Page 8 of Man of Lies

"She doing okay?"

Gage sighed, glancing out at the gold-dappled oaks. "She will be," he said softly.

Ivy wasn't like most of the kids in Eden's foster program. She hadn't come through the system; she'd slipped through the cracks. From what I gathered, she'd spent months crashing in the back room at the Dead End—just like me—but Silas never let her get too comfortable. He'd tried to protect her, but the Dead End was dangerous, especially for a teenage girl.

Some thugs jumped her in the parking lot one night. If Gage hadn't been there, she might've disappeared across state lines, just another victim of interstate trafficking. After that, I pulled some strings, placed her in Eden's foster program, and ensured nobody came sniffing around.

That kind of shit happened all the time. The same world that ruined girls like Ivy was the one Silas moved through like he owned it.

And I still wanted him—desperately.

It was a nasty thought that lodged like a splinter under my skin. Impossible to ignore. I spent my days working with the Attorney General's task force, fighting to put men like Silas behind bars, and my nights pulling kids like Ivy out of trouble that had his fingerprints all over it. Yet every time I tried to stay away, I ended up right back where I started—circling him like a dog on a short chain.

Not all of us were as lucky as Gage and Wyatt.

I could still taste Silas—faint traces of salt and heat lingering on my lips like a brand. I could feel the weight of his hands, the hunger in his mouth, the quiet confidence in every move he made, like he knew exactly what I needed before I did. And maybe he did.

That was the problem.

It wasn't just about sex. It was how he looked at me, not with softness but with certainty. Like he saw straight through the walls I'd spent a lifetime building and had no intention of letting me hide. I wasn't used to that, and I hated how much it mattered.

I didn't regret leaving him on the side of the road without looking back. Maybe it made me a coward, but it was the smart play. I had responsibilities and a job that didn't leave room for indulgence. I'd taken what I wanted, watched the strain break across his face when he came, and bailed before he could return the favor. I couldn't risk him rewiring my brain for pleasure, but I had a sinking feeling it was already too late.

If I was being honest—and I usually was, at least with myself—I was unraveling. The tighter I pulled the threads, the faster everything slipped through my fingers.

Silas was a distraction I couldn't afford.

Chapter Five

MASON

I feltlike I'd been steamrolled and left to bake in the Louisiana heat. The morning run was supposed to clear my head, but all it did was turn my legs to jelly and leave my lungs burning with every breath. But that was the point, wasn't it? Punishment, pure and simple. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but add a sleepless night to the mix, and I was primed to crawl through the rest of the day fueled solely by caffeine and spite.

Mostly spite.

Now, crammed behind my desk in a cold metal chair, glasses sliding down my nose and shirt sticking to my back, I was starting to think I'd overdone it. Not that I'd ever admit it.

The office wasn't doing much for morale. For more than a year, the task force had operated out of a repurposed warehouse, a relic from when Devil's Garden still had industries that didn't revolve around farming or bribery. The place was all exposed brick, grimy, steel-framed windows, and a ceiling that leaked when it rained. With the AG funding our efforts to untangle decades of corruption, we should've rated a building that wasn't held together with duct tape. But maybe that was intentional.The rough edges had a way of keeping our cadre of cops and attorneys focused on what mattered.

The hum of efficiency was my meditation. The clacking keyboards and whining printers might've been almost soothing if not for the dull throb behind my eyes. No one cared if I was half-dead in this environment, as long as I delivered results.

My kind of place.

My eyes burned from the blue light of my laptop, so I shifted focus to the case files stacked at my elbow. The dog-eared manila folders felt like a relic in the age of cloud storage, but everything in Devil's Garden was stuck in the past.

I'd have worked off Sanskrit tablets if it meant getting closer to what mattered: tearing down the corrupt machine that had already stolen five years of my brother's life. Money and connections ruled this town, but that didn't make the officials who buried the evidence untouchable.

They'd gotten away with it for too long, and I wouldn't stop until every piece of their rot was exposed.

I breathed deep and forced my attention back where it belonged. My stomach growled, and I glanced at the clock. I hadn't eaten since… yesterday, probably. By now, my body's signals were easy to ignore. I just wanted to finish combing through this stack of old warrant requests.

"Jesus, Mason."

I glanced up, irritated. Colton Langford was leaning against my desk, arms crossed, watching me with a look that bordered on amusement. We'd known each other since college, when we were both juggling a double course-load to fast-track our law degrees.We'd never set out to be friends; he had the kind of privileged childhood and easy confidence that made me want to punch him on principle. But apart from my brothers, he was my only friend these days.

Befriending Colt turned out to be the best decision I'd ever made. When he became the lead investigator for the AG, he'd pushed for me to join the special task force. He'd found the weapon that exonerated Ben and got him out of prison. Now, he was the one keeping Ben on conditional release in his own apartment. I owed him. But every time I thought about it, the shame was so intense I wanted to puke. Every step of the way, Colt had been the one saving Ben. Not me.

I sat back, removed my glasses, and gave him my undivided attention.

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