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Middleton turned on Ryker. “Don’t you go calling your buddies over at MCU. There is nothing official yet, and they don’t need to be involved.”
“Somehow, I don’t think they’d agree with you,” said Ryker.
“Ryker, please,” she said, touching his arm.
“Oh damn. Why did you have to go and ask me so nice? Now I’ll have to stay quiet… for now.”
Middleton looked like he was going to snarl something but thought better of it. “I’m watching you, Ms. Sykes.”
“Understandable,” said Ryker. “I find it very difficult to take my eyes off her.”
Middleton growled something before stomping out.
Lori shook her head. “You shouldn’t bait him like that.”
“But it’s so much fun, and he rises to it so easily.”
They made their way over to an empty table. It took them far longer than it should have as just about every other person they encountered wanted to talk to her about what she’d seen, what she might know, and what the detective had been saying. Finally, they found an inconspicuous table.
“I didn’t know Cobain was that popular,” said Ryker.
“I don’t think he is. His books might be, but most authors didn’t much care for him. Keep in mind we’re mystery and crime writers. Everything…”
“…is grist for the mill,” he finished. “Let me go grab us something to snack on. Anything you don’t like?”
“Mushrooms. The idea of eating something that grows in the dark in horse shit makes my stomach turn.”
He grinned. “My kind of girl.”
Ryker had barely left when Ezra Kane—another mystery author who had two incredibly popular series going—sidled up to her. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“Ezra,” she said measuredly. Lori could never quite decide how she felt about the man. There was something just this side of creepy about him.
“Lori. Please tell me the rumors of Cobain’s death are true.”
“I wouldn’t say rumors; it seems to be pretty common knowledge.”
“True enough. But I’d just like to know you saw the light go out of his cold, reptilian eyes.”
“He was dead by the time I got to him.”
“Do tell. No final words; no last gasping confession of all he’s done wrong?”
Lori turned to stare at him, glad to feel Ryker’s hand on the small of her back as he reached around and placed a small plate covered in delicious-smelling foods on the table.
“The man died, Ezra. I don’t care how much you disliked him, he didn’t deserve that,” said Ryker in an even tone.
“Trust me; if anyone deserved it, he did. You have no idea about all the things Cobain did. This whole room is a veritable hodge podge of people who won’t be shedding any tears at his grave; myself among them. He was a thoroughly detestable man—wildly successful, but a horrible person. He never should have been given the accolades he received.” He stopped for a moment and seemed to spy something on the other side of the room. “Well, I just wanted to check on you. Do ring me up if you hear any juicy gossip.”
Ezra hurried off. “No love lost there,” said Ryker. “Did he upset you? I felt your skin quiver.”
“At the risk of sounding like a heroine in a romance novel, that wasn’t in response to Ezra and his musings.”
“Maybe they were more than musings. But if it wasn’t in response to Ezra, might I dare to hope it was in response to my return and a stirring in your loins?”
Lori almost spit out her drink. It was an outrageous thing to say, but it seemed to lighten her mood, which she suspected was his goal. “Now you sound like a hero from a bad historical romance.”
“I know but answer the question.”
