Page 27 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

This has gone from bad to worse. Not only did my anger take control of my tongue, but Mick was a pushover compared to this guy. It’s like flirting with a lump of stone.

“Are you going to try to convert me too?”

He glances at me over the top of his coffee cup. “No.”

My eyebrows hike as I repeat his answer.

“No? Why not?”

“You’re not ready for the truth.”

“How do you know?”

He stretches out his hand, eyes fixed on the pale groove where his wedding ring used to be—the one he’s been hiding with makeup. His jaw tightens. Then, just as quickly, he drops his hand and shifts gears without warning.

“You should take better care of your weapon.”

I scrunch my nose up at him, forgetting I’m trying to win him over. “What?”

He flexes his hand before answering me.

“You haven’t fired it since you took it to a range three years ago.”

“How would you kno—”

I slam my mouth shut before I give away any more than I already have.

I have no interest in talking any more than I have, so I resolve not to complain about the awkward angle my body is in and stare straight ahead, waiting for the female member of Hightower to arrive.

Out of habit, I add up the amount of money in my various accounts. Usually, it soothes me. Each one was opened under a different name, in a different state, tied to a different story I spun. I stayed in luxury hotels, wore designer clothes, ate five-star meals—all on someone else’s dime. But now, thanks to Mick, those accounts have names and faces. All willing, sure, but all chumps. I told them what they wanted to hear, played whatever role got the job done.

A thump on the door jars me out of my reflection and draws my focus to the door.

“Open up, Luke. It’s humid, and I need food.”

Luke? Not Carl? Why the name change?

He mutters under his breath, but he opens the door, and we both assess the woman who steps inside. I eye her as Mona has taught me to whenever another woman is present.

Don’t think you can be friends with other girls, . If she’s pretty, she’s your competition. If she’s ugly, you can manipulate her into doing things for you.

Remember. Always take care of yourself. No one else will do it.

My guard stays up as I examine her, trying to decide whether she’s a possible ally.

She’s petite and pretty—dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones—but she carries herself with too much confidence to give me hope I can manipulate her.

Adena looks me over, and I hold her steely gaze. She doesn’t blink. Whatever her story is, she is not someone who is likely to risk herself on my account.

Her eyes move back to the guy, and I catch the tiniest of inhales and a widening of her eyes as she does.

“You handcuffed her?”

He shakes his head as he rises to his feet.

“Our aquatic friend.”

“Well, get them off her. I need to talk to her.”

Small mercy, he goes in search of Mick, leaving me alone with the tiny woman. She spares me a single glance then goes into the kitchen.

“You got food, right?”

I nod, not sure what else to say to her.

She’s obviously ravenous because the second she locates the bag of baked goods, she grabs two pastries, starts eating them standing in the kitchen while gawking at me, and has just about demolished one before Carl slash Luke returns with the key.

He shakes his head at her as he places the tiny keys on the countertop.

“There are plates.”

She shrugs and finishes the last bite of the first pastry before reaching for a coffee mug and pouring herself a cup.

“No time for manners. I’ve got to be out of here in an hour.”

With a subtle disapproving look, Luke refills his coffee and departs without another word.

As she slurps her coffee, my eyes stay on the keys. My arms are starting to ache, and watching her eat is making me wish I’d eaten one of the bagels too.

Thankfully, she finishes quickly, dusts her hands off, and picks up the keys. As she approaches, she narrows her eyes into a half squint.

“Keep still. You move suddenly, I’ll assume you’re attacking me, got it?”

I smile as sweetly as I can.

“I understand.”

She pushes the key into the lock and twists, and the cuffs slide off, catching my wrist bone and making my eyes water. I rub my arm as she jerks her thumb at the bedroom door.

“So we can talk in private,” she says.

Since she’s hardly the type to wan.

“girl talk,”

I’m not surprised when she elaborates.

“I want to see your passport and any papers you have.”

“Why?”

She smiles faintly, almost as if my company doesn’t unsettle her.

“I want to see how good they are.”

I’m not in a position to deny her, so I shrug and trail into the bedroom.

“And put the ugly clothes I got you back on,” she says.

I whirl around, my hands sliding to my hips.

“Why would you do that to me?”

She jabs a finger an inch toward my partially exposed breasts.

“Exhibits A and B.”

My exasperation mounting, I throw my hands in the air.

“Fine. Not like I’m getting anywhere with him anyway.”

She snorts.

“That’s not what I heard, but glad to hear he’s got a line he won’t cross. Get changed, but don’t drag your heels. And bring me your IDs.”

“Yes, ma’am,”

I grumble.

Wow. This woman could have been a drill sergeant.

To save my energy, and to not waste any more breath, I relent and change back into the hideous clothes that I now know she’s responsible for purchasing. With more than a little hesitation, I remove my passport from my bag and exit the bathroom, ready to part with it.

In my absence, she’s grabbed an apple and a can of soda from the kitchen. She casts both aside as she rips the passport out of my hands.

I sit on the edge of the bed. I’d been positive she was going to take my passport from me. What I didn’t expect was for her to pull lots of gizmos out of the bag she dropped inside the door. Even more perplexing is when she pulls out a magnifying glass and hovers over the serial number at the bottom of the passport.

Slowly, a smile forms on her face, her posture relaxes, and she seems to be relieved.

“It’s good. Not as good as I can make. But not bad.”

“You’re a forger?”

These people get weirder and weirder.

“Only for Hightower. And only under certain circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

She ignores me, too busy looking at my passport. Then she says.

“Let me guess—Irina in South Beach made this for you?”

Mutely, I nod, stunned.

“She still exploiting illegal immigrants?”

This time the words tumble out of my mouth.

“How could you know that?”

She shrugs.

“It’s what I do. And Delilah helps me keep track of anyone who I might need, just in case.”

Delilah. Right.

“What is Hightower?”

“We’re the people here to give you an opportunity.”

“So you’re here to save me too?”

She cracks open the soda and sinks onto the bed.

“I’m here because Mick isn’t a member of Hightower, and Caleb has concerns.”

She examines her apple and rubs a blemish from its skin.

“Not that I mind. I finally got to fly in the jet.”

“You have a jet? Just how big is this Hightower thing?”

Amusement flashes across her face.

“It’s growing all the time. But the jet is a loaner.”

There’s obviously more to this story than she’s telling me, but that’s not my primary concern.

“You can’t keep me here indefinitely.”

She bites into her apple.

“No, but we can keep you out of trouble.”

“And what about Mick? Why is he here, since he obviously doesn’t want to be?”

She smirks at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really. He’s been an arrogant jerk the entire time.”

Her eyes twinkle with amusement before she barks a laugh.

“Even when he was kissing you?”

Does everyone know about that.

“Forget it. I don’t know why I’m even bothering. I’m the bad guy here no matter what I do or say. Everything I say has to be a lie.”

Her amusement dissolves rapidly.

“I’m not going to apologize to you. You are a criminal. You lie and cheat, and we’d be morons to trust you.”

I fold my arms across my chest.

“Right. Got it.”

She frowns like the effort costs her.

“Silas sent me because we have more in common than you think.”

I snort.

“Highly doubt that.”

She chomps into her apple like it’s chewing on her patience.

“I didn’t exactly come from the nuns-and-kittens crowd. Before Hightower, I spent years with people who’d make your worst decisions look like charity work.”

I arch a brow.

“What, you dated politicians?”

I expect her to smirk, maybe roll her eyes. Instead, she looks away. Her shoulders drop, not slumping—just... resigned.

“Close enough,”

she mutters.

“Let’s just say I woke up before the damage was permanent.”

“So you’re here to save my soul,”

I say dryly.

“No.”

She takes another bite, chews, swallows.

“I’m here because you’re still breathing, and that means you’ve got time to figure out where you’re going.”

I tilt my head.

“Vague. Comforting. Almost biblical.”

She shrugs.

“Take it how you want.”

“So what—Hightower is some kind of outreach program?”

She huffs.

“I don’t do programs. And I don’t do babysitting. But Silas says you’re worth the trouble, so I’m here.”

“And I’m just supposed to... trust you?”

She finally meets my eyes.

“No. You’re supposed to trust that if we wanted you dead or dragged off, it’d be done already.”

I blink.

“Wow. That’s... reassuring.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

She leans back on her hands, watching me.

“But I’m not your enemy. And neither is Hightower. Think of us as an ally.”

But I know better than to hope for allies. I don’t get allies—I get leverage and consequences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,”

I say with a shrug, casual enough to pass for agreement, just enough to make her stop looking at me like she’s trying to see inside my head.