“Everything’s a game.” She quickly counted out the bills and stuffed them back in the envelope. Then she stuffed the envelope into her bra.
Nice touch, though I no longer found her as attractive as I had when I’d fucked her in New York. Sure, I was going to bed her last night, but now? I was just as glad I hadn’t. She was hot, no doubt, but I had someone else on my mind.
I took a drink of my water to soothe the dryness in my mouth. Too much drinking last night. Then I lifted my eyebrows, saying nothing.
“You have to ask,” she said.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“If you want to know what I know, you have to ask.”
“I just paid you.”
“Pretty please?”
“Fuck it all.” I raked my hand through my hair. “Tell me, Nieves. What did you find at Rock’s place that you never told him about?”
She smiled. “You think I’m going to say his gun, don’t you?”
“I think I don’t have a clue what you’re going to say, and I wish you’d end the suspense.”
“I did see his gun,” she said, “but I didn’t take it.”
“Fine. What did you take, then?”
“So, it wasn’t so much that I took something as much as it was that I erased something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Rock was kind of old-school,” she said. “He still had an answering machine and insisted on using it instead of the voicemail on his phone.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise me. My oldest brother had done everything he could to escape his upbringing. Going old-school fit right into that mold. “So you heard a message and erased it.”
“Yes.”
“What did the message say?”
“You should already know.”
I let out a heavy sigh and rubbed my forehead. “You’re giving me a migraine, Nieves. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she said, “that the message I intercepted was from you.”
“And…?”
“And what?”
“What the hell did the message say?”
“You can probably tell me.”
“No, I can’t. I hardly ever called my brother, and when I did, it was usually just to check in. I was the only one who communicated with him with any kind of regularity.”
“Except for that one time.”
I seriously thought about pulling my hair out, strand by strand. She was making me that crazy. “What one time?” I said through gritted teeth.
“It was a few weeks before your father died. Sure you don’t remember?”
Seriously, I wanted to tear my hair out chunk by chunk. Scratch that. I wanted to tear her hair out.
“At the risk of repeating myself”—clenched teeth again—“I do not remember, Nieves.”
She smiled sweetly. “Good thing I transcribed it, then.” She fished a small piece of paper out of her purse. “Here you go.”
I snatched the paper from her with more force than necessary and unfolded it.
Hey, Rock, it’s Reid. A hit’s been put out on Dad. We’re looking into it. Thought you might want to know. Call me.
My eyes popped into circles. The hell?
“You fucking made this up, didn’t you?” I darted knives at Nieves with my eyes.
“No, I didn’t. I swear to God. Look.” She pointed to the paper. “I even wrote down the date and time.”
She had. It was a little over three weeks before the murder.
“Interesting. Except I swear to God I never said any of this, and I’ll be able to prove it easily.”
“Oh? How do you think you’ll do that?”
“Ever heard of phone records? I’ll be able to prove I didn’t call Rock’s landline on that date and time.”
Her lips curved downward slightly, but I wasn’t buying. Nieves Romero wasn’t stupid. Any good mercenary was never stupid. She knew about phone records, so she didn’t invent this little scenario. She actually intercepted the message, which meant someone had impersonated me.
“Too bad you didn’t save the message,” I said. “Then we could easily prove it wasn’t me with voice identification.”
“I’ve heard your voice. It sure sounded like you.”
“You hadn’t heard my voice three weeks ago,” I said. “It’s doubtful you’d recognize the difference between a recorded message that you heard three weeks ago and talking to me in person now.”
She didn’t reply. I was right, and she knew it.
“Why didn’t you tell Rock?” I demanded. “Don’t you think he had the right to know about the message?”
“I was going to tell him,” she said, “but then…”
“Then what?”
“I talked to Leta. And we decided that…”
“For fuck’s sake. You decided to try to make some money off the deal. Am I right?”
She looked down at her place setting. Yeah, I was right.
One thing about a mercenary, you always knew where to find him.
Just follow the money.
“Time to ’fess up,” I said to her. “We know you received a phone call about the murder an hour before it actually happened, so there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She sighed. “How much more is this information worth to you?”
I stood and pulled out my wallet. “You’re seriously trying to get more than the extra nine grand? This meeting is over.”
She gasped and darted her gaze around the room. “Reid, sit. Please.”
Good. I sat. “Get to the point, Ms. Romero. You’ve admitted to breaking into and entering my brother’s home. You’ve admitted to stealing.”
“I didn’t steal anything!”
“You stole a message from his answering machine. Trust me. My lawyers will make it stick.”
She looked down again.
“I can have you and your sister arrested and thrown in jail, and I will do it if you don’t start leveling with me.”
“All right. All right.” She sighed. “Leta and I developed a plan. I know about phone records, of course. I’m not an idiot.”
I rolled my eyes. I agreed she wasn’t an idiot, but I couldn’t help myself. I was that pissed off.
She opened her mouth, but her phone chose that second to vibrate against the white table covering. She looked down. “Sorry.”
“Go ahead.” Heck, I’d waited this long. I could wait a little longer.
She picked up her phone and answered it. “Hello.”
Pause.
She widened her eyes and gasped. “Oh my God! What hap— I mean— Oh my God!”
Pause.
Tears formed in her eyes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you. Oh my God…” She ended the call and stood. “I have to go.”
“What’s going on now?” I didn’t even try to disguise the impatience in my voice.
“It’s Leta. She’s in the hospital in Helena.”
“Why? What happened?”
“She was beaten to within an inch of her life.” Nieves closed her eyes and two tears squeezed down her cheeks. “This is… It’s all my fault.”