Chapter Six
Two stalkers in one night doesn’t quite add up, like two plus three is not four, though I once had a guy I was arresting argue that with me until I put tape on his mouth. He really did get it, and I don’t buy this, not on the same night, but that’s a problem for later.
Right now, Kit’s pulling up to our apartment building and I have a fight to finish with Kane.
The vehicle halts and Kane opens his door, sliding out of the vehicle.
By the time he’s offering me his hand, I’m already at the edge of the seat, handling my own self, but Kane isn’t having it.
He captures my waist, lifts me and sets me on the ground, the door at my back, and him at my front. “We have too many enemies.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have insisted I stop stabbing people.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he surprises me by saying. “You make the mess. I clean it up. It works for us.”
In other words, his father has him as fucked in the head as mine usually does me and he’s out for blood and a shovel.
“What is going on?” My voice is cool and calm, and Kane knows me well enough to know there’s a darkness inside the quiet paces of my mind, and that darkness is far more lethal than any other part of me. But he has that in him, too.
“A conversation better undertaken later.”
In other words, he might not keep me in the dark about his family business any longer, but he tells me what I need to know when it’s too late to stop him. And it’s a shit field I’m going to throw him in. Later.
“Go do what you have to do, Kane. I know that’s why we’re still standing outside. You’re leaving and you’re not coming up first. We’ll talk when you get back.”
His chin lowers and he breaths out my name, “Lilah—”
I grab his lapels and when his gaze snaps to mine I say, “Get your head on straight. You believe you need to do what you plan to do. Clear your fucking mind and do it without getting killed. And as for me, I’m pissed, but you can fight that battle with me as you said—later.
Now, step aside and let me go so you can go. ”
His hands come down on my upper arms. “I did that once. I’m not doing it again.
” He drags me close, every hard, stubborn inch of him pressed against me.
“The cartel and the mob are both in panic mode over my father and the mob hitman going missing when the hitman was targeting my father. I’m the only one—”
“You always are,” I say, “and I get that. I do, Kane. You didn’t choose this life but neither did I. When I said ‘yes’ to marrying you we agreed we fight together. We’re honest. And yet, over and over—”
He curses in Spanish and then, “I don’t know how to not protect you.”
“I’m Lilah fucking–”
“Mendez,” he supplies before I can say Love. “You’re a fucking Mendez.”
“And Lilah fucking Mendez is gangster and my motto is ‘stab thy enemy.’ Remember that. And stop fucking hiding from me. Now, for real this time, go do what you need to do and come back home.”
He studies me with hooded eyes and then he kisses me, desperation in the depths of that kiss that’s so unlike Kane it scares the shit out of me.
But he’s already stepping away from the vehicle and taking me with him, shutting the door behind me.
Kit and Jay stand on the sidewalk waiting on us.
“Kit goes with you,” I say. “That’s our deal.
We each have our man.” He opens his mouth to argue and I hold up a finger.
“The end, Kane.” I eye Kit. “If you get anywhere near me after I go inside, I’ll shoot you.
And just thinking about how I’d have to lift my dress and flash you to make that happen, makes me want to shoot you twice. ”
Kane tips his chin Kit’s direction, approval in the action, and then focuses on Jay with laser intensity, saying nothing and yet saying everything.
I can almost feel the rip of panic slicing through Jay that most certainly morphs into his paranoia and my torture—thank you very much, Kane.
I step past him and I can feel his desire to pull me back mixed with his determination to do what he feels necessary to deal with his father.
Jay falls into step with me. “That man is going to kill me one day. Why am I still here?”
“Because you’re a dumbass for keeping this job,” I say, only to have the doorman, a six-foot two white guy with an abundance of red hair and freckles, flag me down. “Lilah.”
After three previous encounters and attempts to get him to call me Lilah, he’s finally figuring out the customer is always right, and thank fuck.
Listening to him stumble over Love-Mendez is about as enjoyable as watching Jay try not to get shot, only to get shot.
Duke, that’s the doorman’s name—clearly his parents were in love with historical romance novels—is fairly new to his job, and overly eager to please, considering I’m difficult to please, he goes into overdrive.
In other words, I can’t get away from him, but here I am, halting at his request, and rotating to face him.
“Hi Duke,” I greet.
“Congratulations on being the First Daughter.”
Holy hell. I just threw up a little in my mouth. I’m the First Daughter. I need chocolate, preferably a sealed bag of Hershey Kisses I can open and eat in its entirety.
Duke’s brows dip. “You don’t look happy. You don’t like politics?”
“Hate them with the same vehement passion I hate mushrooms. Who eats fungus?”
“Exactly,” he says, his expression lit up with understanding. “And I feel the same about politics. I’d say they’re all crooks but I’m sure your father is not.”
Jay nudges me. “Don’t we need to get upstairs?”
In other words, he thinks I should keep my mouth shut and sadly, he’s right. “What can I do for you, Duke?” I ask.
“There was a man here asking for you about thirty minutes before you got here. It felt off to me and my gut said you should know.”
My first thought is Jack. “Was he lanky and geeky?” I ask.
Duke’s brows dip. “No, he was a big Latino dude.”
Jay curses and steps closer to me. “Let’s go inside, Lilah.”
I lift my hand his direction. “Just wait, Jay,” I say quietly and remain focused on Duke. “Did he leave a message?”
“No message,” Duke replies, “I had to help another tenant, and he disappeared on me. I wish I would have asked his name.”
“Did he ask for me or Kane?”
“You.”
Of course, he did. “I’m sad I missed him.”
Duke’s brow dips. “He was a friend?” He asks the question as if he doubts that truth, as if he sensed otherwise.
“No,” I say, “but enemies are much more fun to play with.” His eyes go wide and I hold out my palm. “Give me your phone.”
Duke does as I say without so much as a blink, and I punch in my number, before returning his phone. “Call me if he comes back.”
I don’t wait for confirmation. I step around Jay and walk toward the building. He curses again and double steps to join me. “Kane’s father,” he says, his tone anxious. “Was it Kane’s father?”
I halt at the entrance. “Yes, Jay. It was Kane’s father.” I motion him forward, and into the automatic door.
He waves off the idea of going first. “You,” he insists.
I don’t argue with him, eager to get inside, where I can call Kane, and warn him of what’s happening.
I enter the building, and once I’m inside waiting on Jay to join me, I text Kane: Per the doorman, your father was here looking for me tonight, and not long ago.
I’m in the lobby. I’ll call you when I get to the apartment.
Jay is beside me now, and we’re already walking.
We’re halfway across the lobby, and the hair on the back of my neck lifts again.
Kane’s father was not here for innocent reasons like congratulations.
He was here to start trouble. Maybe even here to draw my blood, to counter Kane’s efforts to kill him via a new pack with the mob.
Jay feels it, too, his quietness a rare commodity that isn’t a newfound skill I can celebrate.
I really hate that the best weapon on me at present are the heels of my footwear, but I’ve fought with less.
We round the corner and abruptly halt.
Kane’s father is standing by the elevator.
Waiting on me.