“Lilah!”
It’s Kane, and Morris’s gaze lifts wide and then goes to his hand where he’s holding something. That’s all the opportunity I need. Plan A it is. I lift my gun and shoot him between the eyes. Yes. I’m that good a shot. Being raped created an obsession with killing after all. I needed the skills to do it. At the same time I fire, an explosion rips from behind me. Everything is in slow motion. Morris falls to the ground. Andrew and I both fall to the ground. My head rattles but I push to my feet, to find Andrew doing the same. I turn, and I’m dragged into Kane’s arms only to watch my mother’s house burning to the ground, and I know in my gut, that this was the distraction Morris planned to get to his boat, to escape. My eyes go wide. The boat. Someone was on the boat. I shove out of Kane’s arms and turn to find the boat speeding away.
Whoever was on it is gone.
“Call the Coast Guard!” I shout as law enforcement overwhelms the scene. “The boat!”
Andrew grabs me, hugs me and whispers, “I love you,” in evident good physical condition before he says, “I’m going to make sure Pocher gets picked up before he can run.” He takes off running, and I turn to find Kane on the phone, stepping to him as he asks, “Is it done?” I don’t miss the disposable phone. “Excellent. Until next time.” He disconnects and pockets the phone. “Pocher is dead. Another victim of Sergeant Morris.”
I digest that with bittersweet victory. He ordered my rape. He ordered my murder, twice, and that of my brother. “He killed my mother. Or he ordered her death. Morris said he did.”
“And now he’ll burn in hell.”
I nod and turn to stare down at Morris, fighting unease. Kane’s hands settle on my shoulders from behind. “It’s over, Lilah.”
And yet, it doesn’t feel over at all. After all this time, it was too easy. I feel like there’s more, but then, there always is more. If there is anything my rape taught me, it’s that I never stop living it. I will never be over it. This will never be over.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It’s hours later, dawn is breaking on the horizon, and I’m staring at my house, my mother’s house, now a shell of what it once was, while firefighters work to clean up. Kane is with me, his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll rebuild it.”
“No,” I say, turning to him. “This was where she ran from my father. This is where she hid from his nastiness. This is where I was raped. I don’t think that’s a part of her life she needs remembered. How is Fernando?”
His lips thin. “He gave a statement and then headed to the city to tell his mother. I don’t envy him.”
A car pulls up, and halts. The doors open and Director Murphy, along with Chief Houston, step out. They head our direction and Kane murmurs, “Do you want me to leave?”
“Fuck them,” I say. “You stay. They can leave.”
He gives a low chuckle, and the two men step in front of us. “Agent Love,” Murphy greets. “Good to see you in one piece.” His gaze shifts to Kane. “And Kane Mendez,” Murphy says, offering up his hand. “Good to have you by our beast of an agent’s side.”
Kane shakes his hand with ease. “As I always will be,” he assures him.
Houston’s expression sours. “The coast guard caught up with the boat. It was a Spanish speaking hired hand. We don’t believe he was involved beyond a paycheck.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. “You okay, Lilah?”
“I’m fucking amazing,” I say. “He’s dead.” But even as I say the words, it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel like Umbrella Man, and I just can’t shake that feeling.
“So is Pocher,” Murphy informs me.
My gaze rockets to his. “Is he?”
I swear Murphy smiles without actually smiling. “He is. Apparently, Morris killed him.”
“He and Williams were having an affair,” Houston tells me. “Once we got into Morris’s apartment—which was insanely OCD by the way—we found a shrine to Pocher and Williams on his walls.” His lips thin. “There were a lot of people on his walls. They were in color-coded segments that appear to be the way he murdered them. He changed it up, so he wouldn’t seem like the same person. He’s going to be studied for years to come.”
Director Murphy motions me aside, and the amusement in his eyes is hard to miss. He’s leaving Kane with Houston, and he loves it. I follow him a few feet to a tree. “When one falls, another will rise, but it will take time. We, you, slowed them down.”
“He told me that Pocher killed my mother. Or he ordered the murder.”
“And he turned on Pocher?” he asks, but the glint in his eyes says that he knows better. He knows what we did.
“Seems that way,” I say.
“Indeed. Well just know this Agent Love, Pocher was near the top of the chain, but he was not the top of the chain. Nor was he one of a few. They are many. Don’t forget that.” His hand comes down on my shoulder. “But you, you are making the difference that I knew you would make. I’m just sorry it came at the cost of so many good officers tonight.”
“As am I.”
“I’ll stick around a few days. I’ll go back to the city for meetings. This is your rodeo.” He turns and walks away, while another car pulls up to meet him. Yet another arrives, this one a police vehicle, and my brother gets out.
I walk to meet him at his door, noting Kane and Houston are actually in what appears to be a deep conversation. That’s as likely as a damn cow laying an egg, and yet, it’s indeed happening. “How are you?” I ask as I join Andrew.
He scrubs his jaw. “I lost some good men tonight. It’s going to be a rough week.
I need to do a press conference. How about we do it together tomorrow?”
“Together,” I agree. “Let’s do more of that.”
“Yes. Let’s.” He hugs me and pulls back. “You talk to dad?”
“No. You?”
“I talked to him. He knows about Pocher. I assume you know about Pocher?”
“I do. He was evil, Andrew. I tried to tell you that.”
“I should have listened.”
“Then listen now. The people he worked for still exist. They may or may not continue to support dad, but together, we need to pull him back.”
“They’re going to support him, Lilah. He already got a call about protecting his campaign. That’s what he wanted to talk to me about when I was dealing with the loss of lives. When you and I almost lost our lives.”
And there it is. Proof that it’s not over.
As Murphy said, when one falls, another rises.
Houston joins us, and we game plan on the press conference and the press that will follow that. We just killed a serial killer. I just killed a serial killer. Houston is about to leave when he says, “Truce. I called a damn truce with Kane. For you, Lilah. For you, because of what you went through tonight and in the past.” He turns and walks away.
My gaze shoots to Andrew’s. “Did you tell him—”
“No. I can’t tell anything I don’t know. Because you never talked to me about a rape, Lilah.”
“And I never will.”
He nods in understanding. “I hope my personal life doesn’t affect that.”
“I hate your girlfriend. I love you. And now that you might actually listen when I talk, I might talk. One day.”
“She moved to LA. She’s gone, Lilah.”
“Oh. How very disappointing.”
He laughs. I laugh. And the laughter is enough for now. I turn and walk toward Kane who is waiting on me. “Houston called a truce?”
“So he says.”
“My father already has new Society support.”
“Of course, he does,” Kane says.
“One falls—”
“And another rises, but we’ll win, Lilah. Because we have you and your badge to keep us in the middle, where we belong.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
After six weeks of chaos, I’m on a boat not far from the Hamptons home I now share with Kane when we’re not in the city. I sit on th
e top level, bundled up in jeans and a sweater, watching the storm clouds that are holding us back from launching, the first storm in weeks. It’s a chilly day that isn’t too brutal, and Thanksgiving is only a week from now, but there is nothing like brisk ocean air and champagne with Kane Mendez. And below deck, it’s nice and toasty. Not to mention, Kane and I both need this getaway.
There has been press. There have been funerals. There has been far too much interest in me and Kane, considering Kane’s lifestyle, as well as me as my father’s daughter. The father I don’t speak to. Just once since Pocher’s death. And that was far from cordial. There’s Roger, who wants to be in the press over this far more than I do, so I let him. At one point, Kane and I sat and watched him on a hot nighttime news channel talk about serial killers and Morris who he knew was no match for me, and I had to turn it off. Every time I start thinking about Morris, something nags at me.
“You’re thinking about him again,” Kane says. “I thought the idea of unplugging on the ocean was not thinking about him.”
“You’re right,” I say, “And don’t get used to hearing that. I just can’t shake the idea that it was a cult operation ran by one person who wasn’t Morris.”
“The DNA at the crime scenes matched his.”
“That doesn’t make my theory invalid.”
“It is, however, off limits this weekend, remember?”
“Yes. I remember.” This weekend is our time. No press. No drama. Just us.
He downs his champagne. “Let me give you something else to think about. I have two gifts for you.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a square velvet box. “That’s number one.”
I down my champagne and accept it.
“Before you open it,” he adds. “That’s to represent our past, to hold onto every moment we’ve ever had. The second gift is about our future.”
“Now I’m curious.” I reach over and touch his cheek. Human. God, how this man makes me human. I open the lid and stare down at a gorgeous diamond necklace. I glance at him. “It’s stunning and ridiculously expensive. How is this our past?”
“It’s your first engagement ring. I had it turned into a necklace.”
“My first? Well, my only because—”
He goes down on his knee in front of me. “Because you have a new one, for a new life with me, filled with honesty at all costs.” He presents me with another box. “Marry me, Lilah. This time really fucking do it.” He pops the lid to display a gorgeous pink and white diamond in an oval setting “Pink?” I laugh.
“To remind you that you don’t have to be tough with me. To remind you that I see all those parts of you that you hide from everyone else, and I love them.”
I actually tear up. “God. You’re going to make me cry, and you know I don’t fucking cry.”
“Answer?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll marry you. I’ll really fucking do it this time.”
“Yes, you will,” he says and places the ring on my finger. Next, he settles the necklace around my neck. “I want to go downstairs and look at it in the mirror,” I say. “And pee.”
He smiles and kisses me while thunder rumbles above our heads. I now have a new reason to love thunder, rather than so many reasons to hate it. I hurry downstairs, and I’ve actually got a gift for Kane, too. It’s a coin that I saved from our first trip overseas together. I wanted it to be a message, a way to tell him that I never let go. I admire my necklace and ring and then walk to my bag in the bedroom, and mange to grab my badge. I stare down at it and pull out the photo of me and Kane I keep behind it. I turn it over and stare at the marks I’ve made there; one for everyone I’ve killed. Morris has his own mark. Morris the Umbrella Man.
Or not.
“Damn it,” I murmur and shove the photo back into place. This weekend is not about that shit.
I grab the coin, which is also in a velvet box. I then hurry above deck to find it raining, but Kane hasn’t come inside for shelter. I stick the box in the front pocket of my sweater and round the deck.
That’s when I go cold. Kane is on his knees, and Roger is holding a gun to his head. There’s a knife in each of his front shoulders, deep enough that if yanked, it might kill him. The world fades in and out. The past flies through my head, to all the games Roger made me play. To his mix-up of pronouns—him and her—when talking about Umbrella Man. I’m suddenly back in the same memory I’ve visited several times in the past, back to that day at Melanie’s office that had bothered me:
“Do you think I’m the killer, Lilah?” he challenges.
“I think you’re an asshole, Roger. You know that was a threat. You know what he was telling me.”
“Tell me. What was he telling you?”
“Eventually, he’s going to kill the people close to me and then kill me.”
“That’s right,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what he’s telling you.”
The reason I didn’t worry about Roger being hunted by Umbrella Man is that, on some level, I knew it was him, but as Kane said—I have always let Roger fuck with my head. “Lilah, leave now,” Kane whispers. “Leave now.”
I stay focused on Roger. This is between me and him—mentor and protégé. “You know that he has security everywhere, right, Roger?” I challenge.
“Not today,” he says. “Today, you two were headed off to the ocean and safe as could be.” He motions to his white pants and white shirt. “I dressed for the occasion, all crisp and clean. And I’m not the one getting dirty today.”
“What do you want?”
“For you to finally become who I’ve been grooming you to become. For you to finally accept the killer that you are, that I always knew you were.”
“I’m not a killer like you.”
“Just a killer like you?” he challenges. “I tested you. That night you were raped, I said if she’s like me, she’ll kill him. And I watched. And you did.”
“You set it up.”
“Of course I set it up. Morris was a pansy. He didn’t kill any of those people. I did. He wanted money, lots of money, and Pocher gave it to him. He wanted to disappear. You handled that for me.” He taps a knife at his waist. “I called your brother. He’s on his way. I told him I’m going to kill you. I told him he could save you but to come alone. He will. We both know he will.” He grabs the knife and offers it to me. “Kill Kane, accept who you are, and I’ll spare your brother. You can kill me and take over the throne. But you have to kill Kane. You have to show me you really don’t feel love.”
He knocks one of the blades in Kane’s shoulder. Kane grunts, but I don’t react. Roger is sick. He’s really fucking sick, and there is only one way to win his games. The same way I won in the alleyway months ago. I play. I win. “Lilah,” Kane says, “do what you need to do and don’t feel any guilt.”
I don’t look at him. Roger tosses the knife between me and him. “Pick it up.” He then steps behind Kane. I walk to the knife and pick it up. I need to feel like a killer because I’m about to be one, and I remember the moment I drove that blade into my attacker. I imagine it. I enjoyed it. My gaze goes to Roger’s. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“I’ve been ready. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I walk forward, slowly, cautiously, certain Kane knows what to do. I stop in front of Kane, and I grab one of the knives in Kane’s shoulder. “Should I take this out?” I ask Roger.
He laughs. “Do it how you want to do it.”
I look down, the fatal mistake Morris had made, but it’s all part of the game. Kane grabs Roger’s legs, and I reach over Kane and slam the knife into Roger’s chest. He gasps and drops the gun, and I end on top of him. I don’t even know how that happens, but it doesn’t matter. Morris killed no one. Roger did. He killed my mother. He attacked Kane. I start stabbing him and stabbing him. Over and over and over, until Kane pulls me off of him. “Lilah. Lilah, he’s dead.”
I pant out a breath and another and then drop the knife. My white sweater is covered in blood. He
’s dead. Roger is dead and he needed to be dead. I wait to feel remorse. I wait to feel guilt. I feel none of those things. I turn and grab Kane’s waist, the knives still jammed into his flesh. “My phone. We need an ambulance. You need help.”
Kane catches my leg with his, holding me to him, keeping his hands free. “As long as the knives stay in, I’m safe. I can move my arms. He didn’t go deep and he didn’t hit nerves. I got lucky and leaned forward when the bastard snuck up behind me and jammed the knives in my shoulders.”
“You think. We don’t know.”
“I’ll call a doctor I know. He’ll come to us. Right now—”
“We need to get rid of the body.”
“I’ll do it, Lilah, Unless you want to call the police this time, but think hard. Think hard because—”
“We’ll do it,” I say. “I’m not losing my badge over Roger. Together, right?”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure.”
“Holy hell,” Andrew curses.
I turn to face him and he’s now on the deck, pointing a gun at Kane. “What is this?” he demands. “Lilah. Lilah, are you okay?”
“I stabbed him,” I say. “He’s Umbrella Man. He killed mom, and Kane was—is—put the fucking gun down, Andrew!”
“She stabbed him twenty times,” Kane says. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what that will do to your sister’s life?”
Andrew looks at the body and then at me. “He’s the one?”
“He’s the one,” I say. “He did it all.”
His lips thin and he looks skyward, before he holsters his weapon. “Then we need to get rid of the body.”
And so, I watch my brother and my future husband decide how to get rid of Roger’s body.
And they do.
And we do.
And that is my version of Happily Ever After, at least for now. This will fuck with my head. If I believe Roger, I might be a female Dexter. The Society will keep coming at us. The cartel will keep coming at us. Junior will likely write me another note. Meanwhile, I think I’ll wear pink to my wedding. Serial killers don’t wear pink. Because I’m fucking doing it this time. I’m marrying Kane Mendez.
Love Kills Page 18
