The Perfect Liar (Last Stand 5)

"Isn't it what you're saying?"

"You haven't slept with me in months. Why would tonight be any different? And if tonight isn't any different, we could hang out on the weekend."

"I thought you were going to the Bay Area to be with your kids on the Fourth."

"Is it the Fourth already?"

"Day after tomorrow. It's on Saturday."

"Damn, you're right." He hesitated. "Okay, what about next weekend?"

"That's fine. If it won't put you out too much."

He didn't seem to pick up on her sarcasm. "It won't put me out at all.

Let's grab a movie."

She nearly burst into laughter. With him, it was sex or a movie, and she always chose the movie. "Sure, give me a call."

The ringing of his cell phone woke Luke from a fitful sleep. He blinked, realized he was bound by blankets and not iron bars as he'd just dreamt, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he checked the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was three in the morning. Who'd be calling him at this hour?

His mind immediately went to his younger sister and the trouble she'd managed to find lately, and the relief at being awakened from such a terrible dream disappeared. Was it his family? Had Jenny been hurt?

His arm shot out before the call could transfer to voice mail. Once he had the phone, the glowing LED screen enabled him to read his caller ID

despite the dark room. It said Restricted but that did little to calm him. His parents weren't very conversant with recent technology. He'd given them a cell phone for Christmas and shown them how to use it, but they stil hadn't incorporated it into their daily lives. Knowing them, they could be calling from a pay phone in the lobby of some hospital because they'd forgotten to charge it.

Swinging his legs over the bed to sit up, he punched the Talk button.

"Hello?"

"Luke?"

It was a female. But he didn't recognize the voice.

"Yes?"

"It's Kalyna."

A surge of righteous indignation made him clench his jaw. But he didn't hang up. He couldn't help hoping she wanted to apologize, to fix the mess she'd created. Before he'd hired his attorney and been told in no uncertain terms that he was not to contact her, he'd tried to reach her several times. He'd been convinced that having a conversation would solve everything. He'd never meant her any harm. But she wouldn't pick up or return his calls.

Until now. At last he had a chance to figure out what went so terribly wrong the night of June 6.

"What do you want?" he asked cautiously.

"To hear your voice."

"Excuse me?"

"I miss you."

After what she'd done to him? Where the hell was this coming from?

"Kalyna, how can you say that?"

"Because it's true. I want to feel you inside me again. I want your hands on my body and--"

"You're trying to ruin my life!"

His outburst caused a sulky silence. He was afraid she'd hang up if he didn't calm down, so he took a deep breath, fighting for control. He had to think, be careful. "I don't understand why you're going after me," he said, his voice as level as he could make it.

She responded as if any idiot would understand. "So we can be together."

"You've got to be joking." He had too much adrenaline flowing through his blood; he couldn't stay seated. Getting to his feet, he began pacing the length of the room. "If you don't stop, I'l be in prison, Kalyna.

How does that enable us to be together?"

"It doesn't have to end with you in prison," she said.

He froze. This whole time, he'd held on to the remote possibility that someone else might've broken into Kalyna's apartment and beat her up after he left, that she'd been confused and didn't know it wasn't him or else blamed him for not being there to protect her. But the truth, and all its staggering implications, hit him with the force of kick to the gut. She knew he was innocent. She was trying to hurt him.

"What is it you want?" he breathed.

"I told you--"

"I didn't rape you, Kalyna. You and I both know that."

"You raped my soul, Luke. You hurt me worse than anyone ever has."

"How?"

"You know how."

"No, I don't. You're not making any sense. We were never close enough for our souls to be involved. And I'm not the one who hit you. I don't know where you got those injuries, but it sure as hell wasn't from me!"

Damn, he wished he had a tape recorder, some way to capture her words, her tone of voice, her...weirdness.

Just in case he did have such a device and had forgotten about it, he strode to his dresser and pulled out the top drawer. Shoving his M9 to one side, he pawed through his gun license, extra bullets, his iPod, pocket change, checkbook and earplugs but found no recorder. Shit!

"Please, Luke. I don't want to argue."

"So why did you call?" He dashed into the living room and replayed the messages on his answering machine. He needed Ava Bixby's number.

"Why do you think?"

His chest rising and falling with each breath as if he'd run five miles, he turned down the volume so she wouldn't be able to hear what he was doing. "I don't want to play games. Wil you drop this, Kalyna? Wil you tell the truth?"

No answer.

"Kalyna, talk to me. Please, stop what you're doing. There's no point in it. I don't know what you've conjured up in your mind, but June 6 was a one-night stand, nothing more, and you knew it when you took me home with you."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" He pushed the fast-forward button to skip a message from his mother. Ava had called after that, hadn't she? He was so frantic it was hard to remember.

"How could you make me feel like that and then say it means nothing? " she said.

"It was a climax, Kalyna. A physiological reaction to stimulation. I was trying hard not to be the selfish jerk you're accusing me of being. But that's different from love." Where was it? Why couldn't he find it?

"You just don't get it."

He skipped another message, this one from a friend wanting him to play racquetball. "You're the one who doesn't get it," he said. "I was an idiot to go home with you."

"So now you regret it."

Could she expect anything less? "Of course!"

"Al you care about is yourself!"

Finally! Here it was. As Ava's voice came softly into the living room, he jiggled his leg, waiting for the number, then jotted it down. "I hope that's not true," he said, stil trying to maintain the conversation, "but if it is, I'm sorry. I'm not asking for a lot here. I just want this to go away. I just want you out of my life. So what's it going to take? Money?"