First Lie Wins(63)

Mitch has leaned back in his rocker, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He looks afraid to move.

“Since asking what I need or want makes you think you’re admitting to something, I’ll save you the trouble. I need some money. I came in and did my job. You walked away with a big paycheck and quickly got a new job offer. A job offer I’m assuming you knew was coming. I think it’s only fair you help me out now since I helped you out then.”

His jaw ticks and his eyes roam from the top of my head down my body.

“Worried I’m wearing a wire?” I stand up and throw my arms out to the side. “Feel free to frisk me.”

He is not amused. But before he says anything else, his phone beeps. Pulling it from his pocket, he looks at the screen a second before tapping against it. A few seconds later, he’s finished and shoving the device back in his pocket.

I sit again since it doesn’t seem he’s going to take me up on my offer to see if I’m wired. We watch each other while he rocks slowly back and forth. It’s almost like I can see his mind spinning.

“Who are you really?” he finally asks.

“I’m no one,” I answer.

Mitch Cameron is living up to his reputation of a coach with nerves of steel.

“Well, No One, you’ve made a mistake. I loved my job in Florida and would have stayed until retirement if they would have let me. I was fortunate enough to land on my feet here and now this is home. And I protect my home. It’s best that you leave. Now.”

I deflate on the couch and his lips tuck in, stopping him from saying anything else. I can see the pity in his eyes when he stares at me.

Getting up from the small couch, I move toward the porch steps. He remains in the rocker.

Just as I’m about to step off the porch, I turn back to him and let my frustration bubble to the surface. All of the anger and the fury of my boss turning on me after eight years. And I let it explode out of me. “You know what? You’re an asshole. I did you a huge favor and now I need some help and you know what? You’re a fucking dick. Fuck you and fuck all the way off, you fucker.”

His face turns red and he stands up so quickly the rocker almost turns over. I’m focused on his chair, but thankfully it rights itself at the last minute. It would not be good if everything fell out of his chair right now.

Mitch spits when he shouts at me. “You have thirty seconds to get off my property or I’m calling the cops! No one comes to my house and talks to me like that, little girl!” He’s not worried about drawing attention now.

I need to make sure he’s good and pissed, so I throw him the middle finger before stomping down his front walk. That does the trick. He moves away from the rocker and stops on the top step, his hands balled in fists. I’m on the sidewalk in front of his neighbor’s house when he finally looks around to see if anyone heard us.

I scream, “Screw you, Mitch!” for good measure then jog down the block.

My temper is back in check by the time I’m a couple of streets away. That was out of control. Reckless. I let myself go in a way I’ve never done before.

And it felt really good.

I check my watch. Ryan should be back in the parking lot of the hotel waiting for me. I don’t spare another glance behind me.

By the time I get to my car, Ryan is sitting in the driver’s seat with the car running. I jump into the passenger seat and say, “Go.” I’m trying hard to hide the smile that is stretched across my face.

His hand rests on the gear shift, his face turned toward me. His mouth quirks when he says, “That smile says you’ve been up to no good. Need me to peel outta here like a good getaway driver, or do you want to give me a general direction to go?”

“Leave Oxford and head north toward Tennessee.” He’s teasing me and I’m sort of falling for it.

“I got you some food,” he says, nodding to the back seat.

Reaching behind me, my hand closes on the white plastic to-go bag. Inside is a cheeseburger with everything except onions and an order of sweet potato fries.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

We pull away while I grab the burger, taking a huge bite. He’s quiet while I eat, and I’m finding it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. It’s the food that got me. And that he knew I liked sweet potato fries more than regular ones. And that I hate onions unless they’re cooked. The thoughtfulness of it has been so rare in my world.

I eat quickly then push all the trash back in the bag it came in when I’m done.

“So, just Tennessee?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes.”

His jaw flexes and he seems to struggle with holding back what he wants to say. Finally, he just spits it out. “You made a point to mention how important my appointments on Thursday are. I have a business in Glenview, Texas. It’s different work than what I do in Lake Forbing. I acquire things in a questionable way then sell those things for a significant markup. It’s not something that is public knowledge at home and I plan on keeping it that way.”

I’m floored by this admission. “But you’re telling me,” I say.

He glances at me, studies my face, then turns his attention back to the road. “Figured I’d go first.”

Neither of us say anything else. We ride this way for miles, him staring ahead at the road, me watching the blurred scenery from the side window.