Page 31 of Lethal Lover

"You know, my boy," Dad continues, his voice gravelly but gentle amid the clamor outside, "if Smitty is indeed a snitch—and I trust your instincts on these matters—it's not just about him. You've gotta think about everyone he knows and has ever worked with. They could be involved too." He pauses for effect, and I feel his eyes boring into me from across the darkened cabin before continuing. "And when they come for you, you won't have anyone but yourself to blame."

It doesn’t sit right with me. Smitty and I go way back. This doesn’t smell like something he’d do. I have a different suspicion. “I don’t think it was him. I think it was this guy from the theater. The one who told the actress who I really am. I think he just showed up at the precinct and lied. That man wasn’t there that night of the car wreck, but I’d bet my left kidney he’s the one who fingered me. He wants me out of the picture.”

Dad doesn't say anything for a moment. He just takes another puff of his cigar slowly, watching the city lights blur past the tinted glass. His face is deep in thought, the smoke curling up around him as if he were some kind of oracle. Then, he speaks softly but firmly.

"If that's the case, then you gotta be very careful how you handle it," he says finally. "A snitch is like a rattlesnake—once it's outed itself, it has no more fear. They can turn on anyone they please and make up stories without any regard for the truth. The best thing to do is find some way to make them disappear permanently." The car glides through a red light as we pass by analleyway littered with trash and broken bottles. His words cause me to think about what he says.

"Disappear..." I say, my voice sounding small under his quiet authority. This stoic yet unmoving force across from me in the back of a limo has seen things, and I am here to glean wisdom from him.

He nods slowly. "Think about it like this, Son. You're dealing with a predator, and when you hunt them down, you have two options. Either you let them continue to prey on those around you, or you teach them a lesson they won't soon forget. The important thing is to keep your cool. Be methodical, be patient, and most importantly, be ruthless." His eyes meet mine in the dim light. "Remember this. A snake doesn't strike until it feels threatened. So, don't give them any reason to strike. Slowly but surely, you gather information on who their associates are and where they might go."

He pauses for effect, taking another puff of his cigar. "Watch their patterns, their habits," he says, exhaling smoke into the air. "Find out where they live... hmm... what they like to eat..." He takes another drag and blows it out through his nose, watching me intently. "And when the time is right…" His voice drops to a low whisper. "You make your move."

I don’t know why in my insolence I’ve never taken time to truly learn from my father. The man is a genius. He single-handedly set up this entire organization to run the way it has, though his father had some things established before him. I’m a fool to continue acting on my own. So, I ask, “How would you do it?”

Dad's expression softens, and his eyes twinkle slightly in the low light. He seems to enjoy teaching me. "I would start with their favorite hangouts, their safe spaces. Find out who theirfriends are, what they're doing when they're not working," he says, taking another puff of his cigar. "Find out if they have any weaknesses—a gambling problem, an addiction, anything that could be used against them. Get close to them without being obvious."

He draws a line across his throat and then begins to laugh, a deep, booming, maniacal laugh. “Poison, a gun, hanging… make it look like suicide. Leave evidence that life was too hard for them and print a note on a printer to leave behind for anyone who actually gives a fuck. You see, Son, you have to play things meticulously or you get caught. Being rash only means making mistakes.”

Dad is right. I’ve been rash in every way on every count this entire time. It’s time for me to be calculated and plan every single aspect of this out. Warren will pay for telling Elena about me. And he’ll pay for going to the cops, too. He’s the only one it could have been. And this time, there will be no mistakes and no one will find out. I’ll even convince the rest of the cast that Warren was so torn up over the deaths of his coworkers that he took his own life. It’s perfect, and my father led me right to the water to drink.

And I’m gulping that water down.

20

ELENA

Circling round the end of the park bench on the set of the last scene of the play, I drag my hand along Warren’s shoulders. He’s playing the male lead and we’re in the final few lines.

“Well, Mr. Rigby, I must admit it’s all quite so sudden.” The Southern twang in my voice is put-on. I don’t have even a hint of an accent, and I’ve had to practice day and night, virtually becoming a Southerner—or so it appeared at times—to master this accent. “I imagine y’all will get along quite famously.”

“Mr. Rigby” stands from the bench and crosses to stage left, where Trixie stands holding a parasol, twisting the shaft and letting the canopy spin. She looks adorable in the pastel pink dress. Her character is my daughter in this play, which we’ve had a lot of fun putting on, and I’m thankful I didn’t get that part because of what comes next.

“Miss Lula Belle,” Warren says, dropping to one knee. He takes the black silk top hat off his head and presses it affectionately to his chest as he takes her hand and kisses it. “Would you be so kind as to do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He had topractice the accent too, which comes out sounding more like a Texas rancher than a Southern gentleman.

“Oh, Mr. Rigby,” Trixie mewls, pressing her hand to her forehead. The audience is tense and on the edges of their seats, ready to whoop and holler for the happy couple. “How could I ever say no?”

Warren pops to his feet and takes her into his arms, spinning her around in a marvelous fashion while planting a giant kiss on her lips. The audience cheers while my character claps right along with them. They kiss very passionately, or what looks to be passionately from my angle, and when the crowd dies down, they stand staring at each other and freeze in place as I take center stage and address the audience directly.

“And there you have it, a tale of two hearts bound together through the eons. They say true love finds a way, that over all the years and in every season, near or far, if true love exists, you will find each other.” I press my hands together and nod, finishing the play with my final line. “Lula Bell and Mr. Rigby… who’d have thought it? Well, of course, I did.” I wink, wave, and sashay off the stage to another round of uproarious applause, and Warren and Trixie continue their kissing as the curtain continues to fall. I stand in the wings waiting for names to be called so we can take a bow and watch as Warren glowers at Trixie and backs away, almost as if she were diseased or something. I know he really wanted me to get that part, and probably for that specific scene. Like I said—I’m glad I didn’t get it.

One by one, the names are called. Mine always comes last when I’m the lead. Warren and Trixie get called out together. They take their bows, and the audience raves. Then it’s my turn. The emcee calls my name, and I scurry out to the stage to takemy bow. Roses land at my feet, teddy bears and letters, but I don’t even look at them. The entire evening has challenged me because Liam sits front and center, staring at me. His eyes follow me now, even as he claps his heart out.

He's going to come backstage, and I’m going to have to tell him it’s over. I can’t be with someone who lied to me about their very identity. He may have nothing to do with any of the crazy events taking place, but he hid his true nature from me. Trixie and Warren think he was being purposefully deceptive just to manipulate me, but I think he was just afraid. Still, it doesn’t matter. He should have told me.

I bow again and begin collecting the gifts thrown to me by my fans, and for the first time ever, I wish Warren were actually being protective over me instead of chatting with the other cast members. I feel isolated and alone as I pick up every letter, card, flower, and stuffed animal. The exuberance of the post-show high is fading, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m alone in that dressing room with Liam. I don’t want to hurt him, and it’s not because I fear his family at all. I’ve done my own research and I know who they are now. That alone is scary.

But the reason I don’t want to hurt him goes deeper. I am in love with him. For the past several months, he’s been the most amazing man to me. I just can’t be with him. His family stands for things I could never be okay with—murder, theft, whatever the hell else they do. My moral code would be stretched to the breaking point, and I don’t like the idea of that.

Now that the applause is over and all that’s left is the din of the audience chatting, it’s easier to hear myself think. I pick up the final bouquet of flowers and look to the spot where Liam was sitting, only to find him gone now. By the time I get to mydressing room, he’ll be there. I don’t even have time to collect my thoughts or prepare something to say to him. I have to wing it.

Summoning all the courage I have, I push through the tall velvet curtains and into the backstage area. Everyone has gone ahead of me while I was picking up my things, and I hear Liam’s voice around the corner. I stop and listen to him, my heart already aching at the melodic baritone as he apologizes to Warren.

“I just meant to say that I’m sorry. My behavior was out of line and you have every right to be upset with me. It’s obvious we both care very much for Elena, and I should have respected your friendship.” Even these words sound so sincere, I’d almost believe him, except the lies. How will I ever trust anything he says anymore? Knowing he lied about his identity without batting an eye at me means he could be lying about other things. I never even suspected him, either. I’m so gullible.

I round the corner feeling my cheeks burning. I don’t know if the apology was put on only to make me believe he’s very sincere or if he actually means it. Judging by the look on Warren’s face, he doesn’t believe Liam is being sincere at all. But thankfully, the volatile temper I know resides inside my co-star remains dormant right now as he remains speechless.

Liam’s behavior shifts as soon as he sees me. His eye catches mine, and he whips around with a beaming smile. “Elena, God, I miss you. Can we talk?” He reaches for me, but I swerve away from his grasp, eyeing Warren. With Liam’s back turned, Warren gives me two thumbs up. I told him and Trixie earlier that I was planning to break it off. They both vowed to help me be free of the man, so there’s no surprise when Warren trails behind us in the hallway.

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