Page 26 of Sixth Sin

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

“Have you thought about my offer?”

As usual, she makes me wait for an answer as she takes a thoughtful sip from her cup. The corners of her mouth turn down as she studies the sugary liquid. “Haven’t thought about much else.”

“And?”

There’s a loud clink as she settles her cup back into its saucer. Turning, she digs through a faded canvas bag and pulls out a newspaper, those smoky green eyes flashing as she holds it up to my face. “Have you read this?”

“Is that a serious question? That’s like asking Bill Gates if he follows the stock market.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. My point is, the public is tearing all these girls coming forward to shreds, Dominic.” She clears her throat again as she points to the bottom of the page. “This poll alone claims seventy-two percent of the country thinks she’s dead. This is a bad idea. We’re going to crash and burn.”

We’re going to.

Her wording doesn’t escape me. “Does that mean you accept?”

“I’m speaking hypothetically.” The words fall flat, her attention settling on something over my shoulder. Whatever it is causes her to lean forward. When she tilts her chin up and peers even closer, I see the moment aggression and petulance give way to curiosity and intrigue.

I twist around to find a woman sitting at a table behind us. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it’s what she’s holding that catches my attention.

I watch as she shakes her head at the same paper Angel’s holding, muttering to herself. “Fifteen years later, and they still haven’t found her. Maybe she’s the only smart one in the bunch.”

“Excuse me.” I flash a smile so bright it belongs in a toothpaste commercial. “Are you talking about the Romanov murders?”

Fact number one: a polished smile will hide a lot of rust.

The woman smiles back. “Yes, why?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m intrigued with your insightful analysis.”

Fact number two: flattery will get you everywhere.

She blushes and beams and whatever other shit women do when falling for a cheap line. I’m almost insulted. She could at least make me work for it.

Stifling a smile, I cock my head to the side. “So, have you heard about the reward?”

I can’t see Angel’s face, but there’s no mistaking the subtle fury rippling off her in waves. I’ve caught her off-guard, which was what I wanted. She’s too rigid. Too planned. Too wrapped up in that bullet-proof vest she wears like a shield.

Enthusiasm passes over the woman’s face. I don’t know her, but I can see dollar signs spinning like a slot machine in her eyes.

“Well, who hasn’t?” She taps the paper in her hands then motions around us. “We’re in the mecca where opportunity is king, are we not?”

Not, considering we’re sitting in a cafe outside Chula Vista, but I let that one go. “True, and I believe that phrase is ‘crap is king.’ Much like a reward dependent on producing a body that’s been shark bait for a decade and a half.”

Her lips part in shock. She wasn’t expecting that. “Are you telling me you believe she’s dead? That the killer took the time to take one body out of the house and dump it in the Pacific?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Well, there were rumors, you know.” Folding her arms in front of her, she leans forward. “Drugs, sex, vendettas. I mean even royalty can’t screw people over without eventually getting screwed themselves.”

“What does that have to do with Alexandra?”

Both of us turn to see Angel, her lips pressed in a tight line, and her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. She’s invested. It’s not just words on a page anymore. It’s real.

And it’s about to be payday.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.

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