She shrugged. “Doesn’t seem the type. Luke’s a lot more likely, but mouth-watering as he is, I don’t know if Stacey could drink enough to take a ride on him. As far as she’s concerned, he really is her brother. Deep down, I’m betting he agrees. He likes to flirt with her, but there’s a line he’s not going to cross. Come to think of it, that rules out a menage a trois, so the only way it can really go is murder. Only question is whether she’ll kill both or just one, and if only one, which will be the first to drive her over the edge?”
“Luke,” we both said together and then laughed.
By the time we got Lindsey loaded in the Highlander, I could barely keep my eyes open. I did manage to remember to retrieve Mitzi’s quartz prison. My blood still smeared it. I was happy to find our psychic connection hadn’t continued. Or maybe she just wasn’t talking to me. If so, she’d be unhappy to learn that suited me down to the ground. With a sigh, I shoved her in my pocket. I owed her some sight-seeing and Lindsey might need her. Maybe I ought to leave her on Luke’s nightstand. She’d certainly get an eyeful.
That thought made me smile all the way to the car until I fell asleep.
ChapterSeven
I woketo the sounds of arguing. I stretched and yawned, looking down at Ajax, who sprawled across my legs. I scratched his ears and he made a happy sound, and promptly wriggled himself around so I could scratch his tummy.
“What’s going on, boy?” I asked with a smile.
The previous night—actually morning—I’d zombied into one of Luke’s guest bedrooms. I’d found a stock of unused toiletries and proceeded to brush my teeth before stripping down to my underwear and crawling straight into bed. I hadn’t even stirred when Ajax joined me.
The argument grew louder. I recognized Stacey’s voice and Luke’s lower rumble. Sibling spat? I couldn’t hear what the fight was about, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon.
I dragged myself out of bed, much to Ajax’s annoyance, and went to grab a shower. I found a canvas bag containing a pair of jeans, fresh underwear, a tee shirt, and socks in the sink. Stacey and Jen must have stopped at the hotel and raided my closet. Now if they’d only brought an IV of coffee, I’d be set.
After I’d showered and dressed, I headed downstairs. Hopefully Luke had food Ajax could eat.
Luke’s house was built in the Frank Lloyd Wright style. It nested into the hillside and surrounding oaks. Despite its size—easily ten thousand square feet—It felt cozy and warm with a lot of windows, wood floors, and mid-century modern furnishings. Luke didn’t go for chrome and steel or black and white, thank goodness. The modern look was chic, but I found it incredibly boring.
The argument had become a rumble of conversation. I wandered through several big rooms intended for entertaining crowds, pausing here and there to examine the artwork and furniture. Sunshine fell through the tall windows and splashed across the comfortable couches and chairs. I checked my phone for the time. Ten o’clock. I hadn’t planned to sleep so late.
Eventually I meandered my way to the kitchen. It was a chef’s wet dream. It had high end appliances, a six-burner stove with a griddle and a grill, a walk in refrigerator and freezer, a giant wine fridge, a vast pantry, an island that went on for days, a chunky oak table that sat twenty, plus every other bell and whistle a chef might want.
I wiped my chin to make sure I hadn’t drooled. To get a chance to cook in this kitchen, I’d have considered going down on Luke. Of course Damon would point out that I had plenty of money to create a kitchen at least this fancy. He’d also go caveman on me. What that would entail, I wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t be pretty, and poor Luke would probably come out of it with broken bones.
I turned my attention to the tableau before me. Mikey, Stacey, and Jen sat on one side of the island. Luke stood leaned against the far counter, his arms crossed and looking defensive.
“I get tons of invitations,” he was telling Stacey, who looked furious. “Most of them are from people I don’t even know. They want me to go to this gala or this fundraiser or who even knows. Most of the time I don’t even open them.”
“You opened this one,” she shot back.
“Because I know he’s a social-climbing slime-bucket.”
She shook her head and tossed up her hands. “How does that even make sense? You open the invitebecauseyou don’t like him?”
“Maybe Luke’s from Earth 2,” I suggested with another yawn, while holding up two fingers. “I hear things don’t actually have to make sense there.” My gaze riveted on the espresso machine peeking out from behind him.
“Get out of the way, Luke,” Jen said. “You never want to stand between Beck and her coffee. You might lose your favorite appendage.”
Stacey shoed him aside. “I’ll fix it, Beck. Get some sugar, Luke. Hurry, before she goes feral.”
I’d have protested, but they weren’t wrong about me. My blood was at least three quarters coffee.
“What’s going on?” I asked. My stomach growled. I headed for the refrigerator and started digging out ingredients for an omelet. I found some ground turkey. Perfect for Ajax. I carried my bounty to the island, where the stove sat at one end. I quickly fired up the grill, made patties from the turkey, and tossed them on the heat. I then set about chopping veggies.
“Luke has an invitation to that garden party. You know, the one being held by Lydia’s asshole ex? The same guy who stole her cats, had her arrested, got her fired from several jobs, and had her evicted from her apartment.”
Stacey gave Luke a baleful look, the espresso machine starting to steam loudly. “I knew you kept crap company, but I never thought you’d be caught dead around a rattlesnake like him.”
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting out a gusty sigh. “I will say it again. I don’t know the man. He’s got political ambitions and I’m on a dozen lists he could buy to solicit donations.”
“Which you opened,” she pointed out. “Even though you don’t usually.”
“Have a look at the address. The return address,” he clarified when she picked up the envelope.
