Murder Notes (Lilah Love #1)

“You just can’t imagine, Lilah.” She shakes her head. “I can still see his white, hairy ass hanging out of his pants while he banged away at that bitch he calls his secretary. And I can still hear her moans. Oh God. Those moans.”

“Better you found out before you married him.”

“I know, right?” She glances toward the end of the bar and grabs my arm. “Oh my God. Jensen Michaels is here.”

At the mention of the up-and-coming movie star who she’d turned down over Larry a few months back, my lips curve. “My birthday. Your wish.”

“My wish? No. I don’t—”

“You do.”

Her gaze lifts beyond my shoulder. “He’s motioning me over there.”

“Well, go. What are you waiting for?”

She looks at me. “It’s your birthday.”

“Tomorrow is my birthday, but”—I grab her hand—“remember. He wants to fuck. You want to fuck. This is about you. For you. I need you to say it. He wants to fuck. I want to fuck. Just fuck.”

She grimaces. “I don’t say that word. You say it enough for the entire town.”

I roll my eyes. “Say it or you’re staying with me. He wants to fuck.”

“Fine. He wants to . . . fuck.”

I laugh at how hard a time she has saying it. “Now say, ‘I want to fuck.’”

“No. Yes. I want to fuck. And I’m going to tell you about it in graphic detail in the morning.”

“Please don’t.”

She laughs. “Please, yes. I’m going. I’m really going.”

“Please do.”

She nods and takes off walking.

I blink and stare at my coffee cup again, and then I’m back in time once more, an hour later.

I sip the champagne I’ve been cautiously nursing in case Alexandra needs me when she and Jensen head for the door. She waves at me behind his back and mouths, “Happy Birthday to me.”

I laugh and wave before finishing off the last sip of my one glass of bubbly. When my phone beeps, I dig it from my purse to find a text from Kane: Lilah Love.

My lips curve and I type: Kane Mendez.

He types: Do you know what I’d do to you if I were there right now?

I laugh, and because I just love egging on this man, I type: Nothing original, I’m sure.

I can almost hear his deep, rough laugh as he reads that answer and replies with: Challenge accepted. I’m in New York about to get on a chopper. I’ll come to you. Adios for now.

It’s a good surprise, and I quickly stick my phone back in my purse and pay the tab. Alexandra will be appalled in the morning that she forgot, for no good reason. Standing up, I slip my purse on my shoulder and sway.

“Whoa,” I murmur, grabbing the barstool and giving myself a moment to steady. I shake my head and I’m fine. Clearly, I need that dinner I skipped. I head for the door and make my way to the parking lot when it happens again.

And that was the beginning of hell, I think, snapping back to the present. Inhaling on the rush of unwelcomed adrenaline pumping through me, I do the logical thing. I reach for my coffee, but before I drink, my gaze lands on Alexandra, who’s now staring at me. But what I see is not her but me, standing in my living room, naked and covered in blood.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

I know, of course, that Alexandra is oblivious to how that night changed me, though she’s certainly aware of the fact that we were never close from that point forward. Her need to see me the next morning, to share details on her recovery fuck, was expected and understandable, even. But also expected was her ability to look in my eyes and know one night had changed me. She’d have asked questions I didn’t want to answer. Exactly why I never let them happen, despite the awkwardness that ensued and lingered until I took the FBI job. And right now, with Alexandra looking at me and me looking at her, I’m experiencing that awkwardness all over again. That very special kind of Saturday-night-drunk-and-pretending-not-to-be-bad kind of awkward.

She stands up, and reading her intentions to come to me, I quickly stand as well, immediately walking in her direction, because no way in hell am I going to get trapped at my table with her overstaying the welcome that doesn’t exist. Unfortunately, she charges forward, rather than hesitating or waiting on me, her navy heels, which match her navy suit dress, clicking on the tiled floor as she continues her approach.

“I heard you were here,” she says, meeting me in the center of the diner with a number of guests sprinkled at various tables that are thankfully out of hearing range.

“After that press conference this morning,” I say, “I’m pretty sure that even Jane Wise’s pet cow knows I’m here.”

“She still has that cow,” Alexandra tells me with a strangled kind of laugh. “Lucy is her name. And she’s famous, you know. That cow—”

“Was on Farmland,” I say of the now-defunct kids’ show. “I know. And she also handled her fame better than most of the human residents in this town.”

“Of that, you will get no disagreement from me,” she assures me, swiftly changing the topic. “Have you seen Kane?”

The question doesn’t surprise me. If anyone other than Kane knows how inseparable we once were, it’s my ex–best friend. “He showed up at the crime scene last night.”

“And?” she asks, lowering her voice, as if this is some big secret. It’s not.

“And I had a dead body on my mind.”

“A dead body,” she repeats. “Not his hot body?”

“Dead and hot are not two words I often use together.”

“Not often, but sometimes?”

“Yes,” I agree, thinking of one particular serial killer whose good looks got him into six dead girls’ pants before he brutally murdered them. “Sometimes.”

“This would be one of those times we’d get drunk and you’d explain what the hell you are talking about.” Once upon a time, I think. But not now, and she must see that in my eyes, because she clears her throat and adds, “What’s the word on that murder last night? Are you handing me a killer to convict, or what?”

“That’s a question my brother, the police chief, can answer.”

“Oh come on, Lilah. You’re FBI and you showed up with a dead body.”

“The only body I showed up with is my own, which I assure you is not dead.”

“You went to the crime scene,” she points out.

“I was here and I did what I do for many law enforcement agencies. I went. I evaluated and I shared my evaluation with the real man in charge: my brother.”

“If you didn’t come for that case, which I guess is obvious, since it was waiting on you when you arrived, then why are you here?”

“Personal business,” I reply, and when she reaches up and swipes her chin-length, blunt-cut brown hair behind her ear, the ring on her finger tells me she’s now married and I don’t know for how long or to who.

Her dress starts ringing and she shoves a hand in her pocket. “I just need—”

“Take the call,” I say, giving her my back and returning to my seat, her eyes heavy on me, but my waitress and my coffee save me on my return to my table.

I claim my seat, chat a minute with Rose while doctoring my coffee with lots of cream and Splenda. I’m aware of the exact moment that Alexandra has claimed her seat, which is the same time that Beth chooses to make her appearance.