Broken Lies: The Fated Series, #7

By HL Packer

Niamh

Mysterious and mine.

He doesn't know it yet, and I have no idea if he even feels the same, but it's a risk I'm willing to take.

Tia may have set me on the path to healing, but he's the one that came for me. That saved me.

Tino

Tiny and terrified.

Two words I can honestly say I've never been interested in, until now.

All the women of my past have been strong, confident, articulate. And yet, the one that keeps me awake at night couldn't even bring herself to look me in the eye.

But somethings changing, she's changing. And the more I see, the more I want.

Can we make it out of the lies we end up entangled in? Or do others see more than we bargained for?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HL Packer
• Release date: Jul 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201938956

HL Packer

H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand. H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand.

Book preview

C1

H ey, you’re Niamh, right?

His breath fans across my shoulders, his heat at my back as the question hangs in the air between us. Studiously, I wait for the bartender to return with my drink, paying no attention to the stranger as I peer across the bar, my friends waiting just a few steps away.

I’m Aiden, a friend of your brother, he continues, undeterred.

The beer bottles land on the bar in front of me with a thud, drawing my gaze back to the task at hand. With a smile, I pay for the bottles, ignoring the demanding heat at my back and the irritation that fizzles under my skin.

Not interested, I clip, snatching the bottles from the tray and turning to head back to my friends. His hand lands heavily in front of me, halting any movement as I turn to glower at this friend of my brother. The man who’s interrupting my evening for God knows what.

Come on, let me buy you a drink, he purrs in my ear, his dark eyes coming to mine as he smirks, thinking this is a done deal.

Condensation gathers on the bottles in my hand as I turn to take him in. Dark hair, dark eyes, and an edge of danger flickering around him.

Sounds like an asshole, looks like an asshole, friend of my brother… must be an asshole.

I’m all sorted, thank you, I dismiss coldly. Now, if you could kindly get out of my way, my friends are waiting.

He steps back half an inch, enough for me to breathe without tasting the mint on his breath but not enough to get out of the way as his arm comes down on the other side, caging me in.

Look… I sigh. I don’t mean to be rude. I do. I’m sure you’re a great guy. Or not. But I’m here with friends, having a celebratory drink, and then I’m going home. I’m not interested in anything my brother sent you here for.

Not that I’ve seen him for the last six months––he probably doesn’t even realise that my exams have been and gone. No, he’s too busy off playing hot-shot fighter, or gangster, or whatever the hell he’s doing.

Oh, he didn’t send me. He just showed some pictures of his family around, once. I’m just here for a drink myself and I don’t know anyone, but you looked familiar, so I thought I’d say hi. His eyes twinkle in the dim light of the bar, a small smile playing over his features.

He’s not bad looking, but he’s got to be bad news if he’s friends with Cian, there’s nothing good going on with him right now.

Well, I’m busy so… thanks but no thanks.

Oh, come on. You’re gonna leave me high and dry sat over there on my own? he asks with the raise of an eyebrow. The sweet little sister Cian talked about wouldn’t do that, would she?

There’s nothing sweet about––

Is there a problem here? my friend, Brendan, asks from behind him, cutting off what I was about to say as his voice carries over the music. Do you need a hand, Niamh?

Thanks, B. I’m good. I smile, my gaze locked in some invisible competition with Aiden, one I’m not willing to back down from. This is just a friend of Cian’s passing through, thought he’d stop and say hi.

Aiden’s eyes narrow as I speak, his jaw clenching. Nice to see you, Niamh. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. He smiles, schooling the irritation that flickered over his face as he turns to Brendan. Nice to meet you, man.

His hand comes away from my side, offering it out to Brendan who leaves him hanging. Instead, he takes two of the bottles from my hand and guides me out of Aiden’s reach.

See you soon, Aiden calls as we walk away. But as I turn, I see the smirk flash as his gaze flicks up to mine––very clearly on my ass before.

What a pig, I mumble, quiet enough for Brendan to miss as we slide back around the table.

You good? Orla asks, accepting the offered bottle.

Yeah, I’m good. I smile, unease creeping over me. Looking up, my gaze connects with his as he tips his drink in a silent toast. With a roll of my eyes, I place mine on the table, not willing to enter his games as I move out of his line of sight.

Because if one of Cian’s friends turning up here isn’t bad enough, it had to be tonight. Our exams are over for the year, at least eight weeks of complete bliss. No revision, no early mornings, no stress. And the last thing I need right now is him spending the rest of the evening smiling and waving in my direction. Just the thought of what my brother is out doing is hanging over my head.

So, here’s to passing another year, Brendan cheers, raising his bottle and drawing my attention back to the celebration we’re supposed to be having. One more and we’re free.

One more and we’re free. We smile, echoing the sentiment back to him as our bottles raise in a toast.

I could tell you the exact moment he turned and left, the heat of his attention on my back as distracting as the unknown reason for him being here, and I can’t help the way my mind wanders to all the possibilities.

Did Cian know I’d finished––and passed––another year? Did he send Aiden here to let me know, in some surreptitious way, that he was thinking of me? Something inside of me knows that this isn’t a chance visit, that’s he’s not here just passing through.

There’s something intentional about the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me, and I just can’t put my finger on what it was, or why, but three beers and a shot later, I’m ready to head home and leave the whole thing in my past.

It’s not surprising to find it’s raining as I push open the heavy bar doors, shoving my hair down the back of my jacket before yanking the hood up. Hugging the girls and Brendan, we say our goodbyes before heading in separate directions.

The rain pelts down against my hood as I turn the corner, thrusting my fingers deep into the pocket of my jacket. Fucking Irish weather.

You shouldn’t walk alone in the dark, you know? someone calls from a doorway to my side, making me jump, my heart rate picking up. What would your big brother have to say about that? Aiden.

Don’t know, don’t care. Not really his concern anymore now, is it? I clip, speeding my pace past where he waits as adrenaline courses through me. His threat very real, very clear, and closer than I’d like. Why did I leave that pepper spray in my bag at home?

Maybe I should walk you home? It’s not that far, is it? Couple of streets away. He falls into line with my steps, his long legs carrying him the distance easily, despite my hurried pace.

Fumbling around in my pockets, my fingers wrap around a half-used packet of tissues and some chewing gum, my keys stashed safely in my jeans with my phone. Idiot. He stands easily half a foot taller than me, and he looks as if he trains with my brother, the thick dark wool of his jacket doing nothing to downplay the expanse of his shoulders.

I could run, but he’d chase. I could shout, but no one is coming out here at this time of night, no matter whether a girl is screaming or not. I could fight, but that’s a complete waste of time––look at the fucking guy.

Stop thinking, Niamh. I can hear the cogs turning from here, he says, the sound barely carrying over the rain.

How do you know where I live? I ask, my steps getting quicker as we pass another street.

That’s not the question you should be asking. He chuckles. But I can see why that would be the one you ask. What would you do to make sure your brother comes home safely?

What kind of a question is that? I snap. What would I do? I don’t know. Anything, I rush out, the panic clawing at the back of my throat as he threatens not only me but my blood.

Anything? This should be easy then. The smugness in his voice is clear. Do you see that blue car? I’m going to unlock it and you’re going to get in it and come for a drive with me.

Like fuck I am. I scoff.

Which bit of your brother would you like me to send to your house then?

My steps falter, gruesome images flashing behind my eyes of my mother opening a parcel on the kitchen table, the checkered pattern of the table cloth turning red as she opens a box that will transform her life forever.

You’re going to let your family know you’re staying with some friends for a while and you’ll be back in a couple of months. It’s a last-minute thing but Cian’s going to be taking good care of you, I’m sure, he continues confidently. Because you care about your family and doing the right thing, don’t you, Niamh?

A pair of lights flash ahead of us, the dark blue Audi parked safely between my house and the bar I was at. He planned this. He knew. Which means, he also knows I’d do just about anything to ensure my mother never receives a box with parts of us in.

My steps slow as I attempt to work my way through any possible alternatives––ways out, ways around. But there’s nothing. No hope. And as inevitable as the rain in Ireland, he steps forward, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in.

Phone, he clips, holding his hand out as I pass. I’ll take your keys whilst you’re in there.

With a sigh and a roll of my eyes, I shuffle my jacket, grabbing my keys and phone from the depths of my jeans.

I could lunge, scratch him with the keys, run, and call for help on the way. But how long is it going to be before help arrives? And what will happen to Cian, or me, if I do?

Gritting my teeth, I stand before him, rain hammering down around us as I place the phone and keys in his outstretched hand and climb into the pristine vehicle.

The car door slams behind me as I jolt upright in bed. Another nightmare. Dream. Memory.

Shit, I grumble, rubbing my hands over my face before sliding up in the bed and reaching for the glass of water on the bedside cabinet. My heart thunders in my ears, my hands shaking as adrenaline courses through my body.

My eyes slowly adjust to the light, peeking around the room frantically to check he’s not here, he’s not watching. I flick the bedside light on, the shadows pushing back against the side of the room as it illuminates the space around me in warmth––peace.

A peace I’ll never find but attempt to as I elongate my breaths, remembering the words from the therapist. Breathe in, breathe out. You’re alone. You’re safe. Breathe in, breathe out. My gaze flicks to the digital clock on the nightstand. Twelve forty seven a.m., again.

With a sigh, I climb from the warm safety of the bed, my heart rate coming back down and the panic that was rising gently pushing back down. It’s almost instinctive as I grab the pack of charcoal and the sketch pad from the table before settling back against the headboard, the chaos of my mind falling onto the pages.

C2

F uck off. I laugh, shoving Franky in the shoulder as we fall through the front doors. You’re such a cheater.

Do we need that kind of language at this time in the morning? Alessia asks, arching her eyebrow from the kitchen doorway. Coffee is in the pot. I’m sure the others will be down shortly.

Spiacente, Signora, we both reply. Grazie.

Can’t say I’ve been told off at this time in a morning for… well, the whole time you’ve been in London. He laughs as we head towards the dining room.

Well, if you didn’t cheat so blatantly, I wouldn’t be calling you out on it.

Hey, if you can’t keep up, that ain’t my fault, he replies, handing me a mug.

I’d run rings around you in the gym and you damn well know it, I reply, checking around to make sure Alessia isn’t in the room and we’re not going to get another telling off.

Ah, but we’re not in the gym yet, he replies with a knowing smirk. So, who’s your money on for Saturday? Think Cian’s still got it?

You’re seriously gonna bet against him? I scoff. At least we know where your loyalty lies.

Hey, you know exactly where my loyalty lies. It’s my money I’m interested in expanding. So, you think he’s back on form or not?

You’re the one that’s been in the gym with him. You tell me.

Been in the gym with who? Anton asks, ambling through the doorway.

Cian.

Yeah? Cian replies as he follows Tia from the kitchen, arms full of plates.

Fuck, this is complicated, I grumble.

Did you want him for something? Anton asks with the cock of an eyebrow and the start of a smirk, grabbing cutlery from the drawer and placing it haphazardly on the table.

Franky was just asking whether you’re on form ready for the fight on Saturday night. I chuckle, pulling out a seat and throwing Franky under the bus. I missed this whilst being in London.

I mean, Carlos and Sophie are cool and everything, and there’s always someone from the security team around, but it’s… different. This place is as much of a home to both Franky and me as our own homes, Alessia and Luca an extension of our family, as well as being Famiglia.

It’s comfortable, easy, sitting around this dining table before eight in the morning, laughing, joking, and chatting shit. It’s normal. And whilst there are other people around in London, there’s nobody I have the comradery with like I do these guys.

If I’m on form? Cian gasps, clutching his chest like he’s wounded. He stumbles back a couple of steps as everyone in the room looks in his direction, various smiles and chuckles sounding out around us. How could you even ask that, Franky? I thought you believed in me?

Fucking hell, he grumbles under his breath. You’re as bad as the rest of them.

With a smile and a laugh, Cian drops into the seat beside Tia. What are you doing here this early anyway? he asks, looking at Anton.

Elena’s got lectures this morning and I need a check in with Luca and Carlos before we fly out tomorrow. You guys gonna manage here without me?

I’m sure we’ll be just fine. Carlos chuckles, coming up behind him and ruffling his hands through Anton’s hair. Go fuck your new wife and get out of my hair.

I think you’ll find you’re the one in my hair, not the other way around, Anton grumbles, straightening the wayward strands.

Where’s Sophie? Tia asks, loading fruit into a bowl.

She’s in the shower, Carlos replies, a salacious grin on his face. We’ve had a busy morning already.

Gross. She scoffs, offence written all over her face. I need someone to come and help me balance the testosterone out in here. You’re all man-ing all over my breakfast.

I don’t think that’s a word, T, Franky replies, his mouth full of food.

You’re disgusting. She sighs, sinking into the seat next to Cian. Where’s Niamh when you need her?

How’s she getting on? I ask, filling a mug and taking a seat at the table.

Oh, she’s getting there. Tia smiles. Baby steps.

With a knowing nod, I sip the coffee, my thoughts filtering back to the day I came face-to-face with Jonathan McCarthy. When I saw the state of the girl curled in the corner of a metal fucking cage a few hours later, I wished I could resurrect him and torture him all over again. It’s nothing less than he deserved.

And the more we learned on the streets from the men under him, the clearer it became that McCarthy wasn’t the big man-in-charge he thought he was. Nothing more than a puppet for Aiden Dakin, the one I killed far too cleanly for what I learned.

I’ve always been the soft one, the bleeding heart of the group––when it comes to women, anyway. There’s no room for soft when you’re in our line of business, but I can’t help it when it comes to the fairer sex.

I’m sure a therapist would tell me it all boils down to some attachment, non-attachment bullshit to do with my mother. I’m not interested in rehashing the past and the things I can’t change but I also have to be careful how close I get to women in general.

How long are we back? I ask Carlos, dropping the subject of the little girl with the doe eyes far quicker than I’d like to.

We’re here ‘til Anton gets back off his honeymoon and his induction’s done. Sophie probably needs to go back before then, he replies, switching my thoughts back to the task at hand.

You want me with Sophie? I ask.

Depends what this fucker needs whilst we’re here, he replies, rolling his eyes and gesturing to Anton. I’ll let you know.

Can I pair you up with one of the new guys, T? Anton asks. I need their operations merging and an eye keeping from someone I can trust.

Just point me where you need me, I agree with a nod.

Does that mean I’ve got Sophie for the day? Tia asks. I’ve got a lecture this afternoon but I’m sure we could do something this morning.

She was talking about some work stuff, Carlos grumbles. "But this is supposed to be a break, so go do girly shit with her, please."

Carlos, did you just ask for help? From Tia? Franky scoffs through his laughter. You’re going soft. Watch out, Anton. This will be you next.

Fuck off, Franky. Carlos laughs.

I fucking missed this.

I need to check in with some of my guys, but I’ll do that this morning and meet you at Gusto around lunchtime, if that works?

Sounds like a plan. Come on, C. Luca’s waiting, Anton says, climbing from the chair and topping his coffee up. Franky, can you get Cian sorted out with a car and then he can go when he’s ready? I’ll let you know when we’re ready to make a move back to pick up Elena.

Sure thing. Franky nods.

Well, if we’ve got a plan for the day, I’m gonna go meet Vincenzo. I’ll see you at Gusto later? I ask Franky.

With a nod, I down the rest of the coffee, wishing everyone my best for the day before heading out and back to my car, ready to see what shit Vincenzo has for me.

Niamh

His booming laughter takes me by surprise as I step from my room, the sound stopping me in my tracks, but the broad stretch of his shoulders is becoming more familiar every time I see him. The rich chocolate tones of his hair disappear into the dining room with Franky, the crass one, as I get to the top of the stairs.

I should have come down hours ago, it’s not like I’ve been fast asleep and getting caught up with my rest. Instead, I got lost in my art and the images that were bursting forth from my fingers. Now, the kitchen is full, the dining room has people in, and I can’t command my feet down the stairs.

Stifling a chuckle, I wait as Signora Mariotti comes up the stairs with a small smile.

Buongiorno, Niamh. She smiles. "Tia and