The Last Good Liar (Carolina Kisses #3) - Sylvie Stewart Page 0,15

just as she knows I hoped she’d forgotten all about this Haines business. She’s calling my bluff and going all in.

Good thing I’m willing to double down if that’s what it takes. Gritting my teeth, I pull in a deep breath before choking out the words, “Nick. His name is Nick Amante and he’s stopping by again tomorrow.”

It seems I really put my foot in it this time.

Chapter Six

PONCH

“So?” Bran straddles the barstool next to mine, bringing in the scent of the crisp ocean air on his jacket. Damn, I love the beach.

I lower my beer to its coaster and turn to greet him with a fist bump. “Hey, man. Good to see you.” And it is. We met last year through some mutual acquaintances when I was out here on a weekend ride, and he’s been a huge help in scouting out the town for my shop. As a mechanic and a native to Carolina Beach, he’s been able to steer me in the right direction and be my ears on the ground while I developed my plans remotely from Greensboro. In fact, he’s the one who alerted me to the corner property I’m currently stressing over. The least I can do is buy the man a beer.

“So?” he repeats himself before signaling to the bartender to bring him another of what I’m drinking.

“I might be up shit’s creek.” My sigh is heavy.

Bran frowns. “Really? No luck with the realtor guy?”

I get him up to speed about the Justin guy blowing town and how I was able to track down the Fontaines’ contact info.

“Shit. The Fontaines own that building? Should’ve known.” He takes a drag on his newly delivered Lagunitas bottle and shakes his head.

“What about it?” I’m afraid I already know, but I have to ask anyway. Maria’s harsh characterization of my shop still stings like a fresh papercut, not that I should let it bother me. For someone who trudges around in pajamas all day, she certainly has no trouble passing sweeping judgments about people she’s never even met. Where does she get off being so high and mighty? Isn’t she the Fontaines’ maid?

Instead of answering, though, Bran takes another swallow of his beer. Damn.

Since he’s clearly stalling, I press on. “Your friend Maria seems to think the Fontaines are saving the property for something more ‘respectable’ than a gear shop. What a bunch of bullshit.”

Bran forgets how to swallow and proceeds to cough until his eyes water. “Maria?” A couple more coughs clear the pipes and he’s able to continue, “As in, Maria from New Year’s?”

Why is he so surprised? He must know she works for the Fontaines. “Yeah. She answered the door when I went over to their palace to track them down. Pleasant girl.”

He doesn’t acknowledge my sarcasm or offer a reply, his attention suddenly riveted on the TV above the bar where a college basketball game is on.

“Yo, Bran!” I wave a hand in front of his face. “You think she’s right about the Fontaines being pretentious assholes?” It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been judged unfairly for a host of things; I’d just hoped my business could stand on its merits without stereotypes muddying the waters.

Bran takes his time choosing his words, making me wonder exactly what I’ve waded into here. But all he comes up with is, “She would know.”

What is his deal tonight? “Is something wrong?” I have to ask.

“I, uh…” His hand slips up to scratch the back of his neck where his brown hair is buzzed short. “The thing is…” I pin him with narrowed eyes until both hands finally drop to the bar and his shoulders slump. “I can’t talk about her.”

I laugh, assuming he’s either joking or we’ve veered in a different conversational direction and I missed the memo. But he doesn’t join in, instead frowning into his beer.

“Who are you talking about? Do the Fontaines have the CIA on their payroll or something?”

“Maria,” he mutters.

“Wait. What?” He’s talking in circles.

Bran glances around as if the CIA might actually be recording our conversation before leaning closer and talking out the side of his mouth. “I can’t talk about Maria. After the whole Mercedes thing, she delivered some very intense threats to my manhood if I cross her again. That girl scares the shit out of me.”

I guess I can respect that, but he clearly needs a reminder that she’s got nothing to do with this. “I don’t give a fuck about Maria. All I care