Page 48 of Trick's Trap

“This better be good,” Patrick growled, holding her fast when she tried to stand up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach. A scowling Ethan was nothing new, but Jason was wearing a near-identical expression on his face.

“We have a big fucking problem. The local Florida PD has issued a warrant for your arrest.”

Chapter 21

Tahlia wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. The brief warmth from the cognac and Patrick’s kiss had dissipated. She felt like a block of ice, despite his arms cradling her shoulders.

They were sitting on the sofa in his office across from his brother and the two agents in an impromptu war council.

Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She was still in disbelief at the accusation being made. “This is crazy. My father was dead when I woke up.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan consulted his notes. “You told us you were drugged and weren’t sure how long you’d been unconscious. Is it possible he died while you were in the house?”

“For God’s sake, you know she didn’t do this.” Liam was incensed on her behalf.

Ethan rolled his eyes at him. “Of course I know that. But we have to start preparing a defense here. We need to know every detail those bastards might throw at us.”

Every detail?

Tahlia felt her legs weaken, her mind throwing up the ghastly images from that morning. She’d fought so hard to forget them. She hadn’t told the agents or Patrick the full story.

“This is pretty inflammatory stuff.” Ethan’s nose was wrinkled as he read over the papers in his hand. “They’re saying she stabbed him and stole his money because he wanted her to move back to Florida and I quote, ‘take her rightful place’ in the family.”

Tahlia shuddered at the thought of what Lucas might consider her rightful place to be to be. “I don’t know how long he’d been dead, but I assumed it had been a while. The blood didn’t seem fresh.”

Jason leaned forward in his seat. “What color was it? Was it dry? Did you see a knife lying nearby?”

She forced herself to swallow. Her throat was threatening to close on her. “I didn’t, but…it would have taken more than one.”

“More than one what?”

“Knife.”

Ethan cocked his head at her, his expression softening in sympathy. “Because of the amount of blood?”

She shook her head. “Because of the number of pieces.”

Patrick’s head jerked. “Pieces of what?”

Her hands fluttered to her throat. “Of the body.”

The men stared at her. Liam’s mouth was open. Ethan frowned. “You didn’t mention that before.”

She picked at her nails. “Because you didn’t press me. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want tothinkabout it.”

Visibly shivering, she pressed closer to Patrick, trying to borrow some of his warmth.

Her hands shook as she gestured to the carpet in the recessed conversation nook. “We have a Persian carpet almost twice this size. His legs and arms were at opposite ends, and his torso was in the middle. His head was roughly over there,lookingat me,” she said, pointing to a spot behind Jason’s chair with an unsteady finger.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Liam swore, getting up to pour himself a drink.

“Bring the bottle,” Ethan ordered. Liam, usually abrasive with the other man, didn’t say a word as he poured him and Jason refills.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Patrick rubbed her back, his face tight. “Christ, I should have had a therapist come in and talk to you.”

She dismissed that. “I don’t think I could have talked to anyone else about their psycho rituals.”

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