Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (2 page)

“A thing?”

But Kara was already rising to her feet, gripping her bag tightly. “Yeah, a thing. Sorry. You’ll be okay going home with Hunter then? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You’re going? Now?”

“I kind of have to. Hunter will be coming soon?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. But—”

“Great. Awesome.” The worried look disappeared off Kara’s face. “Good con, babe. Come see me tomorrow—uh, on second thoughts not tomorrow. Day after. Okay? Good?”

“Kara,” Ellie said with some exasperation. “What the hell?”

Her friend sighed. “I can’t talk about it now. Sorry. But I do have to go. You’ll be okay?”

“You’ve asked me that three times and yes, I’ll be okay.” She gave Kara a narrow look. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“Oh no.” A strange expression appeared on the other woman’s face. “Not wrong.” Then Kara blinked and went on, “But I do have to go. Like now.”

Ellie let out a sigh, waving her gun in a dismissive motion. “Fine. Go then. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Cool. See ya, babe.” Kara turned away, dodging through the crowded bar, her gaze on her phone that she’d now taken out of her bag. As if Ellie had ceased to exist.

Ellie pulled a face and sat back in her chair, trying not to feel ignored and failing. The festering anger burned a little brighter, aided by cocktail number five. Tonight she’d planned on a big blowout, a prelude to leaving for Tokyo: NZCon, the perfect excuse for a party. But what did she get? First, she had to put up with her brother and Hunter interfering, then her friend had walked out on her for seemingly no reason at all. And now here she was waiting to be taken home like a kid after a school dance.

She’d bypassed irritation and gone straight to pissed. Mightily pissed.

Ellie raised her gun and pointed it at the bar door.

Stupid, bloody Hunter Chase was so going to get it.

Hunter stopped inside the entrance to the bar and looked around. Jesus. The place looked like a fucking freak show, full of escapees from every comic book, sci-fi movie and computer game known to man. Not that he had a problem with that per se. It was only that all the weird costumes around were going to make tracking Ellie down damn near impossible.

As he moved farther into the bizarrely costumed crowd, a woman wearing nothing but a fur bikini stopped near him and smiled, catching his eye. “Hey,” she said in a sultry voice, giving him the once-over. “I like it. What are you supposed to be?”

Hunter smiled. “A lawyer, honey.”

She laughed, taking in his worn jeans, black T-shirt and leather jacket. “And here was I thinking Ghost Rider.” She put a hand on his arm. “Well, whatever you are, wanna buy me a drink?”

Hunter shifted discreetly, letting her hand slip off his arm. He didn’t like to be touched, especially by strangers. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m only here to pick up a friend. Maybe another time.”

The woman pouted, but by that time he’d moved on, casting around for any sign of Ellie.

Vin had been very specific about where she was, not to mention most insistent about her being picked up. He’d had something “come up” urgently and couldn’t do it himself, but Hunter didn’t mind doing the job. He’d been helping Vin look out for Ellie since she was eight years old, and doing so was instinctive. Besides, he’d been in town having a couple of drinks with some of the boys from the construction firm he and Vin owned. Giving Ellie a lift was no skin off his nose and far better than her wandering around town in the middle of the night, looking for a cab by herself.

He did another sweep of the crowd, trying to spot Ellie’s tall figure and copper-red hair and coming up with nothing. Shit, where the hell was she?

Abruptly he caught sight of a woman in an armchair in one corner of the bar. She wore some kind of tight-fitting black jumpsuit that looked like it had come from one of the fetish clubs around the corner, a silver belt circling her narrow waist and a couple of gun holsters strapped to her thighs. The neckline of the jumpsuit nearly went to her belly button, leaving bare a quantity of very white skin. She was holding a fake gun, the muzzle pointed very definitely at him.

Hunter narrowed his gaze at the woman. Her small, precise features were lost under a metric ton of mascara and heavy black eyeliner, but they looked sort of familiar. Her eyes were the most startling shade of green rather than misty gray and her hair was black rather than red but…

Jesus Christ. It
was
Ellie.

She’d always been a bit way out there with her dress sense, going for a Goth girl look, but even with the tartan minis and tight black jeans she favoured, she never showed much in the way of skin. Unlike now.

Fuck. What the hell was she doing wearing that? He didn’t like it. Not one bit. He wasn’t one to get judgmental about women’s clothing, but Ellie Fox wasn’t really a woman. She was Vin’s sister. Vin’s little sister. And Vin’s little sister shouldn’t be wearing an outfit more appropriate to a bondage club than a city bar.

He started toward her, making his way through the crowd to the corner where she sat watching him, a decidedly pissed-off look on her face. Probably because she resented him coming to get her. Too bad. He’d never left her alone to fend for herself, not once. He wasn’t about to start now.

“There you are.” Hunter came to a stop behind the empty chair facing her. “I didn’t recognise you in your bondage outfit.”

She scowled at him. With her heavy-looking platform boots resting on the table and one hand outstretched with the gun pointed directly at his forehead, she looked almost…dangerous. An odd thought considering Ellie Fox had always been an open, sweet girl.

“It’s not a bondage outfit, idiot,” she said. “I’m Dark Shadow. From my game.”

Hunter leaned his elbows along the back of the chair in front of him. “You’re dressed as your own heroine?”

“Promo.” The muzzle of the gun wobbled a bit. “And you’re sounding a touch judgmental, Chase.”

A small bolt of surprise went through him at the snarky tone in her voice. Ellie never got angry with him. Never showed her anger, period. She wasn’t one for confrontation, tending to retreat in on herself when she got mad or when other people got mad at her. And yet now she stared at him with a decidedly belligerent look in her startling green eyes.

“What’s up, sweetness?” he asked mildly. “You sound prickly.”

“Nothing’s up. And I’m allowed to be bloody prickly if I want, okay?”

Hunter glanced down at the table, noting the number of empty cocktail glasses on it, then back at the wobbly muzzle of her gun. Looked like Vin had been right to suspect Ellie had had a little too much to drink. But who’d have thought such a sweet girl would be such a mean drunk?

“So exactly how many cocktails have you had?”

“Not enough. Keep still. I want to shoot you.”

Hunter gave an inward sigh. “Go on then.”

Ellie mimed pulling the trigger. “Bang. You’re dead.”

“Feel better now?”

“Since you’re still standing, not particularly.”

“Ah, so the problem is me, is it?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Sarcasm dripped from her tone.

Hunter gave her another measuring look. Obviously she was spoiling for a fight, which was very un-Ellie-like of her. “How about we discuss this in the truck?”

“No.” She waved the gun at him, her chin tilted at a mulish angle. “I don’t want to discuss this in the freaking truck. In fact, you can piss off. I’m going to get myself a bloody taxi.”

Huh. Ellie had never been difficult—in fact normally they got on very well. So where had all this hostility come from? Was it the alcohol? Shit, this was so the wrong night for her to suddenly get pissy with him. He didn’t have the patience for it. Making an effort to stay calm, he said, “Why get a taxi when you have a perfectly good truck waiting to take you home?”

Ellie eyed him. “Vin sent you, didn’t he?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, actually it does. I’m not some teenager out past curfew you have to ship home, you know.” She fiddled with her gun. “I’m an adult and have been for some time.”

Oh Jesus. He’d had a full-on fucking day and his mood had not been improved by the discovery of an invitation to his brother’s wedding sitting in his mailbox. He was already unsettled by the prospect of a family get-together and a drunk Ellie was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

Hunter glanced down at his watch. Christ, it was nearly one thirty. “Adult or not, it’s late and I need to get you home. So get in the bloody truck.”

Her eyes widened at his tone. Then she folded her arms. “No.”

Slowly, Hunter pushed himself away from the chair. Briefly debated picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her. Discarded the idea. Someone would probably call the cops and he’d be done for kidnapping or some shit like that. Of course he could leave her here, but that would never be an option. Ellie Fox was precious, not only to him but to Vin as well, and he’d be damned if he’d leave his best friend’s little sister drunk and alone, no matter how obnoxious she was being.

He narrowed his gaze at her. “Get in the truck, little girl.”

“Oh my freaking God! Did you just call me little girl?”

“Yeah, I did. If you insist on acting like a child, I’ll treat you like one.”

A look of outrage crossed her face. “A child? I am not a—”

“It’s one in the morning, you’re drunk, you’re being difficult and you’re wearing a slutty outfit. I’m not leaving you here.”

“A slutty outfit?” She sat bolt upright in her chair. “My costume’s got nothing to do with—”

“Like I said. You’re drunk. In a bar full of freaks. Wearing a slutty outfit. Give me a lecture about your right to wear whatever the hell you want another time, okay? I’m here to take you home and that’s what I’m going to do.” He folded his arms. “So be a good girl and go get in the truck.”

Chapter Two

A hot flush crept up Ellie’s neck. Hunter stood opposite her, all dark and sexy, a hard look on his perfectly sculpted features, a look he never normally gave her. A look that for some reason she found insanely hot. Which only made her angrier.

Sliding her feet off the table, she pushed herself up and out of the chair in a sharp movement. Only for the ground to shift unexpectedly under her feet. She stumbled and a warm arm curved around her waist to steady her, a familiar, spicy smell engulfing her. A smell that was all Hunter. A combination of the woody scent of his aftershave, worn leather and sun-warmed skin. Reminding her of all the days and nights she’d spent as a kid with him looking after her, reading her stories, playing games, watching TV. Helping her with her homework. Distracting her from the depressing reality of having a mother who more or less lived in mental health institutions, a father who’d disappeared from her life when she was still a baby and a brother who was struggling to keep their tiny family together.

Hunter, who’d always given her the attention she’d never gotten from anyone else. Who’d made her feel loved and cared for. And who would never see her as anything more than a child.

Angrily she jerked herself away from him, struggling to retain her balance. “Go away, patronising jerk,” she muttered. Part of her—the drunk part—badly wanted a fight but the more sensible—and more sober—part whispered that perhaps a crowded bar wasn’t the best place for it. That perhaps she should do what he said, at least until they were somewhere private so she could let him have it properly.

“Suit yourself.” Hunter stepped away. “You sure you can walk?”

Ellie gritted her teeth, willing the floor to stop moving. “Yes.”

“And have you finished acting like a sulky teenager?”

Asshole. “Goes both ways, Chase. If you treat me like a child, I’ll continue to act like one.”

Hunter eyed her for a moment. “I wouldn’t go around making stupid statements like that, sweetness. You might find your behind getting spanked.”

For a second a vision popped into her startled brain of herself over his knee with her jumpsuit down around her ankles and her bare buttocks reddened from his hand. Adrenaline spiked, her breath catching.

Hunter raised an eyebrow and she felt her blush deepen. “Don’t be a prick,” she said, feeling even madder with him and hoping to God he couldn’t read her mind. Then again, maybe he should. That’d teach him. “I’m not two years old, you know.”

“Apparently. Though I’ve seen no evidence of it. Come on, the truck’s in the street.” Without waiting for her, he turned and began threading his way through the crowd to the bar entrance.

Ellie took a short breath, trying to calm her racing pulse, confused and angry and still stupidly turned on by the unexpected spanking fantasy. Crap, she was so out of control, and that wasn’t a good thing tonight. Not with him around.

Why not? Perhaps that’s what you need. Perhaps being out of control and less inhibited is a good thing…

Oh man, she didn’t need that thought in her head. It was too tempting. Made her think of doing things that were completely out of character. Things such as going down on him in his truck, tasting him while he put his hands in her hair. While he moaned her name. Yeah, that would be one way of making sure he knew he wasn’t her babysitter any longer.