Murder Notes (Lilah Love 1)

“There’s an interesting prospect. I guess I would be the one who was fucked then, now wouldn’t I?”

I inhale and stand up, walking around the desk to stand at the window, arms folded in front of me. I don’t have to look to know the moment Kane joins me, close enough to establish dominance but not quite inside my personal space. He knows exactly how to push the boundaries of those around him without going too far. I stare out at the ocean crashing on the rocks beneath us, and remembering the way I’d once loved this view, and this man, is damn near suffocating.

“What do you want to know?” he asks, his tone soft but demanding, because he’s just one big demanding wolf of a man.

I turn to face him as he does the same to me, and I’m resisting an urge to back away or step forward and punch him. Or kiss him and then bite his damn tongue. “What do you know about my brother?”

“Nothing.”

“Kane,” I say, and I hate the way his name becomes a plea. “I need to know.”

“There are rumors about your father but not your brother.”

I blanch. “What? My father? What about my father?”

“His run for a higher office and favors promised to the wrong people.”

“What higher office?”

He tilts his head. “You don’t know?”

“Just answer the question.”

“New York governor.”

I stare at him, fighting the fury, as this is the first I’ve heard of this idea.

“You really didn’t know,” he says, sounding as shocked as I feel.

“No. I didn’t know. What favors to what people?”

“The Romano family.”

This is a punch in the gut. “As in the mob family you think killed your father?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“Romano and I made peace years ago, Lilah. You know this.”

“You drew a line in the sand. You didn’t make peace.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Are you now my father’s enemy?” I ask.

“Right at this moment? No.”

“But you could become his enemy?” I hold up a hand. “Don’t answer. Why didn’t you call me? If you cared about me at all, you would have told me.”

“A few rumors and meetings do not make a crisis.”

“It’s fucking Romano, Kane. Damn it, you should have called me. You watched me like a damn stalker, but you didn’t call me about this.”

“I would have, had it become an issue.”

“I need to stop it from becoming an issue.” I inhale a sharp-edged breath and breathe it out in an equally sharp change of topic. “What do you know about the man from that night?”

“He’s gone.” His tone is hard. “That’s all we both need to know.”

“Do you know his name? Who sent him? Anything?”

“Lilah—”

“Answer,” I command.

“No to all your questions.”

“How can you, the Kane Mendez, who knows everything about this town, not know those answers?”

“Someone made sure I couldn’t get them without bringing attention to things neither of us wanted attention on.”

“Had you ever seen the tattoo on his arm before or since that night?”

“Lilah,” he orders. “Hear me and hear me now. You will leave this alone.”

His intense need to control what I do or do not do regarding that night is exactly why I make the choice in this moment to keep Junior to myself. “What do you know about the tattoo?”

“Nothing.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re lying.”

“Why are you asking about this?”

“That wasn’t a denial of the lie. Why are you dodging and weaving?”

“Why are you trying to get yourself on radars you don’t want to be on?”

“And yet you don’t know who’s involved. Right. Lies. Just so many lies.” I don’t give him time to reply. “I’ll be confirming your alibi. I’ll be in touch once I do.” I turn and head for the door, but the moment I reach for the knob, his hand is on the door above my head, his big body so damn close he’s damn near touching me. So close I can smell him. And he smells like a life I once found addictive, a life I loved and now hate.

“Let me out,” I order softly.

“You will not ask questions about that man or that night, Lilah. You aren’t the only one that has something to lose.”

I rotate to face him, cursing the decision that now puts me a lean away from touching him. “What happened to you trusting me like I trusted you that night?”

“I do trust you, Lilah.”

“Seems to me you were glad to have me on the other side of the country.”

“Because I didn’t call.” He leans in closer. “You want to know why I didn’t call?”

“Because I told you not to call.”

“Do you think that would stop me from calling you? Or coming for you if that’s what I wanted?”

The words are a blow that hurt more than they should and also prove that I’m a fucking fool every moment that this man touches my life. “We’re done here.”

“We are never done, Lilah, and if you think my silence was about us being done, you’ll soon discover that’s not true. Do not ask questions neither of us can come back from.” He pushes off the door, and for several long beats we stare at each other, the charge between us a weird mix of sexual tension, anger, challenge, and something I can’t name. I turn away from him and exit the office, and now, now I’m in my Otherworld, my safe zone, my disconnected place, where I feel nothing. Where Kane and the past cannot reach me. I walk down the stairs, slow and easy, and through the lobby. I exit the building into a gust of wind off the ocean at my back, and I weave through cars until I’m standing next to my rental, where I find an envelope with a red ribbon attached. I inhale, certain this is from Junior.

/>

Still in my Otherworld, I walk to the car, cover the handle with my sleeve, and open it before retrieving a rubber glove from my bag. Returning to the window, I pick up the note and climb into the car. Pulling on a second glove, I remove the note that reads:

T is for TRUST.

You TRUSTED him.

F is for FOOL.

That’s YOU.

CHAPTER TEN

I’m not one to linger and fret over things. In fact, people who spend time fretting get on my nerves. If something bothers you, do something about it. Grow some balls and grab someone else’s. And that’s exactly why, knowing Samantha runs her clothing-design business from her home rather than from her family business located in New York City, I drive to her mansion a few miles from Kane’s offices. I don’t expect her to be there, of course, since she was just putting a note on my window, and her mansion is the only place I would know to look for her, but I want her to know I came for her.

I don’t get past the gate. The staff she keeps on the property simply refuse to allow me to pass. I’m about to back up and depart when a silver BMW I know to be Samantha’s pulls up behind me, blocking my exit. A power play perhaps, but it’s also the move to keep me outside her private space that I find really fucking interesting.

I place the car in Park and then give Junior’s note in the passenger seat a glance. Intentionally leaving it there, visible should Samantha join me, I exit the vehicle as Samantha does the same, her long, blonde hair a sleek, beautiful reminder that I’m the only brunette in Kane’s life. I’m not even the man’s type. She’s also wearing black slacks and a black turtleneck, giving off the illusion of being prim and proper. Oh, come on. We all have a superpower: baking muffins, drawing pictures, listening to dead bodies speak to you. Hers is fucking men senseless. She’s not prim and proper. She’s exactly what I said last night. A ho, bitch, or whatever the fuck I called her. We walk toward each other, meeting at the trunk of my car, as she places her brand-name sunglasses over her face. A little trick we in law enforcement know is to hide the lies about to be spoken.