Her heart warmed. “I’m not bonding with you two morons just ’cause there was a shooting.” She turned and headed toward the long hallway before tossing over her shoulder, “Of course, I’ve heard you have the biggest flat screen around, so I might come to watch the Seahawks.”
“That’s not all that’s the biggest around,” Bundt called back.
She burst out laughing, unable to help herself. When she reached Bernie’s room, she crept quietly in and had to hold back a laugh at the resigned look on his weathered face. Four young women hovered around, tucking him in, handing him water, basically babying him.
She earned hugs all around, kissed Bernie on the cheek, and pretty much escaped. Yeah, she’d pay for that one.
For the first time in days, she felt that things would be all right. At least, professionally. Personally, who the hell knew? She liked Kellach . . . hell. She felt more for him than she had for anybody in her entire life.
But he was immortal, and an enforcer, and pretty much made up his own rules.
She was stubborn, set in her ways, and a fucking cop. Could they somehow meet in the middle and make it work?
Deep down, she wanted him. Needed him. But was that enough? Look at her mother. She’d loved a man who broke laws, killed, and emotionally beat the heck out of her. Love could blind a person.
Lex drove through her favorite hamburger joint. Eating on the road, she headed in to the station. About halfway there, her phone buzzed. “Hello,” she muttered.
“It’s Bundt. I found information.”
She frowned and pulled over into a gas station. “That was quick.”
“I’m good.” He chuckled. “Okay, the search took two seconds. Demidov was easy to find. A financier in New York about a decade or so ago. A big wig money wise.”
“Drugs?”
“Maybe, but no true connection. However, I’m sending you a series of society pictures that will definitely tweak your nipples.”
“Jesus, Bundt.” She took a drag of her milkshake. “Where is Demidov now?”
Keys clacked over the line. “Haven’t found him yet. Apparently, he left New York and dropped out of sight. I have Interpol doing a search now. Call me later.” Bundt clicked off.
Lex set aside her drink and waited for the images to roll across her phone. The first one heated her breath. Demidov was tall and sexy in a tuxedo, at some ball with glittering lights, blond hair slicked back, black eyes glimmering.
Next to him, smiling widely, was a stunning brunette wearing a sexy red sheath and an adoring smile.
Simone Brightston. Kellach’s lawyer and cousin. Her hair was lighter, but it was her.
Son of a bitch.
Lex slammed her phone on the passenger seat and flipped a U-turn, ignoring the angry honks around her. Damn it. The Dunnes were up to their fire throwing, immortal, dickhead asses in this mess, and she was tired of not being clued in.
Her temper simmered, ready to roar, for the entire drive to the penthouse. Not giving a holy shit about assigned parking areas, she shot Bernie’s piece of crap car into Daire’s motorcycle slot and all but ran for the elevator.
Withholding information from an investigation . . . that’s what she’d charge Kellach with. Maybe accessory after the fact. Or before the fact. Or just for being a complete Irish asshole.
There had to be law somewhere about Irish assholes.
Reaching his penthouse, she tried the knob, not surprised to find it unlocked. Why would an immortal badass care about locks? Or the truth?
She stomped inside to find him sitting calmly near the fireplace, lounging in an overstuffed chair. He wore faded jeans and a black, button-down shirt that probably cost more than her apartment. The badass boots on his feet matched the leather jacket tossed over the couch.
He looked up. “Detective.”
Something about his voice gave her pause. For a tiny moment. Then she gathered her temper close and plastered on her cop expression. “You’ve been holding back, Dunne.”
“Have I, now?” he asked silkily.
A shiver tickled down her spine. The tone, the very body language . . . was all new. “Yes. Just who exactly is your lawyer, Kellach?”
No expression crossed his face, yet a new tension began to overwhelm the atmosphere of the room. “Why do you ask?”
“Just answer the damn question. Who is Simone Brightston, and what’s her connection to Apollo?” Family. Lex understood that. She’d do anything for her mother or sister, and anything for Bernie. Just how far would Kell go to protect Simone?
“Simone is my cousin, and she has no connection to a drug that harms witches. She is a witch.” Kellach steepled his fingers beneath his chin, giving him a thoughtfully dangerous pose. “Why do you ask?”
Lex had been trained in interrogation as well as interviewing. Give enough to get more back. “I think she has more connections than you’ve let on. How long has she lived in Seattle?” Lex had Bundt doing a full workup on Simone while also tracking down Trevan Demidov.
Kellach inhaled slowly. “Simone moved to Seattle when we did—about three months ago as part of our investigation.”