Page 84 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

“No,” Lyra says. “I’m making light of you.”

A few people audibly gasp, and I start preparing for impact, then Lyra glances around the room. “Besides, if statistics are right, I bet the killer is in this room right now.”

The entire building freezes, and every head turns, and just to fit in, I start looking around too.

Lyra pretends to scan the crowd, then holds her hands up around her mouth and calls with her whole damn chest. “Oh hey, killer, if you’re here and looking for your next target, might I suggest the haughty bitch at the front?”

The room erupts into chaos. People start yelling, offended on the woman’s behalf while others snicker under their breath.

“Okay, okay. Everybody settle down. This is getting way out of hand,” the mayor calls before fixing his heavy gaze on Lyra. “I understand your concerns. You raise some very good points, and while valid in their own right, I must stand with the people. The safety of our citizens is top priority. The curfew stands.”

Lyra scoffs. “This is ridiculous. Have you even bothered to search the police records?”

He just stares, and she scoffs again before asking the whole room. “Has anybody? Because I have. And the man who was murdered in his apartment two weeks ago was killed in the afternoon. That’s daylight hours for any of you small-minded people. This curfew is not going to dissuade the person responsible for this. All this curfew is going to do is cripple our local economy.”

That starts another round of chatter, but the mayor isn’t having it, and he grabs his gavel as though it gives him real power. “The curfew stands. Thirty days. All residents must be in their homes before 10 p.m., and all businesses closed. Failure to do so will result in hefty fines.” His gavel comes down, cementing this bullshit into reality. “We will reevaluate in thirty days. You may all be dismissed.”

The mayor shuffles away from the dais and in the space of a single blink, Lyra whips around, looking between me and Hunter. Her jaw is set in stone, her green stare icy and cold. “Dead to me,” she tells us both, glaring at us with such a lethalness that it has my balls crawling back up inside my body. And with that, she turns on her heel and stalks out of the hall.

Hunter and I scramble after her, and just as we leave, we hear the woman with the big mouth scoffing at Lyra’s back. My hands ball into fists, anger bubbling below the surface.

I step in closer to Hunter, our shoulders brushing as we slip out into the night. “We can’t kill her,” I say, her face already committed to memory.

“I know.”

“Not after what just happened. They’d think it was Lyra.”

“I know.”

“Fuck.”

Hunter glances up ahead to where Lyra stands by the passenger door of his Challenger, before glancing back at me, his lips twisting with a wicked smirk. “That doesn’t mean we can’t fuck with her though.”

I grin right back. “Ahhh, nothing quite like sweet justice.”

Lyra glances back at us, her gaze narrowed. “What are you two idiots talking about?”

I walk up to her and press a kiss to her temple as Hunter unlocks the car. “Nothing, Savage. Nothing at all.”

23

LYRA

The curfew can kiss my ass.

Black Velvet is dead. Not dead dead. Not my apartment after Maddox got his hands on it dead. But it might as well be.

The curfew officially kicks in at ten, which means nobody wants to start a night they can’t finish. The usual crowd has vanished. The dance floor is basically empty. The booths sit abandoned. And even the music sounds depressing. We haven’t been this quiet since . . . well, ever.

I wipe down the bar for what feels like the hundredth time and gaze at the handful of customers lingering over drinks.

This is ridiculous. We didn’t even get to perform “Toxic” tonight. Didn’t even get to give anybody the famous Velvet Slap. And this is supposed to go on for a whole month. The city might as well burn the bar to the ground. At least then people would have a good reason not to enjoy their nights here.

You can’t exactly own a bar and tell people they need to be tucked safely into bed before the streetlights come on. It’s heartbreaking. Even the restaurants across the road have been closing up shop early. They don’t usually stay open as late as I do, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, but locking up this early is laughable.

Across the bar, Hunter and Maddox sit on stools nursing drinks while watching me work. Or rather, Hunter watches me work. Maddox watches me like I’m a nature documentary, and it’s more than unsettling.

I shut off the neon lights that line the bar and glare at Maddox. “What?” I ask, more than aware that I’m hitting him with all the attitude my body is capable of, but that seems to be a new personality trait that has stuck around since the conclusion of the meeting a few days ago.