Vicious Lies

by Ella Miles

  She likes the dresses and heels so much because it’s her suit of armor. It protects her and makes her more powerful. It’s not because she’s a girlie girl. She doesn’t love always being so dressed up. She just likes the power she’s able to wield while dolled up.

  I take a quick glance around the hotel room as she rides up in the elevator to see if there is anything lying out that I don’t want her to see, but there isn’t. I already know that without looking. I travel light. All of my stuff is already in my backpack.

  I close my laptop and stick it into my backpack before zipping it up.

  I pull out my cell and switch the feed to my phone. I watch her exit the elevator with complete confidence like she belongs here.

  I have thirty seconds until she makes it to my room. I spot a pen and paper on the desk and scribble on it before I move to the bed. I lift the ceiling tile, and pull myself up just as I hear her scan the hotel keycard she flirted her way into getting.

  The tile pops back in place before she opens the door, and I switch the feed on my phone until I’m tapped into the security in my own room.

  This is what I do for a living—security. I design security systems for the wealthy. Usually, on yachts or mansions, but it gives me the skills to tap into the best-designed systems.

  Liesel’s eyes flitter around the room.

  “You couldn’t stay in a nicer place, huh, Langston?” she asks to the room as she wanders around, looking under the bed and then in the bathroom to see if I’m hiding anywhere.

  I smile at her words, though. She knows even if I’m not here that I’m watching. I’m always watching. It’s the only way to protect everyone I love.

  Not that she falls into that category anymore.

  After a half-hearted attempt to find me in the room, Liesel walks over to the piece of paper I left for her.

  “Four more days,” Liesel reads out loud.

  She balls the piece of paper up and tosses it into the wastebasket under the desk before her eyes scan the room one last time for any clues as to where I am or where I could have gone.

  Her eyes flit up to the ceiling, and I almost think she might have found me. She starts talking, and I realize she’s found the security camera in the corner so she can look into my eyes as she speaks.

  “I don’t owe you anything, Langston Pearce. And you won’t be demanding anything of me in four days. You won’t be taking me. You don’t own me. You will take nothing from me.”

  She licks her red lips, knowing that her lips are my favorite thing about her.

  How I’ve wanted to kiss her lips. There have been so many opportunities throughout my life where I could have kissed her, but something always held me back. I’ve never tasted them—never tasted the poisonous, tempting red apple lips.

  She knows her seduction won’t work on me. And yet, she still does it, driving me mad.

  “I gave you a chance to end this war, to talk face to face. You ran, hid. I’m usually the hunter, the seeker. And you follow me in order to kill. But not this time. This time, I’m going to hide, and you’ll have to do the hunting.

  “And if all these years of hunting have taught me one thing, it’s that I know how to hide better than anyone. You’ll never find me unless I want to be found. You aren’t going to win, Langston. So surrender, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

  With that, she walks out. Her fighting words hit me in the chest as hard as a bullet.

  Liesel thinks she can hide.

  She thinks she has power.

  She has no idea of the truth.

  It’s impossible to hide from someone whose heart you stole when we were five. That piece of me she stole calls out to me no matter where she goes. I won’t have to hunt her to find her; I just have to follow the beacon, the signal that she involuntarily sends to me.

  She can’t hide any more than I can. And in four days she’ll be mine. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with her when I claim her.

  11

  Liesel

  My plan didn’t work. Of course, Langston, king of security, saw me coming on the cameras. I knew he would see me the second I walked into the hotel. Hotels are full of cameras, which makes it impossible to sneak up on Langston. He can hack into any system. He sees everything.

  I shiver at that thought, of all the things he’s seen. Things he’s seen and done nothing about.

  Four days.

  That’s how long I have until he comes after me to extract a debt he thinks I owe him. I still don’t know why he thinks I owe him for killing one man for me. He’s killed dozens of men for me when we were younger. Before…

  Before he tore my secrets from my grip.

  He won’t let me find him before the four days are up.

  But I’m not going to let him take me in four days. I’d rather hide the rest of my life than let Langston win.

  I’m not going to have to hide the rest of my life, though—just for four more days.

  If I can stay hidden, away from Langston’s reach for four days, then I win. He may still come for me. He still may come to collect his debt after four days, but he will have lost. He will lose his power, his upper hand.

  He knows that, that’s why the timing is so important to him. He wants complete control over me, he always has. He’s been trying to boss me around since we were ten.

  I start my Porsche and head back to my apartment to think in the comfort of my own home. I blast the radio as I drive, trying not to think about Langston, the best way for my ideas to flow.

  The problem with Langston being able to see everything is that I can’t write anything down. I can’t look anything up on my computer. I can’t make plans except in my head.

  When I get to my condo, I pour myself a glass of scotch while avoiding looking up at the security camera. I refuse to talk to Langston anymore if he’s too much of a coward to show his face. I won’t let him into my mind either. From now on, he only gets to see what I want him to see. And he sure as hell won’t be getting another glimpse of my body.

  I swirl the liquid in my glass as I contemplate my choices. I can hide in plain sight or hide at the ends of the earth. Anything less means he will win—he’ll find me.

  An idea forms.

  It may not work, but at least I’ll go out fighting. I won’t make Langston’s job easy.

  It wouldn’t shock me at all if Enzo and Kai put Langston up to this thinking they could drag me kicking and screaming back to their world, back into that life. I won’t do it. I’d rather die than go back.

  I pick up my phone and dial Waylon’s number.

  “Hey, sweetheart, miss me already?”

  I smile at his response. “I always miss you.”

  I hear the clinking of ice. “You enjoying a glass of scotch?”

  “Yes, same as you.”

  I can feel his grin through the phone. We always drink scotch together. It’s one of the many things Waylon and I have in common.

  “Unfortunately, you’re going to have to miss me for a while longer.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Some old girlfriends invited me on a girl’s trip to Santorini, and I had to push up a business trip before I meet them, so it will be three weeks until I’m home.”

  “A girl’s trip, huh? I thought I was your only friend?” he teases.

  “You are, you know that.”

  “I think a girl’s trip would be good for you. You work too hard; it’s time you got a little vacation. Where is your business trip? I might be able to meet up with you before you go, but my schedule is crazy these next couple of weeks as well.”

  “Sacramento and then Chicago.”

  He sighs. “I’m in Houston and then Hong Kong.”

  “It will just make our reunion in three weeks all that more enjoyable,” I let my voice drop into a raspiness that turns him on.

  “You’re going to need to take off another week when you get back. I’m going to need that long to show you how much I’ll miss you.”
/>   My panties soak, and my nipples peak up at that thought.

  “Deal.”

  I end the call, and then I call my assistant Gerald.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Dunn?”

  “Can you book me a flight to Tokyo and then a private jet in Tokyo to take me wherever I might need to go next?”

  “Of course. When would you like to go?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon, please.”

  “I’ll book you a first-class flight to Tokyo and arrange the usual private jet for you to be ready at your beck and call after you arrive. I’ll email you the details as usual.”

  “Thank you, Gerald.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Dunn.”

  I end the call. I just gave Langston two separate leads to follow, and I’m about to give him a dozen more. He’ll have no idea where I’m going when I’m through with him.

  I book more commercial and private flights on my own.

  I book bus tickets.

  I rent cars.

  I rent yachts.

  I spend more money in a single hour than most people do in a lifetime, arranging dozens of leads that Langston will be forced to check up on.

  And then I call Tiffany.

  “Liesel! I’m so glad you called, it’s been too long.”

  I love her enthusiasm. She’s a struggling actress I met at the beauty salon years ago, and she’s always looking to pick up extra money. Plus, she has a very particular skillset that has come in handy a handful of times before.

  She’s not a great actress, but she’s good enough to play me when she needs to. It helps, that with the right makeup, she looks exactly like me. That’s her real skillset—doing makeup. I’ve tried to convince her to become a makeup artist, but she’s always resisted.

  “Can you meet me at the salon tomorrow? I need someone to help me with my makeup,” I ask, providing our shared clue that I will be needing her services as discreetly as possible.

  “Absolutely.”

  I pull Tiffany into the bathroom of the salon before we have our hair done.

  “You have a job for me?” Tiffany asks with hope.

  I look her up and down. She’s skinnier than the last time I saw her. Her hair is a disheveled mess.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She lights up with a bright smile.

  “I need you to take a one week trip as me; I’ll pay for everything.”

  “Where to?”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “Paris!”

  I laugh. “Paris it is then. If you want to check out London, Rome, Barcelona, or any other city while you’re in Europe, go for it. I’ll pay you a hundred grand in addition to the trip expenses.”

  “Oh my god, that’s too much to just take a vacation.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Will I be in danger?”

  I shake my head. “The man who is after me won’t hurt me. And he will have no reason to harm you either.” At least, I don’t think Langston will hurt me.

  “But we have to make the switch right now. We have to change clothes, you have to drive my car with my cell phone and credit cards to the airport right now, and I’ll have to go back to your place.”

  She frowns. “Um…you don’t want to go back to my place.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my place is a closet with a door that doesn’t lock, cockroaches, and no hot water.”

  I smile. “That’s perfect.”

  A place like that won’t have any working security cameras. There will be no way for Langston to follow me. And hopefully, he’ll be chasing Tiffany halfway around the world anyway.

  We quickly swap clothes, and I tie my hair up in a messy bun. I start tying her broken tennis shoes that are two sizes too big on me, while she fastens on the straps of my heels.

  But even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and her in a dress and heels, I still look like I come from Beverly Hills, and she looks like she hasn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in months.

  I pull a wet wipe from my purse and wipe the makeup from my face before I hand my purse to her. She digs through and starts applying makeup that makes her freakishly look exactly like me. When she’s done, she turns and looks at me.

  “How do I look?” she asks with big eyes.

  I let my eyes drag up and down her body, looking for any tiny details that will tip-off Langston right away.

  “You look perfect,” I say with a tight smile. “Now remember how I said you should act when you’re playing me?”

  “Like a bad bitch who isn’t afraid of anyone and looks up to no one.’

  “Exactly.”

  I feel around in my pockets. All I have is a twenty-dollar bill, her ID, and a pay-as-you-go phone to get me through the next part.

  “I’m going to go. But you stay and get your hair done however you like before you leave. What’s your address?”

  She gives me directions to her place, which will either cost the entire twenty dollars I have in bus fares to get there, or I’m going to be taking the subway—something I haven’t done in years. But now isn’t the time to get grossed out by how half of New Yorkers live.

  I thank Tiffany one last time, and then I sneak out the back door of the hair salon while Tiffany struts out into the front.

  I look around for any way that Langston could be following me, but I don’t see any cameras or any people.

  This will work.

  Three subway trains later, I finally make it to my stop, which is still a good ten-block walk away from the apartment. Thankfully, I have tennis shoes instead of heels. For the first time that I can remember, I let my head fall a little. I let my shoulders slump. I feel less than I actually am. And for once, it feels good to not have to worry about anything. To not have to worry about power or control. To just be.

  When I make it to Tiffany’s apartment building, the sight of a crumbling building and cockroaches does nothing to deter me. I head inside to the third floor and then collapse onto her stained mattress on the floor. She doesn’t have a pillow, just a ratty old blanket.

  Regardless, I will rest well, because tomorrow I have to do something much worse than sleep in an unsafe apartment with no air conditioning or pillow. Tomorrow I have to go back to where my life began, to where the nightmares started. That is the one place Langston thinks I’d never go.

  The next day, I wake up early. The sounds of people yelling and alarms blasting fills my room even though I’m in the apartment alone.

  I don’t know how Tiffany lives like this. I hope the money I gave her is enough to start a new life.

  I rinse off in her cold, broken shower. I change into sweatpants and a sweatshirt I find in her closet but keep the same tennis shoes. Lastly, I start the long subway journey to the pier.

  After several train switches, I make it to my boat rental.

  My heart freezes at the sight of the boat. It’s modest, nothing like the yachts of the family I grew up next to but never truly in. My mother worked for a dangerous man as a maid. I grew up with that dangerous man’s son, Enzo, and his friends Zeke and Langston. I know how to operate a boat. I know the benefits and dangers.

  I just never thought I’d willingly step onto one.

  “Do you know how to operate this thing, miss?” the man in overalls and a bandana asks.

  I smile as I take the keys from him. “Better than you do.”

  His eyes widen, and then he chuckles like there is no way a woman like me knows how to operate a boat better than him—misogynist.

  I start untying the boat before he’s even stepped off, and then I start the engines, forcing the man to jump back onto the pier.

  I wave at him with my adorable, shameless smile, letting him know how much of a catch I truly am beneath the ratty clothes, but he’ll never get me. Then I peel out in the boat, taking off hard and fast and letting the breeze run through my hair.

  Langston used to be a knight in the sea. He used to monitor every boat, every passenger in the oc
ean. But he won’t be looking for me here. The boat I rented isn’t under my name, and I didn’t use any money tied to me to pay for it. It will take a lot of digging on Langston’s part to find me.

  Three days.

  I have three days until Langston comes for me.

  It will take two to make it to Miami, where I grew up. Where I met the boy who shone brighter than the sun. I’m tired of living in his shadow. In three days, we end this.

  I drive the boat straight through day and night. I don’t sleep. Thank God I’ve learned to operate without that basic need.

  I’d forgotten how thrilling it is to be driving a boat by myself with nothing but the lights of shore and the stars overhead. I’d forgotten how bumpy the waves feel when you’re alone in a boat. They feel ten times as intense as they really are. I’d forgotten how eery the calm quietness of the ocean seems with only the waves knocking against my boat, reminding me of how quickly the sea can turn dangerous.

  But even being here, I’m still not called back to this life. I’d rather be anywhere but here. The ocean hasn’t been kind to me.

  I get to Miami as the sun rises on the third day, the day that Langston says he’s coming for me. But if I succeeded, today will come and go without a word from Langston.

  I dock the boat, and then I walk down the pier, the sun already heating me as I walk, making me want to strip out my clothes and into a bikini, but I won’t. Not today. Today is about hiding, not being seen.

  I rent a car from the car rental down the street; then, I drive to the house I grew up in.

  No, that’s not true. The house I grew up in was Enzo’s guest house, and that house burned to the ground.

  No, I drive to the house my mother lived in when she wasn’t working. The house I lived in until I was ten but barely remember.

  The house we fought in.

  The house I begged her to take me away from, to move anywhere but here. She did as I asked. We moved, and my life turned upside down in one night. Forever changed, all because of where we moved to and who my mother worked for.