Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER TEN

The metallic taste of blood pooled inside my lip, spilling warm down my chin as I pushed up from the floor. But the heel of a boot sunk into my ribs, buckling my elbows as the door slammed shut. Sharp pain shot through my side as I squirmed to roll onto my back, staring up blindly into the spinning glare of the limo's violet accent lights.

As I tried to focus, a pile of papers fell around me. Photographs. I squinted through the floating specs, trying to unblur the faces in the images, only to recognize my own first. My freshly dyed dark hair and my freckled body stretched out on a volcanic beach, burning beneath the hot Mediterranean sun, taken about a year ago. Fresh out of prison. Proof of my lies. I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing from the pain as the image of the other woman took shape in my mind without needing reference from the photos.

Long, wavy hair draped over olive skin. Sicilian blue eyes flashed bright beneath the stupid, fucking floppy hat that she'd originally bought for me. And that dimple that dipped into her cheek. It was one of those moments that I had meticulously sketched in my mind, to always remember her like that. She was happy that day. Free. We both were.

"So, Kirby McKinley," the glassy voice cut through me like a shard. I turned my face to the side, squinting through the light that silhouetted his perfectly styled pompadour. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure out who you were?"

"I guess you're smarter than you look," I groaned as I pushed up from the floor. "Your dead wife thought otherwise."

Landon lunged down at me, fingers gripping my hair as he dragged me up between his legs. I already knew fighting back would be pointless. I'd been jumped like this more than once. The only reason I was still alive was because he needed something from me. And maybe insulting him wasn't the smartest move, but setting him off seemed to take away some of his control.

The side of his mouth twisted up to a crooked smile as he loosened his grip. "And what a fool you are, believing she thought any higher of you." His voice dripped with disdain. My teeth clenched as his fingers slid down to stroke my cheek. "But she did always love a pretty little charity project."

Pulling away, I quickly slid backwards til my back hit the opposite seat. "What do you want, Landon? An apology for fucking your wife? I thought men like you were into that shit."

"So classy." He flashed that amused, toothy grin again. "No wonder Pino had you locked up."

"Pino can go fuck—"

"Good news is, he considers your debt paid, you know, thanks to my dead wife. Bad news is, you owe me now, Kirby. Your little stunt tonight cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars."

I was about to open my mouth again, but for once in my life I kept it shut. Did he think I staged Gabriel's body? Or was he pissed we stumbled upon it like Desirae thought?

"Add that debt on top of the very generous donation Artemisia made to the prison to get you out early and I'd say you owe me the equivalent of a couple Degas pastels."

There it was.

With a smile, I tongued the cut on my lip and slid up from the floor into the white leather seat behind me. "While I couldn't think of a more vile, suitable owner than you, I think your math is off a bit. Those pastels are worth close to a million each."

His slick grin faded with a huff as he tugged at his blazer. "Maybe on the open-market, but—"

"Pino has never had a problem moving art for near what it's worth," I replied, careful to watch his subtle reactions; the flare of his nostrils, the twitch of his lips, the way he fumbled with his cufflinks. "Unless, you're trying to make this deal without him knowing? Which I would totally advise against. Even if I did know what Artie had done with the sketches."