Page 118 of These White Lies
I keep my voice neutral. “I’m good.”
Brady is definitelynotgood. His jaw is locked so tight it’s a wonder his teeth don’t shatter.
“Should we sit?” I suggest before the testosterone fog suffocates us all.
Ray motions toward the sofas. “Please, be my guest.” He sprawls out on one. His eyes stay on me when he adds, “Brady?”
Brady huffs and sits beside me, close enough our knees touch “How long have you been in Atlanta?”
His voice is nonchalant, but you’d have to be an idiot not to pick up on the subtext. And apparently Ray’s mind is just as sharp as his son’s.
“Couple weeks. Publicist lined up some appearances before the fight, so I’ve been busy, then it’s back to Vegas.”
Brady grunts.
Ray studies him with an intensity that belies all his easy charm. “Surprised to get your messages. Especially after the last time we saw each other.” He grins. “If I recall, you saidyou’d see me in hell before you ever spoke to me again.” He tips his glass toward the rain-streaked window. “Guess hell’s wetter than I pictured.”
Brady’s chest rises, nostrils flaring, but he only remarks, “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
“Now, thatisinteresting. What’s so important…” His attention drifts to me. “Or should I say,whois so important that you dismounted that high horse of yours to ask for my help?”
Brady bristles. “I need you to get Elizabeth into Anna Lindquist’s party.”
Ray stills, the teasing gone from his face for the first time. “Why?”
“Can’t you just do it because I asked?” Brady’s tone is sharp enough to cut glass.
Ray takes his time, sipping. “No. I need more to go on. She isn’t going to make some sort of scene, is she?”
I arch a brow. “Do I look like the type to cause a scene?”
He gives me a slow, wicked smile. “I think you could. Easily.”
Brady’s hand fists on his knee, but I lean forward before he explodes. “I need to meet Anna.”
His brow furrows, shrewdness flashing again. “Why? Why not just approach her on your own?”
I glance at Brady, then back to Ray. “Because she’s been trying to kill me.”
Brady jerks, stunned at my honesty. Ray’s expression shifts—surprised, but not shocked.
Brady notices.
“You know what she does,” Brady says, his tone hard.
Ray looks thoughtful, then slowly shakes his head. “Not exactly. But in my world, you learn what a killer looks like. Notsomeone stepping into a ring to win. Someone who wants to destroy without thinking twice. She’s got that look. Dead behind the eyes.” His gaze slides back to me. “Why is she after you?”
“Because my ex-husband stole something she wants back. I want to negotiate the return.”
Ray’s eyes narrow. “What kind of something?”
“It’s a little late in life to play the sacrificial father, old man,” Brady sneers. “You’re safer not knowing. Just understand this—you will be with her at all times. You won’t leave Elizabeth’s side for a second. Youwillkeep her safe… or I will kill you with my bare hands.”
Something passes between them. A silent conversation, their bodies radiating violent tension.
Then, like the water sliding down the large windows, Ray’s tension disappears and his cocky veneer returns. “You could certainly try.” But then, just as quickly as it came, it goes again, and his expression becomes grim. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Brady’s jaw works back and forth like he wants to issue another threat but instead he only adds, “I’ll have my people at the party as backup just in case. But under no circumstances do you leave her side.”
