Page 3 of Sizzling

She barely flickered a glance in my direction before going back to King and the gun he had pointed at her.

“How do we know she’s not telling us what was told to her?” he shot back at me. “I want to know who told you that and where I can find them,” he demanded.

Her eyebrows arched as she lifted them. “No one told me,” she replied.

“Listen, I’m done with your bullshit. You’re wasting my time,” he growled, taking another step toward her.

“Well, I’m done with you being in my room, demanding things from me,” she snapped at him, then took a step back.

“Listen, as entertaining as all this is, you’re real close to setting him off,” Thatcher told her.

She swallowed and let out a sigh as she lowered her gun to her side. “I know because I killed him and dropped his body in the gulf. I don’t know what he did or why you want him, but you’re late.”

Truth.

“Storm?” King asked, not lowering his gun.

“She’s telling the truth.” Or she was the best goddamn liar in the world.

“I just got hard,” Thatcher muttered.

“What? The hot one is a human lie detector?” she asked, her eyes shifting to me.

“Close enough,” I replied, unable to keep from smiling at the fact that she’d called me the hot one.

The interest in her eyes made it hard not to act on. It was always King’s face that drew the females in. When he was in the room, they always noticed him first.

“Why would you kill your own father?” King asked, still not convinced.

Her eyes swung back to him. “Is that a demand or just a nosy question?”

“Does it matter? There are three of us, armed. If you shoot, one of us will return the favor.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because he molested me from the time I was nine years old until I escaped that hellhole. Is that enough for you? Or are you going to demand details?”

King lowered his gun and slid it back into its holster. A sick knot twisted in my gut. I’d had a feeling that Roger Ball had done the same to Rumor, although King never said more than he’d hurt her.

“I have a question for you,” she said pointedly. “What did you want with him?”

King didn’t say anything at first. I watched his jaw clench as he stared at her.

“He did the same to the woman who owns me.” He never said love. Claimed it wasn’t strong enough of a description.

Briar swallowed hard. “A former foster kid, I assume.”

King nodded.

A pained expression crossed her face. “Maybe you do have a reason to shoot me after all. That would be my fault. After I left, he hooked up with a woman because she was a foster parent. He needed another little girl to take my place. He must have moved on to Netta after that. But I made sure that cycle ended. And I’m sorry I didn’t kill him sooner.”

King’s hands fisted at his sides, and I knew he didn’t blame her, but hearing about what Rumor had been through was hard on him.

“It’s no one’s fault,” I said, wanting her to stop talking about it. For all our sakes.

She looked back at me then. “I poisoned him and watched him suffer as he foamed at the mouth and convulsed. He didn’t go quickly. He didn’t deserve an easy death. And if I’d known the Mafia wanted to kill him, I’d have gladly handed him over.” Then, she reached for the doorknob. “If that is all I can do for you, then I need to get back onstage. My break is up.”

King nodded. “But if we find out you lied, we’ll find you.”

“No one wanted that bastard dead more than me,” she replied, then opened the door and walked out.

---