Dangerous Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 2) Page 3

  Chapter Four

  JESSIE

  I motioned to the bartender, who just happened to be my best friend, and sat on one of the stools.

  He jerked his chin in my direction then went and grabbed me a pilsner. He knew me well. I drank whiskey because it appeared more refined, I drank beer because I actually liked it.

  And today.

  Today I needed it.

  I could still taste her.

  Two protein shakes. A Snickers bar. A piece of beef jerky, and now beer, and I could still taste Satan on my lips.

  It sparked a memory I’d kept shoved into the furthest recesses of my mind. I battled that memory like a soldier every fucking day—because I could still smell her when I thought of it.

  I could still feel her.

  I could taste her in the air.

  “You make me depressed.” Isla plopped down next to me at the bar at the resort we were staying at. My ex-wife just got on a plane, my best friend was currently screwing my ex-girlfriend Blaire, and I was getting drunk.

  That, at least, was the plan.

  Isla elbowed me. “Come on, let’s do something crazy.”

  “Says the crazy person.” I took another shot of Jack.

  She scrunched up her nose. “If you don’t say yes I’m just going to pester you until you do.”

  “Charming.” I finally glanced over at her, she was wearing a low-cut black dress that fell loosely around her lithe body. I was having a hell of a time looking away from the teardrop necklace that kept bouncing between her two perfect breasts.

  “Eyes up here.” She grinned and then held out her hand. “Come on, we’re doing this.”

  “I never agreed to—”

  Her heel caught on her dress as she stumbled into my arms, her hands gripped my biceps so hard that I found myself flexing to keep both of us steady, and then her eyes heated, and there was one brief moment of insanity where she locked onto my mouth with a wanting gaze before clearing her throat and looking away, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  “Deal,” I found myself saying. “So what’s this crazy thing we’re about to do?”

  She just shrugged. “Dance.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “We’re going to dance?”

  She nodded and then grabbed my hand and drew me to the dance floor. The lights darkened and then her hands were on me, and my hands were on her hips as we moved in sync to the music. The music slowed, forcing us closer together.

  Our mouths almost touched.

  She smelled like sweet wine.

  I could sense her want.

  It matched mine.

  And I was vulnerable to the way she looked at me, the opposite of my ex . . . as if she wanted me more than anything else, and when she looked at me, she only saw me.

  And for once in my life, I wanted to hold on to that feeling just a bit longer, selfishly take it so I could remember what it felt like to be with a woman who saw me as a man.

  I snorted into my first glass of beer and emptied it just as Colin brought me a second. Yeah, that memory was doing me no favors right now.

  “Rough day?” He leaned over the bar, his snake tattoo poking out from underneath his tight black shirt.

  “Don’t patronize me with your bullshit.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not my therapist.”

  “Thank God for that.” Colin grinned. “Even I feel sorry for your therapist, didn’t the first one actually fire you?”

  I glared. “She quit.”

  “Is that normal? For therapists to just quit their clients?”

  “Is this you being helpful? Because it feels like the opposite.” I shoved my empty glass toward him and grabbed the full one.

  “Seriously, anything I can help with?” He had that look, the look that said he knew what was on my mind but was dating Isla’s best friend and had already told me he wasn’t going to take sides (at least if he could help it). Besides, he was so happy that I felt guilty for even thinking about pulling him back into my life’s drama. He already couldn’t avoid my ex-wife since they were blood relations.

  I drank deep and placed the glass back on the bar. “No.”

  “Uh-huh.” Colin’s eyes narrowed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you hanging outside Dirty Exes all morning like you were part of a stakeout, would it?”

  “Blaire needs to keep her mouth shut,” I grumbled. “And I was trying to be intimidating.”

  Colin choked on a laugh then nodded seriously. “Good call, I always think stalkers are intimidating, especially ones who wear three-piece suits and drive Teslas. What did you think would happen? You’d smolder her to death? Look, I know you’re pissed—”

  “No.” I clenched my fist. “They ruined everything!”

  Colin’s smile disappeared.

  “Everything.” I said it again as rage pulsed through my body. “I had the perfect trajectory, things were finally calming down. My wife signed divorce papers, I was free from her brand of crazy and ready to move on with my life, hell, I was gonna get a dog!”

  Colin’s jaw nearly came unhinged. “You’re not even a dog person.”

  “I was branching out,” I grumbled. “The point is, the minute everyone found out that Vanessa had Dirty Exes investigating me, my credibility went to shit. My reputation is completely fucked because of them.”

  Colin moved the beer to the side and leaned over the bar. “Look, it’s going to blow over, this shit always does. Until then, just lie low. You’re only going to make it worse by camping outside their place of business and taunting them. Plus, you can’t really do anything by watching her through binoculars.”

  I smirked. “Yes I can . . . I’m in her head, and soon . . . I’m going to be the only thing she sees, everywhere. She thinks it’s bad now? The war hasn’t even started.”

  Colin held up his hands. “Just leave me out of it.”

  I snorted. “I wouldn’t expect you to help me anyway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’re getting laid.”

  He nodded. “Solid point, you’re on your own.”

  “Some best friend you are.”

  “A best friend who’s getting laid on the regular by a goddess with a fascination for tugging my hair? Um, yeah, hard pass.”

  I groaned in red-hot envy and downed the rest of my beer, my brain going a million miles a minute.

  It was the only solution.

  Shutting her down, proving to the world and all those shitty reporters that they weren’t even a legit PI agency.

  One more wrong move.

  And she’d be forced to close her doors forever.

  Blaire and Colin would live happily ever after with his millions.

  And Isla?

  She’d be on the street wondering where the hell she went wrong.

  And I’d be there waiting with a smug-as-fuck smile on my face.

  I grinned as I paid my tab.

  Even though my insides churned.

  Tit for tat.

  She deserved everything she had coming to her.

  Chapter Five

  ISLA

  The universe was plotting against me. It started when I spilled coffee on my new white blouse, continued its downward spiral after I nearly got clipped by a motorcyclist and then dodged a bird who was clearly hell-bent on suicide, making it so I had to park across from my great-aunt’s retirement home and jog across the busy street in heels.

  A warm breeze picked up.

  I shivered.

  And paused.

  The damp stain chilled my skin as my teeth chattered for a few seconds. I scanned the parking lot. Something felt wrong, out of place, off.

  Foreboding washed over me. Why were there so many cars? I always visited on Tuesday afternoons and I’d never had trouble finding a spot before.

  The wind swirled and moaned around me again.

  I was being ridiculous.

  Paranoid.

  And I’d had maybe three hours of solid sleep last night—ever since Jessie
’s kiss I’d been consumed by the heat of his mouth until I woke up moaning like he was in my bed ready to pounce.

  It was unfortunate that I hated him.

  And that he hated me just as much, possibly more.

  My heels clicked against the concrete as I quickly made my way into the LA Hills Hollywood Retirement Plaza. It was an upscale retirement community for older movie stars and industry professionals.

  It had four pools.

  A freaking Starbucks.

  And basically anything an old rich person could possibly want except for cabana boys—apparently that’s where they drew the line no matter how many times my aunt had her friends sign a petition.

  They almost won last year.

  She went as far as putting up posters of Efron to Hemsworth around the retirement community and inviting Bieber to do a benefit concert to help their efforts. Shockingly, Justin said no.

  I couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t be appealing to perform half-naked in front of eighty-year-olds. Where was the kid’s sense of adventure?

  I grinned and waved at Henry, the sixty-year-old volunteer receptionist who asked me out for coffee and the early-bird special every weekend.

  Sometimes I took him up on it.

  Best dates I’ve ever had were with Henry.

  And we always split the bill.

  He blew me a kiss, his blue eyes twinkled as he nodded his head to the main activity center.

  Frowning, I weaved my way down the hall toward all the chatter and laughter. My Aunt Betsy, or Goo-Poh (what I called her in front of others as a term of respect), wasn’t in her usual blue chair, which was odd considering that chair wielded more power than the United Nations.

  Wars were won in that chair.

  Wars about what activities would be participated in, who was allowed to date who, and which dessert would be served on Funday Friday—she was essentially the queen bee of a very old hive, and it fit her, kept her busy. She’d been a director in another life—bossing people around, me included, was her life’s calling.

  “Isla!” I heard her call my name but didn’t see anything except a crowd of people tittering over something in the middle of the room.

  That sense of dread intensified until it was hard to breathe.

  And then the crowd parted.

  Betsy grinned up at me with a wide smile then wrapped her arm around a man I could only describe as a perfect representation of Satan.

  “Jessie,” I said through a clenched-teeth smile. “You’re . . . here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world . . . pumpkin.”

  I flinched.

  He noticed.

  I hated him.

  So. Much.

  My stomach fluttered as he leaned in and kissed my aunt’s cheek, and then set her on her feet. “We were just having a nice chat.”

  “A nice . . . chat,” I finished. “About what? World hunger? Why the hell are you following me everywhere?”

  Silence ensued.

  I crossed my arms as my face flushed.

  “Pumpkin, I thought we talked about this.” Jessie smirked. “You said every Tuesday you visit your favorite aunt, and you promised this Tuesday I could come with you.”

  “Right.”

  Jessie shrugged. “I could have misheard you, you do mumble in your sleep.”

  About five women clutched their chests while the elderly men elbowed each other.

  Fantastic.

  Goo-Poh gave me such a happy smile I didn’t have the heart to tell her that not only was I not sleeping with Jessie, but I had actually scheduled time to plot his murder later and was planning on doing it drunk off my ass.

  “Goo-Poh.” I pulled her in for a tight hug. “Let me just . . . talk to my pumpkin really quick and I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, honey”—Goo-Poh gave him a once-over and visibly trembled—“you take your sweet time.” She winked at Jessie and returned to her giant blue chair while her little friends gathered around her like her niece had just snagged the Sexiest Man Alive.

  I scowled.

  So he’d been on the cover of People twice.

  But that was at least three years ago.

  Maybe two.

  I hardly noticed.

  I tugged at my blouse while Jessie’s eyes raked over me. “You.”

  “Me.” His smile was back.

  Hold it the hell together, Isla!

  I grabbed his hand and jerked him toward the far side of the room. I had a feeling that it wasn’t far enough—I knew the majority of our audience was hard of hearing, but they could read lips. I had proof when Goo-Poh’s gaze focused on my mouth as I was getting ready to verbally spar with the best of them.

  I learned of her skill the hard way when I lost my virginity to Aiden my senior year of high school and excitedly told my friend at one of the football games, not noticing my aunt’s eagle eyes. My Goo-Poh threatened to tell my parents, and I told her I’d take care of her until her death if she kept it to herself.

  She thought I was joking.

  And yet here I am, upholding my end of the bargain, spending every Tuesday with her like a champ. Though if I was being honest, I did it more for myself than for her silence, and I think she knew it too. What started as a bribe became a relationship that developed into so much more than I could have possibly imagined. She was all I had left once my parents died—and she was my favorite person in the world, but I had no way of knowing that at eighteen when I made the deal.

  As she got older, whatever filters she had kept disappearing, making it impossible for me to discuss certain topics without blushing, and now I could only imagine what was going through her head.

  “Look.” I shoved Jessie into the hall. “This is going too far. You can’t involve my family in whatever crazy plan you have in that thick skull of yours.”

  “Why not?” He frowned and crossed his arms. “It makes so much sense for me to infiltrate your world, your privacy, the way you did mine—how’s it feel? To know someone’s always watching, someone’s always waiting for you to . . .” He hesitated and then leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Break.”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s not the same. This isn’t your job, which only makes it creepy.”

  “You mean a charity visit from an ex-NFL star who loves helping others . . . is creepy? Even when it’s to his girlfriend’s aunt? How could anyone possibly take that wrong?”

  And just like that, Henry approached with tears in his eyes and held out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Beckett, we’re all so excited to have you as the host of our annual Christmas ball this year, and the donations to the local elementary school we sponsor every year, well—” He wiped an actual tear from his eye. “Some of our most treasured people here don’t have family, it was absolutely inspired that you would help pair some of the orphaned foster kids with those who want someone to take care of this Christmas, after all, it’s never too early.”

  He walked off.

  I smacked Jessie so hard in the chest my palm stung.

  Then did it again.

  “What the hell!”

  “Orphaned. Children!” I hissed. “You’re the actual spawn of Satan, aren’t you?”

  “Because I help children?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “NO.” I jabbed him in the chest with my finger. “This, this isn’t over, it’s just begun, if you think I’m going to let you stomp all over the life I’ve worked my ass off to build, you’ve got another think coming. Stay away from me. I’m warning you.”

  “Or what?” Jessie grinned at me like I wasn’t even a small threat. “You’re gonna tell your aunt on me? Admit it, you’re stuck.”

  And it suddenly hit me.

  I was stuck.

  And alone.

  I couldn’t tell Goo-Poh the truth.

  And Blaire would ask too many questions.

  Which left me with nobody but . . . Jessie.

  He didn’t say it. Maybe he didn’t have to.

  It st
ung more than it should.

  Even though I’d readjusted my armor in order to battle harder, the arrow had just enough time to slide through and prick me in the heart.

  I stared at his chest as tears filled my eyes.

  I begged them not to spill over.

  “Isla—” Jessie reached for me.

  I jerked away, wiped my cheeks, and then stomped back over to my aunt. Only a true bastard would remind me of the things lost.

  And all the things he had to gain by removing everything I’d built, and leaving me with nothing.

  Chapter Six

  ISLA

  I abandoned Jessie to the elderly.

  I felt zero guilt about it, especially when Henry started asking questions about Jessie’s football career. Soon he had at least ten elderly gentlemen telling him about the good old days while I snuck my aunt out and escaped to her room.

  “Well.” She placed a bowl of japchae in front of me and scooted it across the table. “That’s the most excitement we’ve had since Carol got drunk and took off her top during the Lord’s Prayer.”

  I groaned and grabbed a fork, but it was quickly replaced with chopsticks.

  Always the chopsticks with my aunt.

  I was only half Chinese.

  It wouldn’t matter if I was one percent Chinese, I still had no choice when I was in her domain.

  The last time I tried using a fork she threatened to stab me with it.

  I also wasn’t allowed to use her given name in private, it was a respect thing, so there I was with my Goo-Poh, great-aunt, wondering if she would try to stab me again just so she could brag to her friends that’s how she kept me in line.

  Sometimes I wondered if Chinese foreplay was just a lot of yelling and waving of sharp objects.

  With a sigh, I dug into the noodles even though I wasn’t hungry.

  I knew the expectation was to eat every last bite, otherwise I’d suffer an hour-long one-sided conversation where I’d be forced to look at family albums and defend my lack of eating to my dead ancestors.

  I was always too thin when I didn’t eat.

  Too fat when I did.

  I never won.

  I gritted my teeth.