Page 59 of Liar Byrd
Then I turn to look up the stairs.
If my devil weren’t so terrifying, I would leave. Nothing good can come from staying too long in a house full of secrets.
Chapter 21
Byrdie
Iknock before I enter the bedroom.
After the awkwardness of the office, the glass of water, and three men staring at me when I backed in without checking the room was empty, I always knock first. I’m not making that mistake again.
When my knock goes unanswered, I enter the bedroom and quickly scan it to make sure it’s empty before I start cleaning.
It doesn’t take long to straighten the books on a desk. Thrillers, all tabbed in several places. These are books that someone has read and re-read often. I dust all the furniture, wipe mirrors, and open the window to air out the room. Only after I’ve changed the sheets do I move on to the adjoining bathroom.
I deep-cleaned it last week, so it won’t take long to give it a refresh.
It’s not empty.
I was making plenty of noise, but there’s a good reason why Makhi wouldn’t have heard me. He’s in the bathtub, head resting on the edge, and his eyes closed.
Steam curls around a tanned, muscled chest that slowly rises and falls.
Makhi is sleeping.
Holding my breath, I twist around to leave.
A loud yawn freezes me on the spot. “Hey! Quit running away from me. I thought we’d talked about you not treating me like a leper.”
I twist around, and my eyes widen. “What happened to you?”
He has a black eye that’s so bad that it’s fully closed. “Jail.”
I stare. “You were injail?”
His grin is lazy. “Not me. My brother. I was visiting him.”
When he picks up a sponge from the side of the tub, I wrench my eyes away before I can see what he cleans with it. “Your brother is in jail?”
“Yes.”
“He hit you?” There’s no sound of splashing, so I risk a quick peek and hope I don’t see more than I should.
His grin widens when he catches my eye. “Not him.” He scrutinizes me for a beat. “Why does Vonn scare you, and I don’t?”
It’s a good question, but I’m not answering it.
“I have to go.” I rush out of the bathroom, forgetting about the bucket of cleaning products I left right outside, until I trip over it, slam to the floor, and cry out when my anklepops.
“You okay?” Makhi calls out.
Wincing, I stuff everything into my bucket. “Fine.”
I get up. My ankle gives way. I catch myself before I can fall and hobble to leave, silently yelping with every step.
“You’re hurt.” Makhi is right behind me.
I hobble faster. “I’m fine,” I lie, my face scrunched up in pain.
