Page 99 of The Lies We Tell

I see a small wince of pain as she shrugs. “Who the hell knows. They’re men and they’re stupid.”

Rae grins next to me. “Never a truer word spoken. There’s a reason I’m still single. Let me go help Ike so he doesn’t get suspicious. I’m assuming you’re going to tell him about this.”

“Eventually.” It’s the best I can offer.

Iris waits a moment. “Saint’s real name is Ike? I thought it was Phillip. Oh, shit. The undercover thing.”

“It’s not Ike, but it’s probably wise I don’t say what it is.”

When she smiles, it changes the shape of her bruised face. “I hope we get to meet in person, Rose. I hope we get to be friends.”

For a moment, I allow myself to daydream. “I’m gonna hold on to that. It’s going to get rough again before then. But I promise, I will hold on to it.”

Iris makes a move to get out of bed. “Shit, that hurts,” she groans.

“Stop. Where are you going? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You sound like Spark,” she says with grim humor.

“Spark.” She tries to shout his name into the hallway.

I wince as she does. “You should get back in bed,” I encourage.

“Fuck me, little chick.” I hear the boots and the voice before I see him. “You need me to tie you to that bed?”

“Not while I’m still on the phone with Rose.”

I bite down on my lip at the comment and can’t hear the words Spark murmurs as he tugs Iris into a hug, which I hope for her sake is gentle. The world goes into a blur as the phone gets squashed between them.

“We’re going to save Saint,” she says. “And you’re going to help.”

35

SAINT

Istraighten my shoulders and crick my neck from left to right, kind of like a boxer when he steps into the ring. But as I catch sight of my reflection, I see the clothes are utterly different. I’m in a gray suit and a white shirt.

Briar smiled when she saw me. Said something about billionaire role-play when I get back home. Or secretary and boss. But she also said she preferred me in jeans.

And I agree.

Because this feels like a costume. I run my finger beneath the collar of the shirt to create a little more room to breathe.

We drove back to Briar’s apartment from Rae’s yesterday. It was hard to say goodbye to her. But I promised her when this is all wrapped up, and after Briar and I have taken a long and well-deserved vacation, we’ll go see her again.

I pull out my phone and text Briar.

You doing okay?

It’s the first time we’ve been back to her apartment. When we got there last night, she felt uneasy, but a couple of glasses of wine helped her relax.

Plus, she’s armed. Took her to a gun range while in Detroit to get her comfortable with the gun I left her with. She’s not a crack shot by any means. But she knows to point it at someone’s body rather than try to aim for their legs to slow them down. That shit never works. The body is a bigger mass. Easier to hit the target.

I’m doing fine. You worry about you. Good luck today.There’s a four-leaf clover emoji. Then a second line of text.Wait. Should the clover be code for the Irishman who shall not be named.

I’m sure Cillian wouldn’t appreciate it.

After today’s meeting with my bosses to explain my actions, I’m going to call Cillian and see what plan he’s come up with to help save my ass.