“Is alive,” I say. “And so are you.”
“Yeah, but for how long if I come inside?”
“I’m pretty sure that depends on you.” With that, I leave him at the door and head toward the kitchen.
Kane is at the island, the bottle in front of him, and it’s clear he intends to stay. I swear he enjoys taunting Lucas. And at least today, after what happened last night, I’ll let him get away with almost anything. Whoever said I wasn’t a gentle kind soul lied. I join Kane at the side of the island he’s sitting behind while Lucas pauses in the doorway. He looks at me. He stares at Kane. “I can come back.”
“Nonsense,” Kane says. “Come have a drink, Lucas.”
I glare at Kane. “He is not drinking.” I pin Lucas in a brutal stare. “You’re not drinking. The end. I’m the boss here.”
Kane arches a brow in Lucas’s direction. “Care to wager a bet on that?”
“Coffee,” I say. “I’m making coffee.” I point to a stool. “Sit, Lucas. And never challenge an alpha in his own den. That means don’t make eye contact. Pull out the computer in that bag on your shoulder and focus on it.” I head to the coffee pot.
Lucas almost follows orders.
He does sit. He does pull out his computer. But he’s looking at Kane. And Kane’s looking at him.
“For fuck’s sake,” I murmur, pushing the brew button on the pot before moving to the endcap of the island, where I blast Lucas with my best version of the evil eye, which is pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. Of course, he doesn’t know. He’s still looking at Kane. “What did you find out, Lucas?”
Lucas jerks his gaze from Kane’s to mine. “I hacked Rip Vaughn’s phone. He’s been in contact with Neal Woodard. Which could mean nothing at all, but he not only talked to him the day he died, Neal was also at the same charity event that Rip attended.”
“There was a text message from a woman—”
“A nurse at one of the hospitals. There was a voicemail from a few days back. Seems like they just met.”
A voicemail that I should have noticed, but then, I wasn’t myself last night. As for the nurse being someone Rip just met, it fits with his “once was enough” reply to her naked photos. “Back to Neal,” I say. “How long had he been talking to Rip?”
“Off and on for about a month.”
“And what’s Neal’s story?” I ask.
“He runs a venture capital group called, appropriately, Woodard Venture Capital. A bit like Shark Tank. They all pay him to take part in a bidding war for potential investments that he funnels through the ‘Tank,’ so to speak. He holds an annual Pro Bowl event in the summer. A big deal with lots of money and rich people involved.”
“That’s every event in the Hamptons,” I comment. “Any connection to any of the other victims?”
“Directly, no,” he says, “but I need to dig into Emma’s ex-husband, and present fiancé, as well as her brother, Naomi’s husband.”
And I’m officially leading Lucas into troubled waters. Hacking is an addiction for him, one that got him in a lot of trouble in the past. “You have a job, Lucas. I can have Tic Tac do this.”
“I did the work,” he says. “You needed me. Tic Tac has limits.”
“You do, too,” I say.
“Whatever, Lilah. Ask the questions you know you want to ask.”
I don’t argue. Lives are on the line, but I make a mental note to talk to Murphy and get Lucas some protection. Murphy might tell me to leave Lucas out of our business, but Murphy’s no fool. He knows I won’t listen. He knows I’m always a step away from handing over my badge. And he wants to take down Pocher. He can’t do that with Tic Tac. He has to have a rule breaker. Like me, Kane, and yes, Lucas. “What about the game?” I ask. “Does Woodard have a connection?”
“Impossible to know with how well that game is protected,” he comments.
“What about Woodard’s connection to Pocher?” I ask.
“No connection to Pocher,” he says, “He does everything through some guy in the city. I looked up Kane as well.” He dares a challenging look in Kane’s direction and adds, “And he does have a connection to Woodard.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kane has a connection to Woodard.
My first thought is that I’m not surprised by this. Kane is—well, he’s Kane Mendez, oil mogul—and other things I’ll leave unsaid.
My second thought to this accusatory announcement by Lucas is that my cousin is living dangerously.
My third is, well, there it is: a potential connection between the crimes and me and Kane. And I don’t like it.
In the meantime, Kane’s energy stabs at the room, sharp and hard. He doesn’t like Lucas, or anyone for that matter, digging around in his affairs. I glance over at him to size up just how irritated he is, and he’s looking at Lucas.
“You sure you don’t want a drink, Lucas?” he offers, lifting his glass.
The coffee pot beeps. I point Lucas to the pot and he smartly obeys and heads in that direction.
My attention turns to Kane, eager for an explanation.
“My investment guy got me into a few of his short-term ventures,” he says. “They went well and I’ve been out at least a year. As for Woodard himself, he stays out of politics, and oil.”
In other words, he stays outside of both Pocher and Kane’s realms.
Lucas returns to his seat and I turn my attention back on him. The coffee in his cup is black and I can’t even look at him while he’s drinking that dirty water. I open the fridge and hand him the creamer. “Does Woodard’s company have any connection to Banking the Billionaire?”
“I have no idea and no one is going to give you a better answer. Their servers are in Russia for a reason. They’re protecting themselves and their ownership. In other words, you can try to subpoena the records. And I’ll say good luck getting them.”
“Yeah, I figured as much, but I had to ask. Bottom line, though, somehow all of these victims connect to that game. And why, why, why do they need to play a game to learn to be rich? They’re already rich.”
“They’re obviously using it to communicate,” Kane replies. “No one logs onto a video game using throwaway phones if they aren’t using that game for some sort of communication.”
“Drugs?” Lucas asks.
Kane’s eyes land hard on Lucas. “What are you suggesting, Lucas?”
I ignore their exchange, focused on finding real answers. “Could it be a sex game disguised as something else?” I suggest. “There were naked pictures of herself on her phone taken during the time she was texting with JJ. Therefore, despite no proof of such in a message, I suspect she sent those naked pictures to JJ, then deleted them. And JJ is who I suspect to be the killer. And then another woman sent photos to the newest victim right before he died. In fact,” I murmur, grabbing my phone, “I need to know who she is.”