She looks like I’ve punched her in the gut. Her face is red, and her lips are working as if she’s struggling over which words to let out. Not me. I’m not working that brain-to-mouth filter another minute.

  If I’m going to lose everything, I might as well end it my way. I’m not going to beg Josh not to take my house. I’m not going to load my problems on to the MC. And I’m sure the fuck not going to drown my sorrows in a woman I can’t have. Don’t have.

  I’m done playing Mr. Mom to a roommate and her pack of animals. I’m done pretending that Tim hasn’t hurt me. That losing everything is a chance to start over. I’m done with secrets. With hiding. With everything.

  “You wanna eat,” I snap, “Food’s on the table.”

  I storm out of her bedroom and down the stairs, load up a plate, and slam my ass into my chair. I open another beer and shovel the chicken into my mouth. It’s probably delicious, but I don’t taste anything. It’s like sawdust in my mouth. I need to focus on every movement.

  Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

  Eating without her sucks, plain and simple. We eat dinner together almost every night, but tonight, staring at the empty chair across from me, Lia’s bare toes missing from their usual perch on the empty chair between us, I want to shatter every plate in the house. But I keep my cool, eat my food, and listen.

  I hear the water running upstairs, and I know Lia’s in the shower. I avoid thinking about her naked, showering the anger and rage away.

  We almost never fight. We don’t have a system in place. No cue so I know when she’s over it. When she’s ready to talk again. I don’t know how to let her know if I’m over it, because right now, I don’t know if I ever will be.

  I choke down the last of my dinner and make up a plate for Lia. I cover it with plastic wrap because I’m fucking depressed but I’m not a complete asshole. I leave her plate covered on the table and head to the couch. I kick off my boots and prop my feet on the coffee table.

  I get a text from Dog and read it over. He’s got some ideas about that electrical problem I’m having at the shop and wants to talk through it in the morning. Asks me to meet him at the compound a few minutes early so we can discuss it.

  I think about messaging Tiny. I type up a whole thing, letting him know I’ll probably be needing a room, but I stop myself and toss my phone across the room.

  Fuck it.

  Fuck it all.

  I’ll ask Tiny for help when I’m dead and gone. He knows I asked about a room at the compound, but I’m still a prospect.

  There’s no point.

  He’ll take care of Lia when this shit hits the fan. I won’t be surprised if I am out of luck on the MC front anyway. They are looking to bring in cash, not a deadbeat who lost his home and is barely making the rent on his shop.

  Maybe I can live in the shop for a while. I could probably get a shower installed. I don’t need a full kitchen. I’ll fucking find a way.

  I’m doom-planning for my future when Lia comes down the stairs. She’s still in her robe. The dogs follow her every move, their collars jingling in a way that’s annoying as ever but familiar.

  I half expect her to make some smartass remark and try to bring things back to center between us, but she walks right past me and into the kitchen. She shuffles around in there and walks past me with a green smoothie from the fridge in her hands. She takes it back upstairs without a word.

  Fuck.

  This is gonna get harder before it’s over. I’m sure of that much.

  About an hour later, there’s a knock on the door. I’m barely watching whatever it is I put on television. The endless cop dramas and true crime shit they play on cable have me exhausted. I’ve got enough true crime in my own front yard.

  I get up and yank open the door to the one man I never expected to see darken my door again.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.

  Arrow flexes his arms over his chest and nods at me. “Hey, man,” he says.

  “Maybe it was only in my head,” I say, “but I could have sworn I told you to get the fuck out of my life. At least until you fuckin’ ruin it.” I go to slam the door in his face when a voice behind me stops me cold.

  “Josh, be right there,” Lia calls down the stairs so we both can hear her.

  Josh looks apologetic as the reality hits me.

  “Of fucking course,” I say. “You here to fuck around with Lia? It’s not enough that you want my house, you want my girl too?”

  “Hey, man.” Arrow holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not here for your house, and I thought she was definitely not your girl.”

  I make a mock-bell noise with my mouth and clap sarcastically. “Give the man his prize.” I try to slam the door, but a cloud of perfume comes over me and I turn.

  Lia’s behind me, and she’s got a hand on my arm. “Josh, why don’t you wait in your truck?” she says sweetly. “I’m going to let the dogs out back for a minute. I’ll be right out.”

  Josh presses his lips at me, as if saying anything is going to earn him a punch in the gut—which it might. He turns and heads back to his truck to wait.

  When he leaves, I slam the front door with every ounce of strength I have. It clatters on the frame, sending Lia jumping and the dogs cowering under the furniture.

  “Are you fucking dating him? Is that what you were so excited to tell me all morning? Are you planning to save my house by fucking the guy who wants it? I should have guessed. It’s poetic, isn’t it?”

  I know I’m spewing poison at Lia. But fuck, this is next-level betrayal.

  Her face falls, but her outfit tells me everything. Booty shorts. Low-cut top with billowy sleeves, the one with the shoulder cut-outs. Curled hair, the high-heeled boots. She looks gorgeous, and she looks like this for him.

  For my fucking nemesis.

  “Now you want to talk to me about Josh?” she asks. Her voice is low, quiet.

  “Nope. Ain’t nothing to talk about. You do you. Do him, if you want. Maybe he’s got a house he won’t lose.”

  I don’t care how my insult lands.

  I don’t give a fuck.

  I’m angry, but more than anything, I’m fucking gutted that the first hint that this roommates with benefits situation isn’t exactly what she wants it to be, she’s literally off on the arm of another guy. It’s her right. I have no claim on her.

  This is actually for the best.

  I storm up the stairs. “Have a great fucking time,” I tell her. “And don’t worry about me. Feel free to bring your new boy toy back here to fuck. I won’t be here.”

  She doesn’t say a word, but she lets her dogs out in the yard to do their business.

  When I hear the kitchen door close, the girls run up the stairs, and Lia shuts them in her bedroom. Her heels clack down the stairs, and I hear the front door close.

  I’m not proud of the way I treated her.

  I’m not proud of the fact that I want to smash Arrow’s face into pieces with my bare hands. The thought of Lia with him, out with him…it brings me to a place I didn’t think I could go.

  I look out my bedroom window and see her climb into Josh’s truck. She leans over from the passenger seat and gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaning back and fastening her seat belt.

  He turns on the truck and backs out of my driveway. And then, they’re gone.

  I wasn’t fucking kidding.

  I won’t be here when they get home.

  I know exactly where I need to go.

  9

  Lia

  Josh is driving with one hand on the steering wheel. He looks over at me with a concerned smile. “That was worse than awkward. You all right?”

  I shrug.

  I’m not okay. I mean, how could I be? I’m doing this for Leo. Because of Leo. If his house and life weren’t on the line here, would I really be all dolled up and going to a dive bar with another guy? Even if that guy looks like Josh does.

  It’s a fake date, I think, but it’s only fake emotionally. We need to look, act, and smell the part. And fuck, does he. I close my eyes and rest my head against the headrest, savoring his scent.

  He’s unlike Leo in so many ways—alluring, tall, heavily inked. He radiates swagger and confidence, where Leo is all earnest and sweet.

  To be honest, I don’t want to decide which I find sexier, because Josh has his hand on my arm, and the sparks that shoot along my nerve endings make it really hard to think.

  “Lia?”

  Josh must have been talking to me as I zoned out.

  “Sorry.” I twist my lips. “That was bad. Leo, back there. Are you okay?”

  Josh chuckles. “Absolutely. You want to talk about a game plan for tonight?”

  “You know what Juliette looks like? You’ll obviously know Tim if we see him.”

  “Seeing Tim out is unlikely,” Josh says. “But, yeah, I’ll know Juliette.”

  “We hang out. We act like two kids out for the evening. We have a few drinks, and we keep our eyes and ears open.”

  I realize as I’m saying it that I don’t have a clue how to play detective or whatever it is we’re doing. Part of me thinks this was a stupid idea, but I don’t know how stupid it really is if Josh is going along with it.

  “Do you think there’s a chance we’ll find them?”

  It’s the obvious question, really.

  Are Leo and I screwed?

  Is this really going to happen?

  “Lia,” he says. His voice is rich, soothing. It calms me after the raw anger in Leo’s. “If I’ve learned one thing in this business, it’s that people will always—and I mean always—surprise you.”

  No shit.

  “Sometimes in a good way?” I ask. “I don’t think I could stay in a line of work where I was constantly dealing with the worst in people. The disappointment.”

  Josh nods. He flicks on his blinker and angles his truck into the parking lot.

  “Sometimes in a good way, yeah. But more often than not, they surprise me. Quick story before we go in.”

  I settle back against the cushy seat. I love stories, and if this one has a happy ending, I’m here for it. I need something to shove away the pain of Leo’s words today.

  “Lay it on me,” I say.

  He turns a little in his seat to face me. He’s cut the engine so all I can see are the contours of his gorgeous jaw as he talks, illuminated by the neon light of the Checkers sign.

  “When I first got into this business, I had a client—an old man. He’d done a lot of crime in his time, okay? This guy was no innocent. But when he was arrested, he was caring for his daughter’s kids because—of course—his kid was locked up.”

  “The mom?” I’m stunned.

  He nods. “Yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s not funny, but for a while, I had those people on the family plan. I bailed out the mom, she spent about eighteen months out until sentencing, and later, I handled her old man’s case.”

  Damn. That makes me think of Tim and how desperate times and a lack of opportunity could devastate an entire family. I wonder if Leo has ever been tempted, would ever go down the wrong path.

  “She had three kids, meaning the old man was a grandpa. When he got pinched, it was for something petty—to be honest, I don’t even remember what it was. It wasn’t violent. I think he stole copper wiring off building sites or some shit. But because of his long rap sheet, he got himself some decent time when he finally got sentenced.”

  I watch Josh talk while I try to push the worries about Leo and his future out of my mind. He wouldn’t end up on the wrong side of the law.

  Not my Leo.

  Although, after tonight, I honestly don’t know if I know Leo the way I thought I did.

  “Turns out, this guy had been working hard to turn his life around while his daughter was locked up. He finished an associate degree and applied to a four-year university. He didn’t have the cash to go, but he got accepted.”

  “Before he went to prison?” I ask.

  He nods. “Acceptance letter in April, I think, and by June, he’s in lockup.”

  I frown.

  It’s like Leo.

  Just when things looked up with Morris buying his building, Tim put his house in jeopardy. I hardly have the stomach to hear the end of this story. I know it’s not going to happen to Leo the way it happened to this guy, but it’s hard to separate the two stories, the two men.

  The downfalls.

  “His oldest grandkid, this girl named Sara, she starts a letter-writing campaign. She’s able to get her grandfather accepted into a special program. He graduates with a bachelor’s degree while he’s in lockup. Straight A’s.”

  “Then what? Is he still in prison? Was the degree his happy ending?”

  Josh shakes his head. “It gets better, babe.”

  A shiver snakes up my spine when he calls me that.

  “I had lunch with the man a couple weeks ago. He’s getting a master’s degree, and the two oldest grandkids finished their educations. One is a cosmetologist with a shop in Key West. The middle kid has a great job in HVAC, and the youngest is taking after his gramps and is going to college.”

  “What about their mom?” I ask.

  He lifts a brow. I can barely see the gesture in the dark, but I can hear his disappointed sigh. “Their mom won’t be getting out any time soon. Hers is a pretty tragic story. But her kids and her dad—they found their way. Her dad’s like sixty-four now. He has a nice little condo, a job. You know the stats about offenders who earn degrees?”

  I shake my head.

  “Guess how many convicted felons who go on for graduate degrees end up reoffending and going back to prison?”

  “Half?” I guess, optimistic that the number is big.

  Josh leans forward so I can see his smile in the small beam of the streetlight overhead. “Almost none,” he tells me. “There are some, but the statistical likelihood that a felon who earns an advanced degree will reoffend is almost zero.”

  “Seriously?” I’m stunned by that. I’ve never so much as shoplifted a lip gloss. I can’t imagine a life where you’re driven to commit crimes is easy to leave.

  Josh nods and unlocks the car. “Anything is possible,” he says. “Sometimes people let you down hard—” he gives me a meaningful look “—but a lot of the time, people will do the right thing.”

  I nod and grab my purse.

  Checkers looks full tonight. I’m wearing my sexiest lingerie under this clubbing outfit, and I can’t say I feel good about it. I feel conflicted about the fact that I would, on any level, dress like there was a chance Josh would see me in sweet underthings—or maybe in less—at all. Especially when, just this morning, I woke up in Leo’s arms.

  But that’s ancient history. No—a mistake.

  Leo’s made it clear that if he remembers we slept together, like all night, it doesn’t mean anything to him. We’re roommates, for only a short while longer. And that’s it.

  That’s how it has to be, so there’s no harm in me feeling sexy around Josh. Even for Josh.

  He comes around and opens the door for me, and I take his hand as he helps me out. His palm is dry and smooth—not rough at all. And so, so strong. I fantasize again how those hugs, and how muscular palms would feel spreading my thighs wide. But I shove those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand.

  Tonight, I may want Josh, but I’m here with another target in my sights.

  One that’s a lot less dangerous than Josh Arrow.

  The club is exactly the way I remember. It’s dark, and the conversations are muted, low.

  “Is your girlfriend going to try to knife me in the bathroom?” I ask, thinking back to the chick who’d been all over Josh’s lap the other night.

  Josh squeezes my hand and motions for me to go in front of him toward the bar. “She’s not exactly a girlfriend. She’s not even a friend.”

  “A client?” I ask. “You never stop networking, do you?” I nudge him in the ribs to let him know I’m teasing, and he rewards the gesture with a hand against the small of my back.

  The touch of his hand literally sears me through the thin cotton of my slouchy top. My knees weaken, and I have to practically cross my legs to stop the flood of arousal. We have chemistry, and it’s electric. But my heart doesn’t want to follow where my body is demanding to go.

  My nipples start to ache, that sharp, needy throb that begs for a mouth or a pair of strong hands to squeeze my tender skin. I don’t know if Josh feels it too, because he pulls his hand slightly away and nods at me.

  “Beer?” he asks, sliding past some rough-looking bearded dudes to get to the bartender.

  I nod. He could have offered me motor oil at that point, and I would have thankfully sipped it, grateful to have something to focus on instead of him.

  He orders two beers, and we stand at a small two-top table. There are no chairs in the place, so we stand facing each other. Josh scans the crowd while I pretend to entertain him with small talk.

  Minutes feel like hours, and I don’t think we’re accomplishing anything. The woman in the black jeans who was all over Josh last night walks past and gives a casual “Hey” to him and a not-at-all-discreet glare to me.

  I start giggling, and Josh drains the last of his beer, and takes mine and finishes it off.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

  He takes my hand and pulls me into the middle of the bar. The music is blaring something that we really can’t dance to, but Josh is laying it on thick. He calls me baby and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me and resting his hands right above my ass.

  “This okay?” he asks in a whisper. “We’re looking a little too interested in the crowd.”

  “This is your excuse for wanting me to look interested in you?” I give him a sultry smile, but I lean into his hold. “All part of the pretense?” I ask.

  “All part of the pretense,” he echoes. “Purely for show. There’s no way any of this is real.”