Love Kills (Lilah Love 4)

“Not yet. We printed her.”

“I need an update on those prints, now.”

“Of course,” he says, smirking. “And a broader search of the area?”

The smirk gets to me.

I like to smack smirks off faces. That I let him keep his, really does speak to my restraint, which is better than most believe. If I smack you, it’s not emotional. You deserve it.

“Home our resources, here, on the crime scene,” I say. “I don’t want any more mass hysteria than we already have with the mayor’s recent press conference. Keep the scene tight.” On that note, there are two dead bodies waiting on me, and they are certain to be better company than this man. I turn away and start walking.

“You don’t want to sweep wide for a suspect?” he calls after me and then murmurs, “Why can’t the FBI just let us do our fucking jobs? One of our own is in that alleyway.”

I whirl around and face him. “One of your own? Williams called me into that fucking alleyway into a booby trap. So if that’s who you’re calling your own, asshole, you now know why I’m in charge. So, do as I say, or get the hell out of here.”

His jaw clenches. “Williams wouldn’t do that.”

“And yet,” I say, “she did, so if you want to go wide with this search, cause hysteria and talk to the press, she’ll be the villain. The police will be the villains when one of your own is killing innocent people. If you want that, we can put you on camera to deliver the news.”

“I don’t believe Williams would do that.”

I step closer to him. “How do you know? Were you fucking her?”

“No. I was not.”

“Did you ever fuck her?”

“No, fuck, no.”

But he cuts his eyes. “How personal is this to you?”

“She was one of us.”

“That again? Then I’m a lying little bitch, is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying, Williams wouldn’t do what you say she did.”

“Then I am a lying little bitch.”

“I’m saying—”

“Don’t repeat yourself. I’m not stupid enough to need to hear that again while you appear to be stupid enough to keep repeating yourself. Leave. You’re too involved to play an investigative role.”

He cuts his stare, his jaw tightening to the point that it might snap before he eyes me. “I want to stay. I want to help.”

“Who hurt you?”

He frowns. “What? I mean, we dated but—”

“But you didn’t fuck,” I challenge. “When was the last time that you ‘didn’t fuck’?”

“We didn’t fuck.”

“And you didn’t avoid my question. You’re cut. Who cut you?”

“A served warrant gone wrong.”

It’s a quick answer, too quick, and his eyes shift slightly. He’s lying when he has to know I can confirm his story. Which has to mean he’s stupid, and if he’s stupid, he’s not Umbrella Man, but Williams wasn’t him either, even though she tried to lure me into the alleyway. To the game. I think of the family members of the victims who Umbrella Man has used and abused. In every case, he promised someone close to the victims that if they did certain things, they could save the person they love. But if Morris was being tormented, if he was being promised that he could save Williams, he knows she’s dead now.

“Agent Love.”

I look up to find an officer standing to my left, his rain hood pulled low. “There’s a man at the west perimeter insisting he see you,” he announces.

Kane.

It’s going to be Kane, and I’m going to kill him before Ghost has the chance.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, and when I turn back to Morris, he’s gone. I look toward the dark alley, my gut pulling me there again, but Kane is here. He couldn’t just stay away. What part of Ghost is here trying to kill him does this asshole not understand? I turn away from the alley and look for the officer who announced my visitor, but he’s gone. I start walking toward the west barrier he indicated, vowing not to hurt Kane until we’re alone, without witnesses.

I cut through the gaggle of law enforcement, answering questions I didn’t intend to answer, finally breaking away to a clear path when my phone rings and I grab it, glance at my brother’s number and hit decline. Rain begins to pelt my shoulders again, and I yank up my hood, walking toward Officer Brad Henry, who I know from the past. “Brad,” I greet, stepping in front of him.

“Lilah fucking Love. I heard you were the Queen Bitch of the Night.”

“And I heard you still parked a donut shop in your belly,” I say, motioning to his ever-present belly and back up at him. “I see that rumor was true.”

“Twins,” he says, rubbing his donut shop.

I move on before I don’t move on because the man is supposed to be able to run, fight, and protect innocent lives. He can’t even protect himself. “Where’s my visitor?”

He frowns. “Visitor?”

“I was told that I have a visitor here to see me.”

“No. Not that I know of.” He shouts out to another officer behind him and to the left, next to a patrol car, “Travis! Any visitor for Agent Love?”

“Nope. No-go on the visitor,” Travis calls back.

No visitor.

A bad feeling hits me, and I turn away from Brad, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing Kane. “Lilah.”

“Where are you?”

“At the flower shop where I told you to meet me. Where are you?”

“You weren’t here?”

“No. Should I be?”

“No,” I say, turning toward the alley where the two bodies lie in wait, where Ghost showed himself. “Stay away.”

“Lilah—”

I hang up and do so with realization. Ghost didn’t show himself here, at an Umbrella Man crime scene for no reason. Umbrella Man taunts and kills those close to his victims, but Kane isn’t easy to get to. And even if you get

to Kane, you won’t manipulate him. To get to Kane, you need an expert. An expert like Ghost.

Ghost was telling me that Umbrella Man hired him to kill Kane.

CHAPTER FIVE

There’s only one way to win the game.

Play the game.

Some might say winning comes from not playing at all, but in this case, if I don’t play, someone else will, and that someone won’t do it by choice. They’ll also become a victim who will die. I don’t plan on going anywhere but to the crime scene to talk to those bodies. And then to the killer’s front door, to kick his ass right before killing him. Not a very FBI like thing to say, but fuck it. And fuck it some more.

My phone starts ringing again, and I ignore it. I know it’s Kane calling me back. I need to talk to him, considering he left to go battle a cartel controversy, I shouldn’t even condone. I am a fucking FBI agent, and Lord help me a part of me really needs to see him right now, but I can’t afford that distraction. I can’t afford to fear my safety the way he made me fear my safety in that alleyway earlier tonight. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what to do with him sometimes.

I start walking, ready to step into my Otherworld zone as I do, my place where there is nothing but the crime scene. And it’s time, time to read the crime scene. Time to see what’s here to see; what Umbrella Man wants me to see. What he thinks I won’t see. What he thinks I’m too stupid to see.

“Lilah fucking Love.”

At Kane’s deep, accented, angry voice, I freeze. He’s behind me. At the barrier where he just told me he wasn’t. And not only is he asking to get a bullet in his head from Ghost, but this breaks our long-standing rule; he doesn’t come to my crime scenes or my job. Anger is instant, as is every emotion I feel with this man. I rotate and bring him into view, standing at a wooden barrier a few feet from Brad, and fuck me, he’s so damn Kane Mendez. His jacket is gone, his sleeves rolled to his elbows—tall, Latin, and arrogant as fuck. It’s like he’s daring Umbrella Man and Ghost to come for him. It’s like the man thinks he’s not fucking human. I want to punch him right now. In fact, he needs to be punched more than anyone I’ve met tonight, and that’s saying a lot.