Wicked Lies

Laying her hands on the railing as she stood several feet from him, Ke

He’d built the house she’d dreamed of, the pool she’d longed for. The gazebo by the water, the small dock, just as she’d described to him so long ago.

“Why did you do this, Jazz?” she whispered. “Build everything as I dreamed?”

Tension poured from him. It vibrated from him and thickened the air until it felt smothering.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” His voice grated with fury. A fury that lashed at her, tightened her chest, and reminded her of all the nights she had dreamed of contacting him, dreamed he came for her, rescued her. The fact that he hadn’t answered her question became buried by so many emotions, so many memories.

How many nights had she cried for him, cried for her mother, her family? How often had she cried for the brothers she had trusted before the bodyguards sent with her and her mother destroyed her life?

She’d learned fast that the black knights far outweighed the white ones, and damsels in distress were just screwed. She’d learned that the night she found Gu

“You once told me there are no knights in shining armor,” she whispered. “And I’ve realized, I’m no Cinderella … I couldn’t contact you, I couldn’t let you know, because I refused to be the cause of your death as well.”

She smoothed her hand over the railing, noticing the wood was free of roughness. It had been sanded, stained, and treated until no chance of harm existed from stray splinters. If only there were a way to smooth life so easily.

Jazz turned to her slowly, towering over her, his expression still livid. If he’d come out here to cool down or to get a handle on the fury, he’d obviously failed.

Ke

“Jazz…”

“Why the fuck didn’t you contact me?” he repeated. “Why, Ke

His voice didn’t rise, it roughened, grated, the sound of it more intimidating than she wanted to admit.

“You don’t understand, Jazz,” she whispered. “I couldn’t…”

“You wouldn’t,” he snapped. “Ten years, Ke

“No…” She would have never called Cord, Deacon, or Sawyer. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have called her father.

“Why, damn you?” The guttural tone of his voice had her breath. “Tell me why!”

“Jazz, please don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head, trying to pull free of him.

“Tell me why, damn you. Why?” His voice rose just enough to assure her his anger was slipping its leash. Not that she feared he would hurt her, but she did fear what he might do if all that excellent control he possessed slipped free.

“Because you’re Kin. You’re Kin and I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t go to Cord.” The cry tore free of her, ten years of hopeless, aching regret and loss, ten years of having everything and everyone she trusted taken away from her. Her throat was so tight she could barely speak, her heart racing with fear and pain and the overwhelming sense that she was no longer in control.

Releasing her, his fingers lifting one by one until he was no longer touching her, until he could step away from her as though he didn’t trust himself to be close, Jazz stared at her in disbelief for a moment before his expression hardened.

“Because you didn’t trust me.” His voice was harder, no longer filled with heat or even anger.

“I trusted you.” Damn, her hands were shaking. Pushing them into the pockets of her capris, she stared back at him, wary of the steely gleam in his gaze now. “But I trusted Kent, Jimmy, and Greg as well. They were family, cousins I’d known all my life, men my brothers sent to watch over Mom and me.”

The horror of that night was like a scar inside her soul. She could still feel the punch of that bullet as it tore into her shoulder, shredding her flesh and sending her to her knees as she tried to run. The smell of the smoke, the heat of the flames … the sight of her fragile, beautiful mother hanging limply, held upright only by Greg’s hands around her throat.

“Gu

“Cord isn’t behind this, Ke

“And you would be willing to bet my life on that?” Stepping back from him, Ke

He was Kin.

From an early age he’d been marked as part of the militia network. His mother had been Kin, as well as his uncle before they were killed just after Jazz’s fifth birthday. The foster system might have raised him, but the Kin had ensured he’d eventually ended up with a family willing to nurture him.

A family sworn to the Kin as well.

His ties to the group were too strong, his loyalties to them too deep.

“I wouldn’t bet your life on anything or anyone. Not then or now,” he snapped, disgust coloring his voice as well as his expression. “But I know the man Cord’s become just as I remember the man who grieved for his mother and his sister until we didn’t think he’d recover himself again. The twins were little better.”

Frustration tightened his face, gleamed in his eyes. He was torn, loyalty to the Kin and to friendship suddenly in conflict. And Ke

“The man Cord has become doesn’t matter,” she retorted, the ache of being unable to trust the men she had loved from the day of her birth like a dagger in her heart. “Even if he isn’t involved, the fact is that until he learned I wasn’t really A

Even now, ten years later, that knowledge was like acid eating through her soul.

Her brothers. Only four men could give the order to harm her or her mother. Those four men were her father and three brothers. Only they had the power to give a kill order.

“I don’t care where the orders are supposed to come from, Ke

Ke

“Will you bet my life on it? Are you going to tell them?” Her voice was faint. It was all she could do to force the words past her lips.

God, he couldn’t do that. She hadn’t been able to prove the identity of the person giving the orders yet. But then it didn’t appear she was going to. Gu