Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“You stab me in the heart and twist the blade, Tic Tac. You’re as lovely as you are foolish to move in with Lucas.”
“Stop with the Lucas stuff. Seriously, Lilah. What if it ties to the Junior messages and it’s another message? Maybe this is about you, not your father or the current governor.”
What if, indeed. No coincidences just feels right to me. And this gives me the answer that feels right. “You’re just making all kinds of good points, Tic Tac. Maybe I’ll make you a field agent after all.”
I can almost hear his heart racing. “Please don’t. No. Lilah, I do not like blood or bodies. I have nightmares and—”
“Relax. I’m joking. That would ruin your already-ruined love life. I don’t want to do that to you. Unless—are you and Lucas—”
“Oh, come on, Lilah. He’s a hound dog for women. We are not and will not ever be together.”
“And yet you are about to be together while doing your jobs. Get him out of bed, where he is always hanging out, pathetically alone for a hound dog or perhaps for that very reason. You and Lucas check traffic cameras, and find out who came in and out of that house and when.”
“With the cellphone issues, the cameras are going to be unlikely to help, but we’ll stretch beyond and hunt for footage.”
“I also need to know all the dirt on the current governor. We need to be careful not to make this about me rather than the killer using me for distraction.”
“On it,” he confirms.
“Put my cousin on.”
“He’s really sleeping.”
“Wake him up,” I say.
“He’s ah, not actually alone this time.”
“Okay then,” I say. There’s something in his voice that rings with a lie. He’s covering for him. Where, oh where, is my cousin? And why does the idea of him being Junior nag at me, almost as incessantly as Jay’s rambling? I set that aside for now. I have a John Doe who needs my focus. And theirs. “Wake him up,” I repeat.
“Really, Lilah? Do you have any boundaries?” He grunts. “Never mind. No. No you do not and I love and hate you for it.”
There’s a pinch of acid in my throat. “You’re officially undercover, Tic Tac, in your first field operation.”
“What? No. You said—”
“Make sure Lucas in not Junior.”
He’s silent several long beats. “You think—it’s him?” His voice is stricken.
“He’s one of the few people I repeated information to that Roger said to me. And until now, the notes were all Kane hate.”
“He does hate him,” he whispers conspiratorially, “but if it’s him, maybe he thought you weren’t listening about Kane, and he tried to call on the agent in you, to intrigue you? He’s lazy, but smart like that. And this last note was different.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure it matters. He went quiet. He could have returned with a new strategy.”
“We just tried to connect Junior to the murder, Lilah. You do know that, right?”
“I’m aware, Tic Tac.
I disconnect.
Chapter Thirty-One
We arrive at my father’s house to find it truly is a substation of hell, which is fitting considering the devil lives here.
There are reporters and local PD everywhere, and of course the big fat limo outside, that’s known to belong to Holt Mackey, the present governor, isn’t helping anyone keep a low profile. I suspect that’s what the born-into-money Martin wants; more attention. And yes, I’m born into money, too, but I don’t go around slapping people in the face with what someone else earned. I hate pathetic silver spoon losers who think they’re better than everyone else and I’m about to deal with two of them. My father was born into wealth, but he damn sure turned my mother into his money ticket, not his cherished wife.
Enrique is watching for us from the center of the chaos and motions Augustin to pull through a barrier toward the front door, thank you Lord, because if I had to deal with even one attitude to make it past the barriers, someone might have gotten cut. By the time Augustin has hit the brakes, I’m opening my door and I exit a moment later, a bitter cold biting at me and I’m fairly certain I left my coat at the castle. Cold body, warm heart, they say, unless you’re dead or me.
Jay slams the rear door shut and steps close. “I don’t need a witness, or a conscience, Jay. Stay with Augustin.” Normally I’d wait to ensure his compliance, but I’m assuming the logic of me needing a bodyguard right now has to be sinking in, as does my suggestion I might have to hurt someone.
I round the truck and meet Enrique on the sidewalk. Before we can even speak, I’m being flagged by a short stump of a cop with a bald head from where he’s standing by the front door. “Special Agent Lilah fucking Love,” he calls out his hands cupping his mouth, before they fall and he adds, “Chief Houston said to call him. It’s urgent. Don’t blow him off. And don’t blame me when you inevitably do.”