Page 10 of Bitter Lies

“Last I heard, he was working for Silas Doyle.”

I know my jaw drops to the floor when I hear the name Doyle. The Doyles are Irish mobsters, and I don’t want to accept the man I met last night works for them.

Is that what Marty meant by red flags popping up when he ran Aiden’s name?

Shaking her head, Jen clearly isn’t convinced. “There’s no way. He always hated the Doyles and everything they stood for. You’re telling me a man who hunted down criminal organizations came home and joined one because life fucked with him? Not buying it.”

I think hard about the man I met last night. He has some rough edges, but most of my guards have those. I’ve seen people do some crazy shit all because they felt life fucked them up the arse. They wanted revenge. I can’t say that’s what happened here, but I won’t dismiss it until I’ve determined the truth for myself. One thing I’ve learned over the years in a world built on smoke and mirrors is that things aren’t always as they seem.

“My best advice is to trust your gut, Jen.” I pick up the tall cup of coffee in front of me and remove the lid. Steam rises from it, and the sweet smell of caramel seeps into my nostrils as I take my first sip. “That’s what Sir Edward claims is our strongest defense. Never disregard that prickly feeling at the base of your neck or in your gut. Those are natural danger detectors, silently working to keep us safe. Ignoring either is stupid. No one ever says, I wish I’d ignored my instincts and walked down that dark alley. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Sir Edward?”

A smile tugs at my lips. Whenever I think of him, it reminds me of my life back in Hermosa Islas. “He was the head of the King’s Guard for many years. Gave it up when he married the former queen—my surrogate mother—who helped my brothers raise me. He took it upon himself to teach me everything he taught Gabriella, even though he didn’t have to.”

Jen nods and looks around my room. “Does this place belong to your family? It’s beautiful. When I was driving up, I’ll admit I became slightly jealous that one of my charges lives in a nicer home than I do.”

“It belongs to my grandparents on my mother’s side. My grandmother lived here before she married my grandfather. During my summer visits, we’d stay here. This has always been my room.” Looking out the window, my eyes take in the vast yard lined with trees. The barrier that conceals the city of Oxford, despite it being just beyond them and all around us. “I stayed on campus for the first three years. Moved here when that became a distraction and made it harder to focus on my studies. Skating by wasn’t an option. Didn’t want those like Dr. Grieves to have more reasons to dismiss me.”

“Ignore him. He’s hardest on the ones he sees potential in. It makes no sense that he berates them more than the others, but it’s true.” With a dramatic moan, Jen glances at her phone, her face falling at the notification. “Speaking of, I need to get going. We have a staff meeting in an hour, and I can’t be late or he’ll have a reason to grumble. I’ve got a couple of interesting cases scheduled next week. I want you transferred to me. He’ll throw a fit but eventually give in and agree that you’re the best choice.”

She starts to pick up her takeout containers, but I stop her. “Leave them. I’ll take care of these as soon as I’m done. Thanks for feeding me. I feel better already.”

“I had ulterior motives behind it.” Putting her shoes back on, she stands. “Like I said, I was kind of hoping to find you weren’t alone.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. “How old is he?”

Her gaze drifts to the ceiling, as if she’s thinking. “He’s three years younger than I am, so he’s close to thirty-five. Well, damn. I guess that makes him ten years older than you. Would that be a problem?”

The memory of our kiss, the roughness of his lips against mine, floods my mind, and I shake my head. “Nine years, but who’s counting? I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if he calls.” Biting the corner of my lip, I tell her why I doubt he will. “Sasha may have spooked him off when she shoved her gun into the back of his head.”

Jen slaps the table and laughs. “Shut the fuck up. What did he do that made her see him as a threat?”

Do I share that with her or keep it to myself? It seems like a private moment between us that not everyone should be privy to.

“Let’s just say he was more aggressive than they liked, but I never felt threatened or in danger. In fact, I thought it was hot and may have spent the entire ride home reprimanding them for interfering without me asking.”

With a smirk, she pulls out her phone and begins typing. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

“What? No.” I bury my face in my hands, muffling my words. “Oh, god. Did you just text him?”

Her shoulders lift as if it’s no big deal. A moment of déjà vu settles in around us. The familiar clammy sweat on my palms and the frantic thump-thump-thump of my heart mirrors my teenage panic when a friend messaged my crush. Uncertainty hangs heavy in the air.

The response then wasn’t a favorable outcome. He said even if he did, he wasn’t about to take a chance on me because I was a princess. He didn’t want the attention. I wasn’t worth it.

Her phone pings, indicating an incoming text. “Seems he’s not so easily scared off after all. Says it wasn’t the first time he’s had a gun pressed to his head. Won’t likely be the last. He’ll be better prepared next time and make sure they aren’t around to interfere.”

“He said that?” I sit up slightly, doing my best to peek at her phone.

She flips it to show me. Her expression tells me she reworded what he actually said. As I read the text, I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, making them flush.

AIDEN:

I don’t flinch. Guns don’t mean shit. Tell her next time I won’t be interrupted.

Chapter 5

Isabel