Legacy of Lies (Empire of Lies 3)

Meredith’s father and his twisted ways are dominating the news cycle in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s beyond the typical “shock and outrage until we’re onto the next big story” pattern. It’s full-blown hysteria.

The story is being discussed on all the cable news networks–for hours at a time. Publishers have announced ten books (so far) to be written by first-rate crime authors who want to delve deeper into the story, and local reporters have used every waking moment to catch Meredith in action, to ask her questions.

Even though she’s repeatedly denied their requests, their thirst for the story of “Billionaire Tries to Have Daughter Murdered” is too addictive for them to care. And even though she’s more than satisfied with the thought of him being abandoned in a third-world country that lacks internet and electricity, she’s still coping with how far he was willing to go to get rid of her.

It’s why we’ve been holed up in my upstate condo for the past week and a half. We don’t discuss the news or the headlines—we only glance at them here or there. Instead, we spend our hours senselessly fucking and making up for all the time we lost when she was captive in the mansion, the weeks when she was alone in Mexico.

Setting down my phone, I look down at the chessboard between us—noticing where Meredith has moved her last piece. A badly timed maneuver for her rook.

Smiling, I move my knight forward. “Checkmate.”

“For the thirtieth time in a row…” She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t kill you to let me win every once in a while.”

“I didn’t let you win the first time.”

“And you’re still not over it.”

“After I beat you seventy more times, I will be.” I set the board up for another round. “I think that should be enough.”

She laughs, but then her smile slowly fades. “Speaking of enough…I don’t think I want to go back to the real world anytime soon,” she says. “I don’t think hiding out here forever is good either. I think we need to talk about what’s next.”

I say nothing. We’ve deliberately avoided discussing any hard plans for the future. There are still loose threads that need to be tied, arrangements to be made to get her to her mother, and a long, drawn-out conversation that I’d rather not have regarding what we’ll do whenever we’re not in bed.

If I’ll still get to run the business with Trevor…

“Feel free to start talking,” she says. “I know how much you’ve been longing to get to this part.”

I roll my eyes and set the pawns in their place. “What type of ‘happily ever after’ do you want, Meredith? Name the book and the author, and I’ll try to give it to you.”

“You’ll give me the book or the romance?”

“I’ll let you know after I read it,” I say, standing up and moving next to her. “I don’t want to promise something I won’t deliver, but I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

“The hero in this book cries in the end.”

“Then you can hang that shit up right now.”

Laughing, she leans against me. “I don’t think you’ll ever be good at romance. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But since you brought it up, I think my ‘happily ever after’ will have to look a lot different from anything I’ve ever read, if I’m going to be happy.”

“I’m listening.”

Before she can say another word, my phone buzzes in my pocket. A phone call from Trevor.

“Hold that thought.” I hold the phone up to my ear. “Yes?”

“I have a basic D-27 job that just came in,” Trevor says. “New Orleans. Possibly Las Vegas as well. Let me know by tonight if you’re interested.”

“What happened to stepping back for a while?”

“I did. From the ‘hit’ part. The other jobs are still very much up for the taking.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I’ll send you the fee via text. Let me know if I need to get someone else.” He ends the call, and out of habit, I grab my laptop from the drawer, ready to start researching the target. Within seconds, I’m mentally prepared to spend the rest of today’s hours doing what I honestly miss.

Shit.

“So?” I ask Meredith, pushing away those urges. “Should we start shopping for the white picket fences? Want to meet a realtor and find a bland and boring home in the suburbs? Throw in a few puppies, just for fuck’s sake?”

She looks into my eyes, ignoring my question. “Was that Trevor who just called?”

“It was. Why?”

“What’s the job?”

“There is no job…”

“If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t have grabbed your laptop like that.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You almost forgot I was here. Just that quickly.”

I raise my eyebrow, decide not to deny it. “It’s a D-27.”

She leans forward, waiting for an explanation, but I don’t give it to her.