alex?” When he didn’t respond, she laid her hand on his arm. “Ready to eat?”

  He turned to face her, his eyes so full of pain she immediately thought he’d done something to his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” she asked, guiding him to the chair and tugging at the neck of his shirt to get a better view of the wound. Had he moved wrong and ripped the stitches out? Was the injury more severe than she’d originally thought?

  “I’m okay.” His voice came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Really, I’m fine. I just moved wrong and it set my shoulder on fire.”

  Jillian leaned back, letting her hands fall away from his body. “Okay,” she said, her adrenaline fading with the knowledge that he wasn’t taking a turn for the worse. “I’m out of lidocaine, but I do have some ibuprofen. Let’s get some food into you, and then you can take something. I’ll fix you an ice pack, as well, which should help keep the area numb and the swelling down.”

  Alex nodded, the color already starting to return to his face. She dished up the soup and placed a bowl in front of him, pleased to see it was still steaming. Although she’d eaten her share of cold soup over the years, she would never force it on someone else.

  They ate in silence for a few moments. Jillian had a dozen different questions racing through her mind, but she wanted to give Alex a chance to eat in peace. She focused on the hot, salty tang of the chicken noodle soup, using the familiar, comforting flavor as a distraction. Her mother had never been much of a cook, so anytime J
illian had been sick as a child, she got soup from a can. Now she associated the taste with her mom, and was startled to realize she had defaulted to fixing the same meal in an effort to provide Alex with some relief.

  “I’ve always wondered,” Alex said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Is chicken noodle soup really the best medicine?”

  Jillian smiled. “It certainly doesn’t hurt. It’s got lots of good stuff—protein, vegetables, carbs—and the broth helps keep you hydrated.” She swallowed another mouthful and reached for her water to wash it down. “Well, maybe not this broth,” she amended. “But the homemade stuff doesn’t have nearly as much salt.”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” he said with a smile. “It’s hot and filling, which is better than I expected after tonight.”

  Seeing her opening, Jillian decided to ask the question weighing heavily on her mind. “About tonight...” she said, putting down her spoon and folding her hands on the tabletop. “What do we do now?”

  * * *

  Alex dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, stalling for time. She said “we,” he marveled. “We” implied they were a team; that she was going to stick with him, help him face whatever came next. How could she feel that way after everything that had happened tonight? Surely she hadn’t forgotten how they’d met? He allowed himself to bask in the warm glow of her “we” for a few heartbeats, even though he knew it was just a turn of phrase, something she’d probably said without thinking about what it actually meant.

  They would never be a “we.” And once she knew the truth, she would want to get as far away from him as possible.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d seen the photograph on her bookshelf. The picture was a few years old, but he’d recognized her immediately. And the guy standing next to her. He had to be her brother—the resemblance was too strong for the guy to be a friend or her boyfriend. His heart had dropped into his stomach when he’d seen the image, and he was powerless to stop the rush of memory that assaulted him.