Page 14 of Web of Lies

Kyle

My eyes are glued to the red dot flashing on the screen of my navigation system mounted to my motorcycle.

I'm not proud of what I'm doing, but Riley is sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, investigating people who wouldn't think twice about making her disappear.

Trouble is practically waiting around the corner, ready to attack and snatch her away from me.

So yeah, I slipped a tracker into her wallet, allowing me to keep an eye on her, and if anything suspicious happens, I can get to her.

After another turn, I pull into the street where the red dot has been for about ten minutes and find her standing in front of a coffee shop.

She's holding her iced coffee, the straw trapped between her lips, and sipping her drink while her eyes are glued to her phone.

Every now and then, she looks up and scans the crowd as if searching for something—or rather, someone.

Across the street, I weave my bike through the busy traffic and pull into a small, shaded parking lot with a clear view of her. My boots hit the pavement as I kill the engine and kick down the stand, settling into a comfortable position.

My brows knit together in a frown. She's definitely waiting for someone, but she didn't mention she was going out today.

Then again, she doesn't have to tell me.

And honestly, it's probably better she doesn’t.

We agreed not to be exclusive, and for the first two months, everything was working out.

But by month three, there was one night when something inside me snapped.

Admittedly, I was in a rough spot because I wasn't taking my medication, and I was at an all-time low.

So, when she told me about a date, I might have followed them, which resulted in me paying the guy a visit after he spent the night at her place, and probably slept with her.

It was nothing dramatic. He stopped responding to her, and unless she finds a way to communicate with the dead, she won't hear from him ever again.

My brows shoot up the moment a familiar face rounds the corner, none other than Evelyn, my brother's fiancée and Riley's best friend.

She's wearing the same dress from the photo they sent me this morning during their cake tasting.

As soon as they spot each other, their faces light up.

My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth as I watch Evelyn pick up the pace, jogging toward Riley with a bright smile and pulling her into a hug.

I keep my eyes locked on their lively exchange as Evelyn loops her arm through Riley's and the two of them head down the street, disappearing around the corner into a bustling area with restaurants.

My attention drops back to the navigation system, tracking the small red dot as it continues its steady movement down the road.

With a low hum, I fire up the engine again and ease my bike back into traffic, keeping a safe distance behind them.

Eventually, the dot comes to a halt, and I glance up to see the two of them settling at an outdoor table of a crowded restaurant.

They're laughing, chatting, completely at ease, caught up in conversation with the server.

I grit my teeth and keep going, pulling into the parking lot. I kill the engine, drop the kickstand—helmet still on, visor down—and watch them through the blur of passing cars.

Then, out of nowhere, another motorcycle comes screeching to a halt right in front of me, blocking my view. My jaw clenches, and I'm ready to jump the son of a bitch for messing with me, already shifting in my seat, when the comms in my helmet crackle to life.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here?" Noah's voice comes from the speaker. Flat, clipped, and way too calm.

I exhale sharply through my nose at the realization that it is my brother and bite back the list of curses. "Wasting time until I was supposed to meet you," I say, with a sigh. All tension melting from my muscles.

He pauses for a moment. A static hum fills the silence as he turns his head toward the restaurant and then back to me. "Here, of all places?"

"Why?" I ask, acting surprised.

"Evelyn is sitting right there in that restaurant. It almost looks like you're stalking her."

"Maybe I'm just keeping tabs on my future sister-in-law to make sure she's serious about you."

"I can do that myself. Her birth control implant got GPS."

I pause. "You're sick." And I mean it. Sure, I slipped a tracker into Riley's wallet without her knowing, and perhaps what I'm doing is worse.

After all, Evelyn knows about the tracker in her implant.

But when I think back to what he did two years ago after meeting Evelyn, my actions seem tame in comparison.

He did the same thing I'm doing right now, only his motive was pure control.

Mine's different. I want to keep Riley safe.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

"I know," he says, not a hint of shame in his voice.

"Have you at least got a tracker on you too?" I ask.

"Of course."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Where?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"In my thigh."

"Oh?" I lean closer and slide my hand over his thigh, squeezing his muscles closer to his crotch than necessary, well aware that I won't feel much through his protective pants.

"Stop that," he curses, delivering a sharp kick to my knee protector. I throw my head back and laugh. "Instead of feeling me up, how about you tell me what you're really here for?"

"Relax. It's a coincidence. I just happened to spot Evelyn and got curious. That's it."

Noah hums, clearly unconvinced, as he turns to where Evelyn and Riley are sitting, sipping on their drinks and chatting.

"Or are you stalking Riley?" Noah's voice drips with smugness, and I don't need to see his face to know what his expression looks like: eyebrows raised in that condescending, know-it-all way he's perfected.

"That's the name of the girl she's with?" I ask, deadpan.

"Yes, you've met her before. Since when has your memory been this bad? I figured she was your type. Are you okay? You rarely forget the names of women."

"Let's say that when I met her, I had other things on my mind than getting someone into my bed."

"Well, there's a rare spark of truth in your words."

It's the truth after all. Last year, Noah's life was hanging by a thread, and if he had died, it would have been my fault.

At that time, my priority was to fill the role of a caretaker with Evelyn and ensure that he made it through.

Still, that didn't stop me from snatching Evelyn's phone when she wasn't looking and saving Riley's number.

Prop to me, I didn't reach out until I was back in New York, though.

Being in Evelyn's line of fire if Riley found my move creepy would not have been worth it.

But, lucky me, she wasn't creeped out. Turns out, she was impressed and more than willing to meet up and hook up.

"Then you won't have a problem getting out of here, will you?" Noah's voice is calm, but there's a note of suspicion in it.

"No," I say, stealing one last glance at Evelyn and Riley. "Let's go before Evelyn notices you."

"It's already too late," Noah says as he removes his phone from its mount and holds it out to me. On the screen is his chat with Evelyn, along with a message she sent a couple of seconds ago.

Dove: You two... what are you doing here?!

"Fuck," I bark out a laugh, twist the key, and the engine roars beneath me. "Let's go."

We're sitting in a quiet corner of the lounge. Dim light casts soft shadows across the leather couches. The air is thick with the smell of tobacco. In the background, the hum of jazz music, quiet conversation, and clinking glasses echoes. Moments like this with Noah are rare nowadays. It used to be our ritual: finish a job, clean up, and then sit together afterward over a drink, like nothing had happened. Sitting here now, it almost feels like slipping into an old habit I didn’t realize I missed.

I lower my cigarette from my lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke before taking a slow sip of my whiskey.

Across from me, Noah sits with a cigarette balanced between his lips, his attention fixed on his phone as he texts Evelyn to let her know we're already at the lounge.

After a moment, he sets it down, leans forward, removes his cigarette from his lips, and flicks a curl of dead ash into the ashtray on the table.

"Now, do you mind telling me where you found those documents you sent me?" Noah asks, his voice low but edged with suspicion. "The way they were highlighted makes this a lot more serious."

I take a slow drag from my cigarette and exhale through my nose. "It's not important where I got them." He narrows his eye at me. "What matters is, did you find anything? Traces, connections, something?"

He shakes his head once. "No."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, everything leads to dead ends. Exactly the way the Butcher wants it." He pauses and takes a sip of his drink. "I even made a few calls. Nothing. There's not a single crumb."

I hum in response, a sense of relief settling in my chest. That's good, because it means Riley is still far from actually finding the Butcher. The last thing I want is for her to get too close and end up in danger before I've come up with a plan to stop her or get her out in case she is found out.

"But wherever you found those documents. Whoever had them. They're doing a good job."

"Huh?" I glance up at him, cocking a brow. "What do you mean?"

He takes a drag from his cigarette and leans back. "They've got the right mindset," he says, "connecting the right dots. Following the right leads."

"So, you're saying they could actually find the Butcher?"