Was That a Lie? - Fool Me Once, #3

Does chaos ever take a holiday? Not when lying is the trade that pays by the millions. Clara Presley is a successful self-help author. She thinks she married a suave and handsome talk show host, John Carrington. But only until she discovers her new husband is a world-class criminal, the second-in-command of the Irish mob. Now, she must deal with a secret informant threatening her life while passion, intrigue, and mysterious figures lurk around every corner. On a dark and stormy night, John Carrington reveals his true occupation to Clara Presley.
He's the second-in-command to the County Mayo Clan organized crime society. Unfortunately, that's not the biggest secret he discloses. Clara's life is in danger because of an unknown informant within Carrington's clan. He can only keep her safe if she goes into hiding. Ever the sharp-witted woman, Clara agrees to hide in Ireland. While enjoying her time away from the hustle and bustle of Philadelphia, she strikes up an unanticipated friendship with Carrington's mother, Aoife.
However, their sunny days are darkened when Clara meets Carrington's estranged father, Nicholas Smith. Though Nicholas appears harmless, Clara sees him as a deviant troublemaker who likes to cause mayhem for fun. But there's a catch. Nicholas is involved with another organized crime society, and he knows the CMC informant. Nicholas is only willing to share the informant's name with Clara if she asks Carrington to work with Nicholas and his own crime family. Unsure of whether to trust Nicholas, Clara keeps secrets from Carrington for the first time in their relationship.
She dodges, ducks, and dives her way through one obstacle after another until she's cornered. If she's learned anything from Carrington during their time together, it's that you never drop the lie. Even when you're staring death in the face. Snippet from Chapter 2: Carrington's voice filled the living room as I slowly descended the stairs barefoot. I froze on the last stair while Aoife beamed at me.
She had her fingers curled around Nicholas's arm. His hands were buried in the pockets of his gray slacks, and his black blazer and white-collared undershirt had several buttons undone with the sides lounged open, defiantly suave. He had disheveled graying-brown hair and brilliant eyes, like robin's eggs; despite the age difference, the rest of him was indiscernible from the man he studied on the television. He was tranquil but gave the impression he'd done something wrong and couldn't wait to be caught.
His relaxed smirk transformed into a devastating smile when he turned his head to me. Deep laugh lines formed along his cheeks, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with uncontained pleasure.