56. Riggs
RIGGS
Riggs couldn’t stop looking at Esemeray—didn’t want to stop looking at her. He couldn’t even hear the words spoken around him. It was just her, and everything else seemed to blur.
Izara’s fingers snapped in his face, breaking his stare. “It’s our turn to present who we think killed the servant.”
“Huh?” Riggs turned toward Izara, face blank.
“The game, silly.”
“Right.”
He had already had his suspicion.
It was Izara.
And why? So she could get him alone for an hour.
This wasn’t the first time she took extreme measures to get Riggs by himself.
Two years ago, she had faked a broken ankle, even purposely fell off the rock she was perched on for extra attention.
And Riggs had given it to her. Had tended to her wounds.
Whispered sweet words. Kissed where it hurt. But that was then…
Before Esemeray.
Izara had thought her tactics would work again. Thought she could have her way below the foyer. Thought Riggs to be a fool—but he was no fool. As much as he wanted to win this stupid, sick game. He needed to play this smart—needed to access the library.
All of this would be for nothing.
Izara found her feet, twisting her bottom lip between her fingers. “It was Sophie who killed the servant.”
Riggs' blood turned to stone. What the fuck?
Izara continued, pinning her gaze on Esemeray.
“She left dinner and conveniently returned mere moments after Ula’s body was discovered.
” She let out a soft laugh. “I truly didn’t think she’d have it in her, she’s so pathetic with her Mayfire disease and all.
” She touched the tip of her nose. “It’s always the ones we least expect. ”
Mayfire disease? Riggs clenched his jaw hard enough to shatter his teeth. Cunt.
The guests whispered among themselves and provided their answers. Five out of six teams all pointed at Sophie, blaming her as the killer too.
Fists balled at his sides, Riggs blurted, “It could have been me. I left too.” Low-life motherfuckers.
Izara glared at him, her eyes turning into slits.
“It could have been.” She chuckled, low and malicious.
“And since you are stupid enough to rat yourself out, I’d say you must have been an accomplice.
” She flicked her gaze to her father. “Write it down, daddy. It was Riggs and Sophie.” Izara sank back into the sofa, crossing her arms, and stomped her feet.
Killian’s lip twitched at Izara, but any reaction vanished the moment he leaned forward, and braced his elbows on his knees.
Riggs knew his face was as white as a sheet. He glanced at Esemeray, tossing her a wobbly smile. Esemeray’s cheeks were scarlet. She shifted on the couch, and crossed her legs.
Kohen hummed. “Riggs, do you agree with my daughter’s answer?”
Riggs sucked on a tooth, and shook his head. “The servant killed herself. I am certain of it.”
“What makes you think so?” Kohen questioned, puffing on his cigar.
Riggs wiped the sweat beading off his forehead, his gaze darting around to all the gawking guests.
“Well, you see.” A short laugh. “The weapon…” He blew out a breath, his heart thundering in his chest. “It was in her hands, therefore, she must have stabbed herself.” He made something up.
He knew that was the most obvious answer.
The one he thought he and Izara agreed on. What a conniving cunt.
Kohen marked his chart, moving on to the next team. “Sophie and Killian, present your answer.”
Killian stood, a muscle in his jaw flickered. “Our answer may shock you, or it may not.” His tone boomed with confidence.
Riggs' heart stopped, his robes clinging to his sweaty back.
The guests gasped. Izara snickered, playing with her nails. “Let’s hear it then. What’s your theory, Mr. Bounty Hunter?”
Oh, shit. What’s Kills doing?
Killian grinned, placing his hands behind his back, and walked around the room. “At first I thought the servant may have murdered herself, but my partner, Sophie, believed the knife had been placed in her hand to make it appear that way.” Killian paused, a half-smile playing on his lips.
My clever princess. Riggs fought the urge to grin.
Killian continued, “The impact of the stab wound was caused with blunt force, something that would have been extremely hard to achieve if self-inflicted.” Killian’s eyes flickered with amusement, a proud smile edging his lips. “There were two people involved.”
Riggs' chest skittered, a shiver running down his spine. Oh, shit.
“Go on,” Kohen said, his gold tooth glittering in the bright space.
Killian fixed his gaze on Oliver. “It was you who stabbed the woman to death.”
Riggs turned to Oliver, eyes wide. He was aware Izara was a little mad, but her brother…
Oliver had always been the peace maker. The quiet, confident one.
The saint?—
A shit-eating grin plastered on Oliver’s face as he leaned back on the sofa, sipping his wine. “And, who else?” His voice was a low rumble.
“When you arrived back from murdering the servant, you and your sister…” Killian grimaced, taking a moment to catch his breath. He resumed, “In that moment, you slipped her the knife.” His gaze gravitated toward Kohen. “Your children murdered the servant.”
Kohen puffed a cloud in the shape of a rat eating cheese, and then a wild smile twisted his saggy cheeks. “Killian and Sophie take the win.”
All the color drained out of Riggs' face. Insensitive fucks.
Izara stood, stalking over to Oliver and sitting on his lap, clapping. “It was us.” Oliver wrapped his arm around her, stroking her hair, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “It was my sister who thought of the brilliant plan for this evening.”
Riggs shrank in embarrassment. Izara’s a psychopath and a sibling fucker?
“Oh, brother.” Izara embraced him, their noses pressing, another small, gentle kiss. “You are the brilliant one.” She exposed her neck to him, and his tongue grazed her.
“We will play later, sister,” he growled, biting her, and leaving a mark—a claim.
I’m going to puke.
Esemeray, Killian and Riggs all shared a look of disgust, bunching their brows.
Kohen approached Killian, patting his back. “You, Killian, will be rewarded tonight for your efforts.” He motioned to the many servants in the room. “You can take your pick, or have them all.”
Killian offered a tight smile at the women, his stance stiffening. “Thank you, Kohen.”
Kohen continued, “And Sophie, for your wisdom, what do you want? You can have anything your heart desires.” He crouched in front of her. “Tell me, what do you want?”
Esemeray’s eyes fell on Riggs, her throat working. “More dust balls, perhaps.”
Riggs held her gaze. What does my love truly desire?
All the guests in the room laughed, slapping their knees. Kohen snapped his fingers, and a platter of pastries fell from thin air, and landed on Esemeray’s lap, powder sugar clouding the space. “As you wish.”
“How did you do that?” Esemeray questioned in awe, her eyes gleaming on the stack of frosted desserts.
Kohen bopped her nose, his gold bracelets jiggling.
“There will be more delivered to your room.” He leaned on the fireplace mantel, reaching for his cigar, and inhaled deeply, a cloud of smoke blowing from his lips.
“Thank you all for participating, and allowing us to keep my father’s tradition alive. You may all return to your rooms.”