Page 27 of House of Wolves
I laugh. “Well, I hope not. I’ve already been lying to Brick.”
“I know, and so far, so good, but you’ll have to start snooping through his stuff when he leaves, sending him away to give you time to search. The lies aren’t going to be planned and will pile on top of each other. I need to see if you have any obvious ticks. Brick’s a cop. He’d be able to tell.”
Shit. He’s right. I’ve been cautious, but Brick is a trained police officer and good enough at lying to convince us of his innocence these past few years, confirming his skills at deception. He would know if I’m lying if I’m not any good at it. Maybe I am skilled, or maybe Brick’s intoxicated state last night gave me the upper hand.
“Okay.” I bring my feet to the couch, crossing my legs and turning toward Kilo. I close my eyes and breathe, trying to think of a lie. I stare at him blankly. “My favorite food is seafood.”
The corners of Kilo’s lips upturn. “Okay. Now tell me something true.”
“I’ve never been to Cancun.”
His smile widens. “Okay, now another lie.”
“I’ve never masturbated.”
He bursts into a laugh as my cheeks heat. I don’t know why I said that. Maybe I wanted to make him more uncomfortable by throwing him off, but I should have said anything else. There was no need to admit to this man I barely know that I touched myself. He’s already caught me in enough embarrassing situations to last a lifetime.
He straightens, pointing a finger at me. “That’s a good one. Thought you’d throw me off there.”
“Did I?”
He shakes his head no. “I’ll admit, you’re not bad, but it’s your pupils. They dilate when you lie.”
“Really?”
“It’s subtle, but if you do it enough and he catches on to the pattern, you’re screwed.”
I cover my eyes with my hands. “How do I make it stop?”
“Practice,” he says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You need to lie more, and I’ll watch and let you know when you’re doing it. Once you realize, you’ll start to correct the habit.”
“Okay,” I scoot closer, widening my eyes. “Let's do this.” I puff out my chest, ready to become a lying master.
“Tell me things I wouldn’t know about you, and I’ll decide if you’re lying or not.”
“Okay.” I try not to think too hard, rapid fire spewing random facts. “I don’t like broccoli.”
“Lie.”
“I’ve never watched The Godfather?”
“Truth?” he questions.
“Yes.”
“I…”
He holds up a hand. “Wait, you’ve never watched The Godfather?”
“No. Doesn’t really seem like my jam.”
“No, but you have to watch it.”
“Right now?”
He chuckles. “Not right now, but later. It’ll be a date.” It’s his turn for his cheeks to heat, and I can’t help but grin. “Okay. Sorry, back on track. Keep going.”
I don’t notice I’ve scooted closer to him, and I shiver as our knees brush. “I am afraid of chickens.”
