Page 78 of The Silent Hour

“Where the hell did you go?” he demanded, voice echoing off the glass walls.

Rafa leveled his soggy sandwich at me like a makeshift spear. “Yeah, Marcelli. We disappear for fifteen minutes and you vanish. I was about to assume you had a mistress hidden in the copy room.”

Normally, I’d have shot back with some quip. Tonight, I had nothing.

“She was here,” I said, voice dry.

Eric froze mid-peel of a napkin. Rafa’s jaw slackened, mustard dripping unnoticed.

“Who?” Rafa finally asked, lowering his sandwich as if letting down a shield.

“Lila.”

Instantly, Rafa’s eyes went hard, like someone had flipped a switch. “I was fucking joking,” he said, but it came out hollow.

“I know,” I replied.

“What was she doing here?” Eric’s brows knitted together, concern and irritation colliding in his stare.

“Drinking.” I shrugged, though it felt heavy.

“At two in the morning?” Eric echoed, incredulous.

“Apparently she found out about Cortez.” I watched their faces for reactions.

That got through. Rafa shoved his sandwich aside, splattering crumbs across the tabletop. “How?”

“Her mother, according to her.” I rubbed my temple, the familiar burn of a headache coming on.

“And?” Rafa prodded.

I ran a hand over my stubbled jaw. “She’s pissed. Says she didn’t know Cortez was sniffing around us, didn’t know he’d involve her, and claims she’s spent her entire adult life keeping as far away from him as possible.”

Eric leaned in, silent for a beat. “You believe her?”

I met his gaze honestly. “I don’t know.” It was the only answer I had. “Nothing we’ve dug up contradicts her story so far.”

Rafa leaned back against the table, arms crossed. “So she’s here, getting shitfaced because Father Dearest just dropped a federal case in her lap—right in the middle of the career she supposedly carved out herself. That about sums it up?”

“That’s her version,” I said.

“Could be true,” Eric offered tentatively.

“Could be bullshit,” Rafa countered.

“Both are possible,” I agreed.

I pulled a chair out of the cluster but didn’t sit. Neither of them loosened their stares. Eric’s eyes flicked to my hands, then back to my face—like he always did when something big was about to drop. Rafa tilted his head, waiting.

I swallowed hard. “She kissed me.”

Silence swallowed the room. Rafa’s expression froze, then crumpled into disbelief. “She fucking what?”

Knox didn’t even twitch on the sofa. The overhead lights reflected off his still form, making him look more mannequin than man. I could almost feel the tension vibrating through the glass walls.

“Lila kissed me,” I repeated.

Rafa pushed off the table so hard his chair screeched. “And where is she now?”