Love Kills (Lilah Love 4)

Kane shoves aside his bowl, and we rotate our stools to face each other, the massive apartment fading away. There is just me and him again. “He knows what?”

“About that night.”

“He can’t know about that night.”

“And yet, he does, and he wanted me to know that he does. The victim who was in the apartment. She was naked, and he left her clothes in the closet in front of a U2 poster, with the lyrics for ‘With or Without You’ on it. I doubt it was organic to the apartment. He put it there. When I was grabbed, that song was playing on a radio somewhere in the parking lot or the car, I’m not sure which, I was too damn drugged.”

He doesn’t react. He just sits there, processing, and I know him. I let him. He needs to think. Seconds tick by, and he says, “He can’t know.”

“What other explanation is there?” I don’t give him time to answer. “I thought about the Society setting all of this up to kill us both, but they wouldn’t leave me a clue to figure out this is them.”

“If you’re right, and he was there—”

“I am. He knows.”

“Then it’s the Society,” he concludes.

“He wouldn’t warn me if it’s the Society,” I repeat. “But what if it’s a rogue member or someone they hired to help that night? There were multiple people involved in my kidnapping.”

“Or your first instinct was right,” he says, “and the Society, not some rogue member, really is behind all of this. If they just kill me or you, for that matter, my people come after their people. If one of your cases appears to turn south on us, they avoid that.”

“But they wouldn’t leave a clue for me to figure it out,” I repeat, more firmly this time.

“No one kills pigs and people who isn’t really a killer,” he says. “They hired someone capable of those things. Perhaps he sees you as a challenge. He left the clue because he’s enjoying the game and because he thinks he’s smarter than you. He feels like he can taunt you and still win.”

“Maybe,” I say. “That feels more right than wrong.”

“It feels a lot right,” he says. “The Society would also have access to Ghost and the money to pay him.”

We share a look. “The Society,” I say. “I knew we shut them down too easily.”

“The Society doesn’t want a war. That interferes in their bigger picture.”

“Which is?” I ask.

“To quietly rule the world behind the scenes. Pocher’s our problem. You take out Umbrella Man. I’ll deal with Pocher.”

He’s right. They both need to go down, but something is bothering me. There’s something in my mind, something I need to realize. “I need to go to Purgatory,” I say, ready to seal myself in my thinking spot, the room off our bedroom. I push off the stool and start to walk away.

Kane catches my arm and looks up at me. “You aren’t going to ask how I’m taking out Pocher?”

He’s asking me if my badge is going to get in his way. “If Pocher’s behind Umbrella Man, he’s just as responsible for the murders as the killer himself.”

“He’s behind your father’s political campaign.”

“My father is a fool asking to end up dead. This isn’t over. Someone else is going to die. I’d prefer it to be Pocher. I want it to be him.”

And I guess that means I’m done hiding or turning myself into a monster.

Because I feel no guilt at wishing Pocher dead to a man who will make it happen nor do I mind one little bit that the man who will make it happen shares my bed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I’m on my headset, on the phone, calling Tic Tac by the time I make it to the bedroom. “I’d yell about the time,” he answers, “but I heard you have three dead bodies tonight. Fuck. Yes, I said it. Fuck. What can I do?”

I pass through the bedroom and open the double doors to Purgatory, which is basically an office, but it’s my office. It’s my place to lock myself away until I catch this asshole. “What time is it?” I ask, entering the room.

“Here in LA, it’s midnight, which means it’s three there in New York City.”

I’m not even sure how long it’s been since this all went down. I sit down in one of the two chairs that decorate Purgatory. There’s a desk and bookshelves, too, but the chair wins. “My ‘I need’ list is about to start,” I say, “so take notes.”

“Camera feed for every location you can get it. A history of everyone in the building who connects to the victims. I have the names. Murphy got them for me.”

Murphy clearly had quite the talk with Houston. “You sound remarkably proud of yourself when Murphy told you what to do. I also need—”

“A profile for all victims. I’m on it all.” Kane walks in, holding some sort of box, and sits down next to me. He opens the lid to display my favorite brownies. God, I really do love this man, like a fat kid loves cake.

I pick up a brownie and give him a pleased look. “Thank you.”

“Did you just say ‘thank you’?” Tic Tac asks incredulously.

“Yes,” I say. “And don’t say I don’t say thank you. If you bring me brownies, I’ll tell you thank you, too, unless they suck.” I take a bite and make a fairly orgasmic sound before adding, “And these do not.”

Kane smiles and winks, taking a bite of a brownie himself. I almost laugh because the truth is this man does scare the shit out of people, as proven by Jay tonight. And yet, right now, he’s eating a brownie and looks like a little boy in a candy store doing it. “Kane brought you brownies?” Tic Tac asks.

I frown. “How do you know about Kane?” I demand, giving Kane a side eye and smiling.

‘You told me about Kane, Lilah.”

“He better know about me,” Kane says. “Or I’ll have to kill him.”

“That’s not funny,” Tic Tac says. “Tell him I said that’s not funny. No! No, don’t tell him I said that. Ask him what I can do for him.”

“Are you really that much of a suck-up, wuss?” I ask incredulously.

Clearly, Kane hears because he says, “Tell him I have my own people who I trust,” Kane says, never looking over, half done with his brownie.

“He can trust me,” Tic Tac argues. “Pl

ease tell him he can trust me. Director Murphy said—”

“What the hell?” I ask. “Murphy talked with you about Kane?” I glance at Kane who looks amused.

“He said Kane will help you, so we help Kane.”

“Kane doesn’t help you or Murphy.”

“But he helps you.”

“You need to freaking help me. I need a list of anyone involved in this that might have gone to a U2 concert. And, the year I relocated to LA, did they tour?”

“What does the year you relocated and U2 have to do with this?”

“Just find out.” I disconnect, set my phone down and take a bite of the brownie. For several minutes, Kane and I sit there, lost in thoughts, each eating a full two brownies. Actually, I don’t think much at all. The exhaustion of rain, blood, and murder is taking hold.

“Murphy really thinks he’s hired you through me. Once you kill Pocher, I think I’ll quit. After I kill Umbrella Man, of course. And this time, I’m not going to ask you to bury the body.”

“You didn’t ask me last time.”

I pick up my badge from the table between us where I’d placed it earlier, and stare at it before looking at Kane. “I’m talking about killing people, Kane. What the hell is happening to me?” I set the badge back down on the table, between us, where he always says it exists. “I’m not even processing the damn case.” I bury my hands in my hair and lean forward.

Kane goes down on a knee in front of me. I drop my hands and his settle on my knees. “You watched two people die tonight and dealt with a third in our own building. You faced down two killers: Umbrella Man and Ghost. You saved Jay’s life. You visited the past. Of course you want the people who did this dead. You’re human.” He stands up and takes me with him. “It’s three-thirty in the morning. I know how this works. You need to be at the station early. Let’s sleep for a few hours.”

“I should try to work the evidence.”

“You will. After you sleep.”

“You know if I didn’t live with you—”

“You’d fall asleep on the floor,” he says. “That’s why Purgatory is right next to our bed.” He leads me forward, and I don’t fight him. He’s right. I’m human. I’m exhausted. The heaviness in my body and the fog of whiskey, brownies, and too much adrenaline is winning.