Page 82 of Iris' Lying Eyes
A fancy town car turns down the dead-end street, pulling me from my whimsical thoughts. I assume my caustic persona with a shaky exhale. The irony is not lost on me. All I ever wanted was to be strong enough to pave my own way, yet here I am, still performing to the demands of a man. Who that man is doesn’t really matter.
The car stops before me. The door opens, and the senator looks around before deeming it secluded enough, I assume, and steps from the vehicle. As usual, he’s wearing a fancy suit, this one a dove gray with a navy tie. His dark hair is swept back from his face, shorter than I remember.
He eyes me for a moment before saying, “Well?”
This is the part I’m dreading. I’ve told myself over and over that this had to be done. It doesn’t make the painful lump I’ve been carrying in my belly go away, though.
Am I doing the right thing? Absolutely not. It’s not up to me to decide how this ends, but I’m doing it anyway. There’s a special place in hell reserved for me. I’m quite sure of it.
“We’re willing to follow through where John couldn’t. But there’s a price,” I say.
He taps his finger against his arm, crossed over his chest, staring at me steadily. Unfortunately for him, I’ve had a lifetime to learn to hide my emotions, so he’s not going to get much out of me. Maybe this is why I was chosen, after all.
“What’s the price?” he grunts, and I hide my frown. I shouldn’t be surprised, but fuck, would it hurt to care about the life of your fucking daughter?
I can’t contain my disgust as I say, “Whatever happens, you use your power to keep the feds from his door. You’re partners now.”
“You want me to work with a thug?” His distaste makes me sigh, and waving my arm, I mutter, “You’re already working with thugs. Now it’s just the head thug.”
Shaking his head, he turns and paces away. “I’m not working for anyone.”
“You are now,” I say, and he casts me a bitter glare.
I tap my toe while he proceeds to pace back and forth, back and forth before me. His guard stands beyond the hood of the car, surveying the scene. Since there isn’t much going on, I assume it’s us he’s watching, but I can’t tell behind the aviators covering his eyes.
“Well?” I ask when my patience wears thin.
He sighs, scrubbing his face. “Fine.”
“It’s that important to you?” I ask in disbelief. “You’d betray everyone? Why?”
“You don’t understand,” he says, his tone downright condescending.
“Make me,” I growl, and he raises his brows. “Make me understand.”
Grabbing the handle to the door, he swings it open and says, “She’s not mine. And if anyone finds out my wife is a lying whore, my campaign is over.”
He slams the door, blocking any further comment, and once his guard is inside, the car pulls away. Although the information is interesting, it doesn’t change anything. The fucker is trading away the girl’s life for the favor from a United States senator, and I have a hand in doing it.
∞∞∞
Iris: It’s done. I’m out
Useless Fucker: You’re not out, not until I say
Iris: Are you kidding me? I’m done with this shit. You promised
Useless Fucker: And you’ll get yours when I’m ready. Patience
Dropping the phone, I contemplate tossing it in the river, but that would only serve to frustrate me more. Instead, I settle on a few choice curses before I sit on the curb and stare through the trees.
I’ve only been here a few times. It’s not a preferred spot but gets the job done when John needs somewhere close to hide someone.
Is she still here?
I can’t help my curiosity, and I step around the tree, approaching the shack. The door leans against the jamb, askew after years of abuse from the weather. Inside, nothing but an antique bed and small table remain. The walls are so wind-worn and sad, they bow into the space, and the floor creaks as I kneel and sweep my hand over the dust.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting when I pull back the door hidden in the floor, but I exhale to find it empty. Someone found her, the Blackstone girl.