Page 94 of Iris' Lying Eyes
From the hall, a cultured, sweet-as-pie voice says, “My mother? You’re either really good liars, or you were snowed.”
Liberty steps into the living room. The backdrop of light around her creates a halo that accentuates her features. Glossy auburn hair spills around her shoulders in perfect waves. Her green eyes glitter like jewels as she purses her lush lips. Shit, even her willowy form and generous breasts are perfect. In another life, she could’ve been a supermodel.
With a grimace, I look away. I don’t need to see more. She’s like a fucking angel. This is why she was going to be sold. Men covet her for her appearance without understanding the soul underneath.
She’s not a bad person, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not the siren everyone wants her to be. Frankly, she gets on my fucking nerves with her peculiarities and demands.
Save me from rich bitches.
“What? No,” Jig says, shaking his head.
She studies him with an arched brow before turning to B. “You look like him. Did he send you?”
Lorraine steps closer to Liberty, and my lip curls. I get why she’s here and why she stayed, but it was fucking cruel to continue the charade. She knows how I feel about her, which is why she’s careful around me. Not that she couldn’t kick my ass if she wanted to.
Pinning her hard blue gaze on me, she says, “Iris, what is the meaning of this?”
Shrugging, I ignore the sweat slicking my back and Bastion, who’s glaring at me fiercely. “I don’t know, beyond what they’ve said.”
“And yet you brought them here,” Liberty says.
Gritting my teeth, I say, “Yes, Libby. Sorry, did I ruin teatime?”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Cyn growls.
“Bastion,” I say, swinging toward him. “This is Liberty. If you’d bothered to share why we’re here, I could’ve told you it’s a lie. Whatever. I did my part. I’m out.”
“No,” Lorraine says, grabbing my arm. “You know the rules.”
Bastion steps forward, but we both ignore him as I sneer, “Fuck the rules.”
She drops her hand, shooting Bastion a warning glare before saying, “You know the rules.”
“What are the fucking rules?” Jig demands.
“You can’t leave,” she says, meeting his troubled gaze.
Cyn shifts and opens his mouth before a mean-ass motherfucker holding a huge gun steps up behind him and presses the barrel against his head.
“No one leaves,” he barks.
Bastion meets my eyes, his black stare enough to curdle milk, and I raise my chin.
I warned him. I warned them all.
∞∞∞
“What the fuck, Iris?” Jig says. We’ve been separated into makeshift cells crammed into the spare bedroom with our, well, their cell phones confiscated. The fact that they exist should be puckering their fine asses, but behind Jig’s dazed expression, I can’t tell if he understands the significance.
With my eyes closed, I roll my head and say, “I told you. You wouldn’t listen.”
“I missed the part where you said we’d be ambushed by fuckers with Uzi’s,” Cyn barks.
“This is what you wanted all along. Why?” Bastion says.
“Right. Trapped in hell with you three was my plan. You found me out.” I wave my middle finger in the air, but I guess my humor is lost on them.
“Who were those guys?” Jig asks.