Truth & Lies: A Queen City Justice Novel by Elizabeth Bemis Read Free Book Online Page B

Deck’s long-dormant protective streak.
    “Come on in,” he said, pulling the door open wider and stepping to the side and leaning against the wall for support. He couldn’t have said why he refused to pick up his crutch. It was, as always, within arm’s reach.
    Mr. Mob Wannabe elbowed Freckles—Draghana—in the ribs, and she glared for the briefest of moments under her eyelashes before a shield went down over her face and she scuttled forward across the threshold as if her life depended on it.
    The thug picked up her bag and handed it to Deck.
    “She don’t speak much English,” he said. “You sure you don’t want me to take her back?”
    Deck took the bag almost by accident, his gaze having returned to Freckles’s face.
    He was torn between sending her on her way to avoid complicating his own miserable existence and…
    He didn’t know. Rescuing her?
    Jesus. He couldn’t even rescue himself. What made him think he could rescue her, no matter what sort of clusterfuck she’d managed to find herself in?
    His days of playing the hero were long gone.
    She darted another look at her captor, and he broke just a little bit.
    Fuck. He was going to do it. He was going to take her in. “Welcome,” he said.
    Mr. Mob let out a sigh. “Fine. I’m out of here. I’ll be back to check on you periodically in case there are any problems.”
    Deck stared at the guy. Did he really want him showing up at his house unannounced? “Is that really necessary?” he asked.
    “It’s just part of the service.”
    This guy was pegging his creep-o-meter. The old adage about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer whispered through his mind.
    “Call the Dream Come True office if you decide you don’t like her before I come back.” He executed an about-face and headed for his car.
    Deck winced and checked to see if she understood what the thug had said. He couldn’t tell. She just looked shell-shocked, whether from the idea that she was now stuck with him or the possibility that she’d understood, he wasn’t sure.
    He needed to figure out what was going on. Deck pulled back the curtain and watched the thug pull out of the driveway and committed his plates to memory before turning back to his guest.
    Maybe he should help her find some place to stay, and then he could return to his life.
    Such as it was.
    He lifted her suitcase by the handle and set it down by the front door, not sure what to do with it.
    “Did you just get to town?” he asked.
    She looked at him with a bit of confusion, still holding the handles of her purse in a death grip.
    With a welcoming gesture, he indicated she should sit in the easy chair in the living room. As she looked around, she was probably wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into. He turned to follow her gaze around the room, looking with the critical eye of an outsider.
    He’d bought and begun the process of converting the firehouse before his last deployment over a year and a half ago. In spite of his big talk online, he hadn’t really done much on it since then. His injury kept him from carrying on, and so he’d gotten used to the exposed studs where there should be walls, and the concrete floor that begged for carpet or hardwood or something.
    He’d tried recently with one of the living room walls. He had beat up fingers, and an ever-increasing level of frustration to show for it.
    He swore, grabbed his crutch, and whirled away.
    He had to find out what was going on.
    He stalked— slowly —over to the table where his cell phone sat.
    First call: the captain. And if that didn’t get him the answers he needed, there was always Immigration and Customs Enforcement. ICE might deport her, but at least he knew she would be in capable hands…unlike with that shifty Italian guy.
    “You hungry?” Deck asked his new guest.
    Her stomach rumbled audibly, and she smiled as her face turned red.
    Those dimples affected him more than anything had in a long time. Which was