Kane picks up the data stick, eyes it, and then fixes a hard stare on Lucas. “These are my uncle’s secrets?”
“Yes,” Lucas replies.
Kane leans forward and drops the stick in the glass of soda sitting near Lucas. “I’m not my uncle. I want nothing to do with his business. And if you have duplicates, I suggest you get rid of them. Or you could always offer your services to my uncle. That’s a good life-long gig. Of course, as my father proved, it will be a short life.”
“Is that a threat?” Lucas demands, eyeing me. “Are you going to let him threaten me?”
I shrug. “I don’t save people from their own stupidity on an empty stomach. I’m just not made that way.”
“If I was threatening you,” Kane replies, “you wouldn’t have to ask. Don’t connect me to my uncle. Ever.”
“Holy hell, this place is a madhouse.”
At the sound of Andrew’s voice, I turn to find him rounding the table to join us. “Did you already order?” he asks. “I’m so damn hungry I could eat from the plates on people’s tables.” He laughs and sits down next to Lucas and across from Kane, but he’s looking at me. “Remember Mom said that in that one movie?”
I actually laugh despite being suffocated by the testosterone at present, but I give none of the men at the table credit, not even Andrew. I give it to my mother and the fond memory of being on the movie set the day she shot that scene. “She had to shoot twenty takes, stuffing her face each time. She gained five pounds.” I glance at Kane. “You know the scene.”
His arm slides around me, and instantly his expression softens. “I do. I believe we’ve watched it about a hundred times.” It’s a very human moment for him and me. Because together, we are human. Apart is a whole other story. Kane glances at Andrew. “And yes, we’ve ordered. You’d better grab a waitress.”
At that moment, as if she heard us, our waitress appears and sets a bowl of freshly made bread with butter in the center of the table. Andrew grabs a roll. “What’s the fastest meal I can get? I have to get back to work.”
“Turkey pot pie,” the waitress replies. “It’s a favorite and we’ve prepped well.”
“Then I’ll have the turkey pot pie,” Andrew says, “and a slice of that coconut cake you guys make. And a Dr. Pepper,” he adds.
“They’re sold out of the coconut cake,” Kane informs him and eyes Lucas to add, “Isn’t that right, Lucas?”
Andrew gives Kane and Lucas a strange look while the waitress confirms. “We are indeed sold out of the coconut cake.”
“What do you have for sweets?” Andrew asks.
“Chocolate cake,” she offers.
He lifts a finger. “I’ll take it.”
“Make that two,” I say. “I think I’m going to need chocolate when this meal is over.”
“And a fresh coke,” Lucas adds, sliding the one with the data drive inside it toward her.
“Got it,” the waitress replies, picking up the glass. “And the rest of the food will be right out.” She hurries away.
Andrew looks around the table. “Why is it weird at this table?” He meets Kane’s stare and adds, “Aside from Kane being here.”
Kane’s lips curve ever so slightly while Lucas motions to Kane. “I called his football team pussies.”
I jump on that and say, “And I told Lucas he shouldn’t give away a name he wears so well.”
He scowls at me. “You know, Lilah—”
“Food is ready,” the waitress announces, cutting off what we all know would be a lame insult. Lucas is a smooth operator with women, an expert with money and technology, but he’s terrible at tongue wars.
Soon Kane and I have pot pies in front of us, with bubbling sauce piercing the light flaky crust, and the delicious scent has my stomach growling. I’m ready to dig in when Kane slides his pot pie in front of Andrew. Andrew eyes him and says, “You just want to get rid of me.”
“And you, me,” Kane says. “So eat and go back to work.”
I slide mine in between me and Kane. “I’ll share with Kane. We share stuff.” I wiggle my finger. “That’s what this ring means.”
Lucas grimaces at the ring and looks like he wants to say something but thinks better.
Andrew rather ceremoniously picks up his fork, as if he’s discouraging any words that might come out of Lucas’s mouth. Following that lead, Kane and I take a bite of the pot pie and the three of us share our approval. Even Lucas chimes in. “The pot pie is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. I had two on my own.”
After that, we all just kind of look at each other and with good reason.
It’s an odd, almost normal family moment. If you don’t think about Lucas trying to get me naked, and hacking illegally for the high of it despite a successful career in finance. Or about Andrew and Kane having slept with the same woman and buried the same body. Or about Kane being the son of a dead drug lord and nephew to a current drug lord. Or about my father who is not here because he’s a bastard. Or me. The stabby one. Still, I embrace the façade my mother would enjoy.
“Anything on the fake Naomi?” I ask as Kane I both take another bite.
“Nothing yet,” Andrew says. “That’s why I’m in a rush to eat and get back to work. Anything on your end?”
“Chef Roswell was scheduled for Emma’s wedding,” I say.
Andrew’s brows dip. “And then he ended up at your house? How?”
“A service,” Kane replies. “But I had other options. I chose him because Lilah and I knew him from another event.”
“One Pocher funded on behalf of Dad,” I insert.
Andrew grimaces and accepts his drink from the waitress. “Are we really bringing Dad into a random murder?”
“We’re following the connected dots,” I say. “I didn’t place Dad on the scoreboard. And I’m not saying he’s involved. I’m saying he’s a part of a circle.”
“And you think the chef is part of that circle, too,” he comments. “No one made Kane call him.”
“Which is true,” Kane agrees. “The circle here in the Hamptons is a small one. Once you’re in, you’re in. Obviously, the chef is in that circle.”
“And someone used him to get to us,” I say. “Thus, our visit from fake Naomi tonight.”
“Who’s fake Naomi?” Lucas asks.
“That’s the question,” I reply. “We don’t know.”
“The question is,” Andrew interjects with a lift of his fork, “was fake Naomi the one who left you that jar of blood and killed Emma?”
“A jar of blood?” Lucas demands, leaning in closer. “Lilah, what is going on?”
“My job,” I say, tuning him out and focusing on Andrew. “My gut says she’s a player in a game, not the creator of the game.”
The waitress sets the extra pot pie on the table and Kane and I order iced tea. When she departs, I continue. “I keep going back to a text Emma sent Jamie. One more time for the history books, she’d said. That sounds like a game to me, and I’m not sure it’s related to sex.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Lucas interjects. “One more time for the history books is a part of a game called ‘Banking the Billionaire.’ It was meant to teach people how to invest. It took off and went nuts. It’s crazy popular. ‘One more time for the history books’ references one last financial score before you get out of the game, at least that set of the game.”
Emma Wells was playing a game.
And someone wanted me to find out, or they would have taken Emma’s phone.
Someone wants me to play, too.