by Cynthia Eden
“I didn’t kill her. I walked in with Remy. Found her body.” He shrugged. “Then we called the cops. Just like any law-abiding citizens would do in those circumstances.” He was staring at Grayson as he made that statement. And maybe he emphasized law-abiding a bit too much. So what? It had been one hell of a morning so far.
“That’s not exactly what happened, is it?” Grayson pushed. “We talked to Remy. He was happy to provide us with full details about the events of this morning.”
“Why you saying it that way? Trying to make it sound as if Remy turned on me and sold you secrets?” Kace gave a quick laugh, actually amused. “I told him to cooperate. If I had ordered him to tell you jack shit, he would have done that, too.”
Now the sweating Dominic slid forward. “Why didn’t you tell him to, ahem, tell us all jack shit?”
“Because Marie was mine.” He forced his back teeth to unclench. “She worked for me, she had a tie to me, and because of that, some sick sonofabitch killed her.”
Grayson pursed his lips. His gaze raked over Kace. “Or you killed her. Maybe you’re the sick sonofabitch who wrapped her in silk and choked the life from her.”
Don’t beat the ever-loving-hell out of him. Don’t. Kace gave Grayson a cold smile. “I don’t kill women. Don’t you remember that from our time together before, Grayson?” Because, yes, he’d recognized the bastard. He’d just chosen to hold that secret a bit. “That’s not really my thing.”
“I think it’s exactly your thing.”
Bree’s hold tightened on Kace. “Why did you try to get her down, Kace? Why did you touch the body? You had to know that would contaminate the crime scene.”
Another bark of laughter came from him, and only Kace knew it sounded angry. Mean. He was feeling pretty mean right then. She looked like Bree. He glanced down at her. “I thought it was you. I wasn’t fucking leaving you hanging from the ceiling. I wanted you down. I stopped thinking. Didn’t care if it was a crime scene.” His gaze traveled over Bree’s beautiful face. “I was getting you down.”
“Huh.” Dominic had circled around him. The sweating prick was giving him an assessing, too-clinical glance. “It didn’t matter that Marie was hanging from the ceiling. You could leave her up there. But Bree was something—”
“I would have taken her down.” She’d better be down by now. “But Remy stopped me. After he tackled me, he told me that we had to call the cops. Had to leave her in case any evidence from the killer was up there. That if we screwed it up, the bastard might keep getting away with his crimes.” He shrugged and focused his attention on Grayson once more. “Not like you’ve done a bang-up job of catching the guy so far, have you, Grayson? I mean, the victims keep dying, and you just keep looking at me.”
Now Grayson stepped toe-to-toe with Kace. “Marie was murdered in your club.”
“That’s pretty fucking obvious, isn’t it?” Kace bit out.
“Remy said you had to type in the code to get inside Fantasy. When the killer came in and murdered that poor woman, did you get any notice from your security company?”
“No alarm went off.” He knew where the SOB was going with this one.
“How many people have access to your code?”
“Three. Me, Remy, and my floor manager, Abby Johnson.”
Grayson gave him an arctic smile. “You understand, of course, I’m going to need alibis for you all.”
“You won’t have to look far for my alibi.” Bree’s hand had fallen away from his arm, but Kace cut a glance her way. “Special Agent Harlow was in my house last night. She can vouch for the fact that I didn’t leave.”
Bree’s face appeared too pale. He didn’t like that, not one damn bit.
“We haven’t established time of death yet,” Grayson told him, the dick’s voice grating on Kace’s ears. “Once the coroner does that, then we’ll talk alibis.”
Dominic shuffled closer. “We’ll need to know the name of the individual or individuals who were here last.”
“Remy. He and Abby were the last two here on Saturday. Probably left around four a.m. You’ll need to talk with them.” Tension had gathered in Kace’s shoulders. “The club is closed on Sunday. No one should have been here then.”
The killer had known that, dammit. He’d come in with Marie and the bastard had known that no one would bother him. He’d probably taken his time with the kill.
When I find him, I’ll take my time with him, too.
“We want you to come to the station with us,” Grayson murmured. “We have more questions that you need to answer.”
“Bullshit. You just want some dog and pony show for the Press. You want to haul me out of Fantasy, you want everyone to see me being led away, and you want the world to think I’m a killer.”
Bree inched closer. “Kace, we need your cooperation.”
Wasn’t he giving his cooperation?
“You are a killer,” Grayson rasped. “This time, I’ll prove it. You won’t walk on some BS alibi.”
Kace wanted to reach for Bree once more. Wanted to lock his fingers with hers. Instead, he just smiled at Grayson. “An FBI agent who can back up my whereabouts hardly counts as BS. I think you don’t get a better alibi than that.”
“We don’t know what time—”
“Spare me the crap. You’ve got an estimate. So do I. Her body was cold and hard. Lividity, right? Isn’t that the term?” He knew it was. He was always so much smarter than the cops had given him credit for being. Just because he’d been poor, they’d thought he didn’t know shit.
So wrong.
“She’s been dead for at least eight hours. No longer than twelve.” Kace shrugged. “And Bree will alibi me for that time. So, you can throw out your accusations, but you won’t stick this on me.”
Grayson’s body tensed. “Know a lot about death, do you?”
More than you can guess.
“You’re going to the station,” Grayson snapped. “And you’re going now.”
“Grayson,” Bree cut in, voice strained. “He’s cooperating. And he’s right about the lividity—”
“He’s a psychopath, Bree. Cold-blooded to the core. Didn’t you hear what he said? The club was empty all day yesterday. The bastard could have killed her at any time he wanted. And if he really knows death as well as he says, then he could have staged the body to throw off the coroner. To throw us all off. It’s not like he hasn’t staged a crime scene before.”
On that, Grayson was right.
Sighing, Kace pulled out his phone. He sent one fast text. “You’ll have about an hour. Maybe less.”
Grayson frowned at him.
“You can ask me your questions for an hour. I’ll answer the ones I choose. And when that hour is up, my lawyer will make sure you don’t get within fifty feet of me again.” He gave a wolfish smile, and he didn’t look at Bree again. Right then, he couldn’t. Too much was at stake. “Shall we get the dog and pony show on the road?”
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re not going in there,” Grayson announced as he threw a hard glance at Bree. “Not when the jerk is using you as his alibi. Karin and I will handle the interrogation. You and Dominic can watch from the observation room.”
She’d already figured he wouldn’t let her inside. But… “Kace didn’t do this. He’s right about the lividity, you know that yourself. It’s like crime scene 101. Maximum lividity always occurs between eight and twelve hours after death. I was in the house with him last night. He didn’t leave.”
“You’re sure about that? Were you really with him every single moment?”
“I—”
“Or did you sleep, Bree? Did you fall asleep at some point last night? Because I’m betting you did. And I’m betting you don’t know if he stayed in that house while you slept or if he crept away.”
Crept away and killed another woman? Had he gone from comforting Bree after her nightmare, from making love to her…to killing? “No.” She shook her head. “He didn’t. It’s not—”
&
nbsp; “This is why you’re not going in the interrogation room. And why you’re staying away from him. You’re compromised.” He motioned to Karin. “Let’s go.”
Karin mouthed Sorry as she filed out of the room behind him.
Dominic whistled. “Shit, that guy is pissed.”
Yeah, well, so was she. “He’s wrong about Kace.” She moved to stand closer to the observation window.
“Uh, maybe. Maybe not.” Dominic pulled at his tie, loosening the knot. “Abby Johnson and that Remy fellow have also been brought in for interrogations. You want to take them?”
“I want to watch Kace first.” She wasn’t budging. This mattered. He mattered.
I thought it was you. She could still hear Kace’s rough, ragged voice in her mind. Bree stared through the one-way glass. He sat at the table, appearing utterly calm. His lawyer was at his side, a stylish woman in an elegantly cut, blue blouse and a black, pencil skirt. Her coffee cream skin was absolutely flawless.
The door opened. Grayson barreled inside. Karin took her time entering. While Grayson took the chair across from Kace, Karin settled into a position near the wall.
“He’s not going to learn anything,” Dominic predicted as he stood beside Bree. “That lawyer—she’s Deidre Shaw. She’s the best criminal defense attorney in New Orleans. The woman has stone walling down to an art.”
As Bree watched, Deidre gave Grayson a Cheshire-cat smile.
Grayson didn’t smile back.
As for Kace, his gaze slid toward the one-way mirror. He stared at the mirror, seeming to stare straight at Bree and then—
He winked.
***
“Do you find these proceedings humorous in some way, Mr. Quick?” Grayson demanded.
The guy really needed to get the stick out of his ass. “I don’t find anything about Marie Argeneaux’s death to be humorous. I find it to be a fucking shame.” Kace focused on the jackass and not on Bree. He knew she was watching. He could feel her.
I need to get her out of this city.
As much as he wanted to hold her tight, he would need to push her away, at least until he’d buried the bastard playing the sick games in Kace’s city.
“How long had Marie worked for you?”
“About a month. Abby hired her when we first got the idea for the aerial act.” He kept his voice flat, kept his posture relaxed. He knew how the game was played.
Grayson pulled out a notebook. Jotted something down like he’d just made some major freaking discovery.
He’d discovered nothing.
“Were you sleeping with her?” Grayson asked, not looking up.
Kace parted his lips to reply—
“You don’t have to answer that,” Deidre announced as she glowered at the agent across from her. “Really, must you push our courtesy to its limits? My client is cooperating out of the goodness of his heart.”
Kace heard a snort. He was pretty sure it came from the female agent who was leaning against the wall. Petite, with red hair that she kept twisted in a bun behind her, the woman had sharp, intelligent eyes. Karin…hadn’t that been her name? Special Agent Karin Miller.
Karin apparently didn’t think he had goodness in his heart.
“So, you were sleeping with her,” Grayson decided. “Were you also intimately involved with—”
Time to cut through the crap. “I wasn’t sleeping with Marie.”
Deidre’s delicate jaw hardened. She’d give him hell for answering that question later.
“I wasn’t sleeping with her, not with Lindsey, not with Ciara, and not with Amelia, either.”
Grayson stiffened.
“I knew them all. Had employed them all. But if you ask around, you’ll learn that I have a strict policy about not sleeping with my staff. There are lines I don’t cross. That’s one of them.”
“Right.” Grayson’s expression called bullshit.
He could call whatever he wanted.
Once more, Grayson glanced down at the notepad before him. “Did you leave your house at any point last night?”
“I didn’t. Shouldn’t you know this? I mean, I figured the FBI was staking out my place.”
Grayson’s head snapped up. “You’re certain you never left? Not even for a few moments?”
“I was tired last night.” No, he’d been busy having the best sex of his life. “So, I didn’t go out.” A shrug. “I returned to my house around eight last evening, and I didn’t go out again after that.”
“Eight.” Grayson pursed his lips. “What were you doing before you got back home?”
Deidre sighed. “Your questions have to be related to something. This isn’t a fishing expedition. Oh, wait.” She rolled her eyes. “It is. Because you’ve dragged my client in here for an interrogation when he’s the victim.”
But Grayson’s eyes stayed locked on him. “Where were you last night before eight p.m.?”
“I had business that needed taking care of.”
“What kind of business?”
“The kind of business that’s mine.” Kace offered him a very cold smile.
Grayson glared at him. Someone had an anger issue. “I’ll find out. So why don’t you just save us both a bit of time and tell me where you were—”
Deidre shook her head. Aw, so sweet. She probably thought he’d been up to something illegal. He hadn’t been. Being kind, Kace revealed, “I was visiting with an old friend.” He would have answered sooner, but he honestly enjoyed jerking Grayson around a bit. He needed to understand the guy’s weak spots. Obviously, the special agent in charge had a short fuse. If he was pushed the wrong way, Kace was sure the fellow would explode. I am so good at pushing.
“A friend?” Now Grayson looked at the one-way mirror. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “A female friend?”
Was the dipshit trying to make Bree jealous? He should leave her the hell alone. “No, he’s male. Jax Fontaine. Maybe you’ve heard of him.” Who hadn’t, in that town?
Grayson’s whole expression tensed as his attention zeroed in on Kace again. “I thought he’d left New Orleans.”
“He did.” A good thing, too, because the town really hadn’t been big enough for them both. “Shady bastard fell in love and followed his woman. But we keep in touch. Mutual interests, I guess you could say.”
***
“I don’t know that name,” Bree said, frowning.
“Jax Fontaine…he’s trouble. Bad news.” Dominic rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “He and Kace used to fight for power in New Orleans, but then Jax got out of the game. He married a woman named Sarah Jacobs a while back.”
Sarah Jacobs. Okay, now that name mattered to Bree. “Murphy the Monster’s daughter?” Everyone at Quantico knew about Sarah Jacobs. She was the only child of an infamous serial killer. When she’d been a teen, Sarah had walked in on her father and discovered his dark life. He’d wanted her to be like him. Instead, Sarah had become a profiler. She’d worked to unmask serials. But…she’d been in the private sector. She’d—
“Last I heard,” Dominic mused, “Sarah was still working for LOST.”
LOST. Last Option Search Team. Yes, yes…Bree had even thought about getting a job with that group herself, but she’d decided to join the FBI instead.
“I think she’s still trying to find her dad.” Dominic’s voice was halting. “Because that sick perp is still out there.”
Bree rubbed her sweaty palms onto the front of her jeans. “Kace went to talk with Jax…” He hadn’t told her about that. Why not? Why did she feel like she was missing something?
“Wonder what they talked about.” Dominic narrowed his eyes as he studied the interrogation scene.
I sure as hell wonder, too.
***
“Why’d you go meet Jax?” Grayson demanded.
“Oh, you know…” Kace waved one hand vaguely in the air. “To shoot the shit. Catch up on old times. Jax is only in the city for a few nights, and I wanted to chat him up.” He gave the ot
her man a cold smile.
“Was Sarah with him?”
Ah, so the guy knew all about Jax’s Sarah. “I think she was.” As if imparting a secret, Kace added, “He likes to keep her close.”
Grayson grunted. “I can call Sarah. Have her on the phone within minutes. Jax might be an ex-criminal, but Sarah still works with the FBI from time to time.”
He let his eyes widen. “Lucky for you. You need someone with sense to help you out.”
Grayson didn’t like that jab. Kace could see it in the guy’s gaze. Too bad.
“Sarah will tell me what you discussed yesterday.”
Kace laughed. “Doubt it.”
“She’s with the FBI as a freelance—”
“I don’t care what freelance work she does for the FBI. All I know is that Sarah protects the confidentiality of her clients. Since I’m a client, she won’t tell you anything.” He was feeding the agent breadcrumbs. Only that. Nothing more.
“You hired Sarah?” Karin asked, breaking her silence and keeping her post near the wall. “You trying to get her to find someone for you?”
Not exactly. But the FBI could run on that tangent. It would give Kace some needed space.
“Another victim?” Karin pushed. “Is someone else in your life missing and you’re trying to find her?”
“Fishing,” Deidre announced with a sad shake of her head. “Without a license.”
Karin surged toward the table. “If there is another potential victim out there, we can find her. We can put her face on every newspaper, on every website and TV—”
The agent’s heart was in the right place. She seemed to care about the victims first, and the killer second.
“It’s not related to this case,” Kace murmured. He glanced at his watch. “Time’s ticking away. You only get the hour.”
Grayson slammed his fist down on the table. “We both know that Marie was posed to look just like Bree!”
And again, Kace thought…someone has some serious anger and control issues. That would work to Kace’s advantage. There was a reason he’d agreed to this little chat, after all.
Seething, Grayson snarled, “You’re going to sit there all smug when it’s obvious that Bree is the next target?”
