Page 41 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

And with that, he leaves me alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“Give me a kiss before you go.”

I smirk as I lean down to kiss Atticus. It’s soft, simple, but means so much. Steven did not do the PDA thing, and he certainly didn’t kiss me for no reason—he hardly kissed me at all.

I guess this means Atticus and I have made up, though what happened in the bathroom earlier was hardly an argument. Aslight disagreement maybe, and I can’t say that I hate the idea of my uncle being gone from this world. But my worry isn’t about him being gone, it’s about Atticus getting caught. He’s been fine for this long, and he knows what he’s doing, clearly, so maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. But my uncle isn’t just anyone, and he isn’t just a cop. He works for the FBI and a murdered FBI agent will raise a lot of flags.

I straighten, flipping my hair over my shoulder and holding my chin high. I’m wearing the tightest, shortest, most low-cut dress I own. I have James Erickson in my line of sight, with full intentions of going over there, seducing him, and getting information for Atty.

My tits are spilling out of the square neckline, so that should distract him enough that he won’t even know what I’m asking him.

Atticus is sitting on the other side of the dining room of the hotel restaurant so he can watch.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” I ask when I reach the small table where James is sitting alone. “No? Great.”

James frowns at me, keeping his gaze on mine as I sit in the chair across from him. There is a newspaper in his hand—who the hell still reads those?—a half eaten bagel on his plate, smothered in cream cheese, and a mug of black coffee. Everyone else in this place is sitting with others, but he’s here, all alone.

“Do I know you?” he asks carefully.

I hadn’t expected him and Atticus to look so much alike, but wow… you can really tell they’re brothers. Their hair is the same shade but styled differently. James’ hair is cropped short, while Atticus’s is longer, with a sort of messy look to it. Their eyes are exactly the same, down to the color and shape. Atticus is bigger in build, wider in the shoulders and possibly taller.

“No, but you want to,” I answer with a smile.

“I do?”

“Of course.” I hold my hand out. “I’m Lilah.” He stares at my hand for a long moment but makes no move, so I pull it away. I jut my chest out a little, smiling brightly, but his gaze doesn’t flick to my chest.

Great. He’s gay.

I can’t stop trying, though. I’m doing this for Atticus.

There is no specific information I need from him; I just need to get to know him, so I have something to pass along. Does he know about Atticus? That’s what I’m curious about, but I can’t just blurt that out. I mean, I could… but that would be stupid. Though, it could be really smart too. Is there a reason we aren’t doing that? Is there a reason Atticus is snooping around and not knocking on his door and spilling it all? These are questions I should have asked sooner.

“So, are you new in town?”

“I’m here for a conference,” he answers dully.

“Wow, that’s so cool. What kind of conference?”

“For police.”

“Oh my god, so you’re like super smart, huh?”

His eyes narrow as he says, “Uh, sure…”

“Are you doing anything fun while you’re here?” I ask, putting my elbow on the table and resting my chin on my fist.

“Going to the conference,” he says carefully.

I giggle, tossing my hair over my shoulder.

“You’re funny too!”

His frown deepens, and I keep smiling even though nothing inside me is happy. This is going terribly. Either I’ve lost it, or he really is gay. In that case, I’m no help here. I dart my gaze to Atticus, who is watching me with a hard stare. He looks… no, that can’t be right. He wouldn’t be turned on by this. Unless he’s just turned on byme.

That could be true. Because Atticus certainly isn’t gay, even if he hasn’t fucked me yet. Now isn’t the time to think about that, though. I’m on a mission.

“So, I was thinking we could go up to your room.”

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