The Killing Game(83)

There was a moment of silence, then “Dead! What do you mean dead? You don’t mean . . . dead-dead . . . ?” he asked in shock.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Luke spent a few moments bringing Carter up to speed.

Carter responded, sounding poleaxed, “Okay . . . okay. Well . . . I still need to talk to her.”

Andi reached out a hand when it looked like Luke was going to fob him off. She knew Carter. It would be easiest to just find out what he wanted. “Hi, Carter,” she answered.

“Andi, I’m sorry. It’s unbelievable. I hardly know what to say.... Do the police know anything? Was it foul play?”

“We don’t know anything yet. Just tell me what you need.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to like to hear this. The Carreras are meeting with our lawyer on Monday. They’re bringing a five-million-dollar check.”

“Five mil—” She couldn’t finish. “Goddamn it, Carter. It’s not going to happen! They can bring us a hundred million. I don’t care! Do you get that? Do you? I’m so sick of this!”

Luke was on the balls of his feet. “What?”

“I’ve talked to Emma and—” Carter began calmly.

“No. No, you haven’t. She would never agree,” Andi practically shouted into the phone.

“I was going to say, she feels like you do. But she at least said she’d come to the meeting. I didn’t know about your friend, but you and I need to be there, too.”

“No. No.”

“If Greg were alive, he would be there.”

“Greg didn’t trust the Carreras either. You know that.”

“Listen to me, Andi. Greg would want to make sure the company wasn’t in financial trouble. This is our grandfather’s company. One my dad continued, and now it’s up to us.” His voice had taken on an edge. “I don’t want to fight you, but Andi, this is important Wren business, and let’s face it, you’re really not a Wren.”

“Tell that to the Carreras,” she choked out. “They’re the ones sending me ‘little bird’ notes.”

“I don’t know what that’s about, but it’s not the Carreras.”

“I gotta go,” she said.

“Andi—”

“Oh, wait. There’s something you need to know. Luke saw that Mimi’s baby bump is a fake. So you were right about that. But you’re not right about the Carreras!”

She clicked off and dropped the phone on the table, then put her head in her hands, fighting off sobs.

Luke dropped down in front of her and said soberly, “I’m going to connect with Detective Thompkins, but it’s also high time I confronted the brothers.”

She lifted a tear-streaked face to him. “Please don’t. I appreciate it. But not now.”

“You came to me because of them.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“I don’t have to leave right this minute,” he said, though he looked like that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“I don’t know if you heard. I have a meeting on Monday with Carter, Emma, and the Carreras.”

“I heard enough.”

“Come to the meeting with me on Monday,” she said abruptly. “You can confront them there. I told Carter I wouldn’t go, but I have to. Be there with me.”

“I feel like the momentum’s now,” he tried to argue, rising to his full height.

She shook her head, gazing up at him, mutely pleading.

“I want to find the Carreras and lay our cards on the table,” he explained.

“What cards?”

“That we know about their coercion, that they’re responsible for Ted Bellows’s death, that they’re not going to take the lodge away from the Wrens.”

Andi got to her feet, facing him. She grabbed his left hand. “Don’t go.”

Luke’s jaw worked. “I can’t stand the way they’re forcing themselves on you and your sister-and brother-in-law. I want to know if they had anything to do with your friend’s death. I want to stop them.”

“Yes . . . but wait.”

“Why?”

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. Slowly, Andi placed her hands on either side of his face. Then she leaned in and kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips against hers.

She pulled back slowly. She could see how his eyes had darkened.

“I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea,” he said.

“I just want to feel something good.”

“I stay away from clients.”

“I stay away from everyone,” she admitted. “Greg was the anomaly, and now he’s gone.”

“My last relationship ended ugly. Still ending.”

She finally heard that. “You’re still getting over it?” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Oh God. I’m sorry.”

“I’m over it. Was never really in it,” he admitted. “I’m just . . .”

“I’m going to be embarrassed tomorrow.” She took a step backward, needing space, when his arm reached for her and he dragged her back to him. Her breasts were a hairbreadth from his chest. She had to angle her face upward to meet his hungry gaze.