Murder Notes (Lilah Love 1)

“I watched the news conference this morning.”

It’s a reasonable answer but I’m not done making him uncomfortable. “Where were you last night?” I ask, because, you know, once a murderer always a murderer. Which actually isn’t true. Once a murderer is statistically once a murderer, but I don’t like him and choose to think he might just be the anomaly.

“At a movie screening in Southampton.”

“What movie?”

“The new Star Wars release,” he answers and immediately changes the topic. “You can’t seriously think I’m involved in this?”

“I don’t ‘think’ anything. I gather facts. And this alibi you’ve provided can be confirmed and how?”

“The screening was high-profile. I signed in. There were cameras. There were many guests I chatted with.”

“Call the organizer,” I order. “Get them to send the logs and statements to Andrew.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” I say. “Embrace it and get this behind you and me.” I grab the door to enter the diner and pause. “Scratch that. I need to know who else was at the screening. I’ll call myself.” I don’t wait for a reply, entering the diner, where a sign says WAIT TO BE SEATED. I don’t wait to be seated. I make a beeline to the corner booth that I’d sat in earlier and sit down, putting my back to the wall, giving me a clear view of the door.

The waitress, Rose, a sixtysomething Hispanic woman who served me earlier returns to my side, no doubt pleased that I’d tipped ridiculously high. You’d think everyone in this town would throw some dough at the help, but sadly, most are cheap, rich asswipes. “More coffee, or you want some food with that caffeine now?”

“Coffee,” I say. “I’ll get some grease to go with it after my friend arrives.”

“Grease and coffee.” She laughs. “Sounds yummy.”

“I highly recommend it,” I assure her, quite serious despite her amused giggle before she departs. A tingling sensation lifts my gaze, which lands on the table to my left and in front of me with a heavy thud. Sitting there, staring at me, is Alexandra Harris, a pretty brunette and the assistant district attorney. She’s also my ex–best friend, though the ex part wasn’t her doing. She simply met the same demise as my mentor: the illness called “knowing me too well and seeing too much” that she’d contracted by being with me that night.

I reach for my coffee but never pick it up. Suddenly—unwillingly—I am back in time.

“Bloody Mary,” I tell the bartender.

“Oh no,” Alexandra says, grabbing my arm and looking at the man who’s just taken my order. “The most expensive bottle of champagne you have.” She turns to me. “It’s your birthday.”

“Tomorrow is my birthday.”

“And tonight you’re mine.” Her expression softens. “I know you and your mother used to spend your birthdays together and this is only the second year since you lost her. We need to keep you busy.”

“We did spend it together,” I say, my chest tight, my laugh sad. “My father would hand me an expensive gift and send me on my way while she made a big deal out of it no matter how old I was. Chocolate cake. Coffee. Shopping. I looked forward to it every year.”

“Oh good Lord. I’m focused on your father here. I hope Kane is more sentimental than your father.”

“Everyone is more sentimental than my father,” I say. “It’s being in law enforcement, all these years, I assume. Not here as police chief as much as his years in the NYPD. It roughened his edges.”

“Is that what your job as NYPD is doing to you?”

“Rough as a drunk sailor.”

“Foul-mouthed as a drunk sailor,” she jokes but sobers quickly. “I hope that Kane makes up for the bad stuff and seduces you until midnight.”

“More like at midnight. He’s in Houston and won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“Oh?” she says. “Why?”

“He’s closing a deal with a bank down there for his father.”

“His father? I didn’t think he worked for his father.”

“He works for Mendez Enterprises. Of course he works for his father.”

“Yes, but his father—”

“Don’t go there,” I warn, irritated that she, like so many, would travel down this path with me. “Kane is an attorney with a degree from Yale and runs a nationwide conglomerate that employs thousands of people.”

“I know. I do. I just worry about you.”

“Kane is—”

“He’s a catch, Lilah. The man is smoking hot and filthy rich. Every starlet that hits this town is after him, but he only has eyes for you.”

Because we understand each other. I accept a glass of bubbly from the bartender and hand it to Alexandra. She takes it from me and lifts it to her lips while a glass is filled for me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Alas, I think I’m just jealous. You know this Larry thing has messed with my head.”

“Your ex was an asshole who doesn’t deserve another thought.”

“You just can’t imagine, Lilah.” She shakes her head. “I can still see his white, hairy ass hanging out of his pants while he banged away at that bitch he calls his secretary. And I can still hear her moans. Oh God. Those moans.”

“Better you found out before you married him.”

“I know, right?” She glances toward the end of the bar and grabs my arm. “Oh my God. Jensen Michaels is here.”

At the mention of the up-and-coming movie star who she’d turned down over Larry a few months back, my lips curve. “My birthday. Your wish.”

“My wish? No. I don’t—”

“You do.”

Her gaze lifts beyond my shoulder. “He’s motioning me over there.”

“Well, go. What are you waiting for?”

She looks at me. “It’s your birthday.”

“Tomorrow is my birthday, but”—I grab her hand—“remember. He wants to fuck. You want to fuck. This is about you. For you. I need you to say it. He wants to fuck. I want to fuck. Just fuck.”

She grimaces. “I don’t say that word. You say it enough for the entire town.”

I roll my eyes. “Say it or you’re staying with me. He wants to fuck.”

“Fine. He wants to . . . fuck.”

I laugh at how hard a time she has saying it. “Now say, ‘I want to fuck.’”

“No. Yes. I want to fuck. And I’m going to tell you about it in graphic detail in the morning.”

“Please don’t.”

She laughs. “Please, yes. I’m going. I’m really going.”

“Please do.”

She nods and takes off walking.

I blink and stare at my coffee cup again, and then I’m back in time once more, an hour later.

I sip the champagne I’ve been cautiously nursing in case Alexandra needs me when she and Jensen head for the door. She waves at me behind his back and mouths, “Happy Birthday to me.”

I laugh and wave before finishing off the last sip of my one glass of bubbly. When my phone beeps, I dig it from my purse to find a text from Kane: Lilah Love.

My lips curve and I type: Kane Mendez.

He types: Do you know what I’d do to you if I were there right now?

I laugh, and because I just love egging on this man, I type: Nothing original, I’m sure.

I can almost hear his deep, rough laugh as he reads that answer and replies with: Challenge accepted. I’m in New York about to get on a chopper. I’ll come to you. Adios for now.

It’s a good surprise, and I quickly stick my phone back in my purse and pay the tab. Alexandra will be appalled in the morning that she forgot, for no good reason. Standing up, I slip my purse on my shoulder and sway.

“Whoa,” I murmur, grabbing the barstool and giving myself a moment to steady. I shake my head and I’m fine. Clearly, I need that dinner I skipped. I head for the door and make my way to the parking lot when it happens again.

And that was the beginning of hell, I think, snapping back to the present. Inhaling on the rush of unwelcomed adrenaline pumping through me, I do the logical thing. I reach for my coffee, but before I drink, my gaze lands on Alexandra, who’s now staring at me. But what I see is not her but me, standing in my living room, naked and covered in blood.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I know, of course, that Alexandra is oblivious to how that night changed me, though she’s certainly aware of the fact that we were never close from that point forward. Her need to see me the next morning, to share details on her recovery fuck, was expected and understandable, even. But also expected was her ability to look in my eyes and know one night had changed me. She’d have asked questions I didn’t want to answer. Exactly why I never let them happen, despite the awkwardness that ensued and lingered until I took the FBI job. And right now, with Alexandra looking at me and me looking at her, I’m experiencing that awkwardness all over again. That very special kind of Saturday-night-drunk-and-pretending-not-to-be-bad kind of awkward.