By the time I’m through the gates and heading down the driveway, I’ve spied another man at our front door. I pull into the garage, and that bitch called hope decides to taunt me with the idea that maybe Kane’s men are here because Kane is here.
I push the park button on the gear shift, and I’ve barely killed the engine before I’m out of the door, running inside, entering the kitchen, and calling Kane’s name. “Kane! Kane!”
When I don’t see him, I continue on to the living room. “Kane!” and then on to the bottom of the stairs. “Kane! Kane, are you up there?” I take one step up when I hear, “He’s not here.” At Enrique’s voice, disappointment stabs through me and I whirl on him. “What do you know?”
“Kit said to keep you safe.”
“And who’s going to keep you safe?” I demand. “Find Kane. All of you, find Kane. I don’t need a babysitter. I need Kane.”
I walk past him and head for the bar by the kitchen, grab an expensive bottle of whiskey, a diet Sprite, and a glass. Me and my haul move to the living room where I plop down on the couch. I fill my glass and drink deeply before I finally slide my bag over my head and dump it and my coat on the couch. My cellphone rings and I fumble for it in my coat pocket and find Lucas calling again. I answer the line. “What?” I ask, and for once I’m not being a smart ass. I just can’t get anything else out.
“Are you home?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m here. Tell the guys at the gate to let me in.”
I call out, “Enrique! Tell the pit bulls to let my cousin in,” and then to Lucas, I say, “Come on in.” I disconnect and take another drink. With my hand still trembling, I’m pouring a refill when the front door opens.
I stand up and Lucas appears in view, still managing to look like a surfer dude in a suit minus the jacket. He rushes toward me, dumps his MacBook on the couch, and then he’s pulling me into an embrace. That embrace freaks me out, really freaks me out, for all kinds of reasons, and I punch him in the gut. He grunts his objection. “Damn it, Lilah. What the hell was that for?”
“Kane wouldn’t like it,” I explain, “and if you know something about him, tell me. Don’t hug me like I’m a little bitch that can’t handle the truth. Tell me what you know.”
“Oh fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. You would assume that, who wouldn’t right now? I’ve got no news. I should have known hugging you would freak you out.”
“You think?”
“Sorry, Lilah. Really. I just thought you could use some company. I brought my computer. I thought I’d help you with your case to keep you busy. And keep an eye on what I can that’s related to Kane.”
For all Kane’s hate for Lucas, Lucas is always there for me. And since his father died in the same crash my mother did, he understands what this is doing to me. I nod and motion to the kitchen. “Grab a glass. You can drink with me.”
A few minutes later, that’s exactly what we’re doing. We’re drinking when Jay walks in and stares at us, disapproval in his eyes. Of course, he knows Kane hates Lucas and I reply to the words he has not spoken. “His father was in the same chopper my mother was in.”
Jay’s eyes go wide and he curses softly in Spanish before he gives a nod and walks away.
“What the hell was that about?” Lucas asks.
“Kane.”
“Right,” he surmises dryly. “He hates me.” He downs the contents of his glass. “But I had to come. I know he knows I had to come.” He glances over at me. “Because I know this is tearing you up inside.” He presses his lips together. “This isn’t a coincidence. We all know it’s not a coincidence.”
“No,” I say, my lips forming a tight line. “It’s not.”
“In fact,” he continues, his words snappier, “this just proves what I’ve already known. Our parents were murdered.”
I have a flashback to the moment I heard my mother’s chopper went down and cut my stare before I lose my shit.
“I’m all in on revenge,” he adds. “All the way in. As in, diving in headfirst, and I don’t care if there’s concrete waiting to greet me. I’ll tell Kane the same.”
He speaks as if it’s a given that Kane is coming back and I’ve never appreciated him more. He also refills my glass, which I need right about now. I also need a distraction so damn badly, which is why I say, “There was another murder tonight connected to that online game.”
“Damn,” he murmurs. “And I didn’t do shit to get you a connection to anything real to help.”
“You’re the only reason we know about the game. Weird things about this victim. He’s the VP of a bank, but he’s also a licensed doctor.”
“You sure he’s licensed?” He grabs his computer. “What’s his name?”
“My guy in L.A. looked him up. He’s licensed,” I say. “Which is what makes this odd to me. His name is Rip Vaughn. You know him?”
He snorts. “I know him. He’s a dick, or was a dick, keeping it in the appropriate tense. I had no idea he was a doctor.” He powers up his computer. “And I’m not sure why a guy of his caliber would be playing a game that teaches you to invest. He’s a player, a big-time investor, worked with my firm for a while, but got pissed off over a stock he held onto when our guys told him to sell. Told someone it was our fault. He’s also a part of some venture capital group for startups.”
“Can you find out what he’s invested in?” I ask.
“That won’t be hard, at least not from a market standpoint. The venture capital group could be another story. It will take some time, but I’ll get it done. Just knowing who he’s investing in will be only part of the puzzle. You need to know what they’re investing in. I’m betting there’s a medical connection.”
My mind races and lands in a certain place with a heavy thud. “Look for military connections, as in weapons research.”
“All right. But where is that coming from? What don’t I know? Because the more I know, the more I’ll know what hidden secrets might be buried where.”
I hesitate but I need his limitless hacking skills, and by limitless, I mean without the rules Tic Tac will follow, with hands tied. “This can’t go beyond me and you,” I warn.
“Never,” he replies. “You know that.”
“The murder weapon is inserted into a pill or edible item and once swallowed, it’s like a sponge that has water added. It expands and blades cut into the throat of the victim.”
“Holy shit. Ah, yeah. That’s military. Top secret is my guess.”
At that moment, Jay sets my favorite strawberry pie and a fork in front of me. The same pie Kane brings me when I’m working on a frustrating case or upset. It’s my comfort food. My reaction is instant. I spring to my feet and glare at him. “Why are you bringing that to me?” I demand.