Page 18 of Man of Lies

I had no room for rest, and definitely no room for a man like Silas McKenna.

Gideon watched me for a long, quiet moment. I didn't look at him, but I felt when his mood shifted. It was like a pressure valve releasing. Gideon had pushed, testing the limit before I cracked, and now he pulled back. The usual carrot and stick.

"If you want me to leave, say the word," he said levelly. "I've got to head back to Eden anyway. I promised Loretta and Gage I'd cover the overnight shift with the kids."

I let out a slow breath, staring down at the cuff I was pretending to adjust. "It's not that."

"I know, but don't forget that you're human. Not a machine. No man can outrun his own needs forever, Mason."

The hair on the back of my neck lifted the moment he touched my arm. The air behind me started to crackle. I didn't need to turn to know the source, but impulse won out over judgment, and I glanced over my shoulder anyway.

Silas's eyes were coal-dark and fixed on me with dense, seething fury. He stood at the back of the woman's chair, one hand curled around the metal so tightly that his knuckles were blanched white. Every inch of him broadcast anger, from the hard set of his jaw to the glint of sweat at his temples, like violence and sex were just two sides of the same coin—and I couldn't tell which one he was about to flip.

I didn't know what set him off, but Christ, he looked good angry.

I glanced back at Gideon, just long enough to catch the flicker of something softer in his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or concern. I wasn't sure which was worse.

"You don't need to worry about me," I told him stiffly. "Not with Dom and Gage wreaking havoc."

He chuckled darkly. "Gage has settled down since he and Wyatt got engaged."

"What about Dom?" I asked, cutting him a look.

It was a cheap shot, and we both knew it. Dominic hadn't set foot in Eden since he put Wyatt in the hospital with a pair of brass knuckles. He'd thought he was protecting us; all the signs had pointed to Wyatt framing Ben and betraying us all. But Dominic hadn't waited for proof. He'd acted—and he'd been wrong.

Now it was a vast rift that none of us knew how to cross. Gage wouldn't even speak his name, and the rest of us were stuck pretending like our family hadn't fractured right down the center.

But Gideon had taken it the hardest. As the eldest, he carried the burden of leading the family, and he'd always had a soft spot for Dominic. Watching him hold the line between justice and loyalty was like watching a man drown on dry land.

We didn't talk about it, but if my personal life was fair game, so was his.

His mouth tightened, and his eyes went cold. "You don't have to talk to me," he said, stepping back. "But talk to someone. You're going to break soon, and I don't think you've left yourself room to come back from that."

Then he turned and walked off, past the club and down the sidewalk, like he hadn't just gutted me in public.

I watched him disappear into the darkness with long, unhurried strides. Confident that nobody was foolish enough to mess with him even in this seedy part of town.

Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe. This wasn't the place to unravel.

"Mmm."The woman at Silas's table let out a throaty hum, all faux innocence that scratched up my spine. "Shame about the blond. I was hoping he'd come over and introduce himself properly."

I turned, giving her a long, flat look.

Heavy makeup, cheap jewelry, and perfume so strong she must've rolled in it. She was younger than I'd first thought and dressed for action, legs crossed, and skirt hiked so far up that shadows were doing more privacy work than the fabric. One shoe dangled off the tip of her toe.

I didn't recognize her, but I didn't need to. She looked like dozens of regulars who warmed the barstools at the Dead End on any given night, looking for company, but for some reason, I was still surprised to see Silas with her.

I shouldn't be. But bitter jealousy filled my mouth, and no amount of pride could pretend it didn’t exist. I didn't know who she was or what she meant to him. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But he was touching her chair like he had a right, and I hated how much that got under my skin.

"Sorry for interrupting your date," I said coolly.

Silas's cheek twitched like he didn't like the sound of that. He hadn't moved, but his entire posture radiated barely leashed temper, one hand gripping the back of her chair like he needed the anchor. The woman didn't seem to notice. Or maybe she did. Maybe she liked it.

"Oh, sweetheart," she purred in a syrupy voice. "As far as I'm concerned, the more the merrier. In every sense of the word."

She winked at me over the rim of her glass, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep my expression from cracking.

"Sylvia," she said, bracelets clinking musically as she extended a hand across the table.

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