Love Kills (Lilah Love 4)

“There’s something I didn’t mention. It may be nothing.” She and Roger step closer to me. Her brow furrows, and her voice lowers. “I’ll just tell you, and you can figure out if it matters. Karen had cigarette burns on her fingers. It was as if she held the cigarette until it burned down and into her skin. Per her lungs and the Internet, she wasn’t a smoker.”

It’s another message, and my eyes meet Roger’s and he says, “You still think this has nothing to do with me?” he challenges.

I step to him. “Are you telling me you’re the killer, Roger?”

“Do you think I’m the killer, Lilah?”

“I think you’re an asshole, Roger. You know that was a threat. You know what he was telling me.”

“Tell me. What was he telling you?”

“Eventually, he’s going to kill the people close to me and then kill me.”

“That’s right,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what he’s telling you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Roger’s a dick. He’s always been a dick. He will always be a dick.

Lord help me, I’m the bitch version of him minus the ego. His fucking ego is literally going to be the death of him.

“You’re right,” I say. “This is about you. What better way for him to prove that he’s better than me than by killing my mentor?”

“Mentor and protégé,” he says. “That’s what you think this is about?”

“Yes. Don’t be an asshole and a stubborn old fool,” I bite out. “Leave town before you end up dead.”

“I’ve conquered too many killers to walk away now,” he says, arrogance radiating off of him. “I’m staying. I’m helping, whether you like it or not. He wants me to. He wants me to.”

“And you yourself told me to never give them what they want.”

“You’re what he wants,” he says. “Not me. Isn’t that what you keep saying? I’m not giving him what he wants. I’m giving him me.”

“You’re a means to an end.”

“I’m not leaving, Lilah.”

“Then you better hope I work faster than him.” I turn and head for the stairwell.

The minute the door is shut, I pull out my phone and dial Beth. She answers with, “Did you find her? Did you talk to Melanie? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Did you tell her the toxin’s name in the voicemail?”

“No. No, I didn’t. I thought when she called—”

“Then here is your story. You made a mistake. Samples got mixed up. You didn’t find the toxin. And don’t bring up the correct toxin. Don’t let anyone know that’s on our radar.”

“Why? What is this, Lilah? You’re scaring me. What don’t I know?”

“It’s what I don’t know that’s the issue. I don’t know who’s behind this yet,” I say, “but there’s a high probability, they’re in law enforcement. That means they could have access to the investigation. I don’t want whoever this is to know that we’re getting closer.”

“You don’t trust Melanie?”

“Not only do I not know her, but that facility where she’s working at is well-stocked with that chemical, or whatever the fuck it is, you identified. That means the killer could be close to her. It could be her. We don’t know.”

“Melanie?”

“I’m just telling you that we don’t know who did this, and I’m sure you know there were three more victims.”

“Yes. I heard.”

“Which proves my point,” I say. “Information travels in law enforcement circles. And I want to keep your name out of this. Just don’t tell anyone. No one. Say it, Beth.”

“Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good. I need to go.”

“Oh Lord, this is bad,” she groans. “You told me you were hanging up. You never tell me you’re hanging up. You’re trying to make me feel better. You. Lilah Love. Are trying to comfort me.”

I’m not comforting her. I don’t do comfort. I hang up and text Zar: Leaving. Front door. Headed home.

He can keep up or not. That’s on him. If he can’t, I don’t need him. If he can, he might be a resource. If he pulls a stunt like Jay, I might kill him myself.

I exit the stairwell to the lobby, and I don’t pause. I don’t need another Roger encounter. Thank fuck, I’m outside in a few minutes flat, thunder rumbling above, threatening to drench me, but I push forward, turning right toward the apartment. I could, and probably should, take a car, but screw the rain. Screw Umbrella Man. Screw my father for getting us all waist-deep in shit. And right now, I need to think. I need to figure shit out. I need to catch this asshole, and I need to understand what I’m feeling, which is nothing. I am not worried about Roger. His meddling is irritating, yes, but I don’t fear him being hurt. My God, what is wrong with me? He’s my mentor. He did a lot to move my career forward, and I owe him, but I feel no fear for him. I feel no worry. I warned him. He’s the fool who won’t listen, and it pisses me off. That’s all I feel: pissed off. Since I stabbed that man, I’ve slowly felt those emotional chips flip off.

The crowds push and shove, and I cut through to an alleyway that leads to another street I need to reach. I hope Umbrella Man is watching. Bring it. Bring it on. Fuck with me right now and lose. I walk with an even, calculated pace, waiting for my emotions to show themselves, willing them to show the fuck up. Halfway down the alleyway, it starts to freaking rain. A black SUV pulls in front of my path to exit. It stops there.

Obviously, it’s waiting for me.

I don’t stop walking. It could be Kane. It could be the monster I’m hunting. Let it be him. My hand settles on my weapon, and I walk faster, confrontation in the air. Anger burns through me. That’s one emotion that’s never wavered. It’s my friend. It’s the bitch I will happily call family because it doesn’t control me. I control it. And I’m in the mood to end this here and now. I draw nearer. The SUV idles in place. I charge right at the back door, and the window rolls down revealing Kane inside.

“Don’t shoot me,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his gaze flicking to my hand on my weapon, before returning to my face. “Then you’ll have to sleep alone because I swear Lilah fucking Love, I’ll crawl out of the grave and kill any asshole who thinks he can replace me.” He pops the door open.

“You asshole,” I growl, holstering my weapon and stepping into the opening he’s created for me. “Call me. Warn me. Stop stalking me.”

“Get in, beautiful,” he orders, and the fact that his driver gets out of the vehicle, umbrella in hand, tells me he has something to say that couldn’t be said by phone.

I get in and shut the door, intending to cuss him out, but as I shut myself inside and I turn to look at him, that’s not what happens. That bond between us mixes with the danger lighting up our lives right now, and the anger fades. “Why are you here?” I say.

“It’s raining,” he says. “He likes the rain, and I love you. I’m here for you.”

Just like that, emotions pierce my chest. He’s here for me. No one is ever here for me, but Kane. He’s worried about me. I’m worried about him. I’m gutted at the idea of Ghost killing him. Kane makes me feel. He keeps me human and all those “I needs” that went through my mind while walking are nothing. He’s the only real need there is for me.

The next thing I know I’m climbing onto his lap, straddling him, pressing my hands to his face. “Lilah?”

“Kane,” I whisper, my mouth lowering until I’m kissing him, proving to myself I’m right. I feel with this man. I’m human with this man. I am not a monster, too.

A low sound escapes his throat, and his hand settles on the back of my head. He is all in, kissing the hell out of me, but he’s not in control. It’s me. I drive the passion, I demand more. I need Kane Mendez, and I don’t even care who or what he is. I’ve been wrong to act as if it does, as if that part of him is what drags me to hell. He’s the reason I’m not there yet.

Rain begins to pound on the roof, and Kane catches my hair, pulli

ng my lips from his. “What is this, Lilah?”

“Kiss me again.” I press my lips to his, and he does, he kisses me, but I also land on my back, with him leaning over me. “I know you,” he says, tearing his mouth from mine. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

He knows me. He does. And he thinks the badge belongs on my person. He thinks I’m a better person than I am. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just believes it’s the badge and together that keeps us both human. Because he knows how close we both walk to hell.

“Talk to me,” he orders.

“After we fuck and I spend about two hours in Purgatory.”

He leans in and kisses me. “After we fuck,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Before Purgatory.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He sits up, takes me with him, and then knocks on the window. The driver with his umbrella climbs inside. I leave the order of events as he’s stated them alone but not because I plan to bend to his will. Because right now, there is a dark clawing at my mind, that part of me that felt nothing with Roger, trying to push past everything Kane just made me feel, trying to talk to me. I refuse to listen.

Kane catches my leg and holds me close, and that dark clawing eases, thank God. There’s something combustible about this man, this vehicle, and the rain. If only it didn’t feel like it was raining blood.