The lies we tell

TWENTY-NINE

I dialled Caiden’s number. Straight to voicemail. Next, I tried Cassius, then Weston, then Zayde. All went straight to voicemail.

“Argh!” I shouted, frustrated, tears filling my eyes. What should I do? Nausea filled my stomach—what if I couldn’t explain things? What if Caiden didn’t believe me? I couldn’t even see him in person to tell him what had happened.

If only I’d mentioned what had happened in the library.

Tapping out a message on my phone, I sent it to him, and hoped for the best.

Me: We need to talk. NOTHING HAPPENED. Check your voicemail. Phone me as soon as you get this, PLEASE.

Then I called him and left a message. “Cade, it’s me. Well, I guess you already know that. That video isn’t how it looks.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, trying not to cry. “James cornered me in the library, and he had a black eye. What you saw in the video was me showing concern and trying to comfort him, and then—” I choked back a sob. “—and then, he tried to kiss me, and I froze. As soon as I realised what was going on, I stamped on his foot as hard as I could to make him stop. Cade, you have to believe me… I would never… I only want you.” I was crying by now, and I hung up the phone and buried my face in my arms, leaning on the desk.

Kinslee found me in the same position when she got home. She took one look at me and dragged me into the lounge, where we curled up on the sofa with hot chocolate, and I told her the whole story.

“I can’t believe he would do that! Why would he want to do that to you? I know he and Caiden hate each other, but why drag you into it?”

“I can’t answer that,” I sighed. “I know their dads have some kind of family rivalry, but I have no idea about any of the details. And why was Joseph with him?” I’d worked out—not that it took much deducing—that Joseph had been the one to film us.

“Hmm.” Kinslee pursed her lips in thought, frowning. “I know they’re cousins. So that has to be something to do with it.”

“Cousins? I had no idea.”

She leaned over and gave me a comforting hug. “Listen. I’m sure Caiden will listen to reason, once you see him and have a chance to explain things.”

“I hope so.” I returned her hug, then slumped back on the sofa. “I’m actually pretty fucking pissed off as well, to be honest. Cade should have given me a chance to explain. I thought he’d started to trust me. And yet he was all too willing to jump to conclusions.”

“That’s true.”

We lapsed into silence.

“How hard did you stamp on his foot?” Kinslee suddenly asked.

“As hard as I could.”

“I hope you broke a bone.”

We smirked at each other. “So violent, Kins.”

She shrugged. “What can I say?”

“I love it.”

Cass parked round the back of the club in the private parking area, and we assembled round the side of the car. “Let’s do this. Phones off, otherwise they get confiscated. Heads down, keep an eye on my father.” Everyone nodded, bumping fists, and we headed towards the entrance. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Shit, forgot to turn my phone off.” Mentally slapping my forehead, I pulled it out and saw I had a message from an unknown number. Fucking spam. I clicked on it, ready to delete, but stopped when I read the message.

Unknown: Thought you might want to see what Winter was up to earlier.

What the fuck?

A video appeared underneath the message, and I pressed Play.

I saw red.

Through a haze of anger, I sent her a succession of messages and forwarded the video to her.

Fuck!

This was why I didn’t let myself get involved. Winter had just proved that she couldn’t be trusted. I should have known she was like her mother. How could I have been so fucking blind?

Fuck her. I didn’t need anyone. I had my boys.

“Cade? You coming?” West called me from the doorway to the club, and I realised I’d stopped in the street while they all walked ahead.

“Yeah, coming.” I stabbed the Off button on my phone and thrust it in my pocket, then strode inside to meet the others, my jaw clenched and a pain in my chest.

I stood still while the guy on security searched me, breathing in and out through my nose. The need to punch something was so strong, I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself acting on it. We entered a large, dimly lit wood-panelled room, but I couldn’t fucking concentrate on my surroundings, let alone the task at hand.

Why? Why had she gone back to Granville?

“Mate.” Zayde gripped my arm. “Back in a sec,” he muttered to the others and hustled me into the corner of the room, away from the others. “What’s the problem?” he hissed, when we were alone.

“Nothing.” I stood, arms folded, looking at him blankly.

“Cade.”

“Fucking Winter,” I spat. “Some asshole sent me a video of her all over Granville. Today. I knew I couldn’t trust her. She’s just as bad as that f—”

“Back up a minute.” Zayde held his hand up in my face, silencing me. “Calm down, will ya? Don’t say anything you might regret. Who sent the video, and how do you know it happened today?”

“Don’t know who sent it. It came from an unknown number. It was date-stamped today.”

“Show me the video when we get out of here, but don’t jump to conclusions, mate. She’s really into you—fuck knows why.” He gave me a small smirk, then shook his head. “Remember why we’re here. Get your head in the game. We can sort this shit out later.”

I stared at him in silence.

He levelled me with a hard look—his serial killer stare, as Winter had called it once. No. Forget her.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s do this,” I said, moving past him and heading back to Cass and West.

“Ready?” Cass handed me a glass of whiskey.

Showtime.

Letting my mask drop into place, I pushed everything away. I needed to be emotionless, numb, focused on getting as much information as I could. I sca

Two heavy wooden doors led from the room—one directing the way to the toilets, the other unmarked. “Split up and check both doors?” Cass suggested in a low tone.

There was no sign of my father, or any of our fathers, for that matter, so I nodded.

“Cade with me, Z, you go with West.” He headed through the unmarked door, and I followed, leaving Zayde and Weston to check the other. We found ourselves in a long corridor with several doors leading off it, most open. At the very end of the corridor, directly in front of us, was a closed door with a beefy security guy dressed in black in front of it, arms crossed and a hostile expression on his face.

“Just our fucking luck if Arlo went through there,” Cass muttered, discreetly nodding at the guy.

“We’ll try the other doors first.”

The first room we looked in was also wood-panelled and carpeted, muted light provided by sconces on the wall. In the centre stood a huge table, with neat lines of coke cut and laid out ready on the gleaming surface, and a pile of small, clear bags in the centre. A balding, suited man was leaning over the table, and a security guy stood against the wall, his sharp eyes sca