Love Me Dead (Lilah Love 3)

“Take me with you.”

“What? Take you with me? You’re suing the NYPD and the FBI.”

His hands come down on my arms. “The department has a hard-on for me. They believe I’m a kingpin. He’ll obsess over me and focus less on you.”

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t need Kane Mendez to hold my fucking hand. Seriously, Kane? Do you think I’m a toddler?”

“You’re human, Lilah. You fear that man.”

“I fear me. Just me. I don’t need to share that with anyone but you. And I can do that, because you’re just as scared of you as I am of me.”

“But I don’t fear him.” He releases me. “But maybe that’s the lesson here. I don’t fear him. I embrace who I am. Embrace who you are, Lilah. That’s why you’re good at what you do. Because you see the evil out there. You understand it.”

“Because I’m evil?”

“Because you’re you. Look him in the eye and see that as the fucking advantage it is. You could ruin him if you wanted to. He can’t ruin you.”

“You hate him,” I remind him. “That affects your opinions. You hated him from the moment you met him.”

“He doesn’t sit well in my gut. I use caution with those people.”

“And yet you want me to go sit across from him?”

“Get past it,” he pushes. “You’re giving away your power and that’s not like you.”

I inhale and let it out. “You’re right. God, I hate when you’re fucking right.” I grab my phone to call Roger back.

“I’ll go pour the coffee I put on the timer,” Kane says, walking toward the bedroom door.

My phone rings in my hand with an unknown number, and I answer, “Agent Love.”

“Agent Love,” an all-business female voice greets, “this is Melanie Carmichael. I’m the new medical examiner dealing with a number of murders that you’re investigating. I think we should meet.”

“Agreed. When?”

“When can you stop by?”

“I’ll be there before lunch.”

“That works.”

We say our goodbyes, and I dial Roger. “Lilah?”

“I moved my meeting. I have a small window, depending on when and where we go. I need to stop by the medical examiner’s office. Pick someplace in between there and the station.”

“I’ll come to you. How about Misty’s Diner in forty-five minutes? That’s right near your travels.”

And it’s his favorite place. Whatever, I guess. “That works.” I say, hanging up to find Kane walking back into the bedroom with two cups of coffee in his hand.

He hands me a cup. “Got your meeting?”

“Thank you,” I say, lifting my cup because I have manners despite often being told otherwise. “And yes. In forty-five minutes.”

“Don’t forget we have your father’s fundraiser tonight.”

My eyes go wide. “We declined.”

“We didn’t decline. We’re going.”

“Kane, you’re suing the entire fucking legal system.”

“Seems like an appropriate time to say hello, don’t you think?”

“We’re not going for you to say fuck you to law enforcement. I am law enforcement.”

“And Murphy knows you’re with me, Lilah. Own who you are. We were engaged. They all know us as a couple.”

Were engaged. Why does that “were” punch me in the fucking gut so badly? “Kane—”

“The Society needs to see us together, and they need to see you behaving and supporting your father because we need them to back the fuck off. We destroy our powerful enemies by making them let their guard down.”

“I don’t even have a dress here or time to buy one.”

He sets his cup down and then takes mine and does the same. “Come with me,” he says, catching my hand in his, leading me through a wet dream of a bathroom, that I really fucking adore, to the giant closet, that I love just as much. My gaze goes left to my old side of the closet, and I suck in a breath; all of my clothes are still here.

I turn to Kane. “You didn’t get rid of them?”

“No, Lilah. I didn’t get rid of them.”

“That must have been a bitch to explain to other women.”

“We picked this place together. I didn’t bring other women here. And there’s a substantial amount of new items in the bags on the floor and hanging with tags. I had that personal shopper you like bring it all yesterday, including all your favorite toiletries.”

I don’t bring up the money. He’s rich. I am too because of my mother’s trust. It’s not about the money to him or me. We’ve never had to have that between us. “You just assumed you’d get me back here.”

“You belong here. You know it. I know it. Why are we going to pretend otherwise? That apartment you moved into was wasted money.”

“Kane, my job. I can’t just—”

He pulls me to him hard and fast. “Murphy knows,” he bites out. “Fuck the rest of them. I told you. You’re staying.”

“That’s my decision, not yours. You can’t command me, Kane.”

His lips press together. “You’re right.” His voice is as tight as his expression. “Make your own fucking decision, Lilah. I’ll shower at the office.” He releases me and walks out of the closet.

“Fuck.”

I turn and look at the clothes, and there’s a pink dress with tags on it turned this direction. It’s obviously a dress Kane wanted me to notice. I walk over to it and catch the silk in my hands. He’s the only person who sees the part of me that is softer, that is pink and like my mother. And yet, he’s the only person who sees that dark horrible part of me as well. That matters. Fuck. It matters. I turn and run out of the closet, darting through the bathroom. “Kane?! Kane?!”

He doesn’t answer, but when I step into the bedroom, he’s sitting on the bed. “I fucking love you,” I blurt. “Is that what you want to hear?”

He stands up. “And what else, Lilah?”

“We’ll go to the party.”

“And?”

“And you’re such a demanding bastard. I’m not leaving. Is that what you want to hear? But don’t read into that. I love this apartment and bathroom and—”

He’s now in front of me, cupping my head. “You’re not leaving. Yes. That’s what I want to hear. You can stop there.”

“You’re still an asshole.”

“I know.” He kisses me. That’s what assholes do. They kiss you, and you forget why their asshole-ness matters. But I’ll remember. He knows I’ll remember.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I’m late for coffee, which only proves Kane is an asshole. He wouldn’t let me out of the fucking shower. I didn’t even get to admire all the tile work I had picked out because he was all over me the entire time. Fuck. My hair is still damp, so now it’s going to be a frizzy mess all day, which, you know, I guess works if it somehow makes me less approachable.

After a short walk from the apartment, I step to a corner and stare at the Misty’s Diner sign. My cellphone rings with Kane’s number. “Just do it,” he says when I answer.

“Are you watching me? Seriously, Kane? I can’t live with a stalker.”

“Lilah, I’m not watching you. I just know you.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think.” I hang up. I hate being predictable and readable. I hate being a little fucking wuss who sucks her thumb in the corner because Old Man Smokey is here, and he might hurt my feelings by seeing that I’m an evil bitch. I cross the road, and I don’t stop this time. I enter the semi-full diner and scan for Roger. He’s not here, damn it. Now I have to sit in a booth and suck my wuss ass thumb and wait on him.

The hostess motions for me to claim a seat. I grab a spot to the right of the door by a window. My back is to that window, but I can see the door and the diner. As long as I don’t get shot in the back, all is peachy. Well, except for the fact that my old mentor is about to look in my eye

s and most likely see a killer. And cough on me. God, I hate those coughs. It’s really rather odd to me how a man that anal has such a dirty habit. It doesn’t compute.

Ten minutes pass, and I finally get some damn coffee, and it doesn’t even have pumpkin in it. Mother of God, thank fuck for that. Roger hasn’t shown up, so I try to call him. The connection goes straight to voicemail. My cellphone rings, and I glance down to where it rests on the table to find Tic Tac calling. “Yes, Master Tic Tac. Or are you the submissive and Mike’s the master?”

“We’re gay, Lilah, not kinky.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. You know you can still change that. If you just—”

“Stop,” he bites out. “Stop talking.”

“Fine. I was just trying to help you spice things up.”

“I have an idea. A work idea.”

“Is it a good one?” I ask.

“It’s going to be one of those days with you, isn’t it?”

I sip my coffee. “Looks like it.”

“I’m going to take every person who has even the slightest connection to any of this, even the Texas suicides, and link cell towers, job histories, and even places they visit. It’s going to take time, but I talked to Murphy, and he’s getting me a team to help.”

“How long will this take with the team?”