“Lilah,” Kane says in my ear. “What the hell is going on?”
Now we’re both in the “what the hell” mode which is not a good place to be right now. I quickly return to the call. “Everything is under control,” I say. “Jay and I had a misunderstanding. I’ll handle him. You can bury his body when I’m done.”
Of course, some might say considering my history I shouldn’t say such things, that I’m mocking the dead, but the only two people I’ve killed are in hell. They can’t hear me there. Or if they can, good.
Kane, as I expect, knows me well enough to simply say, “I’ll be ready.”
And that’s that. I hang up and glare at Jay. “Talk.”
“You were almost killed on my watch once,” he says. “After what happened to Kane last night, I’m not letting that happen again.”
Over and over he remembers running into an alley to save me from the Umbrella Man, who didn’t want to shoot me, but rather him, and me almost dying. But you know, one thing you learn in this profession is that the human mind protects itself from painful reality. And sometimes that makes getting to the truth a real bitch.
In this case, remembering the past the way Jay is remembering it is not helping his decision-making. “I didn’t almost die. You did.” I leave out the part where he didn’t listen to me because as always, I remember this man risked his life when he truly thought he was saving mine. That’s exactly why I offer a rare compliment. “I admire how brave you were. You took a bullet you thought was for me. But damn it, Jay, don’t be a dweeb and use Kane as a shield. Have the balls you had that day you took that bullet, and say what’s on your mind.”
“I just did,” he states. “I’m going in with you.”
“Fine,” I say. “But don’t talk. Or gasp.”
“Why would I gasp?”
I don’t answer. If he doesn’t understand how much drama I can cause by now, I’m probably going to have to save his life again, ten times over. And I’ll do it. The man clearly, really cares about me and Kane. He’s loyal. I can’t say that about many people.
We head up the stairs and ring the bell. The door opens and a prim and proper older woman—I age her as a cigarette-smoking version of the late fifties, which means she looks ten years older. Surprisingly good bones, though. Maybe she has a rod because her spine is ramrod stiff and her hair is twisted tightly at the back of her severe features.
She doesn’t invite us in, so I say, “I’m Jay.” Then I point at the real Jay. “He’s Agent Lilah Love.”
She scowls.
Jay says nothing. He does a brilliant imitation of a statue, in fact.
I show her my badge. “This is where you invite us in and show concern for the recently deceased citizens of our great town, as well as their grieving families.”
“Violet?” a male voice echoes behind her.
The woman in front of him is clearly Violet as she turns toward the voice, murmurs something, and then steps aside to allow us a view of the newcomer. The man is of average height, middle-aged, and a bit round in the belly, his gray beard impeccably groomed. His casual wear of slacks and a polo shirt are pressed to perfection.
“Special Agent Love,” he greets warmly, offering me his hand. “I’m Neal Woodard.”
He’s hard not to like and that’s a lot coming from me. There’s an energy about him that is welcoming, someone who exists inside a shrine of money, but is not defined by that money. I shake his hand and he addresses Jay. “Neal Woodard,” he says, offering him his hand.
Jay shakes his hand and introduces himself, but not his role in this meeting, which is exactly my preference.
“I was horrified to hear about Rip,” he says. “I assume that’s what this is about.” He motions me inside. “Let’s step into my study and sit down.”
I sense nothing defensive or nervous in Woodard, but I’ll reserve judgment for now. We end up inside a room with lots of wood, bookshelves, a fireplace that is cracking with flames, and comfy leather chairs, four, to be exact. Jay and I sit on one side of the quartet and Woodard sits across from me.
He seems like a kitty cat, a bit finicky, but overall, he just wants love.
Unless he’s not.
Snakes have a way of hiding their dark sides.
That’s what I like about Kane Mendez. You know he has a dark side. You know the minute you’re in the room with him. But you also know he’s a man of great restraint. A man of dignity. A man you don’t want to cross, but you still crave another moment with him. It happens to everyone he meets. He’s not a snake. He’s a man who owns his place in the world.