Bloody Vows (Lilah Love 5)

And me to them.

CHAPTER TEN

I hate stupid and I hate slow.

And one thing I know about the locals is they move about as fast as butter melting in a blizzard. If I wait for the locals to process the evidence, I’ll be dead before I solve this case. It’s still early in Cali and I grab my phone to call Tic Tac, my tech guy out of the L.A. office. I’m about to push his auto-dial when my last conversation with him replays in my head:

“My mother is coming in for Thanksgiving, Lilah,” he’d said. “I’m not strong enough to deal with her and you in the same week. Please, I beg of you, at least give me this four-day weekend off.”

“Okay,” I’d said, “but only if you send me one of those cinnamon rolls she makes.”

“Done,” he’d promised. “I’ll send two.”

I sigh and move my finger off the call button. I want those cinnamon rolls. And I did promise. I might be a bitch, but a promise is a promise. Besides, I need someone a bit more cunning than his boy scout routine. Therefore, and despite the wrath of Kane, who hates my cousin, I dial Lucas, who swore he’d stick to investment banking and quit the bullshit hacking, but we both knew he was lying. And that I’d at some point be a bad influence despite my efforts to be the opposite.

He answers on ring number two. “Before you say a word,” he greets, “I’m drinking. Don’t hold anything I say against me.”

“Is it fruity and girly?” I ask because I tease him about his love for piña coladas.

“No,” he says, “she already left.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Proven by the fact that I still talk to you despite Kane Mendez hating my guts.”

It’s true. Kane hates him and the reasons are many. First, it’s important to note that technically Lucas isn’t a blood cousin. His father was the step-brother to my father. His father was also in the chopper with my mother when they were killed, which has always been curious to me and Lucas. Second, he’s got those blond, surfer-dude good looks that favor my ex, Rich, who I was with during the break Kane and I took. As for why Kane hates him, all of the above, plus Lucas has hit on me more than once. That’s true, but he’s also a dysfunctional mess who always comes through for me.

Which, contrary to the belief my heart is cold, even by me, I can’t leave him alone for the holiday. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I ask.

“More drinking. And I ordered one of those turkey pot pies Micki’s diner makes every holiday. And cake. I got a whole fucking cake for myself. Coconut cream. They made a pie a cake.”

“Okay, then dinner is at five. Bring that fancy laptop you only use for naughty things. And I’ll need you to go ahead and look up a few things tonight. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”

“You? Waiting until tomorrow? Since when do you wait for anything?”

“Since I can’t speak some things on the phone and if I go to your place, Kane might kill you before we ever eat dinner tomorrow. Oh, and bring the pie that’s been made into a cake.”

“Hell no. I’m not going to eat dinner with Kane. Every time he looks at me, I’ll know he’s trying to decide where to bury my body.”

“Like I said. Four o’clock. Be early and bring an expensive bottle of booze to go with the pie cake. That’ll put him in a good mood. You got a pen handy to take some notes?”

“Lilah—”

“Lucas.”

“No,” he says.

“Okay then, I’ll come over there. I’ll just text Kane and tell him I’ll be late.”

“You always get your way, don’t you?”

“Only when it’s life and death. And this is. Did you know Emma Wells?”

“No,” he says. “Should I?”

“She owns a house here in town. She bought it a few years back.”

“I don’t stay connected to the town happenings. You know that.”

“Her husband was Gibson Wells.”

“Oh right,” he says. “He was an accountant. Big shot, too. I saw him around. I do think I remember her, too. Why?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh, well fuck,” he grumbles. “When and how?”

“Tonight. And before you ask, I can’t discuss the cause of death.”

He snorts. “Right. Because we do everything by the books?”

I move on. “What about her fiancé, Morgan Rockport? Do you know him?”

“I know Rockport. He’s a big powerhouse attorney. He’s done some business with my firm, but I actually met him at a party. In fact, it was that event fundraiser for your father that Pocher put on. The one where you wore that red dress.”

I ignore his reference to the red dress. I’m focused on the connection which is not welcome but also not unexpected. “Does he do work for my father or Ted Pocher?”