Page 91 of End Game

“Nothing comes to mind.” Kayla angled her body toward her friend. “Name?”

“Alexander.”

The name conjured a bone-deep revulsion that Kayla had never been able to overcome. Ever since her run-in with Alexander Brighton her junior year at university, she’d hated the name.

“Good Lord, Natalie. Out of the four billion men in the world you had to shake the sheets with one named Alexander?”

“I knew this would be your reaction, which is why I’ve kept the relationship to myself.”

“Aren’t you reminded of what that asshole did to us every time you moan his name?”

“Did to you,” Natalie corrected. “It was your car.”

“You were as outraged as I was at the time.”

“What he did was shitty, and he eventually paid the price.”

When Senator Brighton had lost the election, the family’s financial resources slowly dried up and Alexander dropped out of college. She knew she should feel some guilt about his interrupted education, but she couldn’t muster the emotion.

“He wasn’t the only student,” Natalie said, “who’d lost their mind after that competition.”

“Are you condoning what he did to my car?”

“I already said what he did wasn’t cool. But the professors in our poli-sci program seemed to take an inordinate amount of glee in pitting student against student during the fundraising project.”

Kayla frowned, then swiveled on her stool until she faced Natalie. “Your Romeo. What’s his last name?”

The attorney froze like a rabbit hoping the eagle wouldn’t spot her munching away in the center of the field. “Why do you want to know?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been seeing this guy nonstop for the past month. It’s time I met my friend’s new beau.”

“And have you react the way you did just now when I introduce him? I don’t think so.”

“I’m a professional at controlling my emotions. I won’t dry heave at the mere mention of the name Alex—.” The name stuck in her throat.

Natalie lifted a brow.

“Okay, maybe you could just mumble his name or sneeze at the opportune time.”

“It won’t matter.” Natalie closed out her tab.

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Her friend stood. “Come on, Nat. Stay for another drink. I’ll behave.”

“It won’t matter because this is who you’ll meet.” She held her phone in front of Kayla’s face.

Staring back at her was an older version of the shithead who’d painted BITCH on her car fourteen years ago. Alexander Brighton.

43

Ash stared at his murder board with a growing sense of helplessness. Instead of eliminating suspects, he’d added two more—Linda Collier and an activist named Tommy O’Connor.

While speaking to Phin earlier, his brother had let it slip that O’Connor had taken his need for updates to a harassing level, and Kayla was taking on the brunt of his displeasure. Phin had also denied knowing anything about HCVS, the company pouring millions of dollars into Krowne and Associates.

No matter how much he wanted it otherwise, the evidence kept dragging Kayla’s name back to the board. The State Police still hadn’t reported back yet on whether the governor had been working on anything that could have led to her murder.

His phone rested on his desk, silent. He willed it to ring. Didn’t even care who as long as they gave him a new lead to follow.

Another person he’d like to hear from ghosted through his mind, but he shut down the longing before it could take root and make him do something stupid, like call her. After their disastrous interview with Linda Collier, he’d made a promise to himself to keep it professional with Kayla. Talk to her only if the case warranted the exchange.

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