Page 19 of Final Cost

Roman, to his credit, represses his responsive smirk and keeps his mouth shut, but Tamsyn swings into gear.

“No worries,” she says pleasantly, her flinty gaze hitting me hard. “I’ll keep myself busy. Maybe I can get Maddie to show me the horses when she has a break. So you can just ignore me. Pretend I’m not here.”

Ignorethe thing in the world that matters most to me. Funny. Now she’s got jokes.

The two of us face off in a seething silence for a beat or two. Her open defiance kicks off a wave of teeth grinding and jaw flexing that I can’t quite stop. Everything about the situation with her is an open wound. The fact that it’s all my own doing only makes it worse. And the proximity with no touching makes me want to rip my skin off. Once upon a time, the electricity between us was hot and positive. Now it’s hostile and negative. Imagine my surprise to realize that it doesn’t matter much. It’s still electricity and it still crackles. Which means we can’t go on like this. Bottom line. I need to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. I need to stop waiting for her to be ready to talk, stop giving her space and just plow ahead?—

“Tamsyn’s had a busy morning,” Roman interjects, snapping me out of it my half-formed strategies. “She’s been on the phone trying to find work so she can go back to the city right away.”

Tamsyn glares at him. I glare ather.

What the fuck is this new dumpster fire? I thought we’d put this one thing behind us, but I guess not. I peel my attention away from her long enough to shoot him a grateful look. He may be a dick at times, but I appreciate the heads up. He gives me a tiny nod:Don’t worry. I got you.

I turn back to Tamsyn. “What’s this about, Ms. Scott? I thought everything was settled for now.”

She squares her shoulders and hikes up her chin, clearly over my bullshit and ready to launch all her missiles. Allow me to say that this thrills me. I’ll take any of her fire that I can get at this point. Any fiery new sides she wants to show me, I’m there.

But an unwelcome interruption materializes from the hallway as Daniel pokes his head in. “Lucien. We’ve got a situation here you need to handle. A couple of situations.”

I barely spare him a glance. All my attention is riveted on Tamsyn. “It’s not a good time. What is it?”

“Visitors,” Daniel says darkly. “The police again.”

The police?Fuck. That’s not the type of information I wanted or expected to hear right now. I shoot Tamsyn a pointed look—this is not over— then I set off for the foyer, propelled by my cold fury at this disrespect after I told Detective Smith I wouldn’t talk to them again without my lawyer present.

Daniel is hot on my heels. “I need to talk to you about something else first, Lucien.”

“Not now,” I say, continuing my trajectory until I reach Detective Smith and today’s uniformed officers.

Detective Smith, the consummate chess player, already has her pleasantly professional smile in place. “Good morning, Mr. Winter.”

I scowl at her, only dimly aware of Daniel, Roman and Tamsyn filing in behind me. It’s bad practice to be a hard ass with the police, but I’ve got the money to not give a fuck. Unless this woman has a warrant, she and her buddies need to get the hell out of my house. “What’s going on, Detective? I told you yesterday that I have an attorney. You and I won’t be having any further discussions without him present.”

“I remember. And I would never dream of trying to talk to you without your lawyer. But your wife’s death is still suspicious and my extensive training and experience tell me that she didn’t hit herself on the back of the head with a large rock.” She turns to Roman. “So I’m here to talk to your brother, Roman, and hopefully rule him out. I assume this is him?”

“It is,” Roman says with his usual smoothness, stepping forward to shake her hand.

“Detective Smith. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your whereabouts the night Ravenna died?”

I shoot Roman a warning look, but he’s already talking.

“Not at all. I was in Philadelphia overnight. Business meeting. You can talk to my office. They’ll put you in touch with the company pilot. You can see the flight records if you want.”

“Perfect,” Detective Smith says, sending me a look of veiled triumph. “I’ll do that.”

“Great,” I say, stepping forward and gesturing her toward the door. “Now, if there’s nothing else?”

“Actually, there is,” she says, now making my heart drop by turning to Tamsyn. “Ms. Scott,” she says, extending her hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“And you,” Tamsyn says, looking startled as she shakes.

“I was wondering if you might come down to the police station and answer a few questions for me about your whereabouts the other —”

A surge of ice through my veins along with some primitive instinct probably buried deep in my brain stem propels me to step sideways, blocking Tamsyn from this woman’s line of sight. The thing we are not going to do — the thing no one willeverdo in my presence — is implicate Tamsyn Scott in any sort of legal wrongdoing or jeopardy. “I was very clear yesterday, Detective Smith. Tamsyn had nothing to do with Ravenna’s death.”

“Lucien…” Tamsyn tries.

“I’d like to hear that from Ms. Scott herself, if you don’t mind,” Detective Smith says, unruffled.

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