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But I’m selfish. I love him too much to let him go, even if I shouldn’t. I’ve been lying to him since day one of this arrangement. He’ll hate me when he finds out who I am.
“There were eight buildings that burned, and six of them were owned by the same person. The set-up of the bombs is strange, too. Seventy-six casualties have been reported so far. Another forty-two are being treated in the hospital, or they’ve already been released. No one knows what happened.”
I suck on my teeth as I spin the bar tool around my index finger. That’s not nearly as many as I was hoping to take out, but some are better than none. I can’t say that aloud to him, though.
“Why were there so many people in the building?” I ask, wondering if he knows about the auctions.
“Looks like it was a party.”
“Do you think it could have been poorly timed insurance fraud? Or maybe the bombs were meant to frame someone, and they went off before they were meant to?”
Shut up, Jasper.
I can’t lead him astray; I can only pay his boss to make the files disappear…
Fuck.
I’m going to end up ruining his career at some point or another if I don't call off this non-relationship. Or frame one of Estrada’s guys.
“That’s what CBPD thought in the beginning, but the bulk of the buildings are owned by a corporation that leads back to Esteban Estrada, the man currently leading the winning side of the cartel turf war.”
That takes me by surprise. “You can tell who’s winning and losing?”
His lips quirk as he tilts his head in thought. “Well, with Eduardo Maldonado senior and junior behind bars, and the grandson on the run, it’s an assumption. The bombs reek of a desperate attack to even the playing field, though it’s plausible the arsonist poorly judged the timing. Or maybe they knew there was a party happening beforehand.”
Ouch. That fucking cuts. I guess I was a little desperate, but he’s got the reasoning wrong... Not that I’m going to correct him.
“I thought Maldonado’s grandson was dead? I didn’t realize there were two.”
“Oh, you know them personally, do you?” he teases, dancing around rumors that started in school when we were kids.
To Kane, I’m Gemma Smith, the quiet girl who maybe has a family member among the cartel thugs.
I mentioned something similar to Riot on Thursday night, but I left out the part where I was also sleeping with his old friend. Because I don’t know why they aren’t friends anymore… Other than the whole federal agent versus biker gang deal.
Kane and Riot both know me as Gemma Smith from Saint Carmen, the private academy we all went to throughout our school-aged years. But outside of Lorenzo, no one ever knew my real name. Until the incident with Riley…
I’ve been lying about who I am for a long time.
I shrug. “You hear a lot about Crimson Bay’s bloody history when you run with thugs and street rats.”
He chuckles as he sits on the couch. “I’m sure you know all about that scene from selling your addies at school.”
“Hey. I sold term papers too. Don’t lump me in with the lowly drug dealers.” I drop into Kane’s lap, taking a sip of his beer before I smile. “Let’s be honest with ourselves. I’m more along the lines of crime lord material. But you’re the only one I would let cuff me.”
“Are we role playing now?”
“That depends on what kind of evidence you have against me. Am I being detained, Agent Lawson? Should I call my lawyer?”
He sips at his beer before he peers at me over the rim. “How sore are you?”
“Aren’t you supposed to Mirandize me?” I quip, and Kane levels me with a blank stare. “Nothing a few orgasms won’t make me forget about. Moving around would do me some good. I could probably escape, take the fire exit, hot wire your car... Drive across state borders before I ditch it.”
“So, you’re feeling yourself.”
“I think we’re both a little stiff. Your gun is digging into my thigh.”
“Mmm.” He stands, holding me to his chest as he nods. “Gemma Smith, you’re under arrest for falsifying a police report and tampering with evidence.”
