The law of deceit, p.1
The Law of Deceit, page 1
The Law of Deceit
Copyright © 2024 K Webster
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
About This Book
Trigger Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
About the Author
Excerpt The Torment of Two
To Matt—
I always have and always will love you.
From USA Today Bestselling Author K Webster comes an opposites attract, age-gap M/F small-town romance!
He’s a rebellious young man with a lifelong obsession with his mom’s best friend.
He always assumed she’d be nothing more than a fantasy, but he’s not the only one with forbidden feelings…
I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember.
She’s my mom’s best friend and a cop.
Two reasons why I should stay far, far away from Sloane Thurman.
It’s nearly impossible to keep my distance, though.
The ache for her rare smiles and her sweet scent is more than I can bear.
I’m more than her friend’s son.
I want to show her I’m a man now and that I could be her man.
My wish becomes a reality when Sloane takes in her nephew. She needs help and I’m just the man to step up. Hikes, coffee dates, and game nights are just the beginning for us. Entertaining the kid in an effort to get closer to her is no hardship. Being near her is the only reward I need.
As we spend more time together, I manage to break down her rigid walls. When she’s not worried about her morals and being a good cop, she realizes the two of us can have a lot of fun.
A good time isn’t all I’m after. If it were up to me, I’d haul her down to the courthouse and make her mine forever. Unfortunately, neither life nor love is that easy. There’s no way my family would understand our relationship. A secret romance will have to do…for now.
We may be able to deceive everyone we care about, but one day our shameful secrets will come to light. For Sloane’s sake, I just hope I’m worth the fight…
***This is a complete M/F standalone novel with a happily ever after. Tropes for this book include: older woman/younger man age-gap romance, opposites attract, he falls first, coffee lovers, mom’s best friend, romantic suspense, secret romance, and found family.***
Shameful Secrets Series
1 – The Teacher of Nothing (Callum’s Book)
2 – The Tangle of Awful (Hugo’s Book)
3 – The Heart of Smoke (Jude’s Book)
4 – The Law of Deceit (Dempsey’s Book)
5 – The Torment of Two (Gemma’s Book)
TRIGGER WARNING
This book has triggering scenes for some readers including physical and sexual assault (not by main character), past family traumas, domestic abuse (to a side character), and other potentially upsetting subject matter. Please read with caution.
Dempsey
Graduation Night
All hail Queen Gemma.
While I barely made it to this night considering my shitty grades, my twin sister gracefully arrived with perfect attendance and straight As, earning the adoration and praise of every single person in this auditorium.
They all cheer proudly as she takes her turn across the stage I just dragged myself across.
I just want to go home, dammit.
“Can you believe we finally did it?” she whispers once she’s seated again beside me in our chairs, diploma in her dainty hand. “PMU, here we come.”
Nudging her with my shoulder, I smirk at her. “You’re going alone, sis. I told you. I can’t do college.”
Her bottom lip juts out despite us having this same conversation over and over again. No matter what I do, I’ll never be as smart as my sister…or good.
Gemma is just good.
The angel to my devil.
A twin who stole all the decent genes and left me with all the genetic garbage.
“You can’t live with Mom and Dad forever,” she says with a frown. “And why would you want to? They suffocate us.”
Her.
They suffocate her.
If she thinks they’ll allow her to live on campus like she wants, she’s out of her mind. Dad is overly protective of her.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say with a shrug.
The last person walks across the stage and then the principal is back at the microphone, speaking about following our dreams and living life to the fullest. Gemma and every other fool around me grin at him, eating up all his empowering words.
Not me.
I just want to get the hell out of here.
“Cool tattoo,” Brandy, a girl sitting on my left, whispers. She points a finger at my newest tattoo on the back of my hand.
“Graduation gift to myself,” I tell her. “Designed it myself.”
Gemma elbows me. “Mom is going to freak when she sees you got another tattoo.”
We’re eighteen now. It’s not like she or Dad can actually do anything about it.
“I’m so scared,” I deadpan.
The principal congratulating our class and the auditorium subsequently exploding with cheers and applause drown the rest of our conversation. All the girls around me with their fancy hair and caps pinned neatly on clap happily. The guys, however, all try to see who can toss their caps highest into the air. I decide to use mine as a frisbee to try and nail my annoying-ass English teacher in his bald head.
My cap disappears and unfortunately misses. Not that I give a shit. I’m ready to get out of here and go home, hide away in my room until I’m forced to socialize with family for the graduation party Mom has planned.
The next hour is a blur as we shuffle through the crowd, looking for our parents to hitch a ride back home with because we still don’t have cars of our own. Finally, we load up in Dad’s SUV and make the trek back to our property.
As Mom and Gemma chatter with way too much enthusiasm, I stare out the window, wondering what happens from here. I can’t go to college. No way. I’d die from boredom. But I’m also not cut out for working with Dad or my brothers. The military can fuck off because I’m not about to be some meat shield.
It won’t matter that I don’t exactly have it all figured out, though. Dad will expect a plan bright and early tomorrow morning. I’ll have nothing but smart-ass remarks and general disrespect. It’ll end in frustration and slammed doors. I know the drill.
There’s a car waiting in our driveway when we arrive. I practically fling myself out of the SUV, eager to make my escape until the party starts. In the darkness, I can’t make out whose car it is, but when the person steps out, I know.
Golden blond hair flutters in the late May evening breeze, sending a hint of lavender my way. I inhale the scent, knowing it without ever having to see who it belongs to because I’ve memorized it—obsessed over it.
She’s a gorgeous, long-legged beauty with lips that beg to be kissed.
Local cop and pillar of the community.
Twice as old as me and my mom’s best friend in the whole world.
Sloane Thurman.
I’m obsessed with her, but she’s completely off-limits. She was in the room when we were born, babysat us twins on occasion when my parents needed a break, and has been a part of our lives for eighteen years.
Because she’s Mom’s best friend.
I can look all I want, but I can never touch no matter how much I want to.
And, goddammit, I really, really want to…
“Sloane,” Mom greets happily as she rushes over to her best friend. “Oh my goodness. I forget how long your hair is. You really should wear it down more.”
Sloane, lovely face shimmering in the moonlight, smiles at Mom. To my mother, it’s an indulgent, patient smile, but to me, I see t he slight tension in her shoulders and the twitch of a muscle in her cheek.
She’s uncomfortable in her own skin when she’s not being Officer Do-Good. Without her job and sense of purpose, Sloane grapples with her identity. This, I understand wholeheartedly.
Dad gives Sloane a slight nod but otherwise ignores her altogether. I feel like there’s beef between them, but I’ve yet to find out what. Sloane is always around to help our family because of her loyalty to my mother, but I don’t think she exactly cares for Dad.
Mom loops her arm around Sloane’s and together they walk into our house. It’s decorated with red and black graduation banners, a shit ton of balloons, and red streamers everywhere looking like barfed spaghetti.
The twins only graduate from high school once. May as well go all out.
I follow them inside, suddenly not so eager to escape to my room upstairs. Sloane looks especially good tonight in a form-fitting navy-blue dress that hits just above her knees. She has a couple of wrapped gifts peeking out of the top of her purse—another unusual thing to see on her. I’ve seen her plenty of times not wearing her PMPD uniform, but she’s usually donning jeans and a T-shirt.
Tonight, she’s not plain or wearing a ponytail, trying her best to blend in.
She sparkles and shines and fucking blinds.
My fingers twitch to sketch her form in the dress that should be illegal. Even drawing her feels forbidden. And yet, I ache to know how the curve of her breasts feels simply from running my pencil over the paper, mimicking their shape.
As guests begin to arrive for Mom’s party, I slink away from the people and linger in the corner of the living room, my gaze never leaving Sloane. Watching her whenever she’s around feels like a gift. An indulgence in a treat I’m not supposed to sample.
Sloane is a beacon of strength and resolve, yet shrouded in an air of unapproachable mystique. When it comes to policing the fine folks of Park Mountain, Washington, she’s firm and unyielding. She sticks to her morals like fucking glue.
But the real Sloane beneath her badge and place in this community?
Well, no one knows that version.
Hell, I don’t think she truly does either.
It’s in my nature to poke and prod, testing people’s limits to see if I can get some sort of rise out of them. Though the urge is there with Sloane, I don’t. I can’t. There are too many factors at play.
She’s been my mom’s best friend since high school, so there’s a lot of history involved.
There’s also the fact I respect her. Something about her personality demands it. I can be a shithead to everyone else but not Sloane. She’d put me in my place.
The most important is that I’m stupidly in love with the serious cop who’s old enough to be my mother and who will never ever see anything in a guy like me.
It’s wrong to keep pining after her. Stupid. Reckless. Selfish.
And yet, I can’t turn my feelings off just because it’s the right thing to do.
I’m drawn out of my complicated inner musings when someone sidles up next to me. Spencer lifts a brow, asking a silent question. How are you, cuz?
Of course we’re not actual cousins.
Technically, I’m his uncle, but he’s older than me, so that’s fucking confusing.
Spencer, despite also being a family fuckup like myself, has finally gotten his shit together. Who knew all it’d take was becoming a dad? Rex, his adorable kid, sleeps with his head on his daddy’s shoulder, drooling all over his crisp Polo.
“Everyone’s so happy for Gemma,” I tell him, avoiding the topic of Sloane altogether.
“You graduated too, dumbass. Even if you did have to suck off your English teacher to get a passing grade.”
“Mr. Collins wishes,” I say with a small chuckle. “Although, bald heads and BO really do it for me.”
“Cheer up,” Spencer says, reaching up to poke at my cheek. “You’re depressing as fuck to be around lately. Keep it up and I’m gonna sic Tate on you.”
I grimace at that thought. Not that I don’t like Tate because I really, really do. Nah, it’s because Tate is a therapist—our family therapist, to be exact—and my brother Jude’s boyfriend. Tate has an uncanny ability to get inside your head, pull out all the shit you don’t want to discuss, and force you to inspect it under a microscope with him so he can fix you.
Hard pass.
I don’t need fixing.
I just need a distraction. A new direction in life. Somewhere else to look besides the always magnetic and alluring Sloane Thurman.
Thankfully, before Spencer can pick inside my brain any more, the rest of our family and friends arrive. Mom turns into Party Planning Princess, magically greeting everyone, urging them toward the refreshments, and making sure everyone is having a good time.
They are.
As for me, if I didn’t have Sloane for eye candy, I’d have bailed as soon as no one was looking.
I watch Sloane as she hands Gemma one of the gifts from her bulky-and-so-not-her purse. Gemma opens it, grins widely, and then hugs Sloane. From my vantage point, it’s a white box. Probably a mirror. Gemma loves mirrors.
I smirk at my internal barb at my perfect sister when Sloane searches the small crowd of people. For a brief moment, I wish it were me she’s looking for. What would it even feel like to be Sloane’s man?
Before I can dream about such a scenario, her blue eyes lock onto mine. Her smile is small, but it feels fucking huge pointed my way.
Why the hell is she smiling at me?
Fuck, she’s coming over.
My shoulder muscles tighten as she ambles across the room. I force my gaze to remain on her face and not focus on how her nice tits jiggle and bounce as she approaches. Staring at her tits won’t win me any brownie points.
“Troublemaker,” Sloane says, hugging her massive purse to her. “Looking kind of lonely over here all by yourself.”
The first time she called me “troublemaker” was when I drove Mom’s car into a telephone pole when I was thirteen. She wasn’t Sloane, my sometimes babysitter. That day she was an angry cop. The nickname sort of stuck since then, and I hate that it makes my skin crawl.
I don’t want to make trouble for her.
I want to make it all go away.
“Officer Do-Good.” I grin at her, wide and fucking fake as hell. “They let you out of the donut shop—er, police station—long enough to socialize with the Park scum?”
Her brows knit together and her smile falters. “You okay?”
Hell no, I’m not okay.
The woman of my dreams has always seen me as a little shit stirring up drama in this town. If she knew I crushed over her so madly, she’d probably laugh in my face.
“Peachy. Just counting down until this shit is over,” I admit with a huff.
“Same.”
I jerk my eyes back over to her, surprised to find humor dancing in her beautiful eyes. “Sloane Thurman,” I say, mock horror in my tone. “Don’t let your bestie know you’d rather be anywhere than here. She might die of a broken heart.”
She smirks at me. “Jamie knows how I feel about stuff like this.” After she plucks the wrapped present from her purse, she meets my stare. “You and Gemma are special, which is the only reason why I’m here.”
We’re special.
Fuck, I feel thirteen again and not at all like the adult I now am.
Rather than cringing at her well-meant words, I take the horribly wrapped gift from her. She watches me, nervously nibbling on one corner of her bottom lip. I save her the trouble of the suspense and rip off the paper.
An iPad.
“Uh, thanks?”
Her shoulders stiffen and she lifts her chin. “It’s more than just an iPad, Dempsey. You’ll have to excuse that it’s been opened, but I added some apps to it.”
Curiosity has me plucking off the lid and retrieving the lightweight device. I have my phone for all my socials and a laptop I used for school, but I’ve never had a use for much more than that. Once I have the iPad out, I flip open the cover and hit the button to turn it on.
“The passcode is your birthday, but you’ll want to change that to something more secure,” she says, stepping closer—so close I can smell her fruity perfume that makes my mouth water.
