Page 51 of Murder Notes

“Again, Kane,” I say, because I have to keep trying. “What is really going on?”

“Again,” he repeats. “I don’t know yet.”

“Have there been other people close to you or any of your operations that have died?”

“I know about the other murders. They have no connection to me. You can look. You won’t find any.”

But they do, I think, just like they do to me. That tattoo, but I don’t say that. Not after he erupted on me in his office over its mention. He’s hiding something he doesn’t want me to find, and I’m not giving him a chance to bury it. “I won’t ask how you know about the murders. They were assassinations, weren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“If someone powerful like you wanted to hire an assassin, who would they go to?”

“I don’t hire people outside my circle.”

“Who would someone else go to?”

“Someone like my father.”

“But not you.”

“I don’t do other people’s dirty work, but he did.”

“And who would he have used?”

“His own men.”

“Damn it, Kane. Stop making me chase this. If he were to go outside his circle?”

“There are dozens of people who would carry out an assassination for the right money.”

“But how many are good enough that he’d have hired them?” That you’d hire them, I add silently, knowing he’s still in that world.

“Very few.”

“How many of those ‘very few’ kill the way your employee was killed last night?” I say, assuming at this point he knows that detail as well.

“There are numerous for-hire killers that take requests. Only one that puts a bullet between the eyes as a trademark kill.”

“I need the name of that assassin. The one with the trademark kill.”

“All you’ll do is drive him underground, and you don’t call this man or find him. He finds you after you go through the appropriate channels.”

“I need a name.”

“You will drive him underground,” he bites out. “You will let me handle this, and I swear to God, Lilah, if you start digging on this, I will tie you to my bed where I want you and keep you there until this is over.”

“Let me be clear with you, Kane Mendez. This might be the Cove and we might share a past and a secret, but I am still an FBI agent with a badge. And a gun that I will use before you ever get me to that bed. And in case you think, ‘She fucked me ten million times; she won’t kill me,’ you’re right—I won’t. But I damn sure will make you bleed. This is my case to solve. You will not enact your own vengeance. And you will get me the name of this assassin in the next twenty-four hours or something I can use that is equal to that name.”

“Or else what?”

“The next time I ask won’t be in the Cove. People are dead, Kane. More might die. I will take you in for formal questioning. And we both know that will start the tongues wagging about you and your father all over again.”

He inhales and lets it out, his energy sharp-edged and lethal. “I don’t like being held captive, Agent Love.”

“Neither do I,” I say.

Our eyes lock, a war of wills raging between us before he finally says, “I’ll need forty-eight hours.”