All the Pretty Lies (24 page)

Still naked, I’m standing at the foot of the
bed, staring at it, lost in thought when Hemi wraps his arms around
me from behind. I yelp and jump like I’ve been shot.

“Just so you know, nudity in this house is
considered to be an open invitation. So, at this point, you’ve got
two choices. You can get dressed, preferably in something
ridiculously skimpy or nearly transparent, and come downstairs to
eat or you can get back in bed and prepare to be ravaged.” I smile
and start to answer, but he cuts me off. “I should warn you,
however, that either way, before lunch you
will
be naked and
back in bed, being ravaged. At least once. So feel free to postpone
it if you need food.”

I’m inordinately pleased to see him in this
kind of mood, speaking not only of breakfast but of spending the
day with me. At least up to lunch. “How can you think about food
when we ate all that pizza last night?”

“I plan to work it all off. With you. I
consider it an investment. In my stamina.” His grin is wicked and
more stunning than anything I’ve ever seen.

“Well, in that case, I suppose I need to eat
a little something so I can keep up. I mean, far be it for me to
fall behind to an old man like yourself.”

One dark brown brow shoots up and he moves
over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me in snug
against his body. “I’d be happy to show you just how…spry I am,” he
says, sliding his palm down to my lower back and pressing me into
him.

“Oh, I’ll probably never forget how…spry you
are,” I admit, already feeling warm and moist and breathless.

Although there is still heat in his eyes,
something else sweeps across his face. Something that makes my
stomach feel jittery and my chest feel tight.

With hope.

“Then my mission is accomplished. I don’t
want
you to forget. Ever.”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to say
too much, or say anything that might cause him to back off, so I
simply smile, keeping all my hopeful, chaotic thoughts to
myself.

With a slap to my bare butt, Hemi steps back,
shaking off whatever mood overcame him for those few seconds, and
heads for the door. “You’ve got five minutes or I’m coming back up
here.”

I salute him as he backs out the door. He
winks at me as he turns the corner. My heart flops around in my
chest like a fish and, with shaking fingers, I pull on my
clothes.

When I enter the kitchen, it’s to be greeted
with the most amusing sight I’ve ever seen. Hemi’s standing at the
huge island with his back to me, piling two plates high with every
kind of breakfast food imaginable.

“How many people are you feeding?” I ask as I
come up behind him.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just
fixed everything I had.”

“You didn’t tell me you could cook,” I say,
moving around to the other side of the counter.

“I can’t, but I can microwave like a son of a
bitch,” he declares with a grin.

Now that I’m in front of him, I can see that
he’s wearing a bright red apron that loops around his bare neck and
says I’VE GOT YOUR SAUSAGE across the front. I can’t help but
smile.

“So what all did you microwave us?”

“Bacon, country ham, Texas toast sandwiches,
hash browns, and mini quiches. Oh and I toasted, too. That’s
another fool proof appliance.”

“Wow, you went all out,” I tease.

“I did, mainly because bagels are nasty cold
and waffles are soggy microwaved.”

“Soggy waffles. Gross.”

“Exactly. So they got toasted.” Hemi dusts
off his hands and throws another package into the trash before he
carries the plates around to my side of the island, setting one in
front of me and taking the next seat as his own. “Besides, you’re
worth it. I’d clean out my freezer for you, baby,” he says with a
grin.

“You say the sweetest things,” I reply with a
flutter of my eyelashes.

“I’ve got more where that came from. Just
wait until I tell you all about my meats. I have a very healthy
supply of meat.”

He waggles his eyebrows and I laugh out loud
as I snap off a bite of crispy bacon.

Hemi watches me chew for several seconds, his
own amusement fading into something a little more sincere.
“Good?”

“Very. Thank you for fixing me breakfast,” I
say, tucking a stray hair behind my ear nervously. “I know… I mean
I didn’t expect you to…”

Hemi sighs. “Sloane, can we just pretend that
conversation didn’t happen? This is different. I wasn’t talking
about you. I was…I meant…this is just different.
You’re
different.”

I try to turn the dial back on my smile so
that I don’t look
too
goofily overjoyed by his words.
“Really?”

“Yes. You’re not some woman I fu- slept with
and am trying to get rid of.”

“I’m not?”

“No. You’re not. And I think you know
that.”

His eyes are steady on mine. Still, I’m
afraid to hope for too much. But I’m not too afraid to stick around
and find out.

Live, no regrets.

We are so much alike in so many ways. Maybe
all we need is each other…

“You should hurry up and eat,” I say as I
nibble a warm cinnamon bagel.

One dark brow rises, making the silver stud
that pierces it sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the
window. “And why is that?”

I reach over and tug at the apron he’s still
wearing. “You owe me some sausage.”

Hemi glances down at the apron and then back
up to me, his lips curving into a cocky grin. “Oh I’ve got your
sausage.”

With hands as quick as any snake’s strike,
Hemi reaches over and drags me into his lap, crushing my lips with
his. When we’re both panting and electricity is buzzing between us,
he raises his head. “You’re awfully good at this to be a
virgin.”

“I’m a fast learner. And I have a very good
teacher,” I say, pulling his mouth back to mine. I taste a hint of
syrup on his tongue when he eases it between my lips. I’m barely
aware of him standing and setting me on the island. It’s not until
I feel my bare breasts brush the smooth skin of his chest that I
realize I’m already half naked in his kitchen. And I’m loving every
minute of it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX- Hemi

“Just look into it,” I tell Reese, glancing
over my shoulder again to make sure Sloane’s nowhere around. After
a marathon morning of sex, I left her in the shower to clean up
before we head to the studio later this afternoon. My plan is to go
in early so we can leave. I’ve got plans for us this evening. I’ve
got plans
for her.

Reese sighs. “I don’t know why you’re so
plagued with doubt all of a sudden. You’re the one that’s been so
gung-ho about this from the beginning.”

“Damn, Reese! What the hell should I be? He
was my brother. He was
your
brother, too. You should’ve been
just as determined as me to see this shitbag found and brought to
justice.”

“I am. What do you think I’ve been doing all
this time? Twiddling my thumbs? Just because you were closer to
Ollie doesn’t mean I care any less.”

It’s my turn to sigh. “I know. I’m just…I’m
just frustrated, I guess. I don’t want to be wrong about this. And
I’m beginning to think I am. I mean, Tumblin was the street the guy
lived on. That’s pretty thin as far as evidence goes. What if Locke
isn’t the right guy?”

“Then IA will figure it out. All we did was
point ‘em in the right direction. We didn’t convict the guy,
Hemi.”

“Someone shot up his house for God’s sake! If
we had anything to do with that, we might as well have convicted
and sentenced him.”

“That was never an intended outcome and you
know it.”

“But you knew it was a possibility.”

“So did you,” he reminds me flatly.

And I did. At the time, I didn’t give a shit.
I just wanted revenge. But now that Sloane’s involved…

Movement behind the glass doors that lead
from the pool area, where I am, back into the house catches my eye.
When my eyes adjust to looking past the glare, there’s nothing
there. Just my own reflection. And my paranoia. And my guilt.

“Look, I just want to make sure this goes
down the right way. That’s all. See to it, okay, Reese?”

“You’re a bossy little bastard, but I know
you’re heart’s in the right place,” he says gruffly. “Stop
worrying. It’ll all work out. Trust in the system.”

“The system that didn’t catch our brother’s
killer? The system that breeds dirty cops like fluffy bunnies?”

Reese’s laugh is bitter. As bitter as I feel.
“Yeah, that one.”

“I’ll work on it,” I reply acerbically.

“You do that. In the meantime, just let
things run their course.”

“I’ll try. But if it puts Sloane in danger,
I’ll have to do something.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“Hey, I’ve been tiptoeing all this time.
These assholes don’t want to see me when I come out of hiding.”

“That’s probably true. They’ve never seen
your temper before.”

“Or my resources. We can’t forget who we are,
Reese.”

“You’re the only one that’s ever tried.”

“I’m not trying to forget who I am. I was
just lying low so I wouldn’t draw any attention.”

“Don’t get lost in this charade you’re
playing.”

“It’s not a charade. This
is
who I
am.”

“Not completely. Who you
really
are is
somewhere in between. And that guy will find his way to the surface
eventually. Remember that as you make these…relationships that seem
to be so important to you now.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, Reese. And who
I am has no bearing on my relationships.”

The doubt in his voice is plain. “Whatever
you say.”

That irritates me. In fact, this whole
conversation irritates me. I don’t have to explain myself to my
brother. I don’t have to explain myself to
anyone.

“Keep me posted,” I say sharply. “I’ve gotta
go.”

“Tasty little jail-bait piece of ass
calling?”

“Don’t be a dick, Reese. She’s not jail bait
and she’s not a piece of ass.”

“So you’re not sleeping with her? You’re not
sleeping with the enemy?”

“She’s not the enemy.”

“She’s the sister of the enemy. Close
enough.”

“We don’t know for sure about her brother
yet.”

“No,
you
don’t know for sure about the
brother. But you were damn sure when you told me you found him,
weren’t you?”

“Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Especially you, right Hemi?”

“Fuc—”

The click of the phone interrupts what I
wanted most to say to Reese.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- Sloane

As I put mascara on my eyelashes, a million
questions run through my mind. And, following them, a million
rationalizations. And a million excuses that I’m making for Hemi.
Anything to keep me from drawing the most obvious conclusion.

For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve been
telling myself that I only heard part of the conversation. Hemi
could’ve been talking about anyone or anything. It doesn’t
necessarily
have to be
as bad as it sounded.

But it sounded pretty damn bad.

My stomach is turned in on itself, balled up
into a tight knot of apprehension. Although I still believe
everyone is entitled to their secrets, this isn’t something I can
let go. I’ll have to ask some questions. I have to know—beyond the
shadow of a doubt—if I heard what I’m afraid I heard. I have to
know if Hemi had something to do with the attack on my brother, on
my house, on my
family.

A fist of fear and dread squeezes my
already-quivering guts. Some part of me refuses to believe that it
could be true. But another part, a more suspicious part, looks at
all the strange things, all the inconsistencies, and it
wonders…

And I can’t live with
that
kind of
wonder. And doubt. It would eat away at me until there’s nothing
left. No, Hemi is going to have to answer some questions or I’ll be
forced to take measures.

I close my eyes against my reflection,
unwilling to even consider what “measures” might be.

********

I’m trying to act as natural as possible. I
have no idea if I’m a convincing actress or not, and Hemi’s
expression gives nothing away.

“Thank you again for letting me stay with
you,” I begin, being as nonchalant as I can be.

Hemi glances over at me and grins. “Oh trust
me, it’s been my pleasure.”

I feel my face flush as I react to him. It
seems my body doesn’t care what the hell he may or may not be
involved in.

I laugh nervously.

“Your house is beautiful. You must make
really good money as a manager.”

Hemi shrugs noncommittally.

That got me nowhere, so I decide to try
another tack.

“Do you have family around here?”

“None that lives close. They’re kinda all
over the place.”

“Really? Like where?”

Hemi slides me a glance. I can’t decide if
it’s suspicious or if it’s just my imagination.

“All over.”

“Are you from around here originally?”

“No.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Chicago.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Tell me about it.
Tell me about your family.”

His look is openly wary now. “What’s this
about, Sloane?”

“They’re just questions, Hemi. Innocent
questions about your family. About your life. Can’t I get to know
you better?”

He deflects, calling upon his ever-present
charm and sexual charisma to do it. “I think you know me very
well.”

I turn in my seat, suddenly feeling
frustrated. “Why are you so secretive? These are just simple,
innocent questions.”

“Are they?” he tosses back.

“Of course,” I proclaim, shifting my eyes
away from his, unable to tell the little white lie with him staring
at me. “Why wouldn’t they be?”