Lie with Me by Stephanie Tyler Page A

It had been in Sky’s things, her wallet, which Cam had searched on his way to the bathroom. Gabriel had been younger, but it was him. Cam had taken a picture of the photo with his cell phone and he emailed it to Dylan even as they spoke. “I thought maybe, with the new information about the Outlaw Angel in jail …”
    Another man who’d known Howie. It would probably yield nothing, just like all the others, but Cam would keep trying, even though he actually already had the leverage he needed in the next room. He was always big on backup plans.
    “Good, that’s good. Look, I’ll get more information—about Gabriel and the OA lead,” his friend promised.
    “I’m staying put tonight. Storm’s too bad to risk it. I’ll move out with her tomorrow, head to the first location,” Cam said. He and Dylan had carefully mapped a zigzag route that would keep Skylar off balance and everyone else off his tail. “What the hell’s going on here?”
    “Could be anything. Watch your back as carefully as you watch hers,” Dylan advised before clicking off.
    Cam could’ve sworn he’d heard salsa music in the background and wondered what the hell his friend was up to now. He left the phone on the counter and looked out the window. The snow was piling up already—fat flakes that came down hard enough that visibility was fucked.
    It had been a night like this when he’d been arrested—driving his hog through the snow because he’d been young and stupid and distraught—something he’d stopped himself from telling Skylar. He’d been damned close, though. She was far too easy to talk to.
    She understood.
    Earlier, he’d watched her hands fist on the table in front of her, her voice holding a bleak despair that had cut him to his soul. That told him what she was feeling when she spoke about her work, and her father.
    The night of the murders and Cam’s subsequent arrest was still vague—a shake at three A.M ., his father whispering, “Cover for me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
    He’d done what his father had asked, headed two doors down with the key his father had given him and grabbed the mail off the dining room table.
    And saw the two dead bodies lying side by side on the floor, the blood pooling around their heads still fresh. And then he’d backed out of the house, unable to tear his eyes away from the gory scene in front of him—and finally left. Ran, actually.
    He had no idea when doing so that he’d be indicted for the death of the two FBI agents found murdered at that house. When the police pulled him over on his Harley, lights flashing and sirens blazing, Cam hadn’t argued. And something inside of him had died when he’d realized just how easily his father had set him up.
    A war hero, a former Special Operations specialist, Howie Moore’d had a brilliant future … and no honor. That’s what Gabriel had told Cam in that small interrogation room at the prison.
    No honor, not like you have , Gabriel said.
    In the beginning, Cam had been so grateful. Even though he’d realized that Gabriel would own him for a while, Cam had agreed, and was given a clean record, an admission to the Army, and placed on the fast track, first to Ranger School and then onto Delta Force.
    After prison, it had taken him a little while to get used to the team motto. Didn’t think he could—didn’t want to—trust anyone beyond himself, but he’d learned. Struggled. Worked his ass off. And in those dark spaces he tried so hard to block from his memory, he followed Gabriel Creighton’s off-the-record orders.
    The first years, the missions were similar to his Delta ones. Cam got the feeling he was being groomed, as if prepping to become part of Gabriel’s private army, his personal arsenal of tricks.
    He wasn’t innocent. Not by a long shot. But as a member of Delta Force, he knew what side of the law he was on, however thin the line was sometimes. He was proud as hell of the work he’d done with his