Page 4 of Filthy Little Lies

“No.” He drops the papers onto the countertop, jabbing his middle finger into them. “These are good.”

They’d be better if I’d had more time. Then maybe he wouldn’t be looking at me like he wants to skin me, or eat me, or do other things that would make me scream.

Seriously, my nighttime reading habits need to change.

“The diamonds? Yes, they’re beautiful. I’m sorry to part with them. In fact.” I push off the door, my hands already reaching out to snag the pouch. “I think I’d like to keep them. I don’t want to take a loan or sell them.”

As I reach for the black leather pouch, he snaps his hand around my wrist. Instinctively, I yank, but I’ll need the jaws of life if I’m going to get free of him without his help.

“I have questions.”

“Do you?” I try to smile innocently, like a lost, scared puppy, but all I can manage is a smirk. “I really do have to go, I’m meeting some people who will be upset if I’m late.”

While not completely a lie, it’s also not entirely true. The people waiting on me are probably just as angry as this man is.

Though he hides it better. He’s calm, collected. I would have thought quiet control would be preferable to loud rage, but I was wrong. Very wrong.

“Where did you get these papers?” He tugs on me until I’m standing in front of him. With his extra foot of height, I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.

Which is a mistake all of its own.

His eyes are a dark brown accented with light amber flecks. Like an angry werewolf glaring down at me. If they start glowing, I will faint.

Actually, if he keeps staring at me like this at all, I might not be able to stay upright.

“I told your employee, my grandmother⁠—”

“I know what you told him. But I’m asking now, and I want the truth. Where did you get the papers?”

“Is there something wrong with them? She’s had the diamonds in her family for decades.”

His jaw clicks. His nostrils flare. I’m exhausting him with my lies.

Good, maybe he’ll go lie down for a nap and let me slip away.

“That’s one.” He holds up a single finger. “Where did you get the certificates of authenticity and the grading reports?”

“I already told you.” I try to keep my voice firm, just like his, but he’s leaning closer to me, and cold electricity shoots down my spine.

I’ve really done it this time. I’ve gotten myself into situations before. But I’ve always been able to talk my way out of it or trade the problem for another, more easily managed one.

Like this one. Getting the money from this deal will pay off a worse problem. Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul is what my foster mother would have called it. She should know, she taught me everything she knew.

Except what to do when there’s six-foot-something mobster glaring down at you with your life literally in his grasp.

“That’s two. You’re going to keep lying to me?”

“I’m trying to tell you what you want to know, but you’re not listening. I got the diamonds from my grandmother. She died just a few weeks ago.” I pause, wishing I’d mastered the ability to cry on command, but I still haven’t, so I push on. “I need the money to pay for her funeral expenses and to pay off her car.”

The dark eyebrow over his left eye arches and he lifts his chin.

“Her car,” he states flatly. “And that’s three.”

“Yes, her car.” I nod, then it hits me. I’ve messed up the lie. “I mean no, yes, and no. I do need to pay off her car, but I also need to fix up the house so I can sell it.”

He’s not buying it. Or the diamonds from the raging storm that’s blown into his expression.

Cassie warned me if I wasn’t more careful, I’d find myself at death’s door. But to be fair, she’s been saying that since we were kids stuffed into a locked basement of our foster parent’s house. Plus she was talking about my attempt to shimmy through the broken window to freedom not trying to scam powerful people out of money.