Page 51 of Tell Me All Your Lies

I bob my head up and down as I think. We’re taking off into the air as I try to find the right words to convey how special it actually is to me.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. If this were real, you would have gotten it the night I met you in the field.”

I chuckle.

“Then why didn’t I get it? Or does Ace not give his lucky charm engagement rings?” I tease.

He finally looks relaxed once again.

“Another time, we’ll have to talk about our pasts together.”

I agree. I’ve almost forgotten everything that is Grant Sinclair. All the back and forth, the betrayal, the desire he instills in me during our chase.

“Another time.”

EIGHT

Grant

The neighborhoodwe’re living in is exactly how I assumed it would be. It’s filled with nothing but manicured lawns, and oak trees line the streets. It’s charming at best.

Little would anyone know that these homes are occupied by the people responsible for most of the crime in the city and throughout North and South Carolina.

Being here is like being transported into a past life of mine. One that neither Dodger nor Cara really knows about yet.

As part of our jobs, at any given time, you have to play the part. It’s not all about showing up, catching the bad guy, and saving the day. Sometimes, it requires more finesse than that to find out the information you or your employer wants to know.

This is why I have no choice but to break the news to Cara that our next-door neighbor is a friend of mine in the Carolinas mafia, Brad the Bull.

Maybe I won’t have to tell her how Brad got the nickname. Although, knowing Cara, I will.

“What do you think, darling?” I ask.

Cara’s been walking in and out of each room of our temporary home together, inspecting every detail. She’s back in work mode after that plane ride. There is no sign of how she feels about being here or what she thinks of the house.

Dodger asked me to confirm where Brad lived, and that was the basis of picking this home.

“It’ll do,” she says as she approaches the kitchen island.

“Good.”

“Okay, so now that we have a feel for the neighborhood and discussed some of the plans, why don’t you finally tell me what you’ve been keeping from me?”

I swallow thickly.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Sinclair.”

Does she already know more than what I’ve shared?

Her eyes widen as her nails tap on the island.

“You told me you’d share who Ace is to these people. There’s nothing about that in these files. I need you to tell me all the details.”

“Right,” I say, relieved. “Living room?”

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