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Fuck is for: Fuck Kane’s father for about ten things, starting with him cornering me in the lobby of my own building for some one-on-one time. I have a murder to solve, not commit, and lives to save, not take, at least for the time being, and sadly, with him showing up here to play bastard and bitch, there’s no time to enjoy.

“You’re a man of surprising vigor and height considering the news loves to call you short and dead,” I say dryly. “I loved it, too, in case you’re wondering. The part where you were dead. Not the part where you were short, because that would have made Kane short. I always knew that part was bullshit.”

His lips curve as he digests my observation with obvious amusement. He’s tall, dark, and, as would be expected considering he’s Kane’s father, handsome, if not for the fact that he’s the leader of a brutal cartel with more than one massacre under his belt.

He wants me dead.

I want him dead.

It would be disrespectful to pretend otherwise, and the Hispanic culture is all about respecting their elders.

“Sadly,” I reply to his offer of a little private chat, “I’ll need to take a raincheck, as I’ll surely kill you if given the chance, and that would be too messy for my present time restrictions.” I step around him and manage two steps toward the door.

“Are you so sure it would be you who killed me, bella?”

Bella.

Beautiful.

The name Kane calls me, and there is no question that’s by intent. He’s letting me know he’s more intimately aware of our relationship than he should be.

“You’re an FBI agent,” he adds.

Now it’s my turn to feel the bittersweetness of amusement. I rotate to face him. “Funny thing about my track record wearing a badge. No one ever seems to make it into cuffs. They do, however, make it into a grave. You think the badge will keep me from killing you? You must not know as much about me as you think you do. Sometimes I just enjoy killing a little too much.” I smile, sticky-sweet and poisonous.

“Oh fuck,” comes a muttered curse from behind, and I whip around to find Enrique standing there, looking as pale as me, and considering I’m a white chick and he’s not, that’s saying a lot.

“Choose,” is all I say to him, and I walk right past him, but by the time I’m at the door, he’s by my side.

“I chose a long time ago, Lilah,” he says, opening the door for me, “and it pisses me off you don’t know that.”

He’s such a girl, I swear, and if he thinks holding a door for me proves anything, he’s not just a girl, he’s a dumb girl. Once I’m outside, I find Jay leaning on the door of an SUV. He pops off, straightening, on alert when he brings me into view, and I move his direction.

I do not reach for my phone, certain we’re being watched, and that I’m expected to reach for my phone to call Kane in a panic. I’m not in a panic, not one fucking little bit. My dance card is filled with monsters, and I’d call Kane’s father just another one of the same, but he’s not so simple. His life and death have consequences for both me and, most importantly, Kane.

In fact, he’s one big mindfuck for Kane.

I slide into the SUV with Enrique following. The door shuts behind him, but I still don’t reach for my phone. This is going to send Kane off the deep end, and he’s already there, locked and loaded and ready for a slaughter.

“I’m loyal, Lilah,” Enrique states, staring at me with steel in his eyes.

Loyalty is a tricky business. It’s rarely about someone else and always about oneself. He knows it. I know it. Jay joins us, and I call out to him. “Airport. Chopper. Hamptons.”

“What’s going on?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Drive now. Talk later,” I say, “and hopefully less than normal.”

Jay grunts and does as I say while I settle into my seat, sinking into the leather, but I don’t reach for my phone. I don’t immediately call Kane. No matter how capable I am of taking care of myself, I’m the line in the sand, and it’s been crossed.

Enrique narrows his eyes on me. “Why aren’t you calling Kane? He needs to know what just happened.”

I lean forward and point at him. “You say you’re loyal; you need to leave this to me.”

“To Kane first. My job—”

“You need to be clear, and I mean crystal fucking clear, Enrique. Kane is never emotional, but he is now, and emotional actions lead to stupid, risky actions.”

“Kane isn’t emotional.”

“He’s human.”

He studies me several hard beats. “What do you need from me?”

“I need to be the one who tells him about Roberto visiting me in person, which allows me to gauge his reaction and control his actions.”

“A delay is not an option, Lilah. He’s Kane Mendez. You know what that means.”

“It means a lot of fucked up shit he needs to navigate with a clear head.”

“Don’t put me in a graveyard position. I cannot hold this back from him. You have to know that.”

“Don’t be a little bitch, Enrique. ”

“Lilah,” he breathes out, gravel in his voice, a plea in the depths of his voice that has me grimacing.

He was Kane’s man before he was our man, and Kane’s trust in him is the only reason he’s here with me right now, or ever. I grit my teeth, drag my phone from my pocket, and dial Kane, who’s been MIA for most of the day. I have no doubt this indicates he’s on some mission to destroy his father he knows won’t win my approval. I’d say he’s taking the approach to do the deed and beg for forgiveness later, but he won’t bother.

As Enrique stated, he’s Kane Mendez.

Considering he’s been avoiding me all day, I don’t expect him to answer, and he doesn’t, and my call lands in his voicemail. “There’s been a new development,” I tell him via the recording. “Enrique is with me. He feels the need to tell you, and I told him it’s something I need to tell you in person. Besides, how would he tell you when you won’t fucking answer the phone? We’re following a lead to the Hamptons.” I hang up and glare at Enrique. “Happy?”

We halt at a stoplight and Jay is leaning around the seat, waving a hand at the rear. “For the love of God, will someone please tell me what’s going on?!”

“He’s going to call me,” Enrique replies tightly. “Watch and see.”

My cellphone rings in my hand, and I glance down to find Kane’s number. Normally I’d have a smartass remark to make, but there is nothing but dread in my belly. I answer the call. “Kane.”

“What do you need to tell me?” His voice is the slice of a steel blade.

“I’m headed to the Hamptons to follow up on a lead.”

“You said that in the voicemail.”

“Right. Where are you?”

“I’ll meet you in the Hamptons. Lilah, what aren’t you telling me?”

“A question that seems pretty flipping ironic coming from a man who’s avoided me for hours. What aren’t you telling me , Kane?”

I’m greeted with heavy, thick silence.

“Fine. Fuck you, Kane, for pushing me against my best judgment. I need a minute.” I grit my teeth, and as we are still not moving, scoot to the door before saying, “Drive around the block and come back and get me.” I don’t wait for approval or understanding. I exit the vehicle.

Enrique curses, but I’m already outside, where I dodge a car and step onto a crowded sidewalk. By the time I’m there, Enrique has joined me, and I point at him to stay back, glaring as I do. He’s the reason I’m about to create a shitshow with Kane, and it’s pissing me off.

He’s at least smart enough to hold up his hands and stand down. I weave through the crowd and claim a spot out of the range of the crush, next to a chicken restaurant. How appropriate considering Enrique is acting like a true chickenshit, and because why wouldn’t I want to have this conversation next to a chicken restaurant?

I shove the phone to my ear again and say, “The only reason I’m doing this is because Enrique is wetting his pants right now, afraid to hold this back from you.”

“Tell me.”

“Your father tried to corner me in the lobby of our building. I didn’t have time for his bullshit, and I handled it.”

“More, Lilah,” he bites out rather predictively, and I stop fighting him and the inevitable spilling of details.

“He suggested we have some long overdue time together, or some shit like that.” I wave my hand in the air. “I told him if I had one-on-one time with him, I’d kill him, and I unfortunately didn’t have time for how messy that would get.”

“And he said?”

“He said an FBI agent wouldn’t kill anyone. You know how this went, Kane. It was short, and I was my normal sweet self. The end.”

“More, Lilah,” he repeats. “What did you say when he said you wouldn’t kill him?”

I sigh heavily. “I told him he doesn’t know me well or he wouldn’t ask that question.”

“And he replied with what?”

“Was I sure it would be me that killed him, not the other way, which we both know was a stupid question. This is me we’re talking about.”

He’s silent again—a thick, dangerous silence that has me saying, “Kane? What are you going to do?”

“He’s handled, Lilah.”

“How?”

“I’ll see you at the house.”

“When?”

“I’ll let you know.” He hangs up.

Holy fuck. He hangs up, and Enrique must know as he marches my direction. I meet him halfway and point at him. “If he ends up dead or in jail over this, you’re just dead. Do not even think about joining me for the rest of this trip. I can’t tiptoe around what you’ll yap about.” I step around him just in time to find Jay halting at the stoplight. I rush that way, climb inside, and order, “Drive.”

“Enrique?”

“Can go suck a giant banana for all I care. Drive.”

He doesn’t drive, and horns honk behind us. “Lilah, he means well.”

“He just put Kane in danger.”

“He didn’t intend—”

“He put Kane in danger,” I repeat, “and if you aren’t smart enough to read between the lines, let me dumb it down for you. He’ll catch up, Jay, and with a little time and space, I might let him live. Drive.”

Jay accelerates and places us in motion, potentially saving Enrique’s life in the process.