Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,57

the way I do when riding around on a public bus… sweaty, shaky, ill. “How was he…” I swallow. “How did he die?”

Instead of words, Evan sets his glass down and reaches between us. Opening his hand, and wrapping his long fingers around my neck so that the diamond chain he gifted me rests between our skin, he gently pushes my head to the left, then the right. “Broken neck, mi amore. It was easy for the medical examiner to see that this man’s neck was broken.”

“God.” I reach up and rest my hand over his. Not in a caress, not because I want to touch him, but because I want to touch me. To shield my neck. To cover up such a weak spot on a human’s body. “When will your contact know for sure whose bones they were? Will he ever know, or is that something only the police can find out?”

“Prima.” He smiles and sits back again to sip his alcohol. “You allow me to bury the lead.”

“What?”

“Nathanial Joseph Hardy. My associate already gave me the name.”

“Oh no,” I cry out. “He’s really dead?”

“Are you okay, Prima?” He reaches forward and rests a hand on the back of my head. “You look ill.”

“I’m not… I’m just…” I breathe through my mouth and concentrate on the bubbling panic wanting to surface and spill all over the fancy floors. “I’m okay,” I pant out. “I, uh… I guess I’m in shock.”

Evan tilts his head to the side and regards me. “Was this man special to you, Prima? Was he… a lover?”

“No. My brother…” I lick my lips and shake my head. “It’s just that my brother is being blamed for that man’s death. I was hoping Nate would turn up alive someday, and prove to the authorities that Will is innocent.”

“That is…” He tastes the words on his tongue. “Unfortunate.”

“His wife was pregnant,” I whisper.

Evan’s eyes flash with anger. “Whose wife?”

“Nate’s. Well, his girlfriend, I guess. Not his wife. They were having a baby, and then the next thing we know, Nate is missing, and now I heard a rumor that she is dead. Where’s the baby?” I ask no one. Since there is literally no one here who could possibly know. I speak to myself, plan, make a list of questions. “I should find out if the baby survived. I don’t think… Where is she now? Where was the mother buried?”

And why does it matter to me?

I sit back and set my wine glass back on the table. “It doesn’t matter. Her death has nothing to do with Will. Her body is not missing.” I pause, swallow, meet Evan’s eyes. “Do you think the person who got Nate was the same person who got his girlfriend? And why are they pointing their finger at my brother for one, but not the other?”

“Valid questions, amore. You could have made a good detective in another life.”

“Hardly.” I choke out a small laugh, only to stop when my phone rings in my purse.

I glance across the room to where I left my bag, then back to Evan. “I’m so sorry, but that might be important.”

“Of course.” He waves me off and sits back. “I will have the help come in to clean our dishes away while you’re busy. I could do with a little dessert, couldn’t you?”

“Um… sure. Something sweet. Please.”

I set my cloth napkin on the table, and stand from the chair. Crossing the room with a hand on my rolling stomach, I snatch my phone from my bag, and hit ‘answer’ before processing the unknown number on my screen. “Hello?”

“Miss Quinnton. Hello,” a nasally, whiny voice greets me. “My name is Aletha Asa, and I’m from City Electric. How are you this evening?”

“Um…” I look down at my phone, at the room around me, at Evan as he instructs previously invisible maids to clean the table. Bringing my phone back to my ear, I frown and answer, “I’m well. And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I’m calling all of the residents on your street tonight because, due to today’s heavy rainfall, there has been damage to the power lines that connect yours and five other apartments nearby.”

“Um…” I frown deeper. “Okay.”

“Water has made its way into the electrical outlet that leads into your homes, and this could become dangerous if not checked.”

“Oh… um… okay. Is my apartment on fire or something?”

Evan spins at my words, and tilts his head.

“Certainly not, ma’am. But there is a risk, small as it may