Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths (Ugly Truths #1)

5. Archer

5

Archer

M y chest heaves, body shaking with barely controlled rage as I stare directly into the captivating eyes of the woman who has become the object of my obsession.

This is the first time since that night weeks ago I’ve been this close while she was awake. I take advantage of this opportunity, peering deep into those emerald depths as I try to commit the exact color and shape to memory.

They are a bright shade of green with little flecks of gold and brown surrounding her pupils. I watch as the black dot expands—from fear or arousal, I’m not sure—until there is only the smallest sliver of green left.

Caught up in her spell, my hand reaches out on its own to stroke the apple of her cheek. At her sharp intake of breath, her lips parting slightly, inappropriate images flood my mind, until I am drowning in thoughts of her kneeling, mouth open and willing for me to use in unholy ways .

Desire courses through me. The adrenaline from the fight and her proximity after weeks of watching her from a distance, makes my blood run hot.

The sound of her soft whimper pulls me back to the present, and my eyes look to where her arm wraps protectively around her ribcage. Thoughts of violence fill my head, effectively cooling any lingering desire, and I seriously consider just killing that bastard right here and now.

My fingers twitch, begging me to reach for the gun at my hip, but I curl them into tight fists. The look of fear and pain in her eyes stays my hand.

My Little Rose has been through enough trauma for one night. I need her to trust me, and I’m quite sure watching me blow a hole through a man’s skull will not win me any favors.

I unclench my jaw, bending at the knees so I’m close to her eye level. I know my size can be intimidating and I want to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“He hurt you.” The little lines between her brows scrunch as she looks at me in confusion.

“You’re holding your ribs.” I point to where she still holds herself and she looks down wincing from the movement.

“Oh…yeah. I—I fell and when I didn’t get up fast enough, he kicked me.”

I roll my head on my neck, using every ounce of willpower I have, not to reach for the gun and put a bullet straight through his fat gut.

But no…not yet. That will have to wait. I vow to br eak every single one of his ribs until he begs for death for daring to touch something that does not belong to him.

Quieting my murderous thoughts for now, I force myself to calm down.

“Here, let me help you.” I stand, reaching my arm out to help her up.

She places her tiny hand in mine, and I swear, I can feel a tiny current of electricity spark between us where our palms touch. Her eyes widen slightly, letting me know she felt it too.

“Thank you,” she says, her sweet voice coming out soft and breathy.

I nod once, before letting go, instantly missing the feeling of her soft skin on mine.

That’s not a good sign. I shouldn’t be this affected by just holding her hand. It’s one thing to be curious about her, but it could never be more than that.

For this to work, I will have to keep my distance. Allowing myself to get too close will only serve to put her further in danger.

If anyone from my past life were to show up here and find her with me, it would put a target on her back. My involvement in her life is last thing she needs, but despite all that I can’t make myself walk away.

I put a little distance between us, needing a minute to clear my head of her intoxicating cherry almond scent. I look down to watch as a drop of blood rolls down the bare skin of her leg from a deep scrape on her knee .

My body trembles with barely restrained anger as I follow the path of that crimson drip all the way down to her ankle.

“What—?” she starts, following my gaze. “Oh…” Realization sinks in, and she looks around as if searching for something to use to wipe it away.

I reach in my pocket pulling out a square handkerchief.

She reaches out to take it from me but hesitates when I don’t immediately hand it over. Instead, I drop to my knee, not caring that I’m ruining my most expensive suit.

“Here. Please, let me,” I say, waiting for her nod, before running the soft silk up her slender leg, dabbing lightly at the cuts on her knees. I bask in the way her body trembles under my simple touch, and I can’t help but wonder how responsive she would be if I were to touch her in not so innocent ways.

“Thanks again, uh…”

“Archer,” I say.

“Thanks again, Archer,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Maggie,” she offers, and I pretend to not already know that. I stand, taking her proffered hand.

“You're welcome, Maggie.”

“Look…I own that club over there,” I tell her, pointing just a little down the street to an unassuming brick building, “Why don’t you come with me, and you can use my bathroom to get cleaned up?” I offer.

Port is a private club I purchased with Jayce, shortly after he tracked me down to the little shithole, I was wasting away in. Once it became clear he wasn’t going to go away—despite my many attempts to get rid of him—I decided if we were both going to remain here instead of returning home to Massachusetts then we needed something to occupy our time and bring in a little money.

We found this small bar for sale down by the river, turned it into an upscale lounge and have been running it together ever since. Not exactly what I envisioned for myself, but it pays the bills, and it’s something I enjoy well enough.

She studies me warily, and I hold my hands up in front of me.

“Look I swear I’m not trying anything. I just figured you might want somewhere private to wash up. That’s all.”

She looks down at herself, her nose wrinkling as she takes in her disheveled appearance.

“Oh God.” I hear her groan under her breath, obviously just noticing the remnants of pink vomit on her yellow dress.

“What about him? Shouldn’t we call the cops?” she asks, looking over at the piece of shit still knocked out cold.

I have no intention of giving him over to the police, but she doesn’t need to know that. I do, however, need to get him out of here soon before someone gets too nosey, and realizes he’s not just another drunk who had one too many.

The faster I can get her taken care of, the better.

“Yes. Of course. I can call them from inside. ”

“But…what if he gets away?” she asks, worry in her tone.

“I can assure you he won’t be waking up anytime soon,” I tell her, knowing it’s pure luck I didn’t already kill the guy with how hard I slammed his head into that wall. I would say he’d be lucky if he wakes at all, but with what I have planned for him, he will certainly wish the blow did kill him.

She glances over at him one more time, biting down on the corner of her lip before turning back to me.

“Okay,” she says, following close behind me.

We enter the low-lit bar, and I guide her between the glass tables in the dining area, up the stairs past the bar that runs along the back wall, before leading her down the narrow hallway to my office.

Once I show her to the restroom and make sure she is safely inside, I go in search of Jayce, finding him behind the bar doing what my brother does best: flirting. With his blue eyes and his rugged good looks, Jayce could be drowning in pussy. And from the outside you would think he was but even though he is a massive flirt, Jayce is actually pretty particular about who he chooses to take home.

Tonight, it’s a very pretty blonde who, from the looks of it could be one of the lucky ones, because he genuinely appears interested. Too bad I am about to ruin any chances of that happening.

I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do, but when I think about Maggie, and that piece of shit who hurt her, that thought goes away .

The blonde gives me a death glare as I interrupt their conversation by dragging Jayce away. I give him an abbreviated version on what happened and what I need him to do, unsure how much time I have before Maggie comes back out of the bathroom.

“Seriously…” Jayce admonishes me. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“I promise, I will explain it all later. Just—please. Do this for me.”

“Fine,” he huffs out. “But you’ll owe me this time. That girl was a fucking gymnast. You don’t even want to know all the things I wanted to do to her tonight. The positions I planned to twist her in...”

He walks off, still grumbling, and I shudder. He’s right. I absolutely do not want to think about what crazy shit my little brother gets up to. I accidentally walked in on him one time and just once was enough for me.

Maggie still hasn’t come out, so I go in search for her, finding her standing inside my office, just coming from the bathroom.

Her deep red hair that was loose around her shoulders has now been pulled up into one of those messy buns on the top of her head. Her face is scrubbed clean, making it easier for me to see the constellation of freckles that dot her cheeks.

My favorite is a cluster of three dots right at the corner of her mouth and I have this insane urge to trace the pattern with my tongue. Christ, man! Get a hold of yourself.

She wears a smile, but it doesn’t reach all the way to her red rimmed eyes, and I can tell she is just trying to put on a brave face.

My protective instincts are screaming at me to go to her, to wrap her up in my arms and never let her go, but I know I can’t. So…I don’t. Instead, I just continue to stand there until the silence drags on so long, she starts to squirm.

“Um…is everything ok?” she asks, her soft voice cutting through the tension.

“Were you able to get ahold of the police? Do they need to talk to me? You know—like make me give a statement or something? I mean that’s what they do in the movies right? You know—Miss can you come down to the station? We need you to give a formal statement,” she says in what I can only presume to be a terrible impression of a movie cop.

It is cute as hell, and I should laugh or smile, anything to put her at ease, but I don’t. I know I’m being an asshole right now for making her uncomfortable, and I hate myself for it. But my mood has taken a turn, and I find myself irrationally angry.

Angry at the universe, at God or whatever higher being it was who put this woman in my path to torment me, to show me all the things I can never have.

But most of all, I am angry with myself, knowing that deep down, I have no one to blame for my current predicament but me.

Clearing my throat, I finally speak, “No. I took care of everything.” I watch as her shoulders droop and the creases around her eyes soften .

“Good. So…I’m good to just—go, then,” she says, standing there expectantly. Her face falls slightly when I only nod once.

“Okay,” she says before she turns and walks back out through my office door.

I should just let her go. Let this end here. Return to lurking in the shadows, watching over her from a distance. It would be better that way. Safer.

But before I even realize what I’m doing, my feet are moving against my will.

I follow her, pushing my way through the bodies that separate us, catching up to her just as she is about to slip through the front exit.

I stop her with a gentle grip on her arm and cringe inwardly when she flinches. I curse myself for not thinking how my touch might affect her so soon after what she went through.

She looks back, eyes wide and fearful, until she realizes it’s me and her body physically relaxes.

There’s a sudden pain in my chest behind my ribs and I rub at it with the palm of my hand.

“Hey,” she says, turning around to face me fully. “Did you need something?”

“No.”

“Okay…” she says, confused—and rightfully so. Christ, I am screwing this all up. I have obviously been alone too long if I can’t even offer a simple ride home to a woman. She goes to leave again.

“Wait, please. Let me drive you home,” I offer.

She considers me carefully, staring at me so long, I fear she’s going to refuse, finally seeing me for what I truly am.

But in the end, she agrees and allows me to lead her out into the darkened night, completely unaware that she may have escaped one monster tonight, only to walk straight into the arms of another.