Page 43 of Madam Temptress
He jerks his head toward the garage we exited through on the way to the station.
With the driving need to see Magnolia with my own two eyes and make sure she’s okay after the interview with the cop, I charge through the garage and yank open the door that leads inside. The twisting and winding hallways are like a fucking labyrinth, and it takes me three wrong turns to find my way back to our suite.
“Mags?” I call her name as I push open the door. “You here, mama?”
“In here.”
I follow her ragged voice into the bedroom and stop short as soon as I pass through the doorway. Magnolia is on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tight around them.
Rushing to her, I drop onto the carpet and pull her into my arms. “What’s wrong, baby? You okay?”
Her whole body vibrates as she shakes her head. “I’m working on it. But ...”
“What happened?” I demand, wishing I could wrap my hands around Cavender’s throat and squeeze for whatever he did or said that put Magnolia into this state. I tamp down the rage, though, because taking care of her comes first.
“The murder weapon ...” Another shudder goes through her as she searches for words.
The mention of the murder weapon unleashes a mental picture I don’t want to see again. I can still smell the coppery tang of blood as I walked into the room where we found Desiree’s lifeless, dismembered body. I push the vision out of my head, forcing myself to focus on Magnolia.
“It’s okay, mama. You’re okay. Whatever the fucking detective did or showed you, none of it can get you. You’re here with me. I’ve got you now.Forever. I’m not letting anyone hurt you again.”
She lifts her watery gaze to mine, and unshed tears turn her whiskey eyes even glassier. “He used Desiree’s stiletto to kill her. Igave her that knife.”
The crushing guilt she must feel almost smashes us both into the carpet. “Fuck. Baby, I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t understand. I have one exactly like it. I used it to kill the guy in the elevator. Do you think he knew? Is that why he did what he did to her?” Magnolia holds back a sob as she says it, and I tighten my arms around her.
“Oh, baby. Hush.Fuck. No. He couldn’t know that. No fucking way. The cops haven’t made anything to do with his brother’s death public.”
“Are you sure?” Her question carries a ragged edge.
“I’m sure, mama. If she had it out, it might’ve just been a weapon of opportunity. I don’t think he knew.”
She blinks back the tears gathering in her eyes, and I want to kill the fuckers for putting them there. All of them. Reyes, Ortiz, and Cavender. Seeing a woman who is strong, capable, and formidable, curled up practically in a ball on the floor, guts me. And then she hits me with something else that’s heavy on her mind.
“But aren’t they going to think the same person killed both of them?”
Fuck.That’s not something I put together.Shit.
“Hey, hey. No. Let’s not worry about that. You didn’t kill Desiree, and the cops know that. What happened to her wasn’t something a woman would do. Trust me, mama. They have to know that. Fuck it, if anything, they’ll think whoever killed Desiree killed Ricardo first.”
She blinks again. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “One hundred percent.”
But even as I say it, a possibility comes to life in my head.What if they do try to tie the murders together? What if they get lazy and pin it all on Magnolia?
“Where is your knife?” I ask.
Her gaze turns sharp. “Why?”
“Because that’s something we gotta get rid of. No evidence, mama. We toss it so there’s never a concern.”
“I should’ve done that already,” she says, tapping her head in frustration against my shoulder. “God, I know better than this shit. Why didn’t I get rid of it?”
I think of the way I found her that night, stitching up her own side where he cut her. “You were a little busy. But if you tell me where it is, I’ll make it disappear. It’s what I’m good at.”
“It’s in my house in the Quarter, in the safe in my closet. It’s clean. No blood, no prints. I made sure of that, at least. I was going to toss it, but ...”
