Page 29 of Man of Lies

I slammed a palm against the wall beside his head and breathed through the raw frustration clawing up my throat. My forehead hovered inches from his, close enough to catch the aroused flush crawling up his neck. I’d spent a lifetime learning patience. Hell, it had kept me alive. But even I had limits.

“Whoever it is,” I growled, licking at the frantic pulse in his throat, “send them away. No way in hell we’re stopping this time.”

Mason smiled—the bastard. Like this was just a minor inconvenience and not a goddamn tragedy. His bright blue eyes held a flicker of amusement as he straightened, shrugging off my touch casually, and turned toward the door without a backward glance.

The man at the threshold filled the frame like he owned it: tall, broad, and built like a man who’d never had to raise his voice to get people moving. His blond hair already held a trace of gray at the temples, but somehow, it didn’t make him look older. Just more established.

Mason looked mildly annoyed but not the least bit surprised. He shoved his hands into his pockets—probably trying to hide the fact that he was still half-hard—and leaned a shoulder on the jamb like this wasn’t a cockblock of biblical proportions.

“Terrible timing, as usual, Gideon.”

That’s when it hit me.

Gideon. The guy from the jazz club. The one who’d touched Mason like he’d earned the right. The one I’d wanted to put through a wall. His brother, of course. Hell. I was usually better at connecting the dots.

They weren’t blood, but the resemblance was there anyway, just not in their looks. It was in their expressions, the way they stood, the tilt of their heads.

Gideon didn’t look like any priest I’d ever seen, but I wasn’t particularly religious. Might’ve had a better opinion of religion if more of them looked like they could bench press a pickup.

“Depends how you look at it,” Gideon replied. His gaze slid past Mason, landing on me with a curiosity I couldn’t quite read. Not hostile, but not friendly either. “I learned to recognize that branch scraping against your window back when you and Ben used to sneak out to drag race in the cane fields. Never expected to hear someone climbing it again.”

Mason sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing it into unruly waves that made him look younger. “Gideon, this is Silas McKenna.” He glanced at me apologetically. “Silas? My brother.”

“The new owner of the Dead End,” Gideon commented, widening his stance and folding his arms across his chest. “Nice entrance.”

I grinned and helped myself to a seat at the foot of Mason’s bed, wordlessly staking my claim. “Thanks. Harder than it looked from the ground,” I said, throwing him a wink just to see if he’d flinch.

One brow ticked up, all practiced elegance. “Let’s hope the climb down is easier,” Gideon replied, smooth as linen. “Time to get started.”

Mason spun around and jabbed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare move.”

I hadn’t so much as twitched, but the panic in his voice was deeply gratifying. My grin widened, and I leaned back on my elbows, settling in like I’d just been handed a front-row seat to something fun. “Don’t worry, slick. That was never gonna happen.”

Mason huffed a slow, grudging laugh and turned his attention back to his brother. “We’re not kids anymore, Gideon. Boone isn’t here to ground us for having company after dark.”

Gideon didn’t blink. “I’m here, and you know the rules haven’t changed. No visitors in the bedrooms. We’ve got teenagers in the house. Set an example.”

His inflection was flat, as if he expected Mason to salute and say:yes, sir.But Mason held his ground without blinking.

This wasn’t the man who melted at the growl in my voice and loved it when I bossed him around. This was the flip side, the razor-sharp intelligence and self-control that undoubtedly bulldozed every courtroom he entered. He didn’t waver; he held like a goddamn force of nature, and right then, I realized I hadn’t even scratched the surface of how deep he ran.

I wanted to laugh, but I was too turned on.

Gideon closed the gap and rested a hand on Mason’s shoulder, dropping his voice to keep it private. But I wasn’t in the habit of respecting boundaries.

“I’m glad you’re living a little, Mase,” he said warmly. “But it’s better for everyone if you take it somewhere else. Especially for you. You’ll never relax with that laptop right in front of you.”

Mason hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fair enough,” he said ruefully. “We’ll go.”

“Good.” Gideon gave his shoulder one last squeeze before turning away. “Try not to fall out of any trees on your way down.”

Mason was so focused on watching him leave that he didn’t hear the floorboards creak when I rose from the bed. By the time he realized I’d moved, I was already behind him, reaching over his head to push the door closed. I caged him between my arms, breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. His breath hitched, but I caught it. I noticed everything when it came to Mason.

“Looks like we’re moving this party, counselor,” I whispered.

“You sure you’re up for it?” he teased, pressing back against me and tilting his head in invitation.

My lips found the curve of his throat as I tugged his ass flush against my aching erection. “Sweetheart, I’ve beenupfor it since you walked into my bar.”

---