Lies That Sinners Tell (The Klutch Duet 1)

Jay could’ve gone and murdered that cretin where he lay. He wouldn’t have gotten caught. But it would’ve taken too long.

He needed to be here. He needed to control his fury.

He needed to wait.

For her to come to him.

Karson wasn’t one for small talk.

I was happy about that. There was no way I could’ve handled any kind of talk. My hands shook for the first ten minutes of the drive, and I barely registered where we were driving to. All I knew for certain was that we were driving fast. It was late, so the traffic was light, but there was still some since this was L.A.

Flashes of what happened kept running through my mind. Stark, harsh flashbacks. My hand stayed on my neck just so I could make sure no one was holding a knife to it. My legs were pressed firmly together, but that didn’t do much to stop the memory of feeling his fingers pressed against my panties, them probing against my skin.

I knew that this happened to women. Too many women. But I’d never imagined it would happen to me. And it didn’t even happen. Not all the way. Jesus fucking Christ, what happened to the women who had been forced all the way? How did they continue inhaling and exhaling? They were saints. Warriors.

Right now, I wanted to unzip my skin so I could escape it.

Luckily, I got distracted, at least a little when the car slowed to a gate which opened automatically, closing behind us after we drove in. Then we moved up a dark, winding road that seemed secluded.

It was then that I realized what exactly was going on. That I was the most vulnerable and broken and alone I had been in my entire life, and I was going to an unknown location with a violent stranger after abandoning a crime scene where my rapist was barely breathing in a pool of his own blood.

Fuck.

Was it only three hours ago that an open-toed shoe was my biggest obstacle?

I fumbled inside my purse for my phone, thankfully finding that I still had it and cell phone reception. I quickly dropped a pin in my location and sent it to Wren. I would’ve chosen Zoe, but she would’ve been too practical, asked too many questions.

With a guy. Here’s my location ... just in case.

I got a response almost immediately because Wren always had her phone on her.

Oh, my wild girl. I love this for you! Send me a strawberry emoji in two hours, then again tomorrow if you’re still going strong Otherwise, I’ll be there in two hours and one minute with the Calvary. Love you loads. Stay safe, and let me know if things get too weird tonight. The bad weird. I’ll hear the good weird tomorrow. I’m so fucking proud of you!

Ah. My wacky, free spirited friend. Of course, she’d assumed I was on some kind of date that went kinky fast, and she was ready to support it. Not just support it, but bail me out if needed. Obviously her first thought wasn’t that someone had tried to rape me, that some other guy’s employee saved me and was now taking me to some house on a hill in Malibu.

Lights came in to view, then the house.

Not a house, a mansion.

Not quite compound worthy, but impressive, especially considering the sheer amount of land the place was situated on. In Malibu of all places.

The house was set up on a hill overlooking the Pacific. I imagined that whoever lived inside could see people coming and going.

Though it was dark, I could see that the house was nice. Not a slanted roof, designer architecture kind of nice, but classic Victorian with shutters on the windows and a huge porch kind of nice. It was the kind of house I’d imagined for myself in another life. Well, it was house I’d imagined but on some serious steroids.

The car came to a stop, and I sat there, continuing to stare, too afraid to move. This car had quickly become my safe place. I didn’t know what was going to happen once I stepped outside of it. I wasn’t strong enough to handle whatever might happen outside of this car. So I’d stay inside, I decided. For however long it took me to feel safe again.

That choice was quickly taken away from me when the door opened. I wouldn’t have taken Karson for the gentlemen type of guy, but then again, he was a practical kind of guy, and he’d likely deduced that I wasn’t going to get out of my own volition, so he’d taken things in to his own hands.

The hands with the blood-stained knuckles.

My stomach roiled at the sight of them, but I somehow managed to get out of the car and handle my own weight.