Perfect Lies (Mind Games 2)

I wipe my face, miserable and alone. So very alone. All I have is James. He’s the only one I can trust. “What did you find in North Dakota?” I ask, stalling.

His voice is dark and strained. “Another complication. I’ll tell you later when you’re free to think. You decide what to do about the Sadie situation. Fast. And then call me. Do not talk to my father or anyone from Keane until you’ve called me.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t kill Mae yet,” he says casually, like it’s an afterthought. “We can only get away with that so many times.”

“I—” The line is dead. I turn back toward where I left Pixie, the “yet” echoing in my skull.

I am not lost, I never get lost, my sense of direction is perfect, but oh, I am so very very lost. I drift back toward the sidewalk where I left Pixie. She’s sitting, legs tucked under her chin. She doesn’t look up as I sit next to her.

I don’t know what to think. Not for myself and not for her.

“We can’t take her back with us,” I say.

“All right.”

“We have to lie about why.”

“All right.”

“Really? Just like that?”

She pushes her sunglasses on top of her bleached hair and looks at me. Her eyes are dark, rich brown. It’s the first time I’ve actually noticed their color behind all the eye makeup. They’re pretty. I like them.

“Just like that,” she says. “I trust your decision.”

I hang my head and laugh. “Why?”

“Because when we were on a sidewalk ringed with men holding guns, you only thought about getting me out safe. I don’t trust you to take care of yourself, but I trust you to take care of me. And I trust you to take care of her.” She jerks her head in the direction of Sadie’s house.

“What if all this is me taking care of me?” I whisper.

“You wouldn’t even begin to know how.” She stands and holds a hand out to help me.

I take it.

I hope James is wrong. But I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel a friendship. I only ever had Annie, and what we have is so much more than friendship. Is this how friends feel, this give-and-take, this sharp fear tempered with hope?

“Let’s call for a pickup at that café. It’s too freaking green out here.” Pixie glares at the spiky grass and abundant, bright flowers around us like they are personally offensive, then replaces her sunglasses as a shield against nature.

I take a step to follow her but

There is something

Something big

Something very very big very very wrong so wrong—

I turn in time to see a large white van with no windows pull into Sadie’s driveway. Two men get out and walk straight up the front porch and into the house without knocking.

“Pixie,” I say, but I don’t wait for her to respond, I sprint. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, I have to get there first, I have to stop them.

I’m five houses away. The driver rolls down his window and meets my eyes. I know him. How do I know him?

Sandy blond with the gun! The one who worked with Lerner!

Someone slams into me from behind, tackling me to the sidewalk. I roll, pulling my attacker with me and pinning the person to the ground, my forearm against a throat. Pixie’s throat. Why?