“Maybe the message wasn’t pointed at us,” I comment, unable to stay out of the conversation even though I had planned to not get involved. “Maybe they don’t know who killed him, just thatsomeonedid.”
I half expect Gage to bite my head off for daring to speak, but instead he nods, his harsh features turning thoughtful. “Everyone in that room tonight could have benefitted from Ivan going down in some way. Yeah, some of them were on his side and probably did business with him, but once you get to that level, you’re always one deal away from being stabbed in the back. So if someone doesn’t know who killed him, there were a lot of possible suspects at the gala.”
Priest’s brows are furrowed, although his tone is as cool and measured as ever. Not a single strand of his short blond hair is out of place, in contrast to Knox, whose hair has gotten even more mussed, as if he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
“So either the person who dredged him up from the river knew it was us,” Priest says slowly, “or they have no ideawhodid it, but they obviously know he was murdered by someone. And putting his body on display was a way to try to smoke the killer out.”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” Gage agrees. “But still, I want to know how the fuck they knew where he was dumped.”
We all look at Knox, who immediately gets his hackles up, his broad shoulders stiffening. He’s changed out of his fancy clothes and into a more casual outfit of a dark Henley and sweats. “Why the fuck are you looking at me? That body was prepped and fine. It should have stayed down. I’ve dumped plenty of bodies in the river, and no one has ever found them. It wasn’t the spot that was the problem.”
“If it wasn’t the spot, then there had to be someone watching. Which means they would’ve seen us dump the body. If they wanted to leave a message for us, they could have done it in a less public way,” Priest observes.
“And no one even knew River was going to be there,” Knox points out. “So if they knew she had a vendetta against Ivan, leaving the body there for her specifically to find was a pretty stupid move.”
“Maybe it’s enough that his body was there at all,” I suggest with a little shrug, dipping the brush back into the nail polish and moving on to my other hand. “I don’t think anyone at that gala was unaffected by seeing Ivan St. James’s dead body up there. It sends a message, even if the killer wasn’t in the room.”
“What, to watch out or they could end up like him?” Knox asks, one dark eyebrow rising.
I shrug. “Maybe. Either as a threat or a warning or something. Him being dead is a pretty big thing, especially considering how the guys who get to his level all think they’re damn near untouchable or are so paranoid they never go anywhere without guards.”
Ivan definitely fell into that last camp, which was why it was so hard to get to him in the first place. He was the most heavily guarded of all the men on my list, which is why I ended up killing him last. The fact that someone managed to take him out is probably making other powerful men in the city’s criminal underworld double down on their own security.
We keep talking for a few more minutes, batting around theories and throwing out random ideas. But really, we’re all just spit-balling. The person who did this could have any number of motivations. Without knowingwhodid it, we have no way of knowingwhythey did it.
I finally say as much to the guys, and Gage nods, although he doesn’t look happy about it.
“Yeah. The ‘who’ is the biggest fucking question,” he mutters with an angry breath.
“Whoever it was, it was someone with balls,” Knox comments, leaning back in his chair. He shakes some of his unruly dark hair out of his face and rolls his shoulders. “I mean, by putting that body up at the gala, they’re fucking with some of the richest, most connected assholes in the city. That takes guts.”
“And us,” Gage reminds him sharply. “They’re fucking with us, too. Even if they don’t know it. Which we have no way of knowing whether they do or not.”
“Fucking hell.” I roll my eyes, blowing on my nails even though I know it won’t make them dry faster. “We’re just going in circles at this point. Rehashing the same five questions over and over.” Gage turns his fierce glare back on me, but I hold my ground. “What? Weare. We have no idea who it was and no way of guessing. We were out of there so fast, none of us saw anything other than his body lying there and everyone freaking the fuck out.”
“Oh, and I suppose you think we should have stuck around and done some investigating?”
I cock my head challengingly, not taking his bait. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying we don’t have enough information, and we need some actual intel if we’re going to find out who did this and what it means.”
Gage has a sour look on his face, but I know he knows I’m right. We’re not gonna solve this in one night or magically pull the answers out of our asses. We’ll have to do some digging if we’re gonna get to the bottom of this.
“We need to know if anyone has connected us to his death,” Gage says, taking the lead in the discussion again. “Or if us being at the gala when Ivan’s body showed up is just a coincidence. That’s the most important thing.”
“You think it’s safe to ask questions?” Knox grimaces, rubbing a hand over his jaw. I’m sure he shaved before the gala, but he’s already got a shadow of scruff on his face. “Or will that just make it look suspicious?”
“Asking outright would be stupid,” Priest says. “But we should keep our ears open.”
The conversation keeps spiraling in circles. Every time someone suggests something, either a theory or a possibility, it comes back to the same thing—we don’tknow,and we have no way of knowing right now.
It’s frustrating, and the longer the conversation goes on, the closer Gage seems to get to ripping all his hair out or punching somebody.
“Alright,” he says finally, sounding exhausted and frustrated. “That’s enough. We’re not getting anywhere, and it’s late.”
“Are you sending us to bed like we’re kids?” I ask, my eyebrows rising toward my hairline.
He just gives me an inscrutable look and gets up from the table, stalking out of the kitchen without a backward glance.
With my head even more tangled up in thought than it was before, I gather my nail polish bottles and do the same, slipping out of the kitchen like a ghost.