“If that was your attempt to discipline me, I was playing the wrong game. But I’m here now. Give it a go again.”
“Don’t tempt me, Kane. I’m still furious with you for drugging me. And how did you get in here?”
“It wasn’t locked and the bar wasn’t in place.”
“Bullshit.”
“It wasn’t locked, Lilah, and I checked it before I left this morning. You haven’t used it?”
“Fuck. No. I haven’t, which means someone’s been in here again.”
His brow lifts. “Again? What the hell does that mean?”
“I have it handled.”
“We do this together, Lilah. We agreed.”
“Together means together, Kane. Not you charging forward and dragging me along.”
“Just dragging you to my side, beautiful, instead of letting you run ahead of me. What the hell does ‘again’ mean?”
“I’m not running from you, Kane, which we both know was your inference. And to answer your question, one of the first notes was left on my desk upstairs.”
“Which means Junior saw your investigation notes.”
“And you know this because you looked at my investigation notes.”
“Yes. I did. Don’t expect guilt. I prefer my dirty emotions to include you naked. Otherwise, I don’t waste the energy. I assume since you’re you, you’ve checked the house and it’s clear?”
“I did, but obviously I need a new security system.”
“I’m your new security system. Have you received any more notes?”
“You are not my security system, and no, I have not, which brings us back to you and your protection. Obviously, Junior knows I’m being watched. We can’t catch whoever this is if your person is breathing down my throat.”
“There are too many dead bodies for me to back off, Lilah. And whoever this is won’t stay hidden long. They have an objective.”
“Maybe it was to scare me off.” My brow furrows. “Unless . . .”
“Unless?” he prods.
“If the murders in LA were meant to bring me here, and Junior seems to be driving me away, then Junior isn’t the same person.”
“Possibly, though Junior could simply be taunting you with a bigger endgame.”
“Taunt me and then kill me?”
“Or taunt me and then kill you.”
“Whoever hired the assassin clearly wanted them disrobed and humiliated before they were killed. That speaks of anger and hatred. What if, in my case, that anger and hatred runs deeper, thus my humiliation is to be drawn out?”
“You need out of this house. You need to stay with me.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Kane. I’m an FBI agent and you’re—”
“My father’s son? Like you’re your father’s daughter?”
“That line is getting old. Come up with a new one.”
“You want new? How about this? Quit the FBI. Consult instead.”
“And then I can be with you?”
“Yes. Then you can be with me.”
“Then you lose your insider in law enforcement.”
“I have insiders in law enforcement,” he says. “What I don’t have is you.”
“You want what you can’t have.”
“And yet,” he says, “I’ve had you and I still want you.”
“Had,” I say. “Not anymore.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes. Tell me about your meeting with those New York City assholes.”
“They tried to connect me to Woods. And you’re right to assume that they’re posturing to take over and push you out. Your turn. Tell me about Rick Suthers.”
“You know.” I don’t give him time to respond. I hold up a hand. “Of course you know.”
“Was it suicide?” he presses.
“No. It was not. It was just like with Laney: a copycat murder of hers made to look like suicide. He was standing on books that should have scattered, but they didn’t: just like Laney.” I grab the book and set it between us, a fist forming in my chest. “And this was one of the books.”
He looks at it and then me. “How long had he been dead when you got there?”
“Fresh.”
“Who knew you were going there?”
“No one knew I was going to see him, but obviously the right someone knew I was in that region of the island. I assume that was the trigger. Whoever this was may not have planned for me to find the body.”
“The book says you were expected.”
“I would have asked to see the case-file notes no matter what.” My mind tracks back to the crime scene, and I reach into my pocket for the necklace. “I found this in what I believe was the bag holding the suit I’m fairly certain he wore to Laney’s funeral,” I say, setting it on the counter.
He picks it up and holds it in his hand before looking at me. “Virgin Mary.” He sets it beside the book. “And there’s no such thing as a coincidence, right?”
“You know way too much about how I solve crimes. And I don’t believe for a minute that the necklace isn’t connected to those tattoos. Shared symbols mean an organization.” I lift the book. “And this. This was someone telling me to back the fuck off, which makes me believe that I wasn’t lured back here at all. I’m being told to get the hell out of town.”
“A tattooed victim in your region can’t be a coincidence.”
“Maybe not,” I concede. “And on that note, was the lead the old man gave me a setup?”
“Could be, or the person who gave us the clue got busted and confessed what they told us.”
“Right. Talk about a cat-and-mouse game. I’m feeling like we’re the mice.”
“We’re not the mice. Not even close.”
“Our enemy knows who we are, but we don’t know who they are. What do you know about the production company?”
“On the surface, there are no connections that look interesting, but I have their banking transactions being traced. That’s where we will find the answers we’re looking for.”
“When?”
“By tomorrow.” He circles back. “Are you sure no one knew you were going to Suthers?”
“I called Beth hours before I got to Long Island. She knew I was headed that way. We sidetracked the tail I had, and then there was my brother and you.” A thought hits me. “Actually, I did mention Suthers to Greg at lunch today, but it was a flippant, barely spoken mention.”
“He knows you. You don’t do flippant and meaningless.”
“I don’t believe it was Greg. And you like Greg.”
“I don’t like Greg. I simply don’t dislike him. And everyone has a price.”
“What’s yours?”
He pushes off the island and walks around it. By the time he’s on this side with me, I’m facing him, the barstool at my back. “You are, Lilah.” He steps closer, and I don’t back away.
“I don’t want to be a weapon that can be used against you.”
“Anyone who believes they can get away with turning you into that will suffer, and painfully.” He doesn’t give me time to object. “You didn’t cause that man’s death.”
“I know that,” I say, and I feel the pull between us, a warning to back away, and I do, hitting the stool. Kane moves with me, and I end up with my back to the island, his hands on either side of me.
“You didn’t cause his death,” he repeats.
“I told you. I know.”
“Do you?” he demands.
“Yes, damn it, I do.”