By the time Andrew leaves, I have eaten cake and pie, and we’ve all agreed that Chef Roswell feels more like a token in the game, not a real player, but we’re not ruling him out. I order some cake to go, and once Kane has paid for our meal, we prepare to leave.
“Don’t you need me to look some more stuff up for you?” Lucas asks, looking baffled.
“Find me those IP addresses,” I say. “That’s what matters.”
“I can set-up a program and capture those numbers when they sign on,” he says. “I can do more.”
“Find out what nefarious acts are performed under the cover of the ‘Billionaires Are Bullshit’ site.”
“Banking the Billionaire,” he corrects as if I’ve forgotten the name.
“Banking your bullshit,” I say. “Maybe you can’t do it.”
“Not this again,” Lucas snaps. “I’ll find what you need, but I want an official FBI role. I want to know I’m covered.”
“I’ll make it happen,” I say when of course, I’m the one banking on bullshit. Murphy isn’t big on bullshit, but he wants me on his team, too. Almost too much, I think. But then, the man was in love with my mother. For now, that’s the only nefarious thing I’ve found on Murphy, though Kane has hinted at more. It’s time I push him for answers I should have pushed for long ago. He hasn’t been willing to talk, but that no more secrets part of our storyline is clear and present.
It’s time to talk.
***
Fifteen minutes later, with that and more on my mind, Kane and I are on the road when I motion to a certain street and Kane knows exactly what I want. This is the path to my old house, the one I inherited from my mother that burned down several weeks back.
On the short drive, memories punch at me, so many memories, good and bad, and Kane is a part of most of them. No. Some of them. He pulls to a halt in what was my driveway and kills the engine. It’s a bright night, the moon high, the snowstorm long past.
For a moment, I just sit there in the car, we just sit there, until I reach for the door handle, and step outside. Kane joins me at the front of the car. We lean back on the hood, side by side, and stare at the rubble that is left of my house, the ocean wide and long just beyond. The beach where I was attacked and grabbed that knife, is between the two. For a long time, that night and that knife was between me and Kane.
The wind rushes over us and I snuggle deeper into my coat. “My mother came here to avoid my father,” I say. “She obviously knew what I’m only now finding out about him.” I glance at Kane. “She hated him. She wanted the divide. When I left New York to avoid you, it was because I knew I couldn’t stay away from you any other way. And I thought we were bad for each other.”
“But you did hate me.”
“I hated myself. My mom hated him,” I reiterate. “The night she died, she was with Lucas’s father. I need to know why.”
“I dug around,” he says, which doesn’t surprise me. “I didn’t find evidence of an affair. I didn’t even find evidence of them communicating often.”
“It seems like Pocher wanted them both dead.” I dive deeper into a hell hole when I say, “Or my father. Maybe it was my father. It felt like he knew about my attack.” I move on before he can reply. “Maybe she had something on him. Or Pocher. Or both. Maybe that’s why this house is rubble. That something was inside.”
“Unless it wasn’t,” Kane says. “Would she really have kept something that big here?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “but it was her private space. But then again, maybe it was with Lucas’s father. Or even a lockbox.” I step in front of him. “What do you know about Murphy? It’s time to tell me.”
“I agree,” he says.
I blink. “You agree?”
“Yes. I wanted to know more before I told you, but I think I know enough now that it’s time we talk about this. There was a point when he was in rapid communication with Pocher, years ago, close to the time your mother died.”
I blanch, and I never blanch. “What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. The very man he says he wants to take down, he has had direct communication with. The very man who ordered your attack and your mother’s murder.”
“Does that continue?”
“No. Right after your mother died, that relationship died.”
My heart is thundering in my chest. “I’ll kill him if—”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he was undercover trying to take him down. Maybe that’s how, and when, he fell for your mother. It seems logical that she was helping him and they fell in love.”
He’s right, it does, and I only believe that because of how damn passionate Murphy is when he talks about my mother. “Can you find out?”
“I’ve tried,” he says, and to me, that means there are big roadblocks. Near impossible roadblocks. “We could just confront him. Together.”
“And he could lie. Maybe Lucas can help get answers, especially if his father was somehow involved.”
“You have protection, Lilah,” he reminds me. “In many forms. Your badge, your connection to your father, and me. Lucas doesn’t. Leave him out of this.” He catches my hip and changes the subject. “And marry me sooner rather than later. When, Lilah?”
“You say that like I’ve put it off. You just proposed, Kane.”
“I proposed years ago,” he reminds me. “I’ve waited patiently on you and I am not a patient man.”
My hand settles on his chest where his heart thunders beneath my palm. Kane’s heart doesn’t thunder. Except for me, which is why I answer easily. “New Year’s Eve. Is that fast enough? That lets us start a new year the right way. Together.”
“That doesn’t give you time for the dream wedding every woman wants.”
“I’m not every woman,” I remind him.
“There is a piece of your mother in you that most don’t see, but I do. Be that woman for your wedding. I know a part of you craves that.”
“New Year’s Eve, Kane,” I repeat. “I don’t want to put on a show for anyone else. I want it to be about you and me. Small and intimate, in the living room, with the tree still up.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very. But I’m keeping Lilah Love. I can’t lose my stripper name. “
His lips quirk, “But the traditional Mexican man in me is a little too macho to let that happen.”
I laugh. “You? Macho? Never. I’ll hyphenate. Lilah Love-Mendez. How is that?”
“Lilah ‘fucking’ Love-Mendez? I can live with that.”
I laugh and wrap my arms around him, sobering as I do. “I don’t know what to do about the house, Kane.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I know your first reaction was not to rebuild. I know your mother hid from your father here, it was her sanctuary. But that also made you feel close to her.”
He’s right which is exactly why I’ve gone back and forth about this decision. “I really don’t want to leave it like this and I don’t want to sell it.”
“Why don’t we re-build and make it our place in the Hamptons? You can design a Purgatory just the way you want it. And before you answer, yes, you were also attacked here, but you survived here.”
He’s right. I did. And in the end, we did. “What about your house?”
“And there lies the reason to rebuild, at least one of them. You still call it my house. We’ll sell it. Or keep it. We’ll figure it out. But as a bonus, rebuilding and moving here would make a statement. It would tell the Society they didn’t get rid of you, or us. It would be a real fuck you to the Society.”
“Sold,” I say, without hesitation, because, yes, fuck you to the Society. I’m coming for them. And I won’t stop until I win. And as for Director Murphy, he’d better pray he’s not involved with the Society. Or killing my mother. Or I will kill him.