Pretty Lies, page 12
Cory had to think about that.
All at once, he understood.
It was the entire thing.
The attack.
Luis.
Della.
The motive.
“Something just isn’t right with this,” Cory said out loud.
Frankie brought his cup up to his lips, muttering, “Hard to find what isn’t right when everyone knows something is wrong and might want to take advantage. Loose lips. Sinking ships. That whole bit. Think about it.”
Cory was.
Too much.
•••
Cory considered his conversation with Frankie after he stepped out of the private section and leaned against the wall of the hallway. He needed a moment to understand what it might mean for Della—not to mention, his job here. He didn’t get much time to think about anything before the rear exit door opened slightly. The conversation from familiar voices traveled down to his spot.
He stilled at the words he heard.
“Just, shit … hey, I’m not trying to be an ass, you know?” J said.
Della let out a hard sigh. “Aren’t you?”
“Or you could see it as me looking out for you. Don’t see this as me trying to pry into your business—you offered. I’m only voicing an opinion. And it’s not like anything I said was untrue, Della. You don’t have the greatest history with guys. You tell me you jumped into bed with—”
“That’s enough.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay?”
Cory’s gaze stayed trained on the wall across from him, but from the side he could see how Della’s hand around the side of the exit door loosened. So much so that the door closed a bit. Not enough to shut out the conversation, unfortunately.
“I know, okay. I do,” Della told her brother. “I just don’t need everybody else to point it out to me, too. Jesus, I just got out of a relationship with a raging asshole and shocker, he just happens to be an old friend of Cory’s. To top it all off. Men like that aren’t worth shit. I don’t need you to tell me. I already know. Don’t worry, J, I’m not about to make the same mistakes again with Cory Rossi.”
Ouch.
Cory didn’t have long to acknowledge the ache that spread in his chest or just how much Della’s words stung. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure he had a right to feel anything about it at all when the two of them barely knew each other, right? She was his current job—he’d said it himself that this was just fun.
Except it wasn’t that which hurt. It was her assumptions. Because she didn’t know shit, not about him.
A couple of seconds later, Cory straightened up from the wall just as Della pulled open the exit door and stepped inside with J following close behind.
“Your father said you were welcome to join him for breakfast—both of you,” Cory told the siblings.
If the two knew he had overheard their conversation, they didn’t act like it. Neither did he. Everybody seemed fine like that.
Just perfect.
“What else?” Della asked, walking closer.
“Cory,” J greeted, passing him by.
“J,” he returned.
“Mind the things you handle, yeah?”
Cory met the man’s gaze, murmuring, “Always do, J.”
It was all about the unspoken words.
And what they meant.
“Well?” Della asked.
Cory’s attention went back to her. He thought about what Frankie told him, knowing the man had a point. If there was something bigger going on and Luis or the attack on Della was just … smoke and mirrors, then there was a point to keeping information close at hand.
“I’ll be hanging a little closer,” Cory said. “You go, I go. That’s the motto.”
Della scowled.
Damn her for looking pretty like that, too.
“I don’t want to appear scared,” she said. “Luis doesn’t frighten me, Cory. He’s the type to like that too much.”
“But he does bother you.”
That much was obvious. And those were two very different things.
Della swallowed hard, tipping her head up to meet Cory’s stare. Just a foot apart in the hallway, he found she was too close … yet not close enough. Except her earlier words made him bitter in more ways than he cared to explain.
“Luis has always been obsessive and—”
“It’s more than that, clearly.”
Della’s expression hardened. “So, you see it, too.”
Yeah.
He sure did.
“Go have breakfast. I’ll be ready to leave when you are.”
He could see she wanted to ask more. Cory had other things to think about.
Too much, really.
•••
Cory’s watchful gaze swept the dark street as movement from his right followed the creak of the car door being opened. The figure slipped into the passenger seat without much fanfare at all and if someone hadn’t been paying attention, they would have missed it altogether.
So was his brother’s way. It’s why they called Joe the Shadow.
“Thought you weren’t coming—look at the fucking time,” Cory said.
“Your bitching has started early. Good to see.”
“Hmm.”
Just like that, Joe shot Cory a look from the passenger seat that spoke volumes without saying anything at all. His brother could tell just by his demeanor and tone that something was up and no doubt, he was going to pester Cory until he spilled his guts.
“What is it?” Joe asked.
“Nothing—hey, I need you to do something for me.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s why I’m here. Your attitude, though, is why I’m gonna stay.”
Of course, it was.
On another day, Cory wouldn’t mind indulging his brother. Joe was a good sounding board—he always told Cory what shit was upfront with no-nonsense. He appreciated the bluntness because he offered Joe the same.
Problem was, his attitude came from one thing.
One person.
Della.
Because he still couldn’t get her comments out of his goddamn head. Maybe … just maybe, because Cory was who he was and he was proud of it, he didn’t want to admit that a passing comment from a woman he wasn’t even trying to chase had him feeling like a bit of a prick. Or like the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was exactly that.
Stupid.
That’s what it was.
Cory didn’t want to be doing this shit at all right now—not because Della wasn’t interesting enough to be worth it—because it put him off his game. Instead of focusing on keeping an eye on her place a block down from where he’d parked after the sun went down, he kept getting lost in his thoughts about all the other shit that had nothing to do with his job.
That had to be the most important thing right now.
“Listen,” Cory said out of the side of his mouth to his brother, “tonight’s just not the night for anything else but business, bro. All right?”
Joe took a second.
“Yeah, all right,” he finally replied, adding, “and shit, I would have got here earlier but since you’re busy and some people—Ma and Monica, you know—need extra attention from me, so they’ll relax for a damn minute.”
That had Cory grinning.
“Ah, Dad got onto you to distract Ma, then?”
Joe shrugged. “Yeah, but Mon missed you last week, really. I had to listen to her tell me all the details about her group of friends, and whose messing with who, or which chick is trying to get lead on the squad and why she ain’t shit … Cory, I just—”
“It’s a lot to keep up with.”
But he did that with Mon—Joe, spent his time with their little sister in other valuable ways—because she trusted her brother. Enough to tell him anything. So much so that she counted him as her best friend. Fuck anyone if they thought to use or hurt Monica Rossi because the first people she would come to was Cory and Joe.
They would rage.
Blood would spill.
Joe grunted under his breath. “Man, that’s why I didn’t fuck with chicks more than once in high school. Too much nonsense.”
“Fucking hell.”
Cory’s laughter followed Joe’s; it colored the car, taking his mind away from the shit that hadn’t left him alone all day. For that split second, he allowed himself to have that clean slate because soon enough, he’d be right back to business as usual.
“What do you need?” Joe asked, bringing them back to task.
He let out a steady stream of air, gaze cutting back to Della’s place. Earlier, when he’d brought her home after a full day, she’d not asked him in. He didn’t suggest that he wanted to, either.
“Luis Ruiz,” Cory said. “He’s who Frankie Costello is having the issue with. The attack on Della—why I’m watching her right now.”
That had Joe’s brow lifting.
Cory nodded in response. “Yeah.”
“So … yeah? Really.”
“Yep.”
“Shit. That’s been … how many years ago?”
Clearing his throat, Cory said, “A few. Wouldn’t have hurt to be a few more. Certainly didn’t expect to run into him like that. Might have handled it slightly better had I gone into it knowing everything from the start but what the fuck does that matter, you know?”
His brother made an inquisitive huh. Cory’s attitude had come back fast and heavy but this time, it wasn’t about the same thing as before.
“I missed something from the last time we talked. Fill me in,” Joe said, resting deeper into the passenger seat. “Might as well get comfortable.”
“That’s why you’re here.”
“And to do something for you.”
Cory shrugged. “That, too. We’re getting to that—”
“You want me to find what I can on Luis, current and past?”
“Basically. I’m busy. Also not getting the full story from people. My job is supposed to be Della. I just like to know shit, Joe.”
“I know. Still, fill me in.”
Cory rolled his eyes, but did what his brother wanted. It passed the better part of a half-hour in time to go over everything with Joe that had happened in just the past couple of days, not to mention the overall picture he was currently seeing.
“It’ll take me a bit to get it all without raising flags,” Joe said after Cory finished, “but we’ll know what Luis’s been up to since the two of you parted ways back when … or mostly.”
Cory didn’t reply.
He’d barely even cared to listen.
Joe didn’t miss it. “Seriously, what is up with you?”
Della had turned off the lights in her kitchen. Cory had a moment where he thought should have just asked to go in, man, fuck the pride, and he went quiet.
Joe gave him a look from the side.
Cory pretended like he didn’t see.
“She thinks I’m like her ex,” Cory said, the words bitter as they passed his lips. “Like Luis. Same type of dude, Joe. And I don’t know, I’m not all that different if you look at what I’ve done and where I came from and all that shit. In some ways, we’re exactly the fucking same.”
Joe hummed under his breath. “At least you know it, though. The problem comes when people aren’t self-aware, Cory.”
“Except that’s not the problem.”
“What is?”
“That I don’t want her to think I’m anything like him.”
Joe’s brow raised high, that look in his eye enough to make Cory point a single finger at his brother with a stare that stung.
“Don’t say a thing,” Cory uttered.
His brother’s palms popped up in surrender. “Saying nothing, Cory. But shit …”
Cory made a thick ugh sound under his breath before turning the key to make the car’s engine roar and the lights flood the road. “Call me when you got something and get the fuck out of my car, man.”
Joe’s laughter chased him out of the car, but he leaned back in the door before slamming it shut just to say, “It’ll be great, Cory.”
“What will?”
All he saw was his brother’s shrug before Joe turned and disappeared into the waiting shadows on the side of the street.
Prick.
TWELVE
CORY RESTED THE three brown paper bags of groceries onto Della’s counter. Without as much as a there you go in her direction, he spun on his boot heels and headed out of the kitchen. Like he intended to leave—probably to go back outside and sit in his car. The same thing he’d been doing all week. Ever since the breakfast with her father the morning after her run-in with Luis.
Nonetheless, it seemed like Cory had been … off since that day. Definitely avoiding her, she’d noticed. Considering he made every effort to keep a distance while at the same time making sure she stayed home as much as possible.
Today was an exception.
Only because Della was about to lose her shit. Entirely. One could only stay hidden away behind four walls for so long when they were used to being out and about before everything went bad. She’d tried to play by the rules as much as she could. Jennika was handling work—Della did her best not to say anything about that. She hadn’t seen her brother or father all week, either.
Della hadn’t realized when Cory said he’d be sticking closer, it also meant that she would be on lockdown in her place. Not to mention no one was telling her anything. Not her brother, father, and even Jennika refused to meet up for something like an innocent, quiet lunch because everyone didn’t dare breathe the wrong way.
Or some nonsense. That’s what it felt like.
Della knew everybody was just trying to … handle the issue. Keep her safe. Or that’s what she assumed because it was hard to tell when she wasn’t doing anything and everyone was telling her exactly that, too—nothing.
Maybe she didn’t do well with no control. Yeah, that was probably it.
So, that morning she decided to just head out. Not to work or cause trouble. No, she simply needed to get the hell out of her house, do something for herself, and breathe. Cory hadn’t exactly been happy about it, but he clearly hadn’t seen an issue when he let her go and followed behind like he was supposed to. It should have been a good day.
Back home after getting a new, red stiletto manicure, a blowout, and some groceries … except Cory was currently making it hard to be happy. Or rather, maybe it was starting to get to her.
Cory’s silence, that was. And his fucking mood. Whatever that was about.
“Thanks, I guess,” she called at Cory’s back as he moved to leave her kitchen.
His next step hesitated. He shot a dark look over his shoulder, that sharp jaw of his tensing when he asked her, “What, are you not done running around the city for the day, or …?”
Ouch.
She didn’t miss the attitude there.
Della wanted to pretend like Cory’s hot and cold demeanor didn’t bother her, but that would be a terrible fucking lie on her part. She shouldn’t be feeling anything for this man at all, but more often than not, that’s exactly what she found herself doing.
Feeling too much.
When he wasn’t looking, she did.
When he was silent, she wanted to ask why.
Except for all those strange urges she had regarding him were made more difficult to contain because all he’d done for the week was keep a distance and that damned attitude. Not that it should make a difference in the first place.
He clearly got what he wanted, right?
Seemed like it.
Della wasn’t perfect—she knew it. Stubborn, picky, controlling and a pest when she wanted to be. But she actually tried not to be that bad when it came to Cory because she did understand he was only doing his job even when he pointed out fifteen times that she was supposed to be at home—today alone.
Now, she was just done.
Over it.
“You know what,” Della told him with a wave of her new manicured nails, “never mind. See you later.”
Cory didn’t move. “Excuse me—you’re dismissing me, really?”
“Not like—”
“Nah, I get it, Della. Don’t bother explaining.”
Okay.
“What the fuck is your problem?” she asked, unfazed at his burning stare still locked on her.
There, it was out.
She said it.
He could explain or not.
Cory said nothing.
Della wasn’t having that. “Seriously, how did we go from laughing together in bed to you barely speaking to me all week unless you had to? Or is it that you got what you were looking for so now you’re not even going to pretend to be a decent guy?”
With a dark laugh, Cory turned around all at once. He took the three steps to stand up against the kitchen island, directly across from her with those paper bags between them, just to place his palms along the edge while he leaned over closer to her.
“That’s what it really boils down to for you, right?” he asked, his voice a dangerous murmur.
Della’s brow dipped, her mouth opening to form words that she wasn’t even sure she should speak, “What are you—”
“You should really mind your conversations more,” Cory interjected fast. “What you said to J at the restaurant a week ago—about me?—yeah, I heard that.”
A heavy weight found Della’s chest.
It sat there.
Then it spread.
Her words didn’t form.
Oh.
Why did he look hurt, though?
Had she misjudged …
“And why do you even care?” Cory asked her. “About whether or not we’re fucking talking, you know? If the first thing you see when you look at me is a bad dude, don’t worry about whether or not we’re having conversations, Della. It’s all good.”
She went quiet.
He didn’t seem to mind.
Della finally understood the meaning of tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Cory looked like the very last thing he wanted to do was stand there for another second and talk to her, but he didn’t move. Pride, maybe.
He had a lot of that, she noticed.
So did she.
This time, though, Della was sure she was the wrong one.
