Chapter 32 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: A FRONT FOR LIES.
ZARA
Michael grabbed my hand at once, and I began protesting, pulling my hand out of his grip as he tried to drag me off.
His grip wasn't just firm; it felt like fear and frustration, like he was trying to drag me from danger only he knew.
“What do you think you are doing?” I asked, trying to snap out of his strong grip that pierced through my bones.
“Taking you out of here,” he snapped again.
Why the hell was he so angry?
“And why would I go anywhere with you?” I snapped back angrily as I tried to pull out of his grip. He finally let go, and I pulled my hand away, twisting it as I tried to get rid of the pain his grip had caused.
"This is all my fault," Lysandra suddenly said, as if that was going to make me stop suspecting both of them. "I am sorry; I just wanted to be friends with Zara." She looked too calm — like she had expected this outcome.
She refused to explain why she had called Michael over. What was she trying to achieve? Sow discord between us? So she could have him?
“I will get going now,” Lysandra’s small voice rang as she backed off. She was gone almost too quickly, as if her job was done.
Neither of us moved, our eyes locked, and I was not going to back down now. Why was he acting like this?
“Are you hiding something?” I slipped, angry that he was acting this way over getting lunch. “I mean, maybe you are lying; that would be the only reason you won’t want me to meet with her.”
“What?” He finally blinked, and I sighed, looking away. “Why would you think that?”
“You get to know that I was with Lysandra, and then you angrily burst in here? What else do you want me to think?”
“I was just worried.” His breath came in uneven beats. “Why did he sound so sincere? It made my suspicion flicker—annoyingly
“Right, why were you worried? That she would tell me about your secret?” I was pushing too hard for cracks, to see his reaction to me knowing he had a secret.
“I don’t have a secret,” he said almost too boldly. I gulped. How much longer did he plan to lie to me?
“Oh, okay. What else could explain this…?”
“I was worried, okay. “Last night you drank with her and passed out,” he said, almost too immediately. “I was worried she would do something to you,” he said. His eyes snapped away from mine, and he stared at his leg.
I gulped. What was happening? The closer I think I was to figuring anything out, there was just this sudden pulling away, and everything was in a mess once again. I tried to stop my stomach from swirling in a pool.
Did he also suspect Lysandra? I had proven it, and I couldn't be sure if I was supposed to tell him.
“What does that mean?” I pretended as if I didn't understand what he meant. “I got drunk last night, and she was kind enough to make sure I got home even when she was drunk.”
“She wasn’t drunk last night.” Michael was a little too eager to divulge her secret to me.
“Which is what is weird. Why was she sober, and you were passed out? Were you drinking more than she was?” His jaw tightened.
I gulped, feeling my throat closing in on its own. If they were in it together, then he wouldn't be saying any of this.
“What are you trying to say?” I acted as if I didn't already know what had happened.
“It’s most likely your drinks were laced with something, but I am not sure.”
He looked angry, but it was not directed at me. It was as if he were angry at himself for not knowing what had happened.
“I am sorry, Zara; I want to keep you safe, but I keep failing.”
His words made my feelings feel heavy, and my grip on the bag was so tight that it felt like my veins were going to pop out. He was not supposed to sound so reassuring, at least not to me. He was still a suspect, but here he was trying to rid himself of all suspicion.
“It wasn’t her.” The words dropped a little too eagerly. I couldn't have him suspecting Lysandra. I still needed to unravel him, and to do that, I needed to have her around to help.
He couldn't know I knew the truth, not until I knew if he was a mastermind or just being used as a pawn.
His eyebrow raised, but he didn't say anything; his eyes softened as if he was asking me to explain.
“I think the store is being used as a front for drug dealing.” His pupils dilated too fast and were gone before I could register it.
I waited for his reaction because we both knew it was wrong. I saw a flicker of shock pass before he briefly hid it with a stoic face. He looked at me as if I were crazy. “I am still looking into it, so you don’t have to worry.”
“I will help.”
“How can you? What can a bartender do?” I asked gently.
He was going to slip out somehow; here was the time for him to confess to using high technology and a network only available to the elite to try and find out the truth about the bar.
“There is a network of bartenders and club workers,” he said.
Right! A bartender network. He didn't even flinch as he said it and that bothered me the most.
He was too smart; he had a ready answer for everything, like he had thought it in advance, and all he was doing was waiting to hear so he could respond.
“I am sure I would be able to find something,” he continued.
“Oh, right,” I nodded. He had successfully blocked off my access too easily. “I have to get back to work.” I gestured to my driver waiting by the car.
“Can you at least let me know anytime you want to meet Lysandra?”
It was obvious he still didn't trust her. He tried to pull a straight face, but I saw the worry lines crease on his forehead and the way his eyes dimmed gently.
“I can take care of myself,” I said, but the way his eyes fell for a minute made me reconsider. “I will try to let you know when we meet.”
I knew that I didn't need to; Lysandra was going to tell him the first chance she got. How had she even had the time to send a message when we were engrossed in conversation the entire time?
I took a step forward and pressed my finger into his chest, ignoring how surprisingly firm it was every time for me.
“It is strange that an ordinary bartender knows Lysandra Velaren.”
“We were friends, and that is all to it.”
He didn't address my concern. It was the same answer every time. They were friends, and there was nothing more to it. I was the one making a big deal out of this.
“I know,” I said, trying to step back, but his hand gripped mine, thumb running gently over my wrist. Why did my heart skip? This was not the time for my body to betray me.
“I am not trying to hurt you, Zara; I want to take care of you.” That wasn’t the voice of a liar. It was the voice of a man terrified of losing something
Those words weren't for now; they were for the future. It was like he was trying to make them linger in my mind, for whatever reason. I gulped and pulled a smile, pulling out of his grip.
“You have got to get back to work.”
I didn't force myself to ask how he could leave work in the middle of the day. I knew he would find the perfect excuse; he always did.
I walked to my car; he followed, pulling open the door before my driver could get it. Even now, he was still trying to act the gentleman role.
“Get back safe,” he murmured as I slid in. I looked up at him; he looked like he was not going to let this go anytime soon.
“I will see you later?” I asked even though it was supposed to be sure.
“Sure.” He closed the door and watched the car speed into the distance.
Michael Black, do I have to investigate you to get to the truth? If I am right, then I am living with the enemy, and if I am wrong, I might be pushing away the only person willing to save me.