Chapter 9
Kennedy
“Good, you’re still here,” I say as I enter Riley’s office.
“Hey,” she greets, smiling at me from her desk. “Yup, still here. I let Charlotte head out early, but I have some files to work on before leaving. What’s up?”
Even though I sit in the chair across from her, I say, “If you’re busy, I can leave.”
She waves me off. “Never. Whatever I don’t get done today, I can do tomorrow.”
“If you insist. I brought these.” I pass her a bag with two chocolate croissants and an iced passion fruit tea I bought at a café on my way from work.
“Mmm. How did you know I’ve been craving chocolate lately?”
I shrug. “You mentioned it at lunch last week.”
She nods, her mouth too busy from the bite she took to respond.
“The other one is for Eve,” I say of my twelve-year-old niece. Technically, she’s Riley’s niece, but Kyle and Riley adopted her.
“Ladybug will love this,” she says, using her nickname for Eve. “Thanks.”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” she says, then takes a sip of her iced tea.
I do the same.
“You’re one of the best people I know at reading others. How do you do it?”
She cocks her head to the side. “How?”
“I mean, I’m pretty good at reading people. But you’re on another level. I’m trying to figure out the motives of this person for this investigation I’m working on.”
“What do you know about them so far?”
“Not much.” I pause, thinking over my next words. Riley’s safe. She won’t share anything I say here if I ask her not to.
“The person is no longer alive,” I tell her. “I’m trying to figure out what would make someone want to take their own life. I know the reasons are plentiful. Yet, when I tried to reach out to the person’s family, they acted strange.”
“Strange, how?”
“It was weird.” I shake my head. “I briefly spoke with the mother. I expected there to be grief. But it was the opposite.”
“What happened?”
“She was cold, almost unaffected.” I hold my hand up. “And I know everyone grieves differently, but this didn’t feel like grief. It felt like apathy. Her daughter died by suicide, and I swear she would’ve had more emotion in her voice if we were speaking about a new pair of shoes.”
Riley snorts. “There’s no lack of shitty parents in this world.” A sad look crosses her face, and she peers down at her lap. Her hand goes to her stomach as she shakes her head.
I know my sister-in-law had an unenviable childhood. A chill runs down my spine as I recall my conversation with Erika Dalton’s mother.
She was so detached.
Erika wasn’t from Williamsport or this state, and according to the coroner, no one even came to collect the body or attempted to have it transferred back to her home state.
“Not everyone deserves to be a parent,” Riley says, taking the final bite of her croissant.
“Can’t argue with you there,” I mumble.
I push out a heavy breath. “I’ve just run into one dead end after another. Well …” I trail off, an image of Dae’s face coming to mind. “I have one lead but can’t figure him out.”
My gaze drops to my lap, remembering Dae’s words and the way I tried to slap him right after. Without thinking, I wrap a hand around my wrist where he touched me, and run my thumb along it. The memory alone brings that burning sensation back to the spot to my skin.
I would only admit this to myself, but the truth is, as indecent as his proposal sounded, a piece of me became enticed by it, which is why I had to turn it down.
“Him?”
Riley’s question makes me realize I spaced out for a beat.
I clear my throat and return my attention to my sister-in-law. She’s staring at me. Hard.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not like that. He’s … well, he’s …” I trail off as she holds a hand up.
“You came to me because I’m good at reading people, remember?”
My shoulders slump. “I need to be less obvious.”
She laughs. “Someone’s finally got your attention, huh? Who is he?”
“He’s someone who made an incredibly indecent proposal. Which I won’t be taking him up on, so we can drop it.”
“Indecent proposal?” She holds up her ring finger, showcasing her wedding band. “I know all about that.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you let my bully of a brother blackmail you into marriage.”
“And I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat,” a deep voice echoes from the office door.
“Hello, twin,” I say without even turning Kyle’s way.
He strolls inside as if he owns the place. He goes to Riley first, kissing her before he uprights himself and looks down at me with narrowed eyes.
“Who’s making indecent proposals?” There’s a bite in his tone.
“You,” I remind him. “You’re the one blackmailing people into marrying you.”
A half grin crosses his lips. “Not people …” he looks down at Riley, his hand at the back of her neck, “only one person.” He kisses her temple.
“But really,” Kyle says, straightening and locking his piercing stare on me. “Who the fuck is making indecent proposals to you?”
“Why?” I challenge.
“So I know who to make regret waking up this morning.”
I suck my teeth and rise to my feet. “Not this again. I thought you’d get out of my business when you finally got married. You have a whole family of your own to worry about.”
He smiles, but it’s not friendly.
I hate how my mind immediately thinks about Dae’s smiles. Most of the time, they weren’t friendly either—more wicked than anything.
“I can do both,” Kyle replies. “Besides, I’ll always be your big brother.”
I snort. “We’re twins. And don’t give me that mess about being five minutes or whatever older than me,” I shush him. “We’re the same age. And you are a pain in my ass.”
Riley laughs. “You two are hilarious.”
“No, your husband is a pain.”
She smiles wider. “He is.”
“Excuse me?” Kyle asks, frowning.
“But you two are still funny,” she tells me, ignoring him. “I always wanted to know what a good sibling relationship looked like up close.”
Kyle’s face softens.
“It’s annoying,” I say, heading to the door. “Thanks for your help, Riley. Give Eve a big hug for me and tell her to enjoy the croissant.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“You still haven’t answered me about who the fuck is making indecent proposals.”
“Bye, Kyle.” I hug my brother and kiss his cheek before exiting. I hear Riley tell Kyle something about leaving me alone.
“Ms. Townsend.”
I startle from the unfamiliar voice behind me. As I turn around, though, I recognize the driver from a few nights ago. I can’t help how my gaze scans the street around us, searching for him.
My eyes land on the black town car parked a few yards away. However, no one gets out of the vehicle.
“I’m glad I caught you on your way out,” the smiling driver announces, drawing my attention back to him.
“W-Were you waiting for me?”
He nods. “Yes. These are for you.” He holds out his arm. Another bouquet, but this time they’re white roses mixed with lavender columbines.
I can’t take my eyes off how beautiful the bouquet is.
I take the flowers. “Thank you.” There’s no card, however.
“This is also for you.”
I glance at him and see him holding out a cell phone. I lift an eyebrow.
“Mr. Kim would like to speak with you.”
With the slightest bit of reluctance, I take the phone.
“Hello?”
“I hope you like the flowers. If not, I can pick out a different bouquet.”
My eyes move to the flowers in my arm. I start to tell him they’re beautiful but stop. “Did you honestly have your driver wait outside of my sister-in-law’s office just to give me flowers?”
“No,” his reply is quick. “I had him wait outside to give you the flowers so I could hear your voice.”
A lump in my throat forms. I hate that his response makes me feel things I never gave my body permission to feel.
“Wait,” I say with a shake of my head. “How did you even know where I was? Are you following me?”
I turn and do a visual sweep up and down the busy street.
“Lucky guess,” he responds.
“I already told you I’m not about to—” I peer over at his driver, who’s only a foot away from me. I take a few steps away, distancing myself. “Sell myself for a few answers that you may or may not give,” I lower my voice and say harshly into the phone.
“From what I recall, you said you wouldn’t sell your pussy for a few answers.”
A tremble moves through my body. That word coming from his mouth sets something off in the pit of my stomach.
“But I’m not offering to buy your pussy, Kennedy.”
My eyelids flutter closed. Dammit, how does he have this effect on me? Meanwhile his voice sounds as calm and steady as if conducting a business meeting.
“What are you offering, then?” As soon as the question is out of my mouth, I regret it. I just gave him an opening. One I’m not sure I was ready to give.
“Have you been able to get any answers to your questions about Blackmon?”
He already knows the answer to his question. I know he does.
“Maybe,” I hedge.
A chuckle ripples through the phone. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“What game are you playing, Mr. Kim?”
“Dae,” his voice comes across more forcibly than before. “My name is Dae.” His tone is stern.
“I know your name.”
“Then I suggest you use it. We’re beyond last names.”
“Are we?”
“Yes, Kennedy,” he emphasizes.
The words stick in my throat.
“I have something you want, and you have something I need.”
His words shock me back into reality. “I don’t have anything.”
“You don’t know it yet, but you do.” His words are cryptic, and my curiosity gets the best of me.
Though my rational mind is screaming at me to hang up and never speak to this man again, I remain planted where I am. The phone glued to my ear.
I want to hear what he says next. Hell, I may even need to hear it.
“I’ll give you what you want,” he says, and I get the impression that he’s not only talking about my investigation. “We’ll meet this weekend. The Black Opal. Saturday night.”
“No,” I blurt out after a short pause. Since the beginning of this conversation, this man has put me off kilter. I need to regain some sort of power balance. “If you want to meet this weekend, I’ll choose the place.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. So long that I start to believe he’s going to renege on the idea. Eventually, though, he replies, “Fair enough. Where?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Then you should take my number.”
I swallow, knowing I just set myself up. “I’ll get it from your driver.”
“I’ll see you soon, Kennedy.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I have to hang up the phone. I turn to hand the phone back to the driver. His hand is already extended, and he has a black and gold business card in it.
“Mr. Kim’s personal contact information.”
“Of course,” I mumble, realizing that Dae Kim still has the upper hand.