Live Wire (Ramsey Security #2)

"Fun job," Darla mutters.

"Oh, you know it," Minka teases, tossing a lemon slice at Darla.

I stand up and look at the board where Harlow jots down different names from the files Minka hands her.

"When Ruth was cooking last night," I mumble, "she mentioned how Brad got the job on Dark Reign. He was modeling and doing local commercials when the show's director found his pictures and contacted his agent."

"Interesting," Harlow says, jotting down more words I can't read because of her sloppy handwriting.

"What if the dead girl wasn't given money," I suggest, "but was promised a role. I'm assuming she was an aspiring actress."

"Of course," Minka says from the floor while resting on her back and staring up at me. "So this director had a hard-on for Brad, and the power to bribe a chick to drug him. Probably told her it was a prank. What does she care as long as she gets her big break?"

"He'd also have the money to pay for the SUV and rent the cabin they took Brad to. All these cult members were losers with no sources of income."

"So the director is the guy you need to rough up for info," Harlow says.

"He's dead," Minka mumbles with her full mouth of another lemon slice. "I read his obituary when Tia was doing research."

"But how does Marx fit in?" I ask, sitting on the couch and checking my phone to see if Brad needs me.

"He could be the old dude's grandson," Minka says.

Harlow snorts. "Sure, and grandpa's dying wish was for him to finish the sacrifice in a dozen years."

"The cult didn't attack Brad until the book though," I mutter, trying to figure out what I'm missing.

"Marx could be a member of the cult," Minka suggests.

"Then why even write the book if the goal was just to kill Brad?" I ask. "He had plenty of chances before we were hired. Marx doesn't have a killer vibe, but he's definitely hiding something. He got really twitchy when I mentioned research."

"Here's an idea," Darla says quietly. "He was doing research for the book and discovered info that made him think the director was the head of the cult. He might have even found the others involved."

"Why keep it a secret? Wouldn't that bombshell have sold the book?"

"Yeah," Darla says, losing her enthusiasm.

Deep in thought, Harlow crosses her arms. "Of course, the bad guy in his masterpiece was dead which might be a bummer for readers. He also might be sued for libel by the dead asshole's estate.

"Maybe we're thinking like savvy people rather than a simple dreamer like Marx," Minka says. "The twerp craves success, but the book is about Brad, and Brad will get all of the attention. If Brad was dead, Marx could write a follow-up book where he solves the mystery and gets all the attention. It would make him quite a celebrity."

Darla decides to pipe in again but only whispers, "Or maybe he never intended for Brad to get killed and it was all about gaining attention."

"Does it really matter what he intended?" I ask, feeling an angry heat in my gut. "He sent that bastard to the hotel, and the guy took a shot at us. He wasn't shooting fucking blanks either, so Marx might as well have intended for Brad to die."

"What's our proof though?" Minka asks, killing our sense of accomplishment.

We sit quietly and think about our lack of hard evidence. All we have is circumstantial pieces of a puzzle. Even so, I know in my heart that Marx is the guy.

"Someone told the New York guy about our hotel and floor," I point out. "No one outside of our immediate group knew that information. Not the PR company or even the local security team watching downstairs. This guy knew well enough to get a room down the hall. That wasn't a last minute move either. So it's someone in our agency or Brad, Ruth, Nell, or Marx."

"Marx might have told someone," Harlow says.

"Someone put that heart into the Houston hotel room too. Seems unlikely that Marx is accidentally telling people things and they're sharing the info with the cult. It makes more sense for him to be feeding the cult info."

"So what do we do?" Harlow asks.

"Get rid of Marx and see what happens," I reply quickly, wanting the bastard dead within the hour.

Minka sits up and tugs at my skirt. "Or we could extract info and see what he knows before we get rid of him. That's your specialty."

"It was."

"Don't tell me you're going soft."

I look at my hands, unable to imagine them drawing blood again. They only want to feel Brad's hot skin. The thought of extracting information from Marx makes me shudder.

"I don't think I can do it anymore."

Minka forces my gaze on her and away from my hands. "I can do it, but it'll be messy. Might not be very successful either."

"Something changed in me," I whisper. "I've lost my killer instinct. I mean, I want Marx dead, but when I think of doing it, I freeze up."

"I don't believe Saskia Koval goes soft after a few weeks of fucking some hot guy."

"It's not the fucking, you bitch," I growl, ready to punch Minka's smug face.