All the Pretty Lies (Pretty #1)(36)
Author: M. Leighton

“Got it covered, man,” Sig says, taking my hand in a firm grip. It’s not one of those too-firm grips that says he feels threatened or that he’s trying to be all alpha and shit. I get a lot of that. Evidently I intimidate a lot of people. I’d say most of my family does. We’re used to a certain amount of respect and getting what we want. I guess a lifetime of that can make us all come across as pretty confident and commanding. It’s who we are. Have been since birth.

“So, do you know much about what’s going on? Sloane doesn’t know much. Should I be concerned about her coming and going every night? Because I’m happy to make sure she gets home all right.”

I don’t want to seem too curious, but I at least want to give it a shot before I call Reese, see what I can find out.

“Nah, nothing for you to worry about. We’ll make sure she gets home on the nights she’s working out here.”

Damn.

I nod once and slap the window sill. “Sounds good, man. Let me know if I can help.”

“Will do, brother,” Sig answers with a nod of his own. He seems laid back and genuine. I like him right off the bat. Not like the older one, Steven. Even if it weren’t for the reasons I have to dislike him, I’d still think he’s an ass**le.

I walk Sloane to her car and help her inside, shutting the door snugly behind her. I wait until the engine is started and her lights are on before I head back across the street. To lock up. And to call Reese.

From my pocket, the phone rings as I secure the front doors and shut off the outdoor neon sign. I take it out as I’m cutting off the lobby lights. LEIF is displayed on the lighted screen.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“’Sup, old man,” my younger brother, Leif, says.

“Not much, little boy,” I reply, emphasizing the misnomer. Although Leif is a couple of inches taller than me and several pounds heavier, he was the runt growing up and he absolutely hates any reference to it. So, when he ribs me about my age, I rib him right back. It usually stops him in his tracks.

I smile when I hear his harrumph.

“Asshole,” he mutters before he continues. “Thought I’d check in. How goes the hunt?”

“Actually, I finally made some real progress.” I never expected those words to taste so bitter. I think immediately of the threats to Sloane’s brother and whether or not I had anything to do with bringing them to her front door. Hopefully not literally.

“You did? Great job, man! Maybe we’ll see some justice in our lifetime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I say absently.

For some reason, even though the pieces of the puzzle fit, they just don’t feel right. I tell myself that it has nothing to do with Sloane, but deep down, I have to doubt myself. At least a little bit. I can’t let her cloud my judgment. I’ve come too far. It means too much.

But still, I can’t disregard it either.

“You don’t sound very happy about it, brother,” Leif says in his laid back way. He’s the easy-going one of the family.

“I am. I…I just want to be sure.”

“Then be sure.”

“I will, dude. I just need some time.”

“That’s one thing you’ve got a shitload of.”

“Not necessarily,” I say vaguely.

“You talking ‘bout Reese?”

I sigh. “Yeah. You know how decisive he is. When I told him I thought I had him, he called the dogs as the words were leaving my mouth.”

“Then you’ll just have to outsmart the dogs.”

I smile. Even though Leif’s casual, fun-loving attitude bugs that hell out of me these days, I still love the simple way he has about him. Leif isn’t the type to complicate matters. He’s straight forward and smooth, just goes with the flow. He sees things as black and white. And for someone like me, someone who has lived inside the thousands of shades of gray, I envy that about him.

“I guess I will.”

“Bow-wow, dude,” he offers in his surfer way. “Bow-wow.”

I hear a click. I’m shaking my head as I dial Reese’s number. When his voicemail picks up, I realize he sounds very much like the bark that Leif was teasing about. It occurs to me that switching gears from Leif to Reese is the emotional equivalent of going from a hot tub to a pool of ice. I leave him word to call me when he gets in.

At least I won’t be getting frostbite tonight, I think as I ponder how aggravated he’s going to be when I tell him I need him to rein in the dogs until I investigate a little more. Something just doesn’t feel right.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – Sloane

Hemi stands just outside the door, watching me climb into my car, like he always does nowadays. Lights flick on from across the street, from the vehicle of one of my brothers, like they always do nowadays.

I sigh as I shift into gear, waving to Hemi as I pull away from the curb. The lights from the vehicle across the street fall in behind me to follow. Just like they always do nowadays. It’s one of my brothers. Or my father. Always. Every night, one of them escorts me home. It’s the new norm. And I hate it. But they won’t stop until whatever the hell is going on stops. And that’s the kicker—no one will tell me what’s happening, only that there’s a threat. And that it’s not to be taken lightly.

I want to call bullshit, but I know better. It must be serious for them to be acting this way. Of course, the obtuse, suspicious, sheltered side of me has wondered a time or two if this could possibly be their way of thwarting my efforts to escape their net. But I reject an idea like that immediately. That would be so deceptive, I just can’t imagine it. If anything, my family is blunt to a fault. They tell me like it is. If they wanted to keep tabs on me, or Hemi, or anybody else, they’d probably just tell me, outright. But they’re all sticking to the same story, Dad included, which means it must be true.

I’m glad to say that their ridiculous safety measures haven’t seemed to dampen the growing attraction between me and Hemi. I was afraid he’d lose interest once he realized that we wouldn’t be doing the nasty any time soon. But, if anything, I think it is just heightening our awareness and raising the anticipation, which is frustrating but in a good way.

What began as just a few nights a week has progressed to me being at the shop every night, for a few hours at least. And every night, at some point, there’s always an opportunity for Hemi to show me something new, something breathtakingly new.