Page 129 of Liars

“Let’s go, princess,” the man beside me ordered, opening the door and waiting for me to exit.

I considered staying huddled inside, making him drag me out, but it would only prolong the inevitable. There was no way I could overpower them, not a chance for me to escape. Even if Imanaged to get away, where would I run? By the time I reached the fence, they would capture me again. I wasn’t the greatest at scaling walls.

Resigned to my fate, I clung to the hope that if they planned to hurt or kill me, they would have done so already, but being secluded in a scary-ass building alone with them didn’t look good either.

The two men with their masks still intact ushered me inside, one of them keeping a firm grip on my arm. He more or less had to drag me the closer we got, fear making my feet reluctant.

The warehouse smelled like motor oil and stale cigarettes, the air thick with something else—something that made my stomach churn. I was taken through a maze of cars, each shinier and more expensive than the last, but all I could focus on were the words the detective had told me weeks ago.

My father boosted cars.

Now, standing here, staring at rows of luxury vehicles lined up like trophies, I had to wonder. Had he been mixed up in something? A deal that had gone horribly wrong? But what would they want with me?

My kidnappers pushed open the office door and gestured for me to step inside. I hesitated, but I walked in, my body tense, my mind screaming at me to find a way out. “Rusty?” I was so confused. What was my father’s business partner doing here?

He sat behind a desk, looking years older than I remembered from the last time I’d seen him. He was still scruffy as hell. “Hey, kiddo. Sit,” Rusty said, his voice firm but not unkind. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

I hesitated again, my eyes darting around the office—an old wooden desk, metal filing cabinets, and a stack of papers that looked like invoices or orders. My heart pounded as I slowly lowered myself into the chair across from the desk. Rusty leaned back, crossing his arms, and the snake tattoo coiling around histhick biceps stared at me. My father had an identical one. This wasn’t news to me, but I hadn’t given the tattoos much thought until now. The same viper was also used in branding his shops.

So many more questions, and instead of me finding Rusty, he found me.

Correction. Kidnapped me.

“You know why you're here, don't you?” he asked, watching me carefully, setting his phone down on the desk.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with my dad,” I said flatly. “That’s all I know.” Why the fuck would he scare me like he had? What was he doing with all these men? A horrible feeling rooted in my gut, and I was deathly afraid of where it might lead.

Rusty sighed. “You don’t get it yet, but you will.”

I clenched my fists in my lap, doing my best to keep calm and not freak out, not like I was internally. “Then explain it to me.”

The chair groaned under his weight as he adjusted his position. “We’ve been trying to get you out of that house. Unsuccessfully. They’ve stopped us at every attempt.”

That confession had too much to unpack, but my mind adhered to one revelation. “That was you? The men in the masks coming after me?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck

He nodded, his long beard dangling past his neck.

My mind whirled, spinning in a dozen directions. “Why go to such lengths? Not to mention scare the shit out of me—” Dots started to connect, and I feared where this would lead. The masked men? Just like the masks my parents’ killers wore. Perhaps Rusty wasn’t the friend I thought he was. I needed to be fucking careful. Shit, I wish I had my phone. “D-did you kill my parents?”

He snorted as if the idea was so absurd, but was it? Not from where I was sitting. “No, of course not.” He seemed offendedthat I thought he was capable of such a thing, but how could he blame me when the measly amount of pieces I had fit? “I know this all seems…confusing. Yes, my men took you, but they aren’t the same men who killed your parents.”

“What are you talking about…Rusty?” My voice barely scraped past my lips, raw with disbelief. I didn’t want to believe it. Not this. Not him.

Not someone I thought I could trust.

“Frauds. All of them.” His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes—a quiet insistence, a cold certainty.

A sharp pang hit my chest. No.

“Everything you’ve been told has been a lie.”

I shook my head. “No.” I forced the word out again. “No. Donovan—he’s my godfather. A college friend of my dad’s. He?—”

Rusty’s laugh was dry, humorless. “Is that what he told you?”

A suffocating silence stretched between us as my thoughts raced, twisted, and tangled.

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