Beautiful Liar
Dante
Iwatched as Rocco forced Evelyn into the chair and secured her wrists to the armrests with plastic ties. She didn’t struggle, didn’t complain, didn’t even look at him. Her black look was just for me.
I kept my expression neutral as I studied her.
Her hair was shot through with fiery red highlights.
It glowed copper in the light from the naked bulb above the chair.
Her skin was creamy and unblemished, with gently sloping cheekbones and a petite, slightly turned-up nose.
Then there was that mouth. Jesus. Wide, with full, soft lips.
What it could do to me…
I blinked against an unwanted image of those lips wrapped around my cock.
The only sign she was anxious was the rise and fall of her breasts beneath that fitted sweater. My cock twitched, and I growled in annoyance.
She couldn’t wear fucking jeans and a hoodie like any normal person. No, this red-haired vixen had to choose skin-tight leggings and a soft, pink sweater that showed every goddamn curve of her beautiful breasts.
My captive looked totally out of place. But if she was a snitch or she’d sold us out, then she was just as bad as the other unsavory characters we’d brought here.
With her wide eyes and mussed-up hair, she looked more like the Shakespearian femme fatale in her Millais painting than a rat. Still, appearances could be deceiving.
I trusted no one. The fact she had a beautiful face and a body made for sin was of no consequence. Just because I wanted to fuck her, didn’t mean I trusted her.
Men had died. Millions of dollars had been stolen. I had to know if it was because of her.
I nodded to Rocco. “I’ll take it from here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure, boss?”
I knew he’d been looking forward to this one. But Rocco was a thug. A blunt instrument that inflicted pain on people, most of whom deserved it. If anyone was going to break the beautiful and feisty Evelyn Cruz, it was going to be me.
Mine would be the only hands that touched that lily-white skin.
I waited for him to leave and then stepped forward into the dim pool of light.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” Her eyes flashed emerald lasers at me.
I spread my hands. “That’s what we’re doing.”
“Kind of one-sided, wouldn’t you say?”
She nodded at the zip-ties around her wrists. They were just tight enough to leave angry red welts, but not enough to break the skin.
“Rocco can be a little overenthusiastic.”
Understatement of the year. He was an absolute brute. But he was a brute who could follow orders, and that was rare.
“Well, now that you have me here, can you take them off?”
“No, I can’t. And I’m asking the questions here. You’re going to be a good girl and answer them. You got that?”
She held my gaze but nodded.
I’d seen grown men quaking in their boots at this point, but the tragic Ophelia was glaring at me like I’d pulled her from the water in the painting above her bed. I suppose I had, in a way.
But she had no idea what was coming.
“I assume you’ve heard about my family?” I began, standing in front of her so she had to crane her neck to look up at me. It was an interrogation technique I’d learned in Helmand.
“Only what I googled,” she said.
I gave a snort. “And what did you learn?”
“That your family has ties to the mob. That you’re part of an organized crime syndicate.” I smirked. She couldn’t have sounded more disapproving if she’d been my middle-grade schoolteacher.
I wanted to see her lose control again, to see the blush in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. Except that was unlikely to happen. Not now we were here.
I circled her, my booted footsteps echoing on the bare concrete. “Ten days ago, six of my men were killed in an ambush. They were at the docks, unloading a shipment of… cargo, when they were gunned down. The tragic loss of life aside, our merchandise was stolen—millions in lost revenue.”
Those vivid green eyes watched me, taking in every word.
“That’s terrible,” she said when I paused, and I got the feeling she really meant it. “But what has it got to do with me?”
“You were one of the few people who knew the time and date of our shipment.”
She gawked. “Excuse me?”
I stopped pacing. “You heard me.”
She blinked, then shook her head. “How on earth would I know the details of your shipment?”
“Because it was your shipment too.”
It took a second, but then her eyes widened. “The container? The one that was broken into?”
“Paintings, I believe.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Mateo Reyes was the artist. The canvasses were for the exhibition we held. The one you came to.”
“I know.”
She gasped. “You were smuggling drugs in my container. It was drugs, right? It must have been, coming from Colombia.”
I nodded. “Yes, but you already knew that.”
She frowned at me. “How would I know that?”
“Because someone told you about it, then offered to pay you for the shipping details.”
“Pay me? Why would they pay me?”
When I didn’t reply, she stared up at me.
“Was that why our container was broken into? Because someone was trying to steal your… merchandise?”
“You catch on quick,” I said dryly. Too quick.
“But why?” She shook her head. “Why transport drugs in my container?”
“I think the why is obvious,” I said impatiently. “We needed to get them into the country, and you provided the perfect mechanism.”
“I didn’t agree to this,” she whispered.
“Did you give the details to Malakov?” I asked, stepping forward.
She blinked. “Sergei?”
The way she said his name irritated me. I leaned forward so my face was inches from hers. “Yes, Sergei.”
“Of course not. I didn’t even know you were using my container to ship drugs.”
“Are you sure about that? You don’t want to revise your statement?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because if you’re lying to me, there will be consequences.”
“Are you threatening me?” I could see the pulse flickering in her throat.
I didn’t bother answering.
“Who did you tell about the shipment?” I asked again. I needed to know who killed my men and disrupted the family business, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get that information.
“I didn’t tell anybody,” she repeated. “And it was my shipment. You hijacked it.”
She had guts, I’d give her that much.
Time to bring out the irrefutable evidence. Proof that she was lying.
“You received a large payment from an unknown Russian source into your personal bank account a week before the shipment was due.”
She stared at me but didn’t deny it. “How do you—?”
“Yes or no?”
She scowled and jutted her chin out. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
I tensed. So it was going to be like that, then.
For a moment there, she almost had me. She made one beautiful liar.
I gripped her arms, pressing my fingers into her soft skin hard enough to leave bruises. Her eyes widened.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Evelyn. It won’t work.”
“I’m not—”
“I know you received a transfer from one of Malakov’s shell companies ahead of the ambush. There was no corresponding sale.” Vincent had passed us the details.
She swallowed, but I didn’t relax my hold. “That’s not—no. You have it all wrong.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re hurting me.” There was fear in her eyes now. I watched it grow.
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I am,” she spat. “That’s a reserve, not a sale, and it shouldn’t have—” She let out a strangled sob.
I relaxed my grip, but only slightly.
“How did you get access to my personal accounts anyway?” she asked.
“That’s not important.”
“Was that what you were doing in my office? Looking through my bank statements?”
If they were there, I hadn’t found them. Still, I wasn’t about to blow Vincent’s cover, yet. We still needed him in play.
“Why would a reserve payment be in your personal account?”
“Buyers often do that. It’s a normal way to reserve a piece before it’s released.”
I wasn’t convinced. “It was a large retainer.”
“It was an expensive painting.”
I scrutinized her, looking for cracks in her armor, but she just stared defiantly back.
Guilty people fidgeted. They sweated, babbled, tried to cut deals. Evelyn just sat there, her eyes boring into me like I was the one on trial.
“I hope for your sake you’re not lying,” I warned, releasing my grip.
She let out a relieved sigh but her attention dropped to my gun, tucked into the back of my jeans.
“What would you do if I was? Shoot me?”
I didn’t answer, which was response enough.
“Then you should probably be sure before you pull the trigger,” she said quietly.
I moved closer. Too close.
Leaning over, I gripped the back of her chair, my breath brushing her ear. “You’d better not be fucking lying to me.”
She turned her head just enough that her cheek grazed my jaw. “I told you already. I’m not. Why don’t you call Mikhail and ask him? He’ll verify the retainer.”
I got a whiff of her perfume. Warm. Intoxicating. It hit me like a drug, and I wanted to bury my face in her neck and inhale deep. Angry at myself, I took a step back.
“That’s not an option,” I snapped.
“Why not?”
I leaned in close. “He’s not going to admit to paying you off, is he?”
If only it was that easy. She was right. Mikhail Orlov would be able to confirm what she was saying, but he would also pass that information on to Malakov, who would then know that we were on to him.
“He didn’t pay me off.” She heaved a frustrated sigh.
I began to pace again. It helped me think. There had to be another way to find out if what she was saying was the truth. We just had to find it. Until then, I had to keep her somewhere secure. Somewhere off the grid, where she couldn’t contact anyone.
“If you’re not going to call him, what are you going to do with me?” Her voice wavered. Looked like I’d finally succeeded in rattling Miss Prim and Proper.
I smiled thinly. “You’re coming with me until I can figure out whether you’re lying to me or not.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Where to? Another deserted warehouse?”
“A safehouse,” I corrected. “You’ll be comfortable there.”
For now.
She inhaled through her nose, steeling herself. She was scared but trying not to show it. I saw it in the set of her jaw, the hardening of her gaze, and I admired her for it.
“People will notice when I don’t go to work on Monday,” she pointed out.
“That’s why you’re going to call your assistant and say you’re sick. You’re taking the week off to recover.”
Her eyes found mine and I didn’t miss the flicker of fear. “Just the week?”
I didn’t reply. There was no easy answer. Instead, I tapped a message into my phone. Less than a minute later, the door opened and Rocco returned.
I nodded at Evelyn. “Take her to the cabin.”
He didn’t question my order, just gave a curt nod, cut the ties around her wrists, and pulled her up off the chair.
She rose smoothly, head held high. Then she fixed me with a look that said we weren’t done yet, not by a long shot. I felt a frisson of anticipation curl in my gut. If this wasn’t so fucking serious, it might have been fun.