Beneath This Mask (Beneath, #1)(46)

I gave him a dirty look in response to his very Con-like, blunt statement, but my fear started to dissipate. If Con had to pull strings with military intelligence, who’d presumably used sophisticated facial recognition software to identify me, then it was possible I wasn’t completely screwed.

I pulled the sheet tighter against me, still trying to process everything. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“We’ve all got our secrets. Yours is just a hell of a lot bigger than most. I can respect the fact that you’re not looking to be found. That you wanted to leave it all behind. I’m also damn sure you weren’t in on the scheme dear old dad pulled.”

My heart thumped against my ribs at his statement. “And how do you know that?”

“You wouldn’t accept a raise after we’d slept together because it would make you feel like a whore. That’s not the kind of character I’d expect from a girl who helped her dad steal $125 billion.”

“Maybe…” I started to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. I had to force them out. “Maybe I didn’t want that raise because I already had plenty of money from … you know.”

“You look like you’re about to puke just saying that. Unless you straight up tell me you did it, there’s no way in hell I’ll believe it.”

I waited for him to ask. To make me tell him conclusively. But he didn’t.

“You’re not going to ask me?”

“Told you already. Don’t need to.”

“I don’t deserve friends like you.” Tears stung my eyes.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Baby, you deserve a hell of a lot better than you give yourself credit for. And that includes good friends.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I shifted and the pinch in my side reminded me of my injury. I pulled the sheet away again to study my first knife wound. Lovely. Hopefully it would be my one and only. “How did you … fix me?”

He peered down. “Superglue. It does a good job under most circumstances. This isn’t the first knife wound I’ve dealt with. And it wasn’t all that deep. I was glad you were out when I cleaned it, though. Anyway, you’ll be fine.” He skimmed a finger across my throbbing cheek. “Gonna have a little shiner, though. I’d love to meet the guy who did this. They’d never find his body.”

I looked up at Con’s words. A cold, determined mask had settled over his features. Most of the time I forgot that Con had served in the Army. That undoubtedly he’d killed people. Like me, it could be hard to see past his ink.

“Any other injuries I didn’t see last night, Lee?” His jaw was set, as if he was bracing himself for what I might say.

I started to shake my head but stopped when it felt like my brain might fall out. “He didn’t … touch me. Well, other than to knife me. Asshole.” I looked down at my arms and the finger shaped bruises marking them. I held them out for Con to see. “I guess you can add more bruises and a hangover to the list, but that’s all.”

“Meant to ask you about that.” Con gently tilted my chin up, as if he wanted to make sure he had my attention. “What the f*ck were you doing getting hammered, by yourself, and then wandering off into trouble? You’re smarter than that. Where the f*ck was Duchesne while this was going down?”

I pulled my chin out of his grip and looked down at the sheet.

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. I had no idea where Simon had gone after I’d walked away and hadn’t looked back. I still couldn’t believe I’d done that. It hadn’t been my finest moment.

“What do you mean? He left you there? I’m gonna kick his—”

I laid a hand on Con’s arm. “No. It’s not his fault. He wasn’t there. I guess … well, I guess I broke up with him last night.” The last words came out in a single breath.

Con pulled back. “You left here all sunshine and rainbows, high on your new tat, and you’re telling me that between then and getting knifed, you guess you broke up with the guy you’re head over ass in love with?”

I fingered the edge of the sheet. “Yeah.”

“Jesus, Lee. Only you. Action-packed night.”

“Yeah,” I said again.

Con rolled off the bed and headed toward the doorway. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen for the hangover and everything else that ails you. You can hang here as long as you want, and you officially have the day off. I’ve gotta head down and open the shop in a few. I’ve got an appointment at two.”

I scanned the room but didn’t see Con’s clock. “What time is it?”


He looked down at his watch. “One-thirty.”

I bolted upright and my stomach roiled in time with my pounding head. “Shit. I’m supposed to be at work.”

“I called Yve. She’s cool.”

I moved my head slower when I looked over at him. “What did you tell her?”

“That you got drunk last night, needed a place to crash, and were going to be too hung over to make it in. She didn’t ask me too many questions, but I’m sure she’ll have plenty for you later.”

I grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Called Harriet, too. She’s keeping an eye on Huck.”