“You already have,” she said.
In a feeble effort to put distance between them, Amelia sunk in her seat. Emory ran his fingers through his hair and dragged his chair over until they faced each other. Lunar shadows sharpened his features, and he moved stealthily for such a tall, long-limbed man.
“Here’s the deal, Amelia. I’ll keep you safe, keep you alive. In exchange, you’ll answer some questions for me because there are things I’m having trouble wrapping my head around.”
She glared at him. “Sounds like your problem, not mine.”
“Don’t fuck with me!” Emory snapped, his voice ringing heavy in the night. “I said I didn’t want to hurt you, not that I wouldn’t. I find it hard to believe you had no idea who came after you or why.”
He slipped to the edge of his seat again, and Amelia did the same, the distance between them closing toward collision. If he could rage, so could she. Amelia’s blood pumped hot, and the chill of the night vanished along with her fear of Emory so full of false threats.
“I know exactly who came after me.Youdid. You were the one who orchestrated a kidnapping, the one who had your men murder my friend then drug me and bring me here.You!”
Emory couldn’t argue the logic and, to his credit, didn’t try. He stared at her from beneath his brows as a sweet breeze enveloped them. It lifted the loose ends of his hair and carried the warm spice of his cologne. It tempered something in them both.
Amelia drew a shaky breath, and Emory settled in his seat to redraw the space between them. He lowered his voice as if the night itself had stilled to listen. Dead air encased them, and the moths all fluttered away.
“Burt was a fucking clown, digging into things he should’ve left alone. Martin Kranski tried to help him out of the shit storm. I saw you talking to Kranski last night. You couldn’t get away from the guy fast enough. Why?”
Emory stared at her lips with overt fixation. He could take her apart with one look and seemed poised to do just that.
Remember who you are.She was lost and alone in a world where he was God. She’d have to give him something.
“My dad and Richard had an argument before the party. I don’t know what about. Martin came over to ask about my dad, and I didn’t want to talk about it. That’s it. There’s nothing else.”
Amelia kept his eyes despite the lie. She worked it like clay inher hands. With each iteration, it came easier, softer, more pliable. Emory’s appraisal of her changed then, and he regarded her with somber concern before going impassive again.
“Why were you there last night?” Amelia asked.
Emory glanced at the desert awash in a full moon’s glow. In the distance, the road lights twinkled like drawn-down stars.
“Rich Dauer owes me something and had more opportunities than most to deliver but didn’t. I knew I could corner him at his own party.”
“You said the Velascos are coming for you too. Why?”
“I assume to upend this.” He tipped his head backwards to the mansion behind them. “Our organizations have had a ceasefire for a long time, but they’re backtracking on it. I need to know who’s behind it and why. That’s what Richard owes me. Answers. All he knows is that the Velascos are unmanageable.”
“They’re different than they used to be,” Amelia mused airily enough anyone else might’ve carried on.
Not him. No, of course not. Emory responded with a thoughtful nod but seemed to harden with that detail.
“They’re different because Philippe Velasco is dead. He went missing a few weeks ago. Body parts turned up in the Colorado River. Yesterday, the medical examiner identified those parts as Philippe. People assumed he bailed after the indictment. Truth is, he was betrayed, killed by his own men.”
It made sense, the fight with Richard and her father’s words that a man was already dead. Amelia had assumed he meant Burt.
“Why would they do that?” she asked.
“A few of their captains thought Philippe was too dovish when your dad came around. That sentiment grew with someone fanning the flames of dissent. Philippe felt the target on his back and turned rat for a plea deal. Staging a coup is no small thing, though. It means there’s a sickness inside. Mutiny, distrust, betrayal. It all falls apart. But they’re not falling apart. They’re getting stronger, more brutal, more organized.”
“Who’s in charge now?”
Emory shrugged, but his severity returned.
“That, more than anything, is what I need to know. Someone let the wolf in the door, and now it calls the shots from the shadows.”
Leaned forward, he pinned his elbows to his knees and interlaced his fingers.
“I know about the folder, Amelia. I know you saw it.”
