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The shoulders of the fuckup cop bunch, but he rotates and walks away. Agent Love turns back toward the building door.
“Agent Lilah Love.” She turns at her name and glances in our direction, closing the space between us.
“Who are you?” she demands. “And why are you inside my crime scene?”
“Rick Savage,” I say.
“We didn’t order a stripper.” She smiles and eyes Candace. “I always wanted to say that to someone else. Who are you?”
“Candace—”
“Do you go by Candy Savage? That’s an excellent stripper name.”
“Because Lilah Fucking Love isn’t an excellent stripper name?” I challenge.
Candace laughs. “She’s right, Rick. It really does sound like a stripper name.”
Lilah glances between us and then gives me a deadpan look. “What do you want?”
“I need to reach Kane.”
“I told you on the phone that I’m not his keeper.”
“Just the woman that shares his bed that he’d also kill for?”
“He shares my bed and I’d kill for him,” she corrects. “Which does not make me his business manager.”
“He was supposed to meet me today,” I say. “Call him. Tell him, Savage—”
“I can’t call him. He’s dealing with an unexpected situation. He’ll call you when it’s contained.”
“That’s unacceptable.”
Lilah folds her arms in front of her and just stares at me.
“Tell him,” I add, “to shoot the motherfucker giving him trouble, and call me now.”
“Unlike me, and apparently you, Kane doesn’t just ‘shoot the motherfucker.’ But I will. Especially you.” She smiles like she enjoys the idea. I think she might.
“Okay then,” I say. “Let me tell you a story. Pocher, we both know you know Pocher, wants to kill Candace. He also wants to meet with her at six tonight. Candace is my Lilah. I not only sleep with her, I will kill for her which means that I’ll be killing Pocher tonight at six, and I’ll just let Kane deal with the aftermath. I’m sure the next guy in charge of the Society won’t have a hard-on to kill you the way Pocher does. And even if he does, I’m sure Kane can just chop his brother’s finger off, and make it all better.” I catch Candace’s arm. “Let’s go, baby.” We start to turn.
“Stop.”
I turn back to Lilah and arch a brow. “Yes?”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“And you’re a fucking bitch.”
“That’s true. Meet me at Stephanie’s diner in an hour. You found me. I’m sure you’re resourceful enough to find it.”
“I’ll follow the yellow brick road lined with M&M’s.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” She turns and walks away.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Candace
Rick and I settle into a booth at the diner, and the place pretty much reminds me of the diner in Seinfeld with cold plastic booths and just as plastic tabletops. He and I are sitting side by side, facing the door, which is good, since I’m far more worried about Alejandro rushing in and shooting us all dead than I am about Pocher right now. Meanwhile, Rick is edgy and quiet and I push to get in his head.
“If Kane and Lilah don’t want to help,” I say, “aren’t we just making another enemy or enemies, rather?”
It’s at that moment, that a plump, black woman from behind the counter, steps beside us.
“I’m Donna. What can I get you?”
I perk up. “What kind of coffee do you have?”
“Pumpkin Spice Latte.”
“Black,” Rick says, rubbing his chest. “I like hair on my chest. That pumpkin shit will burn it off.”
“Pumpkin Latte sounds like a perfect fall flavor. I’ll take that.”
Donna looks between us both and says nothing. She just walks away. “Has anyone heard anything about Alejandro?”
“No,” Rick says. “But we all believe he’s here which is why we’re going to the private Walker firing range every day for the rest of your life. You need to shoot like Batman hanging from a ledge and laughing at the enemy.”
I smile, which would be impossible with anyone but Rick. “Because that’s how you shoot?”
“Hell yeah, that’s how I shoot.”
Donna sets two mugs with whipped cream on them in front of us. “What’s this shit?” Rick asks.
“Your coffee,” Donna says. “What else?”
“My coffee. The kind without whipped cream.”
Donna smirks and walks away.
The bell chimes on the door and Lilah walks in, waving at Donna. “Coffee, Donna. Black. Cream. None of that frou-frou shit you like to give me.” She slides into the seat across from us and sets her bag on the seat beside her, eying Rick’s coffee. “I see you like the frou-frou coffee. Do you wear pink tutus behind closed doors, too?”
I laugh. Lilah eyes me curiously. “Why are you amused?”
I motion between them with a spoon. “Because there are two of you in this world.”
Donna sets a cup filled with whipped cream in front of Lilah. “What the fuck is this, Donna?”
“It’s what you get,” she says and walks away.
Lilah sighs and grabs a spoon. “Just go with it,” she says, “When she gets in a mood, you only get Pumpkin Spice Lattes.” She takes a bite of whipped cream and I eye the giant diamond on her hand.
