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He leans back, stretching his legs out. “I made sure she won’t do that. Someone came around last night wanting an emergency repair, and I convinced CeCe it was the cops with a warrant for her arrest.” His lips curve in a smug smile. “She’s currently holed up in the swamp, waiting for me to rescue her.”
“I didn’t kill Liam.”
“Whatever,” he says with a wave. “I don’t actually care. I just want a cut of Bill Turner’s money.” He pauses for a beat. “Maeve did tell you where to find it, right?”
Yes, she did. She said it was where I liked to spend my time at her house, as a kid, and it didn’t take long for me to realize she was feeding me bullshit, knowing I wasn’t her CeCe.
But maybe, just maybe, I can use that to my advantage. To my advantage and Daisy’s.
“Tell me what Maeve said,” he continues. “We’ll retrieve the money and split it. You can take your share with you.”
“With me?”
He rolls his eyes. “CeCe knows who you are. Like I said, I’ll help you frame her for murder, but that only buys us time to get the treasure. I presume the police are going to find out her gun was used to kill Liam?”
“I have no idea.”
He sighs. “If we’re going to be partners, I need a little more.”
“So do I. I want what I was promised.”
Frustration flits over his face. “You want all the money.”
“No.” I look him in the eye. “I want what you offered me earlier. Upstairs.”
His mouth opens, and he’s going to say he never offered me anything. Then he looks at me. Gives me a hard, searching look. And he stands.
“All right,” he says. “You want a shower or...?”
“Or.”
He spins on his heel and heads upstairs. Not a word to me. Just marches up there as if he’s been ordered. Which I suppose he has.
“I’ll be right there,” I say and slip into the main-level bathroom.
I head upstairs moments later. As I pass my office doorway, a floorboard creaks, and before I can react, Tom grabs my arm and thrusts it behind my back.
“Mmm, sorry,” I say as I twist to face him, ignoring the pain ratcheting through my shoulder. “I don’t do the rough stuff. Not on a first date, anyway.”
“Let’s both drop the act,” he says. “You want the money. All of it.”
I keep twisting, and he could put more pressure on my arm, but he doesn’t. He can’t. This is as much role-playing as the rest. He said he didn’t want to hurt me, when the truth is that he can’t.
I move toward him, hand on his chest, fingers stroking just below the base of his throat.
“No,” he says.
“Yes.”
Temper flares in his eyes. “I didn’t pull this shit on you. Don’t pull it on me.”
“Sorry, Tom, but I think...” I move my other hand up to his stomach. “I think I’ll pull whatever shit I want.”
He tenses and exhales a puff of shock as he looks down to see the cold barrel of a gun against his stomach.
“How’d you...?” he begins.
“How did I get the gun back from the police? That’s CeCe’s. This is mine.”
