White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) (8 page)

My emotions were a ping pong ball, moving back and forth as the questions came to mind.

He cheated on me?

The bastard had cheated on me after everything I’d done.

I felt dirty inside.

Who was this man with the accent?

A glutton for punishment, I looked at the woman more carefully. Dark hair, bright eyes. We were exact opposites in our appearance. The short skirt and the way she held herself gave me the impression of a hooker. Maybe that was the cynicism in me talking. She was obviously in love with him, considering the adoring expression she wore. Alex gave nothing away as he looked at her.

Was that why he hadn’t wanted me to change my name?

Don’t come alone. You will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.

Carson was going to think I’d lost my damn mind wanting to go to a club over three hours away.

T
he night was upon us as we drove in Carson’s gunmetal-gray Maserati toward Philadelphia. I’d been silent most of the drive as smooth tunes filled the car and helped to keep my anxiety at bay. Honestly, I was holding on by a thread. Carson knew I needed the silence for now.

After filling him in on everything, Carson hesitated to go anywhere without first scoping it out. It was true. This might be a trap. Maybe that was why the note told me not to come alone. But I had to find out.

The cops weren’t to be trusted now. The only person I could trust with this information was Carson.

For good measure, I suggested we tell Nonno and his parents where we were headed. We told them Carson was taking me out to this place, on the recommendation of a client, to get me out of the house. No one thought twice about it. In fact, they all agreed it was a great idea.

Melancholy clung to me like a dark cloak. I needed to focus on something else before the negative emotions drowned me.

I took a deep breath and grinned as the familiar scent of the cologne Carson had worn since college filled my nostrils—fresh with a hint of spice. In Paris, I’d bought him a bottle for his birthday. Shaking my head, I chortled.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Your cologne. The inside of your car smells like you sprayed it in here. I remember when you sent me chocolate at college for a month as a thank-you gift.”

The movement of Carson’s wagging eyebrows brought a snicker from me. “The girls really loved it. They still love it. Do you remember when my friends tried bribing you to tell them what cologne it was?”

The laughter felt therapeutic. “I think the best present was from your friend, Richard. The Gucci watch was nice.”

“Bastard. He was determined to get it out of you.”

“I held firm. No one was getting the secret from me. Plus, you were one-upping them each time they sent me a gift. That month I made out like a bandit.”

He shook his head. “Cost me a damn fortune. Dad called, wanting to know why the hell I spent two grand on a spa treatment. When I told him, he threw in another for you. Thought it was brilliant.”

“Good times.”

“The best.”

Another comfortable silence filled the air, but the weight of what we faced crept back into my mind. Not in the clubbing spirit at all, I’d kept my hair simple, threw on a basic black cocktail dress, donned a pair of high heels, and put on a little makeup. From what I’d seen on the internet, this place was not upscale.

Honestly, this was the last place I wanted to be. On the couch in my pajamas with a tub of ice cream watching some comedy sounded better.

We entered the city limits of Philadelphia. I needed to go over the plan again for my sanity. “Remember, I don’t want anyone at the bar tonight to know I was married to Alex.”

“Not a word. If we see the people in the picture, are we going to try to sit near them?”

This afternoon, when I’d told Carson about the pictures, he’d assumed Commander Taylor gave them to me. I hadn’t corrected him. And I’d left out any mention of the note. I wasn’t sure why, but I followed my instinct. For the time being, I wanted to keep that private after hearing the conviction in the man’s voice.

Carson patted my knee. “Hey, we don’t have to do this?”

Realizing I hadn’t responded to his earlier question, I snapped out of my thoughts. “No, I want to do this. If they are there, let’s sit as close as we can without being conspicuous. I’ll let you lead the way.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll figure this out, Willow. I’m not sure what the fuck Alex did, but we’ll find out. At least kids aren’t involved.”

“Thanks, Carson.”

My thoughts drifted to our last time together when we hadn’t used any protection. If the need to ever came, I would think about it then. Today, it was too much to process.

The hot pink sign of the bar came into view. It reminded me of an eighties movie gone bad. There was nothing special about the bar from the outside. An ordinary place. The lack of a line wasn’t a surprise, considering the day of the week.

After parking the car in the paid parking garage, we moseyed across the street. I grabbed Carson’s hand for reassurance. I wanted to think I was a strong person, but inside I felt anything but. My nerves were rattled as all the facts continued to sink in.

I was at a bar.

A bar where my husband had been with another woman.

And a man I’d never met had left me pictures of them after breaking into my car.

Yeah, I was definitely treating myself to a pint of ice cream later.

The large bouncer greeted us at the door. The dark sunglasses obscured his eyes as he took us in. “There’s a cover charge. Five per person.”

Carson fished out the bills before I had a chance. We each received a stamp on our right hands. It was the outline of a martini glass.

A musky beer smell emanated from beyond the doors. This wasn’t an average bar. It was a dive.

What the hell had brought Alex to this place besides that woman? Would she be here? An uneasy feeling ran through my body, and I focused on my inner strength. With my shoulders squared and head held high, I walked into the place, looking confident and feeling anything but.

Some cheesy song played low through scratchy speakers as women danced provocatively on stages throughout the place. Basically, it was a low-class strip club. Men sat at each table, their eyes glued to the nearly nude dancers. We made our way up to the bar when a familiar brunette turned my way for a minute, her eyes watery.

I froze for a second, feeling the sting of the pictures again. She was real. Of course she was real, but it was harder than I’d imagined.

I knew Carson saw her, too. He’d studied the pictures for a while with me this afternoon, looking for other clues. Besides the bar’s name, there wasn’t anything else.

Carson kept me moving, and I focused back on the bar while visualizing the picture where their lips were interlocked and Alex’s hands were on her ass.

I added "Get tested for STDs" to my checklist.

The man with the short crew cut whom Alex had been scowling at in the photos had his hand on the woman’s shoulder. No recognition flickered in the woman’s face when we made brief eye contact. Nothing on the man’s face, either.

Thank goodness. Alex kept me a secret, which was a relief.
Asshole. I shouldn’t even have to be here. I should be able to mourn my husband like a normal person, not be on the verge of hating him.

Carson led me to the bar and ordered us each a bottle of beer. I wasn’t going to drink it, but the beer was probably the safest option from the looks of the place. The bar seats looked worn with a few tears, but we sat anyway.

Another thing to add to the checklist: sterilize our clothes. Or better yet, throw them away.

Sniffles came from Alex’s other woman a seat away. With the music low enough, we were able to hear, “I can’t believe he’s gone. He promised.”

“I know, sugar.”

More sniffles. “I had to come to our place. We loved it here. He loved when I danced for him on stage. I know I’m a mess, but I needed to be somewhere familiar to us where we shared a lot of good times.”

Who all played a part in his double life? Danced for him? Disgusting. It was hard not to look her way, but the last thing I wanted was for her to stop talking. Who told her about Alex dying? My fists clenched in my lap as I thought about the police keeping the lie for Alex.

Carson kept quiet beside me, listening to the conversation while pretending to check his phone.

The gruff man soothed her. “Sugar, Alex loved you. You know this. You can take as much time off as you need. I’ll keep a dancing spot open for you.”

She worked here? As a stripper? I felt a stab of pain in my heart and busied myself with the label on the beer in front of me. He sounded sure of Alex’s love. I wasn’t sure if Alex loved me. For the last six months I wondered if he hated me. Getting rip-roaring drunk and not having a care in the world sounded like the answer.

Immature, I know.

Carson raised an eyebrow, silently asking if I was okay.

I responded, “Feels nice to unwind after a long day.” My voice shook a little as I blinked rapidly, willing myself not to cry.

Tipping his beer, Carson responded, “It does.”

I dug my fingernails into my left hand, which was still in my lap, to focus on the pain. The female bartender walked up to Carson. “Can I get you and your girl anything else?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at the subtlety. “She’s just a colleague. A friend told us about this place, and we thought we’d give it a try. He failed to mention it was a strip club.”

She laughed and gave him a wink. It appeared she fancied Carson. I tilted my head to the side, trying to tune out their conversation and listen to the
other
woman’s.

I quickly glanced their way. The man stroked the woman’s arms, and she leaned into him. “Alex said we were going to be taken care of. He was working on a deal worth millions. He hoped to be able to pay you back. That’s why he was gone so much. How am I going to take care of our son? My husband is gone!”

It all happened so fast—I lost my balance and fell on the dirty floor, drawing attention from those around me. Carson was beside me in an instant.

“Are you okay?” Carson asked with worry.

I looked up into his eyes as he hoisted me up and held me still. “Yes. I s-s-slipped.”

The large man consoling Alex’s other woman came to my side. “Darlin’, are you okay?”

Staring at the man, I couldn’t look away. This guy knew Alex in a way I hadn’t. I wanted to ask a million questions, but I wasn’t prepared to get tangled in this life Alex had separate from me. It seemed… dangerous. And not two feet away sat a woman who thought she was married to my husband.

“Ma’am?”

Carson looked me over and my senses came back to me. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just a bit too much to drink. I’m going to the restroom.”

He nodded and returned to the
other
woman. I whispered to Carson, “I’ll be back.”

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No, I need a minute.”
Or a lifetime to recover from all of this.

He was married.

He had a child.

He was working on a deal worth millions.

As I made a beeline for the restrooms in the back, a sleazy man winked at me. Gross.

Another item to add to my checklist: sterilize me.

I kept walking and tried to get my thoughts straight. But the woman’s words kept repeating in my head.

Husband. Son. Millions.

Realization dawned, and I paused outside the utility closet in the musky hallway. I whispered to myself, “
I
am the other woman.”

The door to the closet cracked open. Someone was in there, so I resumed my path to the restroom. As I passed, one hand yanked me inside while another came over my mouth to muffle my scream. I thrashed about as I was held against the wall.

This wasn’t happening.

I thrashed more.

Carson. I needed to get to Carson.

The grip intensified as I used everything I had to get free. I was immobilized. The pitch-black room made it impossible to see.
They were here for me.

My movements were restricted as panic surged through me. I wasn’t strong enough, but I refused to give up as I clawed and kicked my way to no avail.

“Shh… I’m the man from the phone.” I stilled. The voice with the Irish accent filled my ears. His strong frame held me, eliciting goose bumps from within. “I hoped you would come this way so we could talk.” He paused. “I’m going to take my hand off and step back to give you space. If you want my help, don’t scream.”

I nodded, and instantly his hand left my mouth and the pressure of his body vanished. Even with my eyes adjusted, I was unable to make out anything.

My heavy breathing was the loudest noise in the room, followed by the sound of people walking by the door. He asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“You scared the shit out of me. You’re a complete stranger who broke into my car and now yanked me into a closet. Who are you?” It felt good to release some of the pent-up emotions.

“Someone trying to right a wrong.”

I snapped, “You keep saying that. What wrong are you trying to right? I’m tired of the games.”