Page 46 of Don't Trust Him

The next me would have to come and fucking murder me.

“Okay, son, you got this. Knock ‘em dead. Let me know if anything changes,” Zario says.

I listened very fucking closely to that warped soccer dad little message I just got from him. I know when Zario’s lying.

“Yeah.”

I hang up.

“He doesn’t know shit,” I tell Eliza. “Zario doesn’t know shit about us finishing the batch or having everything for it. And I’m betting neither does anyone on your end.”

Eliza’s eyes are as wide as fucking footballs right now and she’s smiling so damn big, it does something to me. I can’t help but wrap her up in my arms.

“Call your boss?” I ask her.

“I will,” she says. “This means...” she starts to ask, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer or to finish her sentence as she’s already dialing. Her little head tucks into my neck and she has the same conversation with Lorenzo Quentin.

When she hangs up, she kisses me. Kisses me for a long time, and not only does it feel like it will never end, I don’t want it to.

“He didn’t mention my mom,” she says. “And he sounds like he doesn’t know anything. Most likely he’s waiting for her to check in when she’s able. So we might have some cover.”

Right now, in this moment, everything can be perfect. More than anything, I never want it to end.

Because from this moment out, we’re at war.

I can live with war. I know I can. I was born, bred, and made for it.

But that’s the thing about falling in love. You don’t want the sweet moments, the good moments, the slices of how perfect life can be, to ever end.

“I love you, Eliza,” I tell her again.

And this time?

“I love you so much, Grayson.”

Twenty-Seven

Eliza

“So?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stare at Grayson.

He’s out on the balcony of our bedroom, cigarette in one hand and cell phone on the other. As he turns around to look at me, he flicks the butt of his cigarette out and returns inside.

“This isn’t good,” he sighs, running one hand through is hair. “My contact has just told me that Zario has found out about the batch we’ve produced. He knows. The time we had left...it’s gone.”

“Shit.

” Throwing myself back, I stare at the ceiling as the clock mounted on the wall ticks away the seconds. “And with my own cartel looking for us…”

“Yeah,” is all Grayson says.

Just a few hours ago, Rafe risked his life and called to give me a heads-up: right before my mother captured me, she informed the higher-ups about what I was doing. Which means they know everything about the batch we’ve produced. From there, they connected the dots and figured out our plan.

That’s when we look at each other.

Both of our bosses pretended on the phone with us that they didn’t know anything.

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