Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (28)

“What’s the business? If it’s drug smuggling, I won’t do it.”

Lark rolls her eyes. “It’s not drug smuggling.”

“What then, weapons? Shipping logistics? Investments?”

Lark takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Muffins.”

“Muffins …? Your family’s big bad business is feckin’ muffins?”

Lark jabs a finger into my chest. “Do you not know the mass market food industry is full of sociopaths and murderers and dodgy-as-fuck behavior?” Lark hisses as I dissolve into laughter. “Have you never heard of the history of literally any food and beverage franchise or producer? Montague Muffins can psycho with the best of them.”

“And you need contracts. For your muffin business.”

“It’s a highly competitive industry. Don’t you know Bob’s Banoffees? That guy’s always riding my aunt’s ass.”

I briefly raise my hand from her waist in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, I believe you. Anyone who feels the need to argue that point clearly fits the bill.”

“Fine. Maybe sometimes weapons might get shipped with a batch or two, but mostly it’s just about the muffins.” Lark rolls her eyes and shifts her attention to the other couples on the dance floor. Her steps become smaller as she watches them, her movements stiff. Maybe it’s just nerves that I sense in her. She’s clearly worried about getting to the point of what she wants out of this proposed deal. But when her eyes linger on Conor and his wife, Gabriela, as they dance nearby, it isn’t just anxiety that I see in Lark. It looks like loss. Like surrender. Like she’s trying to wrap herself in tight armor, when all she really wants, all she really needs, is just a deep breath of cool air.

I know what that looks like, because I know what it feels like. “What is it you want from me? Because I’m not going to gnaw my leg free from one trap just to find myself caught in another.”

“Spoken like a true trash panda,” Lark says with a fleeting, melancholy smile. When she tugs her gaze away from Conor and Gabriela, she keeps her eyes away from mine, her face pale. “It seems as though someone is killing off my mother and stepfather’s business associates. It’s spilling into my extended family. And this isn’t really the kind of thing where we want the police nosing around in our shit. I’m sure you can understand wanting to keep law officials away from the people you love, right?”

“Right,” I reply, my voice grim. I automatically scan the room to find my brothers. “Do you have anything to go on?”

“Nothing concrete yet aside from a set schedule. The killer seems to be targeting the victims when they’re alone and leaves nothing behind. But I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me put the pieces together. From what I understand, that kind of thing is in your skill set.” Lark nods in Rowan and Sloane’s direction. “You know how to investigate crime as much as you know how to cause it. I know you’ve put together information for their annual game.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know about that.”

“Let’s just assume from now on that I know more about you than you do about me, shall we?”

Lark’s snide little glare isn’t just a swipe at me, it’s a warning. And though I try to keep my expression neutral, we both know she’s right. Ever since the night we met, I’ve done my best to avoid anything that has to do with her, mostly out of sheer shame and stubbornness. The consequence? Lark Montague now has the upper hand.

“So my boss gets the two contracts, you get the murderer, and I get my freedom. Everybody wins. Does that sum it up?”

Fine lines crinkle at the corners of her eyes as Lark’s face scrunches in a cringe. “Almost.”

“What do you mean, almost?”

“There’s a slight catch.”

“Can’t wait to hear this.”

“We need to get married.”

“Bollocks.” I snort a laugh, but nothing in Lark’s expression changes. I laugh again and it’s a derisive, mirthless sound, but she doesn’t flinch. “Oh my feckin’ Christ, you’re bloody serious.”

“Sadly.”

“Why …? Why the hell would we need to do that?”

“Because it’s the only way I can guarantee your safety. My family sees you as a likely suspect.”

“Me.”

“Disgruntled assassin with the means to exact precise revenge on the people who fucked up his contract killer gig? Kinda fits the bill, don’t you think?”

I see what she means but I don’t want to give it to her. “No,” I say.

Lark sighs, exasperated. “Does it even matter if it’s not you? You’re a strong contender as a potential threat, so to them it’s better just to put you down and see if that solves the problem. And me vouching for you won’t fix it. My parents won’t care if they think we’re friends. They won’t care if I tell them I hired you myself. And they won’t care if we’re just dating. But marriage …?” Lark pauses. Her blue eyes glisten but she quickly looks away. “Marriage is different. It’s a vow they both take very seriously, and they won’t fuck with it if they believe it’s what I really want. They wouldn’t risk hurting me that way. Especially my stepdad. He’s kind of old school like that when it comes to the people he cherishes.”