Page 51 of Man of Lies

He sat there like a king on his throne, Sylvia draped over his lap like a careless indulgence, one hand idly stroking the curve of her hip. But she wasn’t the one he was thinking about. Not even close. Because for the first time that night, he looked atme, and his eyes were glittering with deliberate malice. He had no clue what kind of mess he’d just made, but he knew he’d fucked up whatever plans I had, and he wasenjoyingit.

Whether he meant to or not, he’d just destroyed my career—and he wasn’t going to fix it.

That was on me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

MASON

Whiskey satlike poison on my tongue, acrid and bitter all the way down. I hated the taste of it, but more than that, I hated the slow, creeping warmth that dulled my thoughts. The quickness of my brain was how I survived; I never willingly slowed it down. But I swallowed the booze anyway, forcing myself to stay hyper-aware despite the buzz: the low hum of a jukebox playing to a missing audience, the uneven scrape of a chair leg as one of the thugs at the table shifted his weight, the oily, lotion-slick on the arms of the woman in my lap.

And Silas at the edge of my vision: the stretch of his long, denim-clad legs and the lazy way he regarded the conversation, like there wasn’t a single thing in this world that could unsettle him.

Like I hadn’t walked in on him with his tongue down a woman’s throat.

I’d been a lawyer long enough to know better than to judge a man by his record. Silas had never been shy about his criminal record, but despite that, I’d always believed he was one of the good ones. He was flirtatious, elusive, and impossible to pin down, but there was a reason I felt so safe with him. Whateverbad habits he couldn't shake, his core had always been solid as a rock.

But sitting here now, at a table stinking of sweat and cheap perfume, I felt like I’d been duped. I’d let myself be blinded by lust, by the way he touched me, and the way he could strip me with a single glance. He looked at me like he saw through my defenses, marked everything I tried to hide, and somehow liked me better for it.

How much of that was an act, I wondered. Silas lied effortlessly, not just with his words but his silences and omissions. He allowed criminals to operate from his bar, laughed freely with them, and behaved just like them. The way he moved through life, through this town, throughme—it was calculated. He knew exactly what to say and where to push, when to let that gravel-edged voice go low and rough to pull a reaction out of me.

He played me every time he saw me…and I let him.

And yet, despite everything, I still couldn’t stop myself from turning my head to watch him.

To see if he was already looking at me.

He was angry. It was subtle, but I’d spent too long watching him not to notice. I felt it the way I knew a storm was coming before I felt the first drop of rain. He was sprawled back in his chair, shoulders loose, one hand casually draped over his thigh, but that was just the packaging. His body was unnaturally still, and his breathing was measured, but I caught the faintest twitch in his nostrils, like he was fighting to keep it that way. But his mouth was the dead giveaway. Silas liked to smirk, loved to talk, and habitually bit the edge of his thumb when he was thinking.But now, his lips were pressed together in a thin, bloodless line as if he were resisting the urge to grind his molars down to dust.

It wasn’t just about the woman tracing the edge of my collar and slipping the top button free with the tip of her finger. This was bigger than that. I’d interrupted something, shoved myself into business that wasn’t mine, and he wasfurious.Out of nothing but spite, I’d stomped all over rule number one—and for what? Because I couldn’t handle the terms we’d agreed on? Because as soon as I’d allowed him inside me, I’d started to imagine we had some sort of hold on each other? He could kiss or even fuck whoever the hell he wanted, and I had no right to care.

So why did it feel like I was choking on it?

I was watching so closely that I caught it in real time: the exact moment his patience broke.

He tossed backthe last of his whiskey and shoved his chair out like a man with something to prove. That was the only warning I got before he leaned in and slapped a hand flat against my chest, cutting off the woman mid-performance. The conversation stalled. A display—for the men watching.

“You’ve had enough for one night, counselor,” he drawled, fingers flexing like he was debating grabbing a fistful of my shirt. “Let’s go.”

I was tempted to make him work for it. Resisting, just to be difficult and punish him for making me feel this way, almost seemed like the thing to do. But in the end, I didn’t. His hand found my bicep, and in an instant, he practically lifted me out of my chair.

Sylvia gave a protesting giggle and slid off my lap, the pout on her lips making it clear she wasn’t used to being dismissed so easily. “Aw,” she cooed, clutching her midriff as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands when they weren’t all over someone else’s body. “Taking my new toy already?”

“Sweetheart,” Silas rasped in a dark voice, “he was never yours to play with.”

Before I could react, he was slamming through the emergency exit and dragging me out into the empty parking lot.

The heat of the day still clung to the ground, rising in waves that carried the stink of something rank—piss or bile or blood. The lot was mostly empty, save for a few trucks and bikes scattered about like abandoned pieces after a game, but with a close look, signs of a struggle were evident: drag marks and a dark, wet patch glistening under the weak glow of the Dead End’s flickering neon.

Whatever had gone down here tonight, it hadn’t ended well for someone…and Silas had gone along with it.

It turned my stomach.

Silas didn’t slow down. One second, I was finding my footing; the next, my back hit the side of the building with enough force to shock the breath from my lungs. Warm bricks radiated through my shirt, but it was nothing compared to the heat rolling off him. His hand bracketed the base of my throat, pinning me in place, holding me still with barely any pressure at all.

Just one touch and the will to fight drained out of me.

“What thehellwas that?” he rasped.

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