Allison Brennan - Love me to death

“With all due respect, Kate, security is my specialty.”

Lucy said, “Morton is dead. He’s been out of prison for six months and no one told me!” She pointed a finger at Kate. “I had a right to know. He was here !”

Sean had a hundred questions, but now wasn’t the time. He crossed the family room and stood next to Lucy. “Lucy, you can stay here as long as you need.”

Kate said, “That’s not the issue. Sean, you know she can’t talk to the FBI without a lawyer.”

“Why does the FBI want to talk to her?”

“Morton was killed in the marina right across the Potomac,” Kate said. “I had to answer their questions as well, considering my history with that bastard. I drove down with Dillon to Richmond last Friday, then flew back Sunday night, and Dillon has been at Petersburg all week. We’re clear as soon as Noah verifies our alibis.”

Lucy gasped. “They don’t think I killed him!”

“I doubt it, you were pretty convincing that you didn’t know he was out of prison, but Lucy, I know how the system works. Why answer questions you shouldn’t have to answer when it has nothing to do with the murder? They’re just going to pump you for information, and you don’t know anything that can help.”

“Stop,” Lucy said. “Just stop trying to shield me. You know something, Kate? I can see why Dillon would keep the truth from me. And the rest of my family, for that matter. I don’t think any of them have truly, deep down, stopped thinking of me as a victim.”

“That’s not true-”

“But,” Lucy interrupted, “you?” She shook her head. “I expected more from you. Of all people, you didn’t coddle me. You supported my career choices; you took me to the gun range and taught me everything you knew. You’ve always been straight with me. At least, that’s what I thought. Now I don’t know what to think. How many other times you lied to me. Kept information from me. Justified it … how? All I can come up with is that you thought I would fall apart. When it really mattered, you thought I’d break.”

“No-”

“Then why not tell me?”

Kate didn’t answer. Sean put a hand on Lucy’s back. She was vibrating with her anger.

“Why, dammit?” Lucy demanded.

Kate had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want you to know how we all fucked up! No one should have agreed to those terms, but we were desperate. We were running out of time, and that bastard knew it. We made a huge mistake, but I don’t know that we could have done it any differently. If we hadn’t gotten the information when we did, Adam Scott might have succeeded in his plan to kill Dillon and grab you again. I don’t know. It’s easy to second-guess, but I’ll tell you something: Dillon didn’t know about the plea agreement until after the fact. Don’t hold it against him. It’ll tear him apart.”

Tears streamed down Lucy’s face, and Sean put his arm around her to steady her. She leaned against him. “But you still told Dillon, right? He knew?”

Kate nodded.

Lucy shook her head and half walked, half ran from the room. Kate brushed her own tears from her eyes and glared at Sean. What had he done to warrant her wrath? He was on Lucy’s side.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he told Kate.

“I need to explain-”

“Not now. Give her some space, okay?”

Kate rubbed her temples with all her fingers and nodded.

“Tell me what happened.”

“That bastard was supposed to stay in Colorado. He came to D.C. last week and ended up with a bullet in the back of the head.”

“Execution?”

She didn’t comment. “His body was found Saturday morning. The FBI got the case yesterday when the police ID’d the body and noted he was on federal probation.”

Sean’s mind ran through possible scenarios. Kate seemed to know what he was thinking and said, “Stay out of it, Sean.”

He didn’t respond. Of course he wasn’t going to stay out of it. In a roundabout way, Morton’s murder affected his business. Patrick was his partner, and Lucy was Patrick’s sister. That made the entire case his domain, and nothing Kate said was going to deter him. That she even tried proved she didn’t know him.

“I’ll bring Lucy home later tonight,” he said. “But a word of advice-I don’t think she wants to hear any more excuses or explanations. I’d stay out of her way and let her work through it herself, or you’re going to dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

Brad Prenter glanced at his watch. Tanya was late.

He didn’t like that. She’d already pissed him off with her indecisiveness. He had a very busy life and he always arrived on time-why couldn’t his date reciprocate? Strike one.

He glanced around the busy club, anger gnawing in his gut. All these kids, mostly college students, laughing, yakking it up. Flaunting their freedom. He used to be one of them.

When had his life gone to shit? It was that bitch, Sara Tyson. Accusing him of rape. Like he needed to rape a woman to get laid. Women wanted him. Always had, always would. He came from a wealthy family; he always paid for dinner, drinks, even concerts and the theater-and not the cheap seats, either. He was attractive, with a good body, and he was great in bed. The women he screwed always told him how good he did them. Even Sara, but then she’d gone and had a mental breakdown when her roommate walked in on them doing it doggy-style. Went all psycho and said the alcohol made her do it. Bull-fucking-shit. If her roommate wasn’t such a fucking interfering prude, he could have talked Sara out of charging him with rape.

It was Sara’s word against his. Everyone had seen her hanging all over him at the club. The cops hadn’t even been able to prove he’d been the one to put the Liquid X in her drink. His attorney said he’d get off, that there was no way the judge would even let it go to trial.

But that damn text message Sara sent to her roommate did him in, and then Maggie came forward and said he’d done the same to her and the old fart of a judge caved.

Lying bitch .

Two years and four months. In prison . He couldn’t finish his last semester and now was back in college to get his degree even though he was twenty-five and should be working for his dad’s brokerage house and making his own money, rather than living off his meager trust. All because little hot Sara thing didn’t want her friends to know she was a slut.

Brad glanced at his watch again. Eight-fifteen. “Shit, where is she?” If she’d gotten cold feet, he’d be livid. She’d already changed the place on him at the last minute, and because he sensed she was a flake, he’d checked his email right before he came and she hadn’t contacted him again to cancel or say she was running late.

Bitch .

The bartender approached and gestured toward his empty beer mug. Brad nodded and said, “And a shot of JD.” He needed it after being stood up.

“Bad news?”

“The hot chick I’m supposed to meet is late,” Brad complained.

The bartender poured the shot. “The one you met online?”

Brad had forgotten he’d talked to the guy earlier, when he’d been excited about Tanya-so excited he’d arrived early. “You should have read the messages she sent me. And the photos-if she’s half as horny in person, it’s going to be a wild night.”

Tanya hadn’t sent him photos, except the one head shot. And she wasn’t explicit in her messages, but Brad could read between the lines. Why else would she meet him if she didn’t want to get laid? That’s how these online games were played. Dance around it, but when the girl agreed to meet face-to-face, that meant getting down-and-dirty.