Discovering Zhara: Sweet Lies & Kisses

  He nods. “I think it’s going to help if you’re there. It might help her cope with all of this better if she has someone she’s close to who knows everything.”

  “I really don’t think I’m going to be able to help her,” I tell him sadly. When Benton shoots me a questioning look as we reach the bottom of the stair, I add, “Alexis and I used to be close, but then our parents died… And… Well, she changed while I stayed the same.” I give a half shrug, but my heart aches at the brutal truth of what I’m about to say next. “We haven’t gotten along since then.”

  “That sucks,” he says as we hike down the sidewalk toward the carport. “Maybe this can help you guys grow close again, though.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” But I’m a bit skeptical. While Alexis is my sister, sometimes I feel like she wishes I wasn’t. That I’m only an annoyance to her. A reminder of another life she’s trying to forget. I shield my eyes from the sunlight and glance at Benton. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  He stares ahead at the parking lot, the sunlight reflecting against the sudden pain filling his eyes. “I had a sister, but she died a while ago.”

  “Oh my Gosh, I’m so sorry, Benton.” Knowing how hard it is to lose a loved one, my heart aches for him.

  “It’s part of the reason why I started working for the organization.” He swallows hard, dazing off as we stop in front of his car. Then he quickly clears his throat. “But anyway, I think you should try to smooth things over with your sister. It’ll be good for you to have someone to talk to who knows about the organizations.” He busies himself with retrieving his car keys from his pocket, not meeting my gaze.

  I stand at the front of the car, observing him as he fumbles to unlock the door. Whatever happened to his sister, had to be terrible. But what happened that made him join the organization? And how did he even find out about the organization?

  Sensing he wants to change the subject, though, I refrain from asking him. Besides, Jett warned me that Benton doesn’t like talking about his past.

  “What if they do know?” I ask, pulling open the passenger side door.

  Benton glances over the roof at me with a pucker at his brow. “Who knows what?”

  “Loki, Jessamine, and Annabella. They’re all older than me. Perhaps they knew more about what was going on, but just never said anything because my parents told them not to.”

  He wavers. “That could be a possibility but I highly doubt it. Like I said earlier, a lot of parents that work for the organization choose not to tell their kids until they’re older. And sometimes they don’t tell them at all.”

  “I know you said that, but what if one of my brothers or sisters knows something and can give us some answers. Then maybe you guys won’t have to do any of that kinda, sorta, not quite illegal stuff you’re planning on doing.”

  A hint of an amused smile graces his lips. “You’re a sweet girl, Zhara. You really are.” When I start to frown, he adds, “Don’t take that the wrong way. I mean it as a compliment.”

  He ducks into the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. I follow, slipping onto the warm leather of the passenger seat. We both close the doors then he twists in the seat to face me.

  “Look, I know you want answers, but I think the best thing to do is let Ridge find as much as he can in the files about your parents. Then, if we can’t find the answers, we need, we’ll go talk to your brothers and sisters. But the files are a better option right now and probably will have more detailed information.”

  Even though I want to talk to my siblings and find out if they know, I get what he’s saying.

  “All right, I’ll wait,” I tell him. “I just hope you guys don’t get into trouble.”

  He offers me a lopsided smile then reaches across the console and lightly tugs on a strand of my hair. “See, sweet.”

  My mouth dips to a pouty frown, which only makes Benton’s grin broaden. Then his gaze travels in the direction of the window behind me and the smile goes poof. I turn to track his gaze, but his hand cups the back of my head, holding me in place. Before I can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans in to kiss me.

  “Act natural,” he whispers then his lips softly collide with mine.

  I tense. Act natural? Again? How is kissing him even acting natural? It’s not like we kiss all the time? And I’ve kissed Jett and Wilder for crying out loud! How is any of that natural! Seriously, acting natural is becoming complicated!

  But all of my questioning goes bye bye, see ya later, as Benton parts my lips with his tongue.

  Unlike the first time we kissed, I’m not such a bundle of nerves. Am I nervous? Sure. But not enough to break the kiss. In fact, I’m sort of enjoying his warm lips against mine, an unexpected moan faltering from my lips.

  Okay, maybe I’m enjoying this a lot.

  “I love it when you make that sound,” he whispers, his tone a mixture of amusement and something else I don’t recognize, but it makes my stomach flutter with crazy, dazed butterflies.

  Then he kisses me again, his fingers threading through my hair as he softly tugs on the strands, and forces my head to tilt back. His lips leave mine and travel downward, along my jawline, my throat, to the hollow of my neck. He pauses, breathing softly against my skin, before nipping and sucking a path toward my shoulder, slowly guiding my shirt over so his lips touch my bare skin. With every graze of his teeth, my heart turns more into a cracked out humming bird. By the time his mouth reaches my shoulder, goose bumps have sprouted across my skin and my entire body is trembling. But I’m not afraid. Well, sort of. Honestly, I’m partially afraid and partially excited.

  “God, you’re going to be the death of me,” Benton mumbles as my body shudders again. “Maybe all of us.”

  “What?” I asked dazedly as he gently sucks on my collarbone.

  Instead of answering, he kisses the side of my neck, right where my pulse is hammering, then pulls away.

  I open my mouth to ask him what on earth was that about, when someone raps on the window behind me. I nearly jolt out of my seat, whipping around to see who it is. But Benton places a hand on my thigh, stopping me. He mouths, bad girl, before withdrawing his hand.

  Confusion tap dances in my mind until I peek over my shoulder. Then things—and by things, I mean all the kisses and biting that just happened between Benton and I—start to make sense. Because standing beside the passenger side door is none other than Tank and Ralpho.

  Proof and an Invite

  Zhara

  They’re about as intimidating as I remember, decked out in black pants, leather jackets, and combat boots. Sunglasses cover their eyes and brass knuckles bedazzle their knuckles. Okay, maybe bedazzle isn’t the best word, but against the sunlight, the metal looks awfully sparkly.

  “Just remain calm,” Benton whispers, reaching for the door handle. “And stay in the car.”

  When I nod, he hops out and rounds the front of the car toward Tank and Ralpho.

  “Gentlemen, to what do I owe yet another unexpected visit from you?” Benton asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  “Easy with the cocky tone,” the shorter guy warns—I still haven’t figured out which one is Tank and which one is Ralpho. “If Drake sends an unexpected visit on you, you don’t question his motives.”

  Drake? Who’s Drake?

  “I’m not questioning our boss’s motives, Ralpho,” Benton assures him. “I was just curious why you stopped by. That’s all.”

  I make a mental note that the shorter guy is Ralpho and the taller one must be Tank, and that Drake is probably their boss.

  Tank and Ralpho glance at each other and Tank nods his head. A sly grin slowly rises on Ralpho’s lips as he flits a glance at me. I can’t see his eyes, but just having his attention zeroed in on me is very intimidating. So much so that I nearly dive into the backseat to escape it. But then I remember the words Benton mouthed to me before he got out of the car.

  Bad girl.

  I’m supposed to be acting lik
e a bad girl who’s dating all of them. And a bad girl who’s dating six guys at once probably wouldn’t dive into the backseat to hide from the gazes of two guys. No, she’d probably only dive into the backseat with two guys.

  I blink at my dirty thought. Holy crap, where did that dirty thought come from?

  My fingers wander to my neck and then my lips. Maybe all this kissing is messing with my head?

  “We came here to give you invitations.” Ralpho centers his gaze on Benton, the devious smile remaining on his face. “To Drake’s Annual Undead Masquerade.”

  Undead Masquerade? That sounds… interesting. And seems to perk Benton up a tad.

  “Really?” Benton asks, his brows raising toward his hairline. “I thought he didn’t invite first years?”

  “Apparently you and your friends have impressed him.” A drop of disdain rings in Ralpho’s tone. “I don’t know why. I haven’t seen you do anything that impressive. In fact, you guys have done nothing but shitty work since the day you started working with us.”

  “You know your boss wouldn’t be saying we’re doing a good job unless we were,” Benton points out. “It’s not his MO.”

  “No, it’s not. Just like it’s not his MO to invite a first year to the masquerade,” Ralpho snaps. “And for a good reason. It takes time to trust people—more than a year.”

  Huh. Benton said something similar to Brook.

  I guess trust is a big deal in the drug world and in the undercover detective world. Wish it was in my family.

  I shake my head. No, don’t think about that right now!

  Shoving the thought aside, I concentrate on Benton, Tank, and Ralpho, wondering what happens at a masquerade party thrown by a drug lord and why the three of them are acting like it’s a huge deal. It’s just a party. Isn’t it?

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Benton leans against the passenger door, blocking my view of Ralpho. “But unfortunately, you don’t get the final say. Drake does.”

  A beat of silence ticks by.

  “Yeah, see, here’s the thing,” Ralpho says. “Our boss may have invited you, but he hired us to watch out for him, which means we make certain judgment calls without him.”

  “So you’re saying you’re taking back our invites?” Benton questions, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Because that doesn’t seem like a very smart move on your part.”

  “We’re not taking them back—we couldn’t even if we wanted to.” Ralpho gives a lengthy pause. “But, we are going to make sure you earn them.”

  The muscles in Benton’s arms bulge as he stiffens. “Oh yeah. How?”

  “By giving you a test,” Ralpho says. Or more like sneers. “If you pass, I’ll be happy to give you the invites. If you fail, I’m tearing the invites up.”

  “But that’d make Drake pissed off,” Benton points out, giving him a pressing look. “At you.”

  “No, he’d be pissed off at you, since I plan on telling him you declined his invite.” Ralpho lets out a dark laugh. “Don’t worry, though. If you pass my test, I’ll be more than happy to give you the invites. Plus, I’ll throw in the added bonus of not dragging that pretty girl of yours out of the car.”

  Benton steps forward, removing his hands from his pockets. “Zhara isn’t part of this so stay the hell away from her.”

  “I told you when I first met her that I wanted to talk to her on Monday. Today is Monday, so I get to talk to her.” Ralpho slants to the side, lifts up his sunglasses, and winks at me.

  I smash my lips together, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Benton sidesteps and blocks me from Ralpho’s view again.

  “Tonight’s when the meeting is taking place,” Benton grits out. “It’s not even noon yet. So, you have six more hours before you can talk to her.”

  “If I want to talk to her now, I’ll talk to her now.” Ralpho’s demanding tone sends a shiver down my spine. “You don’t give the orders.”

  Benton opens and flexes his hands. “No, I don’t. But neither do you.”

  “I have more authority than you,” Ralpho argues. “But don’t worry, I’ll give the girl a get out of jail free pass for the next six hours if you pass the test.”

  Benton’s hands curl into fists. “And what’s the test?”

  “Oh, it’s pretty simple,” Ralpho insists, but the amusement lacing his voice suggests otherwise. “Well, it’ll be if you’ve been telling me the truth about the girl.”

  My back goes rigid. What has Benton told them about me?

  “What have I told you?” Benton’s tone carries caution. “Because I haven’t told you anything about her really, other than she’s dating us. And that wasn’t even me that told you that. It was Jackson.”

  “I know. He has a big mouth, that one. And he loves to run it off to anyone who’ll listen,” Ralpho says. “And while you confirmed that what he said about the girl was true, I’m still not sure I buy it. So, I’m asking for proof. You show it to me, I give you the invites and leave your girl alone until tonight. You fail, I tell Drake you decline the invites and I’m going to take that boy of yours that started the lie and have a nice, long chat with him, since he likes running his mouth so much.”

  Chills break out across my skin. No one has explained to me what chat means in the drug world, but I’m fairly positive it doesn’t mean having a nice, long talk.

  “How do you expect me to prove that to you?” Again, Benton’s tone is guarded.

  “I have a few ideas.” The low laugh that reverberates from Ralpho's lips as he leans to the side and catches my eye causes my stomach to ravel into knots.

  I don’t know why, but I hadn’t thought too much about proving to people that I’m in a relationship with six guys. What does proving even entail? How does someone prove they're in a relationship with multiple people? I might be naïve about dating and guys, but a couple of scenarios pop into my mind. Scenarios I’m not ready to reenact with Benton and the guys, let alone with Benton in front of two perverted drug lord worker bees.

  Then a lump wedges in my throat. If I don’t do what they say, they might hurt Jackson.

  “If you want a show, go to a strip club,” Benton replies flatly. “Because, whatever you’re thinking, isn’t going to happen.”

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking, so don’t make assumptions,” Ralpho retorts, looking highly entertained as he glances from me to Benton. “I’m not going to make you and your guys fuck her in the car while we watch. I don’t get my kicks off of other guys fucking women. I prefer doing it myself.” He drags out a pause. “However, if I wanted you to, you’d have to, or else your boy would be,” he brings his finger to his neck and drags it along his throat.

  My pulse quickens and my stomach winds into even more knots as I realize the full meaning of the word chat.

  “But like I said, I prefer fucking women, not watching other men fuck women.” He lowers his hand from his throat. “So, for proof, all I want is for you to get your girl out of the car and give her another one of those passionate,” he rolls his eyes, as if he thinks the word is stupid, “kisses you were giving her when we walked up. And then have one of your other guys do the same. If there’s no jealousy and the girl goes through with it, then I’ll take that as enough proof.” His eyes darken. “For now, anyway.”

  For now? Does that mean will have to prove more to him later? Because thinking about kissing two guys in front of Tank and Ralpho is already turning my stomach into an out of control bouncy house crammed with insane butterflies.

  “And then you’ll get your invites and we’ll leave everyone alone until later tonight,” Ralpho prattles on. “But I still need to talk to the girl tonight to make sure she’s trustworthy.”

  Great. Now not only do I have to make out with two guys in front of two guys, but I have to prove my trustworthiness to a drug dealer.

  I press my forehead to the window, the glass warm against my chilled skin. I want to help the guys—I really do—but my mind is spinning a mi
llion miles a minute and I can barely think straight.

  I don’t think I can do this.

  “Look, I really want to prove it to you, but right now, all my guys are out,” Benton tells him with an edge in his tone. “Maybe tonight we can give you some proof.”

  “If your guys are all gone then who’s that?” Ralpho nods in the direction of the entrance to the apartment complex.

  I rotate around in the seat to see who he nodded at. Then my heart goes from a galloping horse to a freakin’ sprinting wild mustang.

  Xavier is entering the parking lot, coming from who knows where. When he left the apartment, he said he was going to go check the area, but never embellished what that meant. Since the Rogue was caught last night, I thought the apartment was safe. I guess not.

  My gaze returns to Ralpho and Tank. Yeah, I really guess not. In fact, does safe even exist anymore? Did it ever?

  “He must’ve just got back,” Benton mutters, his worried gaze skimming toward me and making my nerves double.

  “Well, lucky for Jackson, he did.” Ralpho claps his hands together and the brass knuckles clank together, making an ear grating noise. “Now, get the girl out of the car so we can get this done.”

  Clenching his hands into fists, Benton twists toward me. Remorse radiates from his eyes as he reaches for the door handle and pulls the door open.

  It’ll be fine, he mouths then offers me his hand.

  I want to believe him—I really do. And maybe if it were any of the other guys in place of Xavier, I might not be so nervous. But Xavier doesn’t like me. He may have been nice to me this morning, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be happy about being forced to kiss me.

  But, seeing no other choice than to trust Benton again, I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. Then I hold my breath and wait for Xavier to reach us, hoping upon hoping that everything will turn out okay.

  Because Jackson’s life might depend on it.