Deceiving Lies

  Dedication

  For my amazing in-laws. Your support has meant the world to me, welcoming me to this scary, big, unknown world called Texas and being there for me when my family was so far away meant more than you’ll ever know. I love you both and know my readers will fall in love with y’all as Kash’s parents.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt from Capturing Peace

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Molly McAdams

  Back Ads

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  Rachel

  I NERVOUSLY FLIPPED MY LONG HAIR over my shoulders and smoothed my hands down my shirt a few times as I took deep breaths in and out. My back was to Kash’s truck, hiding me from his parents’ house while I collected myself, but I was starting to consider taking off running. Why the hell did I buy and wear heels today?

  “Rach?” He laughed when he came around the truck and caught sight of me. “What are you doing? You look amazing.”

  I grimaced when I glanced down at my dark, skinny jeans and the electric blue top that I’d gone out to buy today, since I hadn’t brought any clothes to Florida that I’d deemed acceptable to wear when meeting his parents. “It’s not the clothes.”

  He grabbed my chin and tilted my head back until I was looking at him, and waited until I stopped fidgeting. “They’re going to love you,” he assured me as he brushed his lips across mine. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “How can you say that? I got engaged to their son without ever meeting them, they hardly know I exist, Kash.” And I got their son shot . . . I knew it wasn’t my fault, my therapy sessions with Dr. Markowitz at the end of last year had helped me realize that. But that didn’t mean Kash’s and Mason’s families would feel the same. “Honestly, at the time I just thought you weren’t close with them, it didn’t seem weird to me because, well . . . because I didn’t have parents for you to meet either. But now—”

  “Stop. You’re overthinking this, they know everything that happened now, and you have no idea how excited my mom was when I called her this morning to tell her you were here. Right now, they’re just happy because they know I’ve been miserable without you. But, babe, they’re going to love you.”

  I exhaled roughly and nodded my head. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “That’s my girl.” He kissed me hard before wrapping his arm around my waist and walking me toward the house. “I mean, honestly, how could they not love you and your bitchy personality?”

  “You’re such an asshole, Kash,” I hissed at the same second the front door opened and his mom stepped out. Oh good Lord, kill me now. This is where I need to run away.

  Mrs. Ryan’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and Kash tried to choke back his laugh but failed miserably. It felt like my stomach was simultaneously on fire and dropping. Not a good feeling, I was going to be sick. I was the freaking Queen of First Impressions with the Ryan family. When I’d met Kash at the beginning of last summer, I’d been a bitch to the extreme, and our first three run-ins had gone over about as well as a bale of turtles in a sprinting race. Now there I was, cussing in front of his mom in the first seconds of ever seeing her.

  I started feeling light-headed as I held my breath, waiting for Mrs. Ryan to tell me I was not good enough for her son, or to reprimand me. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a glare at Kash that impressed even me.

  “What on earth did you say to the poor girl?”

  He raised his hands in surrender before wrapping his arm around me again. “No clue what you’re talking about. And why do you automatically think it had to be something I did?”

  “Because I know you, Logan.”

  “Eh . . . so anyway. Mom, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my mom.”

  She brushed back a chunk of black hair that had fallen into her eyes and smiled brightly at me. I still felt like I was frozen and didn’t know how to breathe properly. “Rachel, it’s so good to meet you, honey!”

  I almost blurted out “But I just called your son an asshole right in front of you!” Instead I plastered a smile on my face and tried to relax my body as Kash let go of me and she wrapped me in a hug. “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you for having us to dinner.”

  “Of course”—and then softer, so only I could hear—“he gets the obnoxious, asshole gene from his father. But, unfortunately, it’s one of the things I love most about my guys. You just get used to it and become a master at slyly flipping them off with a smile.”

  My eyes widened and I blinked rapidly as we pulled away from each other. Is she being serious?

  She smiled at me again and kissed Kash on the cheek before slapping his shoulder. “Be nice to her, she just got here! But always remember this, honey, the minute Richard and Logan stop giving you a hard time, is the minute they stop loving you. So, as long as he’s pissing you off, you know he loves you. Now come on, your dad just started the grill and I’m going to make margaritas for Rachel and me. Oh, do you like margaritas?”

  I nodded and then had to shake my head to get my mind working properly again. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do, I love them.”

  “Well then, I think we’re going to get along just fine. C’mon, now!” She turned and walked into the house, and Kash pulled me into his side, his lips going to my ear.

  “Now was that so bad?”

  “Aside from the fact that the first time your mom saw me, I was cussing . . . I think I just fell in love with her.”

  He laughed low as he pulled me into the house. “Just wait ’til you meet my dad.”

  1

  Kash

  “RACH, DO YOU REALLY NEED THIS MANY SHOES?” I watched as she unpacked the third box in our closet just inside the bathroom and wondered how any person could ever have a need for that many pairs of shoes.

  Her hand stopped midway to the shelf with another pair, and her bright blue glare turned on me. I took a step back.

  “Are you actually asking me that right now?”

  “Say no,” my dad whispered from behind me. “Course he wasn’t, Rachel. He’s just mad that he won’t have anywhere to put his sparkly hooker heels.”

  Rachel laughed and went back to putting her dozens of shoes away. “No worries about that one, Rich. I put them up already, they even have their own little place away from everything so they don’t get ruined.”

  My mom pushed through Dad and me to get into the closet with an armful of clothes to hang up. “Really, Logan. Give the girl a break. I have more shoes than this.”

  “Oh, Marcy! I forgot to tell you—”

  “Is this gonna be a long story?” Dad drawled, cutting Rachel off.

  “Actually, it is,” she snapped right back with a playful smirk. “So get comfy!” As soon as she launched into her story about whatever the hell those two always talked excitedly about, my dad turned and gave me a shove into the large bathroom.

  “Have I taught you nothing when it comes to
women?” he asked softly.

  “What? That’s a shit ton of shoes!” I hissed and looked back to see her pull more out. I swear to Christ this last box was like Mary Poppins’s purse. It was a never-ending pit of shoes.

  “Okay, we’re gonna do this quick and easy. One, your woman can never have too many shoes, clothes, purses, or jewelry. Two, it doesn’t matter if you know you’re right—because God knows your mother is wrong about . . . well . . . just about everything—but it doesn’t matter. They are always right. Just say a simple ‘Yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m a dumbass’ and you’ll be fine. Three, them asking if they look okay is a trick question. Because, let’s face it, even if we think it’s the ugliest shirt we’ve ever seen, it’s probably in style and we wouldn’t know either way. So they always look amazing, remember that word.”

  I laughed. Rachel could wear a sack and I would think she looked amazing. Or she could wear nothing . . . I preferred her in nothing. I cleared my throat and had to look away from Rachel when I started picturing her naked.

  “Four, and probably the most important if you want to keep your manhood, do not ever ask if she is PMS-ing. No matter what. Might as well dig your own grave if you do that.”

  Too late. I was always asking Rach if that was why she was in a bad mood. And if I was right, there was no way in hell I was going to tell her I was in the wrong. She could bitch about it if she wanted, but I wasn’t going to go easy on her for the sake of getting out of an argument. Arguing with her was one of my favorite things.

  Nodding, I slapped my dad’s shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, Dad, I’ll remember all that.”

  “. . . have to go back and see if they’re still there.” Mom was excited about something, and from the look of it, Rachel was too.

  “Yeah, we do! Anyway, I just had to tell you about that, I knew you’d flip,” Rach mumbled as she flattened the last box of shoes. Thank God Mary Poppins’s box had officially emptied out.

  “That was a lovely story”—Dad drawled again—“and you tell it so well, with such enthusiasm.”

  Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head as she smiled, and Rachel just looked at my dad like she was about to let him have it. At the last second, her head jerked back. “Wait. Forrest Gump . . . really, Rich? You’re using Forrest Gump quotes to insult me?”

  “You have met your match, honey!” Mom cheered, and Dad just huffed in annoyance toward them, but shot me a wink.

  “She doesn’t put up with your bullshit or mine. Son, I’m telling you, you better hold on tight to that one.”

  “I will, Dad. Rach, are you done with the shoes?”

  “I’m not sure. If you bring up my shoes again, I could probably sit here and rearrange them, maybe set them up by color, size of the heel, and length of the boot.”

  “Woman, get out of the damn closet. I have to put this up, and if you coordinate your shoes, I swear to you they will be in a pile on the floor the next time you come in here.”

  “Logan Kash Ryan!” Mom chided at the same time Rachel swore, “I will gut you.”

  My little Sour Patch. So fucking cute when she’s threatening my life.

  “Wait, what are you putting up?” she asked as she walked out of the closet, which was big enough for a car.

  “Fake wall.”

  “Uh. Why?”

  “Kind of like a really cheap safe room. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s just for you to hide behind if someone were to break in or something.”

  She laughed loudly and kissed my throat. “Kash, really? You’re being just a little bit paranoid. We’re not putting up a fake wall.”

  Before she could move away, I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Babe. I almost lost you once, I’ll be working shitty hours and there will be a lot of nights you’re here alone. This is for my peace of mind, don’t be difficult.”

  “Nothing is going to—”

  “Rachel, stop. We’re putting up the wall.”

  “You’re being paranoid!”

  I kissed her hard once before pushing her gently away. “I probably am, but I don’t care. With all the clothes hung up, you won’t even notice it’s there. And if something happens, it’s there for you to hide behind. I love you, but I’m getting my way on this, okay?”

  She rolled her eyes and gave my mom a look that Mom clearly understood, since she started laughing. “All right, Kash. If you want to put up the fake wall to help you sleep at night—er, to keep you happy when you’re away—then have at it.”

  Rachel

  “OH MY WORD, this is a disaster,” I whispered as I pulled yet another shirt off my body and threw it on the bed before heading back to the closet.

  I’d been in Florida for two weeks, and we’d spent every day with Mason, his family, or Kash’s parents; so Kash told me yesterday that he was taking me on a date tonight. I had been excited about time with just him . . . but then last night happened.

  I’d had my first dream about Blake in over a month, and to make matters worse, Kash had been gone because he’d gotten a call from the police department as we were getting ready for bed and then left minutes later to go help. Apparently word on the street was two gangs were getting ready to have it out. I’d laughed and said it sounded a little West Side Story-ish, but when Kash told me there’d already been a lot of bloodshed between the two, and the body count would be high if they didn’t prevent it from happening, I’d shut my mouth.

  Ever since I’d woken up in a cold sweat at 3:00 A.M., I’d been edgy, terrified to turn a corner in the house, and having flashbacks of everything that had gone down with Blake last year. I was ready for him to be gone from my life. It was ridiculous that even in death, he still found ways to torture me.

  Now I was running fifteen minutes late and I still couldn’t find something that would cover all my scars. I didn’t pay a lot of mind to them now, since they’d faded significantly, but after the dream, it was like they were neon signs on my body screaming, “Look, look, look, look, looooooook!”

  I grabbed a thin, long-sleeved shirt and threw it on, but the MINE on my chest was flashing its bitchy, bright lights at me; so I grabbed a button-up shirt and pulled it over. Even though the top buttons couldn’t button without looking all kinds of messed up because of the size of my chest, the collar still covered the little scar.

  There. I’m ready now.

  “Rach, what are you wearing? It’s hot outside.”

  Don’t care. “It’s winter,” I reasoned as I caught Kash’s gaze in the mirror.

  His gray eyes were heating as they trailed over my nonexistent ass, and while I loved that he was appreciating the view, I wasn’t in the mood to be checked out right now. I was having a mini freak-out. Tonight was going to be an epic fail if I couldn’t stop thinking Blake was going to randomly show up at the movie or restaurant.

  Blake’s dead. He died in Texas. Blake’s dead. He died in Texas, I continued to chant to myself over and over again, but it wasn’t helping.

  “Yeah, but it’s also seventy today.” Kash’s voice broke through my inner-chanting. “Take off the shirt underneath.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me so my back was against his chest and brought his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I know you’re fine, but you’re gonna be too hot,” he whispered, his voice dropping even lower as he began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.

  Goose bumps covered my body when the cool metal of his lip ring brushed against my skin, and I felt myself getting ready to say I would do whatever he asked of me. He was such a cheater. He knew what that piercing did to me.

  “Open your eyes, Rachel.”

  I did as I was told, and found his gunmetal gray eyes looking directly into mine. Even through the reflection of the mirror, I could feel the heat from them and sense the want. His hands trailed over my chest, waist, and stomach; the pressure was so light I almost couldn’t feel it, but it was doing insane things to my stomach, and my breathing quickly es
calated. I watched as he slowly took my top shirt off, the movement of his hands so calculated and controlled, it felt like we had just entered some form of foreplay.

  After he tossed the first shirt onto the bed, his hands did their barely there touches over the swell of my breasts and down my waist again until he hit the hem of the long-sleeved shirt. One hand slipped under, and a breathy whimper of need sounded in the back of my throat when his warm hand caressed my bare skin. He smiled against my neck and nipped on it lightly. I wanted to shut my eyes and enjoy every touch, but everything in me was screaming to watch the most erotic undressing I’d ever witnessed or been a part of.

  Like with the button-up, his movements were slow and controlled as he pulled this shirt higher, but now he gave little teases of fingertips being brushed against my skin. By the time it was over my head and he was letting it fall to the ground, my entire body was on fire and I was practically panting with need.

  “Rachel.” His voice traveled over my bare shoulder like a caress, and I let my bodyweight fall against him.

  “Hmm?”

  Suddenly he was gone and I stumbled back a step before catching myself. I turned to see where he’d gone, and my button-up shirt hit me in the face.

  “What the—”

  “Get dressed, we gotta go.”

  “The hell, Kash? You can’t do stuff like that to me and then stop!”

  “Have you forgotten what frustration feels like?” he asked huskily. I wanted to punch him in the face.

  “I hate you.”

  His lips curved up into my favorite smirk and he winked. “I love you too, Sour Patch.”

  Douche.

  2

  Kash

  “RACH, I’M TIRED. Can we go to sleep?”

  “Hmm?”

  I looked over at the TV she seemed so transfixed on and smiled. She was such a fucking nerd. “Babe.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Bed. Now.”

  Her laugh filled the living room, and her blue eyes flashed over to mine. “It’ll be over in a little bit, hold on.”

  Uh, no. I had plans, and she was messing with them. I walked over to where she was lying on the couch and snatched the remote out of her hand to shut the TV off. When she sat up to grab it back, I pulled her close and over my shoulder before standing back up.