Beneath These Lies (Beneath, #5)(68)

“You ever talk like that to me again, I will f*ckin’ kill you with my bare hands. I won’t waste a bullet on your sorry piece-of-shit brain because you’ve wasted too much already. You’re done with the girl. No need to explain. I’ll take care of that shit. And if you talk about my woman again, you’ll wish you were dead long before I get around to ending you.”

And I meant every single f*cking word of it. My hands weren’t clean. But in my world, the ends justified the means, and I got shit done. A few more steps, and I could walk out on this life.

I could already taste the sweetness of freedom on the other side. Not long now.

D-Rock gurgled against my hold, and I shook him hard.

“You get me?”

He nodded with jerking movements before I lowered him to his feet.

“Do not test me again. This is your last chance. Now, get the f*ck out of my sight.”

He fixed his shirt and glared at me. All his thoughts showed on his face, but he was smart enough not to open his mouth.

“I’m gone,” he spat, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the warehouse.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, Johnny. This place is pissing me off.”

“Sure thing, boss.”





THE PRESS OF THE MASK on my face brought me right back to earlier this week. Rix. The club. It was everything I could do not to shiver when I remembered the storage room.

Tonight’s purpose was much more mundane, but still worthy. My mother had helped organize a masquerade at the New Orleans Museum of Art to raise money for a new children’s art program that was to be offered to any city resident under the age of fourteen at no cost. A noble cause, and one I couldn’t turn down given my own passion for the arts, even if my mother hadn’t co-chaired the committee.

I thought of little girls like Trinity. When I’d first met her at twelve and she’d been assigned as the Little to my Big, she’d been quiet and shy. Pulling words from her had been like pulling teeth. But when I’d brought out art supplies on a whim, she’d blossomed. I wanted that for all the other kids out there who might not otherwise discover a talent and become the next George Rodrigue with his famous blue dogs.

Tying my mask a little tighter, I stared into the mirror and laughed at the irony of an event to raise money for children but didn’t include a single child. No, tonight NOMA was full of glittering dresses and expensively cut suits with deep pockets. A silent auction of certain donated pieces was being held to raise funds on top of the hefty price of a ticket.

I stepped out of the ladies’ room and began circling the ballroom, searching for my parents. I knew plenty of other people in attendance, although the masks hid the identities well enough that I wasn’t able to place many of them.

As was the norm in this town when you pulled on a mask, people felt free to dress more risqué, laugh louder, act bolder. I’d already been on the receiving end of a very handsy gentleman who’d apparently hit the open bar a bit too hard. Which wasn’t a terrible idea, I supposed.

I strode up to the shortest line. Tonight would go much faster with a drink in my hand. I might support the cause they were raising money for, but that didn’t mean I was endlessly entertained by the event. I’d rather be home, in my studio, waiting for a certain man to break into my house.

Rix had been MIA all afternoon and evening, and as much as I wanted to text and ask where he was and what he was doing, I hesitated. The only thing I was pretty certain of was that he would find his way into my bed tonight somehow.

A glass of red acquired, I circled the room, catching sight of my father. Even from here, it was obvious his eyes were on my mother as she gestured to one of the silent auction pieces, no doubt giving excellent reasons why the last bid was dreadfully underpriced and how someone could still grab it for a steal. She was an expert at that.

I made my way to my father.

“You’re looking dashing in your mask this evening.”

His smile was quick, but softened when he realized it was me. “Darling daughter. You look beautiful.”

My emerald-green dress was long and fitted, with a slit running up the back just past my knees. Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to walk in the thing. The V-cut of the front wasn’t exactly plunging, but rather the daring edge of flattering. I’d bought it months ago, and when I’d seen the event on my calendar for tonight, it had seemed like the perfect choice.

The looks I’d drawn since I’d walked in the door had me reconsidering whether I’d pushed the daring edge further than necessary, but I didn’t think so. It was the masks allowing more emboldened stares than one would normally encounter at a charity event. And apparently my father didn’t think it looked scandalous.

“You look handsome yourself.”

He lifted his highball glass to clink against the rim of my wineglass. “Your old man can still pull off black tie when necessary.” He winked at me and sipped.

It was no secret that my father hated wearing a tux. Bow ties were his nemesis, and no amount of black-tie events would ever make him see differently. In his position, especially with all of my mother’s causes, he’d been to a ridiculous number.

I glanced at my mother, still pushing the bid on a gorgeous abstract skyline of the city. “She’s in her element.”

“Of course. She’s emptying pockets for the good of the children of this city. You know there’s nothing she loves better than repurposing people’s funds.”