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Popping a U-turn down the road, I tootled past the cop again, giving a friendly wave when he picked his head up. He gave the obligatory wave back and resumed dicking around on his phone.
I zipped back to downtown, making my way toward one of the ritzier restaurants. Stealing a glance at the time, I slowed down and scanned the sidewalk. A striking, older blonde appeared in the doorway of the restaurant, waving goodbye to her dining companions. I didn’t even have to second-guess my target. Lorelei was a spitting image of her.
Despite all of the cars parked along the street, there didn’t seem to be any actual people milling around. The closest witnesses were down the block in an outdoor beer garden, which automatically meant their testimony would be suspect.
“Judge Clayton?” I asked, rolling alongside the woman.
She stopped and turned with a polite smile. “Yes?”
I lifted the pistol from my lap and took aim, firing off three rounds in the center of her chest.
A deep, guttural noise tore out of her throat. Her eyes went wide as she lurched forward, trying to catch herself against a light post. In the next breath, she crumpled on the sidewalk, dark red pooling beneath her.
I tossed the gun into the passenger side and drove off, whistling along with the radio. Taking out Lorelei’s mom brought two very distinct perks. One was a simple tit for tat. Lorelei came after Leander, so I went after the only family she had left. And two, in case she thought she’d try to call my bluff, this was a little example of the positive punishment I was willing to dole out. The ball was in her court now.
With so much adrenaline buzzing through me, I turned the Maserati southbound and headed home.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of the teal Victorian, I was thoroughly exhausted. The high was great, but the crash was worse than a hangover. All I wanted was a bed covered in black silk and a hand to hold.
After a quick shower, I climbed into bed, careful not to jostle Leander as I slid beneath the covers. Annabel, who was curled up on his hip, opened her eyes and squeaked irritably at me.
“Beat it,” I whispered at her.
She blinked slowly, refusing the command, and yawned.
Leander leaned back into me, on instinct it seemed, which disrupted her highness’ perfect perch. She leapt to the floor and sauntered away, her tail held high.
“You’re home,” he murmured, reaching backward for my face.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I said, pressing his palm to my cheek and curling around him.
18
Bennett
With a cup of coffee in hand, I settled into the overstuffed wicker chair on the garden patio and opened my laptop. My morning copy of theCamden Timeswas waiting patiently in my email.
I clicked the headline with a smile.
LOCAL JUDGE SHOT IN DOWNTOWN STRATFORD
Such a horrifying, “random” act of violence for such an idyllic little town. According to the police there were no leads, which is exactly how it was going to stay. Since there was zero interaction between myself and the dead judge, there was no way I’d be on anyone’s radar. Except Lorelei’s. But between planning a funeral and retracting her damn article, she had enough on her plate. Even if she did tell the police, they still had to prove it was me. And as every player in the justice system was well aware, it wasn’t what you knew — it was what you could prove. Neither Lorelei nor Stratford PD would be able toprovejack shit.
As soon as I heard Leander’s footsteps approaching, I closed the laptop and set it aside. There was a whole slew of reasons I didn’t want to tell him about my little trip to Stratford last night. I didn’t think he’d object to the murdery aspect of my evening — his primary concern would bewhy. Always why. And the why, I just couldn’t tell him.
I didn’t tell him about the Honorable Judge Clayton filing a complaint against me, nor did I tell him about me getting a little up close and personal with his ex. Either time. The fact I tried to kill her and failed wounded my ego more than I cared to admit. And the reason for the second visit was bound to send him in to orbit. So, for the sake of his blood pressure and not bringing on another migraine, I kept my lips zipped.
Leander appeared a moment later with Annabel weaving between his feet, setting a parfait on the table in front of me before taking his usual seat. He had nothing. No coffee, no tea, and certainly no food.
“Not eating today?” I asked, fishing out a blueberry.
He shook his head, bracing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his clasped hands.
“Do you not trust me?” I tried not to sound accusatory, but my professional pride was on the line here.
His eyes dipped before coming up to meet mine. “I don’t want to fight.”
Well that was the biggest “Yes” if I ever heard one. Leaning back in my chair, I tried to school my face into some expression of understanding and not like he just stabbed me in the heart with my yogurt-covered spoon.
