Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies 1)

Niles, known for his killer smile and charm, pales as a frown wrinkles his brow. He ages ten years before me. His green eyes that usually light up with a calculating glint have dulled. A man knows when death is knocking on his door. He may not want to answer, but we’re fucking here whether he likes it or not.

The negotiator slides back into the pilot seat as Niles’s eyes light up with their usual devious glow. “The numbers didn’t add up when you started tripling the taxes I owed a decade ago,” Niles says without meeting my father’s barely hidden murderous stare. “And yet I didn’t argue. I paid my dues to the Demetrious.”

Father’s eyes narrow and a vein jumps in his neck. Aris frowns, shooting me a questioning look. It’s rare for my father to show emotion. He hates Niles. Always has. It’s always been clear to me, although I’ve never understood why. Nor have I asked.

Niles is smarmy.

That’s enough for me to have my father’s back.

“Your point?” I demand in a bored tone, picking at my nail with the tip of Basil’s knife. “I feel as though you’re unsuccessfully trying to make one.”

“My point is I’ve been paying more and more over the years without argument. The taxes I collect on your behalf at the port are being underutilized. All I did was gain new contracts. I didn’t take from your current ones.” His face breaks out in a grin, as though his new reasoning will somehow save him from my wrath.

“The territory still belongs to us,” I snap, no longer able to keep my fury on a leash.

Aris smirks at my outburst, while Father’s brows furl together in an irritated way.

Sorry, Father, but this prick is pissing me off.

Taking a deep breath, I regain some composure before I speak again. “The territory is ours. Therefore, new contracts are ours. That fucking means new taxes are ours.”

“And you’ll get your money,” Niles lies smoothly. “You always do. I’ve simply invested it in other ventures. When I earn it back, which is soon, you’ll be paid back for the taxes. Plus interest.”

I can tell Father wants to take over. He doesn’t like that I’m allowing Niles to continue to plead his case. The worm needs to die.

“What are these other ventures?” I ask, ignoring the anger rolling from my father in waves.

“Mostly trafficking,” Niles says, his green eyes flaring with wickedness. “Of the human variety.”

My stomach roils in disgust. Not because of what he’s chosen to traffic, but the fact he’s allowing these vermin to pass through our ports. The Demetrious aren’t the mafia or cartel. No, we’re a dominant crime organization. Masters of power, influence, and wealth. We manipulate it to our advantage without having to scrape the bottom of the barrel ever.

Niles lives there.

In the dirty, dank bottom with all the other worms.

I want to fucking drown him.

“Basil,” I boom, no longer interested in speaking with this lowlife. “Take him to the kelári.” I point the blade at Niles. “I’ll finish this conversation when we’re alone.” And when I’m cutting his useless tongue from his mouth.

Father rises from the sofa, giving me a subtle shake of his head. Aris sees and lifts his brows in surprise. To any other man, this is nothing. To our family, it’s a crushing blow.

He’s undermining my authority.

My father doesn’t like my choice to kill him.

Rather than arguing with my father—something Aris would do—I clench my teeth and take a step back to give him the limelight. White-hot fury blazes inside me. Why doesn’t he want this asshole dead tonight? He fucking stole from us. Lied to us. Whatever decade long hard-on for punishment my father has against Niles is getting old. It goes against everything he’s taught me.

Loyalty is everything.

Niles is far from loyal. He’s as disloyal as one can get. The motherfucker has blatantly admitted to stealing from us for his own agenda. Any other fool would be in the kelári, paying for his crimes with flesh and blood and screams.

Not Niles.

Never Niles.

Why do you keep him around, Father?

“Take a walk with me,” Father tells Niles. “You too, Kostas.”

Aris’s jaw clenches at being left behind. As he should be. The men are talking. Niles rises, his green eyes darting between my father and me in confusion. When my father walks out onto the balcony, Niles and I follow suit. I close the door behind us and inhale the salty sea air.

Father leans against the balcony wrought iron railing and regards Niles as though he is a fungus. A fungus he’s devoted his life to trying to destroy. Not kill, destroy. I’ve observed my father enough to learn to read his eyes. He says very little, but his eyes are telling if you’re watching. He enjoys ruining Niles, but never ending him.