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Alemo's chair squeaks when he turns it square with me. “Huh. Now that I think about it, I heard your family is pretty well off. Won the big lotto here a year ago or something.”

“That's right,” Dez says with a crooked smile. “A cool hundred million.”

One of the men whistles appreciatively.

I taste the coffee from this morning bubbling at the back of my throat. “Can we please go have that talk now, Dezmond?”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” He winks at the men, standing up to follow me out the front door. All eyes remain on us until we're in the sunshine. Dez shields his face from the lights. Then he grunts because I grab him by his shoulders andslamhim against the underside of the staircase. The metal sounds like a gong. “What the fuck!” he yells.

“That's what I'm supposed to say!” He tries to push me off, but he's struggling. I'm strong, and taller, but it's my rage that explicitly gives me the energy to shove him against the stairs a second time. “Did you seriously just tell those guys I'm going tomarryyou? That I'm going to pay down your gambling debt? How the hell did you losetwo thousand dollarsin a day?”

Dez strangles my wrist, finally able to wedge me off him. He looks as pissed off as I feel. “Chill out,” he growls. “I'm not going to play nice with you just because we're in public.”

“What will you do, hit me?” I taunt him.

“Maybe. Depends on if I want people to know I'm a wife beater.”

“I am not your wife!”I scream, ripping out of his grip. My hands ball at my sides, I'm on the verge of punching him in his smug face. “I'll never be your wife. You're genuinely insane to think it.”

Dezmond smooths out the front of his shirt. It doesn't help much; he looks like he slept in it. He must have been enjoying himself all night with my money. Did he wake up, roll out of bed, and come straight here to gamble it down the drain? “Okay,” he says coolly, “my turn to talk now.”

“I'm not done—”

“You are,” he snaps, cutting me off. “We're going to go back inside. When we do, you'll march your cute ass up to Alemo and you'll assure him with your biggest eye-flutters that you'll pay the five hundred for me, your loving future husband.”

“You. Are. Not. My. Husband.” I bite each word off in chunks.

Dez grins. The staircase makes shadow patterns over his upper body resembling bars of a jail cell. “I will be. Unless you want me to go to the police with news that you've murdered your dear old dad.”

There. The reason I'm here. “Why do you think I killed him?” I ask.

“I told you last night. Isawyou.”

“That's impossible. I'd never kill anyone, especially not my own father.”

His eyes narrow, then he looks down. “Your hands are shaking pretty bad for someone so innocent.”

I make fists tight enough my tendons could snap. “Prove it.”

“What, that I know you killed him?”

“You don't know that because it isn't true.”

“You sure acted like it was true when I was robbing you last night.”

“I was in shock,” I insist. My lips keep curling like a wild animal. Dez stares uneasily, like he isn't sure I won't dig my teeth into his neck. “You just … you walked in with your buddies, and you threatened me. I didn't know what to do.”

“Oh, no, you knew. You obeyed like a scared little girl who realized someone held her future in his hands.” Dez advances on me so that we're mere inches apart. His breath is fetid in my nose. “You asked me for proof. How about this.” He inhales sharply, enjoying himself. “It was chilly out. Probably why it took you so long to dig the hole in the ground. You broke the shovel and had to go get a new one to finish the job. I watched you for so long my feet and hands went numb, Lori. But I kept on. I couldn't look away.”

My fingers uncurl. The tension that was present for so long leaves my body. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“That's a better attitude. Real docile.” He grabs the underside of the stairs, leaning his weight to one side. “I'm a pretty basic guy, Lori. I just want money.”

“I'm broke. You took the entire store earnings yesterday and—”

“That's pennies,” he spits. “I wantrealmoney. You and me, we both know you slaughtered your daddy. That means you've got his fat hundred million hiding somewhere.”

“No, honestly, I don't have that.”