Page 65 of Liar Byrd
“I’m not finished.” He leans toward me. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
He didn’t get what he wanted, so now he’s turning nasty. Mom had an old boyfriend like that once before, and I never forgot him.
Shaking my head, I lean away from him. “No, I haven’t.”
“I see exactly how it is. You’ll spread your legs for the rich lords of the house but not for the gardener.” His eyes are nasty as he spits out his filth.
“That isn’t true,” I whisper, trembling.
Suddenly, I’m reminded of how quiet this house can be.
Kit must realize it too because he glances over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one has slipped in through the back door.
He yanks at my shirt, trying to pull it up to get to the waistband of my sweats.
“Stop it.” I shove him away, but he’s too big to move.
“Don’t fight me,” he hisses as he leans in to kiss me, but I turn away, avoiding his kiss.
I try to kick him between his legs, and he curses, fabric tears, and before I shove him again, he’s just…gone.
“Get out.”
Makhi’s voice is almost unrecognizable. It’s that hard.
Kit is on his back feet from me, one hand on his eye, making me think Makhi punched him. Makhi’s black eye is almost healed, but I barely notice it as I pull my shirt down and move as far away from Kit as I can.
I’m trembling all over, and I can’t make myself stop my teeth from chattering.
This was supposed to be a safe place, but I don’t feel safe anymore. I feel like I’m back in the compound. I have to leave. I have to leavenow.
Kit scrambles to his feet and lunges at Makhi.
I look away, hugging myself as a string of curses, heavy thumps, and groans sound from feet away. The next time I look, Makhi and Kit are gone from the kitchen.
My knees shake, and my breathing isn’t steady as I stagger toward the kitchen table and collapse into a chair. I wrap my fingers tight around Vonn’s dog tags I pull out from under my T-shirt, willing them to give me the strength I desperately need. My ankle was sore this morning, but now, I can barely feel it.
I just feel numb.
Makhi’s knuckles are red, and his lips are flat when he walks back into the kitchen.
It’s only when he crouches in front of me that I see the specks of blood on his shirt and realize he might have gone beyond a punch.
I tuck Vonn’s dog tags back under my shirt, and when Makhi doesn’t ask why I’m wearing them, I figure Vonn told him he’d lent them to me. “Did you kill him?”
He cocks his head. “Should I have?”
I was meant to stay under the radar. Just be a boring, quiet maid looking to do a good job, earn some money, tuck myself behind a safe gated place.
And then leave.
This… all ofthisshould not be happening.
"I’m thinking yes,” he says when I don’t respond.
He’s observant. Even when he was relaxed at the office and challenged me to empty the trash basket beside his leg, his eyes were watchful.
I remember when I walked into the bathroom and found him soaking in the tub.
