He has a point. It’s just difficult to acknowledge it. “Then promise me after this, you won’t deal with him anymore. Any of you.”
Killian sighs. “It’s not that easy.”
“Because he’s your dad?” I turn my head to peer at him above Dimitri’s arm wound around my neck. “That hasn’t mattered in a long time.”
“It’s not that.” He huffs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Look, he gave me a deadline, okay? To figure out who contracted Ugly Nick and killed Vivienne. That day we went to see him, he told us…” He holds my gaze, finishing reluctantly, “Story, he thinks it’s you. All of it. Ted, that guy back in Colorado, the threats, Viv…”
“What?!” I tear myself away from Dimitri, lava sparking in my blood. “He thinks I’ve been stalking myself for the last three years?”
“It’s just convenient for him,” is what Tristian says, looking almost as angry as I feel at the accusation. “If you’re the person behind this, then it solves all his problems.”
“That’s convenient for us,” Dimitri says, shooting him a brash look. “We need to face it. Shit looks bad from where he’s sitting.” To me, he carefully adds, “Think about it, baby. You’re the only one who’s ever talked to this guy. He waits until you’re alone to make contact. You were gone when Viv was murdered. You were the only one home when you found that finger in the hallway.” When my jaw drops, he lifts a hand, stopping me. “I know it’s not you. I’m just saying, it seems like this guy is hoping we’ll think it is.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Killian cuts in. “My dad thinks it’s her, so he’s not looking for the real motherfucker. It’s up to us.”
Suddenly, my body feels too heavy to carry. Unthinkingly, I drop to perch on the concrete parking bumper behind me, dragging my palms down my face. “When’s this deadline?”
Killian gives me a wary look. “Saturday.” Right. His birthday. Probably another reason he doesn’t want to go to that banquet. He insists, “I’m not worried about it. If he comes for you—”
“If?” Nick interjects, looking bored. “There’s no ‘if’ here, Payne. Your father is pissed. He’s out for blood.” He gestures at me. “Her blood. He would’ve made her pay it off on her back if you three hadn’t pissed all over her, but that ship has sailed.”
Killian locks his jaw. “Bruin, I swear to Christ—”
Nick doesn’t back down, even though Killian looks like he may actually break his spine. He steps forward and says in a low voice, “You need to listen to me. It doesn’t matter if you prove who really did it. It doesn’t matter if you find a smoking-fucking-gun. The dirt he’s got on your Lady will bury her six feet under.” He looks at me, a hint of pity in his eyes. “I’ve seen the file he has on you. So have your boys here. It’s so thick, it’s bulletproof.”
“Then we don’t actually need to bring him a suspect,” Dimitri says. “We just need to get all the dirt he has on her, and destroy it. Buy us some time.”
Nick barks a sharp laugh. “Not a chance. It’s in his highly fortified office building. Locked in the secret compartment in his desk. There’s so many locks and security measures between you and it, you’re better off finding a mole.”
Killian’s eyes flick to the other Lords. Something I can’t interpret passes between them.
Nick takes the lull as a chance to leave, turning away from the truck. “Rathbone, meet me at ten. You know the place. Lady, stay safe.” He spins on his heel and walks off like he doesn’t feel the fire of three dragons breathing down his neck.
“Well.” Tristian speaks first. “I guess we know what we have to do.”
“Get the dirt.” Dimitri shrugs like such a suggestion is easy.
“Nick is right.” Killian rubs his temple. “There’s no breaking into that office, guys. Trust me on that.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” Tristian says, clapping Killian on the shoulder. “Maybe we won’t technically need to.”
His grin is full of a malevolence that sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t know what it’s about, but I know whatever it is, I’m either going to hate it or love it.
I have this bad habit.
I never seem to leave anywhere with my hands clean. The trail of incriminating bullshit I leave in my wake…