Page 16 of The Love Destroyers

She raises her eyebrows and tucks her hand into the pockets of my coat, grimacing. Probably because I still have a cigarette butt in there.

“She told me ten minutes ago,” Emma says, pulling her hand out and shaking it. “How’s that for evidence?”

This isn’t good news, and what she says next makes it worse—

“Your family was involved in organized crime?”

Another prickle of misgiving dances through the short hairs at the base of my neck. I’m not surprised Nicole knows—Claire’s her sister, and again, she’s a private investigator. She’d be a pretty shit one if she didn’t look into her own sister’s future spouse. But I don’t like that she’s been running her mouth. “Was, past tense,” I say. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Nicole knows. Anthony knows. Seems like we might as well ask this shitty DJ to announce it over the speakers instead of playing ‘Time After Time’ for the third time.”

I almost laugh. Almost. “No thanks. She shouldn’t be telling people that.”

“Probably not,” she says, leaning back into the wall. I get a split-second mental image of her splayed out on a table in front of me, like a damn dessert. But worry unravels it. “I guess she was under the mistaken impression I might know something about your background,” she continues, “since she overheard our entire conversation last night.”

“Overheard it?” I ask, doubtfully as a cold wind gusts around the side of the house. I’ll need to get her inside soon. I almost never get cold, and if I’m feeling it, there’s no way she’s not, with that tease of a garter belt and those opaque stockings I’d like to take off with my teeth.

She sniffs, her lips tipping up. “She was hanging out behind the dumpster.”

“That takes initiative.” It also means I’ll need to have a talk with her, and maybe with Declan, about leaving well enough alone. Because there’s no way I want her digging too deeply into the past.

“I’m surprised no one smelled her out when she came back after dumpster diving.”

I glance toward the front entrance of the house, wondering where Nicole is right now. Did she follow Emma? For all I know, she might be hiding behind one of the statues stationed around the yard, or tucked into the middle of an evergreen.

A chill runs down my spine. I’ve got to get the hell out of here, for everyone’s sake.

Emma’s still looking at me, and I take a deep breath, smelling my whiskey on her. I might have acted like it was an unappealing thing, tasting it when I tasted her, but it was fucking magic.

You’re not thinking clearly.

I suck in air through my teeth. “I’m going to have to leave today.”

Probably not something I should have shared with her. Then again, I’ve shared dozens of things I shouldn’t have, same as she’s done with me. Maybe because I can tell she’s no open book. She’s like one of those locking diaries my sister used to keep. Rosie lost her key and cried for a damn hour before I found a rock out in the yard and smashed the tiny padlock.

Anyway, no harm in admitting something she’ll learn sooner rather than later.

I think about Chuck, who’d mentioned that he might want to stick around for a week or two, and wouldn’t that be fun? I gave him a ride to town, which probably meant I was on the hook to drive him back too. Maybe I could offer to pay for a car rental or a one-way flight, but that would make a serious dent in what little money I have left. I run a hand back through my hair and yank on it a little, needing another cigarette but not wanting to take shit for it.

Emma’s eyebrows rise. “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t dabble in that shit anymore. Not for years, and not ever again. But I don’t like other people knowing my business.”

“But youdiddabble with it before?” she asks, giving me a lawyer look.

Yup, here I am, future brother-in-law to a private investigator and a lawyer. Fuck me. Couldn’t my brother and sister have chosen to hitch themselves to less suspicious families?

“I can’t talk about that with you, Emma.”

She surprises me by reaching around and grabbing the flask from the back pocket of my dress pants, letting her fingers trail over my ass. I nearly hiss from the sensation of them brushing against me—sending a hotline directly to my dick. But I don’t try to stop her. I watch, transfixed, as she unscrews the flask and takes a swig from it. Then, no shit, she seals it and tucks it back into her garter strap right in front of me.

“But maybe we don’t need to talk,” I hear myself saying as I take another step toward her, my fingers wanting to run down the length of her thighs, to feel her. To possess her for the night.

She gives me a wicked look and holds out her hand, toggling her finger back and forth. “It would be pretty dumb of me to sleep with my brother’s brother-in-law, you know,” she says, parroting my dumb words back to me.

I lift my eyebrows, both impressed and blue balled. “Nicely done.”

“I thought so too,” she says, her words coming out in puffs of white.

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