Game of Lies. Amanda K. Byrne

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      I’d argue, but my legs are stiff from sitting still. I pick up my water bottle and wind my way through the darkened living room to the kitchen in the back. Something makes a soft click, followed by a shuffle, and I stop and press myself to the short wall dividing the kitchen from the living room.

      More shuffling like muffled footsteps.

      Someone else is in the house.

      My first thought is the owners. Supposedly they’re on vacation and will be for a couple more days. Constantine could have been wrong, or he could have lied, though the house was empty when we arrived. We went through the rooms one by one before setting up in the living room.

      I bend over and set my water bottle on the floor, then withdraw the knife from the sheath strapped to my ankle. Squinting into the shadows, I inch toward the corner, grip loose, hand steady, mind blank.

      Those are definitely footsteps. And they’re getting closer.

      A set of cabinets at the entrance to the kitchen blocks my view into the main part of the room, which means I have two choices: I can round the corner and confront the intruder, or I can wait for him to come to me and surprise him.

      The first option isn’t really an option at all. Who would willingly want to confront a potentially violent intruder?

      I soften my knees and exhale quietly as the footsteps pause near the edge of the cabinets. The intruder steps forward, and I slip behind him. I whip my hand toward his neck, blade poised to sink into his throat.

      He shoots out a hand and catches my wrist before I can make contact. “Careful there. Can’t get blood on the floor.” Constantine keeps his fingers locked around my wrist, gently pushing it down. “Dom around?”

      “Living room, watching the street.” He still hasn’t let go. I flex my hand around the knife handle. “Wasn’t aware you’d be joining us.”

      “Last-minute decision.” He drops my hand and steps around me. “Anything happening?”

      The hairs on the back of my neck prickle in awareness. I squint at him, trying to make out his face in the shadows. “Street’s been dead for at least an hour. All the lights are on, and no one’s come or gone in a while, unless they’re sneaking in through the back.” The timing’s off. Nick just hung up with Constantine. Their office is over a half hour away, and Constantine’s condo is even farther. “How’d you get here so quickly?”

      “Multitasking,” he murmurs. “Put the knife away, Cass. You won’t need it tonight.” He walks into the dark, leaving me frowning after him.

      For Constantine to get here as fast as he did, he would have had to be in his car, on his way here, while he was talking through the latest bugs with Nick. Unless he’s got some sort of encyclopedic brain, he couldn’t have had all that information at his fingertips.

      The puzzle threatens to distract me from the task at hand. Pushing my doubts into a box to examine later, I replace my knife, pick up my water, and continue into the kitchen.

      I skirt the dim pool of light spilling onto the floor from the light over the stove and lean on the countertop. Something scuttles across the backyard, dashing toward a small tree in the far corner. Probably a neighborhood cat or a raccoon.

      The low murmurs of Nick and Constantine’s conversation drift toward me, bringing Constantine’s odd appearance to the forefront. I tiptoe across the kitchen and edge around the cabinets, straining to hear.

      A trickle of guilt that I’m eavesdropping on my boyfriend and a man I’ve come to consider a friend tries to worm its way through. I ignore it. Constantine’s behavior in the last five minutes triggered my instincts, and the only way to soothe them is to find out what they’re talking about.

      “I get it, Dom. I do—”

      “Do you? Because it sure as fuck doesn’t sound like it.”

      An argument. Awesome. This is just what tonight needs. I let out a shallow breath.

      “Cass isn’t present. Not completely. I don’t want to stop her because she’s taking care of our problem. But I’m going to be there to keep her from derailing completely.” The quiet determination in Nick’s voice has a thick thread of steel. I curve my lips in a smile. This is why I love him. He might not like my methods, might not agree or approve, but he knows I need this, and he’ll give it to me.

      How many people can say that about their partner?

      “It’s not just her vendetta, though I have to say it’s been an education to see her in action. Only other time I’ve seen kills that clean is her father’s work.” The reluctant admiration weaving through Constantine’s words hurts. It’s the sort of compliment that would cause Turner to praise me in his faint, damning way, and I want to cling to it even as I push it away.

      “She’s a distraction, man. Guys at the office have been wondering what the hell you’re up to. We’ve got a launch in two weeks on a product that’s not ready, and you’re playing babysitter. She’s costing us money, and if she’s as out of it as you say she is, she could get you killed.”

      Each word is a paper cut. String them together as an argument, and it’s like someone’s poured lemon juice over them. On their own, they sting. Coming from Constantine? Someone I like? The sting becomes a burn.

      I ease away into the kitchen, then over to the back door. The knob’s loose under my hand, and I turn it slowly to minimize the rattle. Cool air washes over me as I edge through the door onto the porch, and the door shuts with a soft click.

      It’s a little too cool to be outside without a jacket. I rub my arms through my long-sleeved shirt and wander down the back steps to the damp grass. When this is over, I’m going to take another look at Nick’s cousin. My initial reaction to him may not have been wrong.

      I may have just interpreted it incorrectly.

      My phone buzzes against my hip, and I glance around the yard before pulling it out and answering. “Hello?”

      “Cassidy? Why are you mumbling?”

      Mom’s response is so normal, so her, I lose my cool remoteness for a minute, sudden tears burning my eyes. “Sorry, Mom. Nick’s trying to work, and I don’t want to disturb him.” The lie flows easily, and I scan the yard again, straining to hear beyond the tiny night noises.

      “I won’t keep you long, then. I’m at Carol’s now. There’s two feet of snow, and we’re expecting more by morning.”

      It’s amazing what a change of location and a few hours will do. Last night when she told me she was leaving, she sounded better, but still fragile. Twenty-four hours later, her voice is stronger. Some of my anger fades. The distance she’s put between us is a slap in the face, but if it’s what helps her heal, I’d be a selfish little bitch to begrudge her that. “Are you sure you’ll be safe there?”

      Her smile is evident, even through the phone. “The only person who could ever out-shoot your father is Carol. We’ll be all right. I’ll call you tomorrow at four. I love you.”

      A lump forms in my throat. “I love you too, Mom.” We hang up, and I slide the phone back into my pocket.

      “How СКАЧАТЬ