Page 138 of Dukes of Peril

I wait until he’s holding his drink, looking perfectly at ease, to say, “I want to know the truth about Tate.”

There it is.

It’s subtle, I'll give him that. The glass doesn’t pause on the way to his lips so much as his movement stutters. He plays it off well enough, brows pulling together. “Who?”

Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t insult me, Saul. We already know she was doing some work for you.”

“Ah, you mean that rowdy girl you used to run around with?” He waves his hand. “Sure, she did some work for me, nothing consequential.”

“Then you can tell me about it. What kind of work?” It takes him a childishly long stretch of time to swallow his mouthful of scotch. It’s almost amusing–a man as powerful as Saul using toddler-tier tactics. Sighing, I lean forward, elbows propped on my knees as I pretend to level with him. “Look, Saul, I’m here to make things smoother for us, not worse. The time for revenge has already come and gone. Remy and I…” I look down at my hands, fingers lacing together. “We just want to move on, and we can’t do that until we understand what went wrong.”

I’ve chosen these words intentionally. Went wrong. There’s a lack of blame in the implication something could have been accidental or incidental.

And from the way Saul looks at me, sucking the scotch from his teeth, he takes the bait. “In truth, it was a clusterfuck. All she had to do was get the Lucia girl in position.”

Every cell in my body becomes alert. “Lavinia?” But no. That’s not right. “Leticia,” I realize. Nick and Lavinia had it right. Tate was never the target.

Saul shrugs, flicking the ash from the end of his cigar. “Leticia wasn’t the Lucia we got, but she was the one we wanted.” His eyes flash lustfully, but I’m too focused on that word–we–to process the grossness of it. “Lionel Lucia’s precious, pure little viper.”

“Pure?” I don’t hold back my sneer. “I didn’t actually know her, but from what I hear, ‘pure’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe Leticia Lucia.”

He leans forward, licking his lips. “Oh, but she was, you see. Leticia played for our team,” he taps his temple, “which is something you find out when you run Forsyth’s best whorehouse.”

My pulse quickens at the implication of who else is included in that ‘we’. “Daniel Payne wanted her, too.”

Saul nods, eyebrows rising. From the look on his face, someone might think he was sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip with an old friend. “Well, when his own daughter cut and ran, we were left with a bit of a vacancy.” He shrugs, as if he’s shaking off an unpleasant notion. “Leticia was better than Killian’s slut, anyway. Royal blood. That golden hair. Real haughty, too–just the kind of spoiled little whore you’d love to see put in her place.” Shaking his head, he adds, “It was a shame when we got Lavinia. Next to her sister, she just seemed so… disappointing.”

My fist curls so hard that, for a second, I don’t even want to hide it. I want to fly over the distance between us and slam it into his face until I see blood and bone.

Instead, I ask, “What does any of that have to do with Tate?”

As if such a thing should be obvious, he extends a palm. “A girl with Tate’s attributes can cross boundaries, move around in places that were out of reach for someone like me.” Sniffing pompously, he finally cuts to the chase. “I paid her to get close to the Lucia girl.”

“To seduce her,” I realize, stomach dropping. “To help you and Daniel take her.”

Goddamn it.

God-fucking-damn it.

There have been a lot of times over the years that I’ve wished for Tate back, but this is the first time it’s been because I wanted to shake her. Ask her what the fuck she was thinking. Tell her that it wasn’t worth it. Beg her to explain to mewhy.

Saul continues in a pensive voice. “I actually liked Tatum quite a bit. I knew when I found her running around with you three that she’d have a lot of potential.” His mouth presses into a tight line. “Unfortunately, your friend got a little closer than intended. Not that I couldn’t understand the physical appeal, but honestly. All that nonsense about being in love.” Saul pulls a face, like such a thing is downright baffling.

“She fell for her.” A dismal smile springs to my lips, my heart aching.Of course. Tate might have been tempted by the money, but she only would have gotten in this deep for something real.

“Enough to double cross her King,” Saul says, voice growing serious. “Simon, you need to understand that I wanted things to go smoother that night. I was going to give her a chance to make it right–to give Leticia up then and there.” He leans back, mouth pinching unhappily. “But then Remington showed up, so determined to be a hero.” The ember of the cigar waves through the air as Saul gestures in frustration. “He pulled a gun on me, you know! Shot out the back window of my favorite truck.”

“It was Nick’s gun.” The words are mechanical, my mind caught up in envisioning them there on that cliff, Remy trying to save our friend. Even knowing at that point what Tate was hiding–Leticia Lucia–he still stood by her. “What happened next?” I ask, trying to resurface from the fog.

But Saul has gone eerily still, his beady eyes observing me. “It wouldn’t do you any good to hear the gory details, would it?”

Realizing my posture has sunk, I square my shoulders. “I can take it.”

Saul looks skeptical. I don’t really understand at first why he glances at Neon. Not until Saul finally answers, his tone cold and business-like. “I disarmed him and then shot her in the head.” There’s a pause where he waits, like he’s expecting me to react badly to the bluntness of it.

I don’t. “I see.”

Saul gives this slimy little laugh, tucking the cigar between his teeth. “Crazy little fucker, isn’t he? Before I could even turn the gun on him, he and the Lucia girl were already diving right off the edge of the cliff.”

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