Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,56

to a chair at the table. He helps me sit, tucks me in, and then he takes his place at the head, close enough our knees touch.

“This table is beautiful.” I marvel at the spread laid out in front of me. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, Prima.” Reaching forward and taking the white wine from the bucket, he stares into my eyes and begins pouring.

Time passes us by, my wine glass drains – followed by only a single refill, because I refuse to get messy while in a man’s apartment. I mean, I know who he is, I know where I am, and I guess I could probably trust that I’ll get home safely, but in my efforts to shield Will from my life at Zeus’, he now thinks I’m at a sweet sixteen.

If I don’t make it home tonight, he won’t even know where to start looking, and after everything he’s sacrificed for me over the last twenty-three years, that’s a really shitty way to repay him.

So I stay sober, sharp, complimentary but not overly flirtatious.

“I was wondering…” I finally build up my courage somewhere around Evan’s fourth snifter of whiskey. I sit sideways in my chair, so my elbow rests on the table, and the split in my dress reveals my thigh crossed over the other. “Have you had a moment to look into that thing I asked about? The man who went missing.”

“I have.” Evan sits back in his chair, rests his head back, and lazily looks down at me. “I made some calls as soon as you left my office last week.”

“You did?” My heart rate speeds up. “So fast.”

“Well…” He smiles, and straddles that line between sober and sloppy. “What my lady wants, my lady gets.”

I have to school my expression, swallow the automatic “What the fuck are you talking about?” that wants to spew past my lips, and when he slides his hand onto my thigh and begins to creep higher, I take it, twine our fingers together, and study his eyes. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“I certainly did,” he drawls. He plays with the diamond bangle on my wrist, spins it, studies it. “I had my men ask questions about the man who disappeared from the docks. These networks tend to take time, it’s a bit like a game of telephone sometimes, but along the way, I caught rumors of a body buried in a shallow grave a little past the turnpike beneath the Main Bridge.”

“A…” I release his hand and press my fingers to my lips. “A body?”

“Indeed. It’s been many years since this man went missing, which means extricating the body would almost prove fruitless – unless, of course, a man has access to facilities that can process what is found.”

“We could call the cops.” Thoughts race through my mind. Plans. Consequences. “We could phone in an anonymous tip and say that our dog found bones or something. Get the body found…” I frown. “But if there’s a body, there was definitely a murder. It’s no longer a missing person’s case.” I meet Evan’s eyes. “Should we call the police?”

“No need, Prima.” He sits forward and takes the cold white wine from the bucket. Despite my glass still being half full, he tops it up, places it in my hand, and nudges it toward my lips until I sip. “I had a team come down just days ago, they dug up these bones.”

“You did?” I squeak. “Were they… are they…” I have to pull a long breath in, then let it out again. “They weren’t animal bones, by any chance?”

“No, Prima.” He pushes the wine closer to my lips, but this time, I chug a mouthful. I need the help to calm my nerves. “They were human remains, according to my contact.”

“Have they been identified?” I ask. “How long does that take?”

“They were identified as belonging to a male,” he answers quickly, confidently. He’s been holding onto this information all night, rehearsing it in his head. “The remains appear to belong to a man between the ages of twenty and thirty. Caucasian.”

“They can tell that from just bones?” I swallow the bile that wants to rise in my throat.

“Yes,” he purrs. “They can tell a lot of things these days. The age matches, the race, the sex. This man’s teeth were not well intact, so dental records may prove complicated. But cause of death was immediately distinguishable.”

“It was?” I can’t help that my breath comes out on a pant. I feel