Love Kills (Lilah Love 4)

“The DNA at the crime scenes matched his.”

“That doesn’t make my theory invalid.”

“It is, however, off limits this weekend, remember?”

“Yes. I remember.” This weekend is our time. No press. No drama. Just us.

He downs his champagne. “Let me give you something else to think about. I have two gifts for you.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a square velvet box. “That’s number one.”

I down my champagne and accept it.

“Before you open it,” he adds. “That’s to represent our past, to hold onto every moment we’ve ever had. The second gift is about our future.”

“Now I’m curious.” I reach over and touch his cheek. Human. God, how this man makes me human. I open the lid and stare down at a gorgeous diamond necklace. I glance at him. “It’s stunning and ridiculously expensive. How is this our past?”

“It’s your first engagement ring. I had it turned into a necklace.”

“My first? Well, my only because—”

He goes down on his knee in front of me. “Because you have a new one, for a new life with me, filled with honesty at all costs.” He presents me with another box. “Marry me, Lilah. This time really fucking do it.” He pops the lid to display a gorgeous pink and white diamond in an oval setting “Pink?” I laugh.

“To remind you that you don’t have to be tough with me. To remind you that I see all those parts of you that you hide from everyone else, and I love them.”

I actually tear up. “God. You’re going to make me cry, and you know I don’t fucking cry.”

“Answer?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll marry you. I’ll really fucking do it this time.”

“Yes, you will,” he says and places the ring on my finger. Next, he settles the necklace around my neck. “I want to go downstairs and look at it in the mirror,” I say. “And pee.”

He smiles and kisses me while thunder rumbles above our heads. I now have a new reason to love thunder, rather than so many reasons to hate it. I hurry downstairs, and I’ve actually got a gift for Kane, too. It’s a coin that I saved from our first trip overseas together. I wanted it to be a message, a way to tell him that I never let go. I admire my necklace and ring and then walk to my bag in the bedroom, and mange to grab my badge. I stare down at it and pull out the photo of me and Kane I keep behind it. I turn it over and stare at the marks I’ve made there; one for everyone I’ve killed. Morris has his own mark. Morris the Umbrella Man.

Or not.

“Damn it,” I murmur and shove the photo back into place. This weekend is not about that shit.

I grab the coin, which is also in a velvet box. I then hurry above deck to find it raining, but Kane hasn’t come inside for shelter. I stick the box in the front pocket of my sweater and round the deck.

That’s when I go cold. Kane is on his knees, and Roger is holding a gun to his head. There’s a knife in each of his front shoulders, deep enough that if yanked, it might kill him. The world fades in and out. The past flies through my head, to all the games Roger made me play. To his mix-up of pronouns—him and her—when talking about Umbrella Man. I’m suddenly back in the same memory I’ve visited several times in the past, back to that day at Melanie’s office that had bothered me:

“Do you think I’m the killer, Lilah?” he challenges.

“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.”

The reason I didn’t worry about Roger being hunted by Umbrella Man is that, on some level, I knew it was him, but as Kane said—I have always let Roger fuck with my head. “Lilah, leave now,” Kane whispers. “Leave now.”

I stay focused on Roger. This is between me and him—mentor and protégé. “You know that he has security everywhere, right, Roger?” I challenge.

“Not today,” he says. “Today, you two were headed off to the ocean and safe as could be.” He motions to his white pants and white shirt. “I dressed for the occasion, all crisp and clean. And I’m not the one getting dirty today.”

“What do you want?”

“For you to finally become who I’ve been grooming you to become. For you to finally accept the killer that you are, that I always knew you were.”

“I’m not a killer like you.”

“Just a killer like you?” he challenges. “I tested you. That night you were raped, I said if she’s like me, she’ll kill him. And I watched. And you did.”

“You set it up.”

“Of course I set it up. Morris was a pansy. He didn’t kill any of those people. I did. He wanted money, lots of money, and Pocher gave it to him. He wanted to disappear. You handled that for me.” He taps a knife at his waist. “I called your brother. He’s on his way. I told him I’m going to kill you. I told him he could save you but to come alone. He will. We both know he will.” He grabs the knife and offers it to me. “Kill Kane, accept who you are, and I’ll spare your brother. You can kill me and take over the throne. But you have to kill Kane. You have to show me you really don’t feel love.”

He knocks one of the blades in Kane’s shoulder. Kane grunts, but I don’t react. Roger is sick. He’s really fucking sick, and there is only one way to win his games. The same way I won in the alleyway months ago. I play. I win. “Lilah,” Kane says, “do what you need to do and don’t feel any guilt.”

I don’t look at him. Roger tosses the knife between me and him. “Pick it up.” He then steps behind Kane. I walk to the knife and pick it up. I need to feel like a killer because I’m about to be one, and I remember the moment I drove that blade into my attacker. I imagine it. I enjoyed it. My gaze goes to Roger’s. “I’m ready. Are you?”

“I’ve been ready. I’ve been waiting for you.”

I walk forward, slowly, cautiously, certain Kane knows what to do. I stop in front of Kane, and I grab one of the knives in Kane’s shoulder. “Should I take this out?” I ask Roger.

He laughs. “Do it how you want to do it.”

I look down, the fatal mistake Morris had made, but it’s all part of the game. Kane grabs Roger’s legs, and I reach over Kane and slam the knife into Roger’s chest. He gasps and drops the gun, and I end on top of him. I don’t even know how that happens, but it doesn’t matter. Morris killed no one. Roger did. He killed my mother. He attacked Kane. I start stabbing him and stabbing him. Over and over and over, until Kane pulls me off of him. “Lilah. Lilah, he’s dead.”

I pant out a breath and another and then drop the knife. My white sweater is covered in blood. He

’s dead. Roger is dead and he needed to be dead. I wait to feel remorse. I wait to feel guilt. I feel none of those things. I turn and grab Kane’s waist, the knives still jammed into his flesh. “My phone. We need an ambulance. You need help.”

Kane catches my leg with his, holding me to him, keeping his hands free. “As long as the knives stay in, I’m safe. I can move my arms. He didn’t go deep and he didn’t hit nerves. I got lucky and leaned forward when the bastard snuck up behind me and jammed the knives in my shoulders.”

“You think. We don’t know.”

“I’ll call a doctor I know. He’ll come to us. Right now—”

“We need to get rid of the body.”

“I’ll do it, Lilah, Unless you want to call the police this time, but think hard. Think hard because—”

“We’ll do it,” I say. “I’m not losing my badge over Roger. Together, right?”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure.”

“Holy hell,” Andrew curses.

I turn to face him and he’s now on the deck, pointing a gun at Kane. “What is this?” he demands. “Lilah. Lilah, are you okay?”

“I stabbed him,” I say. “He’s Umbrella Man. He killed mom, and Kane was—is—put the fucking gun down, Andrew!”

“She stabbed him twenty times,” Kane says. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what that will do to your sister’s life?”

Andrew looks at the body and then at me. “He’s the one?”

“He’s the one,” I say. “He did it all.”

His lips thin and he looks skyward, before he holsters his weapon. “Then we need to get rid of the body.”

And so, I watch my brother and my future husband decide how to get rid of Roger’s body.

And they do.

And we do.

And that is my version of Happily Ever After, at least for now. This will fuck with my head. If I believe Roger, I might be a female Dexter. The Society will keep coming at us. The cartel will keep coming at us. Junior will likely write me another note. Meanwhile, I think I’ll wear pink to my wedding. Serial killers don’t wear pink. Because I’m fucking doing it this time. I’m marrying Kane Mendez.