Page 93 of Lies (Wicked Empire 1)

I nodded. “Good. You’ll be the first to know what I find out, boss.”

“Fuck off,” he said, though he smiled.

I left and spent the next couple of hours making sure everything was taken care of.

The hitman was safely tucked away and awaiting questioning, something I would attend to over the next couple of days, but I wanted to give him time to recover from his injuries—and think about how much he wanted to suffer—before he told me what I wanted to know.

His car had been disposed of, Amethyst’s place was fine, and I put out the word for any chatter about a hit on her.

There was nothing left to do, so I went back to my place.

Knowing she was there still left me with conflicting emotions.

That I was having any emotions at all told me that I had made the wrong choice.

But I was looking forward to seeing her, and I couldn’t make myself pretend otherwise.

“Fuck!”

I rushed inside at the sound of her yell and found her standing in the kitchen.

She looked confused, which was not an expression I often saw from her.

And agitated, which was one I had seen too much.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I just want a cup of coffee, not to launch a fucking space ship,” she said, glaring at my coffeemaker.

“You have a degree in computer science,” I countered, surpassing a smile.

“Yeah, and apparently, I need a PhD to work this machine. Can you make me some coffee?” She turned to me, her eyes bright, the emotion driven by more than the coffeemaker.

I knew that but wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, to deal with what that might mean.

“Sure,” I responded, taking the reprieve.

I made a cup for each of us, then sat down at the kitchen table.

She took a couple of sips, then leaned back in her chair, studying me. “Isn’t this just cozy?” She practically spat the words.

“I think so, circumstances notwithstanding,” I said.

“Yeah,” she responded, her shoulders sagging.

She took another sip, put down her cup, and then let out a shaky breath.

“Somebody tried to kill me yesterday,” she said.

I nodded but didn’t speak.

She looked over at me, a brow arched with question.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fall apart on you,” she said after she studied my face.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” I responded.

“Good. Because I’m not going to,” she repeated.

“So…who?” I asked a moment later.

She looked at me, her brows furrowed.

“Who what?”

“Who wants you dead, Amethyst?”

---