Page 100 of Killer Love

“Your stepmother misses him so much.”

I keep my smile going, shoving as much emotion to the surface as possible to sell the lie. “I miss him, too.”

“Excuse me, darling,” he says, nudging my face. “I have to go give my speech.”

“It was nice to meet you, sir.”

He grins at me and fires a quick glance down my body for any chance at seeing cleavage before trudging through the crowd. They make a path for him as he moves toward the elaborate podium in the corner in front of a wall of bright, transparent windows showing off the Los Angeles skyline.

Campaigning for a presidential candidate isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my weekend. I have nothing personally against Lamb, but I don’t like getting involved with politics in general. It’s not my job to influence the ideologies and opinions of others. I’m Hollywood’s “It” girl. I pretend to be someone I’m not to entertain audiences for two hours and they walk away with a smile and an overpriced ticket stub.

Lamb takes the stage and holds his hands up, waving freely at his adoring public. He milks it for several moments, forcing the applause higher and higher. Finally, he settles at the podium and leans into the microphone.

“I could stand up here and rattle off some figures and percentages that show how wonderful I am — and I do plan on doing so — but first, I want to show off my new friend, Roxie.”

Oh, boy…

He points at me and all eyes follow. “Roxie, how about you come up here?”

I grin — happy as a fucking clam and truly honored to be here — and walk through the crowd toward the stage. The applause pushes me forward until I meet him behind the podium. Once again, he throws his arm around me as if we’ve been friends for years and shows me off to the room.

“Roxie Roberts, ladies and gentlemen!” They clap even louder. I wave a delicate hand. “Ain’t she beautiful?”

They whoop and holler in agreement. I flash a modest face.

“I probably shouldn’t be mentioning this, but Roxie and her family know firsthand the sacrifice our boys overseas make every single day.” He nudges my ribs. “Go on, Roxie. What was his name, honey?”

I find my father in the crowd. His face twitches in frustration.

“Fox,” I answer, my heart skipping at his name. “His name was Fox.”

“Right, Fox,” Lamb continues. “Such a tragedy. Fox fought and died for his country, along with countless other men and women in our military and they deserve our support!”

The people clap harder. It’s obvious that he’s using our family’s tragedy to pick off a few more votes. There’s nothing I can do about it in my position, so I maintain my posture with a smile, trying very hard not to look at the disappointment on my father’s face while Lamb’s voice drones on.

Finally, he lets go of me. “Stand beside me, honey. You make me look good.”

Everyone laughs as I step off to the side.

The windows crash behind us, the sound piercing my ears.

I topple forward into the podium and it falls with me, narrowly missing the eager journalists as they scatter and scream in terror. I break my fall with my hands. My elbow twists the wrong way, and I yelp in pain as I fall the rest of the way to the floor.

More screams echo from all directions. I spin around to see Senator Lamb on his knees, forced down by two men dressed in black with tactical gear strapped to their chests and hips. Black masks obscure their identities as they stand over him with pistols in their hands, each one pointed straight to the back of his head.

I blink to sharpen my vision. Ropes hang down from the broken windows, attached to their belts. They must have propelled down from the roof and—

Two shots ring out simultaneously.

I open my mouth in a silent scream as Senator Lamb lands in a clump at my feet. Blood pools beneath his head from the crimson black holes where his eyes should be. My scream finally surfaces as one of the masked men turns and leaps back out the window.

The other man looks at me.

His eyes are as silver as dirty ice and just as cold.

I push off the floor, sliding backward to get away from him, but he takes a quick step forward.

“No…” I say.

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