Page 69 of Murder Notes

He snags my hair again—he loves to grab my hair—and drags my head back, bringing my lips to his. “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

Our lips collide, and wildness erupts. Kissing. Touching. Moving together. I hate every moment. I need every moment. I don’t hide either of those things. For the first time since I last was with him, I let go. Because I can with him. Because the devil doesn’t judge your sins, he rewards you with pleasure. Oh God. So much pleasure, and when it’s over, when we collapse into each other, bodies trembling, I am limp. Completely limp, both emotionally and physically. I let Kane roll us to our sides, and I willingly rest pressed again him. Neither of us speaks, as if we know that when we do, it’s over.

I shut my eyes, but not to sleep. I force myself to finish the recall of the past I’ve already started. I picture myself over my attacker’s body, holding the bloody knife.

Kane is by my side. “He’s dead, Lilah. Give me the knife.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Yes. Very sure.”

He’d taken the knife from me then, and my gaze had landed on that Virgin Mary tattoo bleeding from her mouth. I’d known, then, that she was important. I know, now, that she is the answer to questions I don’t even know to ask.

“Tell me about the tattoos, Kane,” I say, breaking our silence.

“Lilah,” he breathes out, and I know that tone leads to his ridiculous reply of “I don’t know.”

“Of course you have no answer.” I push up and look at him. “Because you think giving me a damn orgasm will shut me up.”

“That has nothing to do with this or tonight.”

“I’ll say it again. Bullshit. People are dying and you know something you aren’t saying.”

I roll away from him and off the couch, walking to the chair nearby and grabbing the blanket there. Wrapping it around me, I turn to face him, and he’s sitting now. Naked, and unlike with Rich, I like him that way, which only makes me hate him and my decision to be with him tonight all the more. “Go home, Kane,” I say, saving the demands I plan to launch at him for a time when there’s more than a blanket my mother crocheted between us.

I expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. He stands up and pulls on his pants and shirt, which he doesn’t bother to button, his tie and jacket settled on his arm. “I’m leaving but I’m not gone.”

He starts for the door, and I let him go, watching, waiting, until he exits and the door shuts with a solid thud. They say the devil is in the details. I say the devil is guarding those details, and I’m going to find out why. And no matter how much I love to hate that man, I’m going to go after him and keep at him. I’m going to get my answers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I wake in bed with my service weapon next to me and my phone in my hand, lying on my back, sunlight beaming through the nearby window. And I’m actually wearing pajamas. I lift my phone and look at the time: 9:00 a.m. I slept seven hours for the first time in a month. Apparently my sleep number is an orgasm delivered by Kane, not a remote-control bed. My lips curve into a smile, and not because of the orgasm. I feel good. I feel like a badass again.

My phone rings with Lucas as my caller, and I answer on the first ring. “Good morning, cousin,” I greet him.

“What have you done with Lilah and how much will it take to get her back?” he asks.

I crinkle my nose and sit up. “What does that mean?”

“You are never chipper, especially before noon.”

“Maybe you only talked to me when I was in a bad mood.”

“You have good moods?”

“Ha ha. You are so funny.”

“I am, aren’t I?” he asks, and I can almost hear his bright-white smile through the phone. “You remember tonight is date night. Me looking hot in a tuxedo. You looking hot in a sexy red dress.”

“Why red?”

“I like red. Wear red. I’ll wear a red tie.”

“I’ll see if I have one here at the house.”

“You do. I remember a dress.”

“I’ll see. Do you happen to have a guest list for the party?”