When Perfect Meets Crazy novel Chapter 32

“Came from where?” I inquired.

“I lied before.”

I froze, fingers stilling in the act of wiping his split brow. My entire being tensed.

My eyes narrowed.

“What did you lie about?”

My voice could’ve easily cut glass. I was ready to feed him to the wolves.

He flinched.

He drew in a deep breath, mentally readying himself for the confession. All around it was a smart move seeing as I more than prepared to orchestrate his demise. Savouring what could possibly be his last breath wasn’t a bad move on his part.

“I lied about school,” he continued. “I’m not in high school. I’m in my first year at Harvard. I didn’t lie about Harvard.”

He pinned on the last part as though it could somehow excuse the lie he did tell.

Relief flowed through me as I released my breath on a sigh, annoyance running through my veins. That build up for a lie about school? My heart almost stopped beating over a stupid lie about his level of education?

I was torn between the urge to slap him and the urge to throw him out the window.

I settled for pinching the bridge of my nose while drawing in a calming breath to steady myself.

Who the fuck cared whether or not he was high school student after everything that had happened? Obviously, he wasn’t a high school student. From the beginning, I hadn’t believed that ridiculous lie. No high school would have signed off on a senior taking time off. High schools weren’t liberal that way, colleges were. It was that obvious.

Clearly, I was wrong. Olly hadn’t been sent to test my limits. He had.

I clenched my jaw. A big part of me was already prepped for a huge betrayal and even though rationally, I knew I should be grateful it wasn’t that, I couldn’t help but be pissed. Royally pissed.

“Never again,” I commanded in a tone as cold as ice, “lie to me.”

“Okay,” he agreed, relief spreading across his features.

I had to draw in another deep breath and look away to avoid giving in to the urge for violence.

“Go on,” I ground out.

“I took the semester off and came down here to investigate. One time while I was sniffing around, I went to watch a match and ran into Townsend.”

I arched a brow, wordlessly asking who Townsend was.

“He was one of the feds who worked on my dad’s case. He was working undercover at the arena and I almost blew his cover.” He grimaced. “There was a lot of back and forth but, eventually, it was decided that the best option was for me to sign on as a contender with him as my manager and help him work the case from the inside. In return, my dad gets fined heavily if he is involved as opposed to jail time.”

I rolled my eyes.

I could pretty much piece together the rest of the story on my own. The partner he was working with was clearly this ‘Townsend’ guy and the reason he was following me around was to make sure I didn’t blow their cover. It was practically insulting. All that trouble for nothing.

I huffed.

“That’s a sweet deal,” I managed, as though he didn’t just confess to being an undercover agent. “I had you pegged for someone who would bargain for more jail time though.”

“He is still my father,” was his explanation.

I understood. After all, mine too was more sinner than saint but I still helped keep his secret regardless. Even from my mom.

“Fair enough.” I nodded curtly. “It’s your call.”

Tilting his head back for easier access, I turned my attention to cleaning his bruised eye.

I soon found out that the position left him with only one place to look; me. After the heavy back story, his gaze on me like that was most uncomfortable so I did the only thing I could.

I placed my hand over his working right eye, pretending it was more convenient for me to tilt his head that way. It wasn’t but it got his intent gaze off me as he was forced to close the eye.

“Okay.” I finished with his brow, letting his head fall to its normal level. “I get the gist but you need to fill in a few blanks.”

For some reason, despite the fact that I finally got what I wanted -a full explanation-, I was still dissatisfied. Angry even.

He nodded.

“You said you were investigating an illegal drug trade. How did that lead you to an illegal boxing club?”

“The club is a front for it. We think they take advantage of the matches to meet.”

“An illegal trade as a front for another illegal business,” I mused, absently wondering if the people I followed the day I went to the arena thinking they were heading out were somehow connected to this. It would make sense how I got lost in the heart of the arena and ended up far from the exit. It also explained how I suddenly lost sight of them. They must’ve gone through a hidden door or something. “I can’t decide if it’s brilliant or absolutely ridiculous.”

He gave an awkward one shoulder shrug.

“So what went wrong tonight?” I asked. “Because this,” I gestured to his beat up self, “looks more like a beat-down, an ambush than a face-off.”

“I finished my match early. A knockout,” he revealed. “Townsend wanted me to follow this one guy who he noticed was always leaving before the end of the matches.”