Dangerous, and at the same time, too tempting to ignore.
Mara nods. “Almost everyone. The sexy people, anyway. One could say he has a type—big tits and a bigger ass. But he’s strictly transactional. His conquests give him what he wants, and he’ll give them a shopping spree or two. Maybe some cash. I hear he’s even into threesomes.” She giggles. “Hey, maybe if I text him to come over with you here, he might bite?”
“Don’t,” I croak as she brandishes her phone for emphasis.
Still giggling, she stows it beneath the table, though I can’t see if she’s typing a text from here.
Her eyes meet mine, suddenly stern. “Though… On a serious note, rumor has it, he was seeing Faith before she died. Bad boys, I can do. Murderers? No go.”
“What?” It’s like the universe narrows to this table, and everything else disappears. I’m biting my lip, so hard I taste copper though I don’t feel anything.
“Yeah,” Mara says, sounding miles away. “Someone I know said he saw them together a lot at his club. And he helped in the search for her, and now that he’s paying for her funeral, well it makes sense. But baby boy isn’t the sentimental type. He must have really liked her. Or,” she adds, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He feels guilty. It’s not public knowledge, but I heard from my parents—who have been trying to keep the Wens company with everything going on—that Faith’s phone is missing. Maybe someone didn’t want it found? Like, she could have had tons of nudes on it or something, though Rafe doesn’t strike me as the type to be embarrassed by that. Hey… Are you okay?” She snaps her fingers beneath my nose until she has my full attention. “You went all space cadet there for a minute.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, but I’m already scanning the window again, this time in search of a distraction. Anything to get my mind off the selfish, sordid thoughts circling my brain.
But as a familiar figure comes into view, I realize that I got my wish.
“Good,” Mara says, oblivious to how I stiffen in my seat. “Because I need you to help me plan the sexiest outfit ever that one could realistically wear to a memorial service—”
“Oh, no.” The exclamation slips out the second I realize that the specter crossing the street doesn’t disappear when I blink. Liam, heading straight for the café’s entrance. He must be off, sporting a plain white shirt and jeans instead of his uniform, but he looks anything but relaxed.
He’s angry.
“Hannah?” Mara exclaims as I lurch to my feet. I don’t even think I choke out an explanation to her as I scramble for the exit.
I’m so focused on making it outside that I nearly run into someone on my way out of the door. He grabs my arm before I can pull away. One look at his face and I can tell he isn’t here by accident.
“Hannah?” Narrowed and focused, his eyes latch onto me with an intensity I’ve never seen from him.
“Liam…” I croak. Self-consciously, I lift my hand to shield the worst of the bruising, but it’s too late.
Without invitation, he brushes his thumb along my cheek, gingerly prodding the skin. Concern unfurls across his face, hardening the already stern tilt to his mouth. He doesn’t look surprised. Just resigned. “Damn, Hannah. What happened? Branden said you were okay, but—”
“What did he tell you?” I demand, unable to keep the alarm from my voice. I whip around, hunting for any hint of my brother lurking nearby.
The street is nearly empty, and when I return to Liam, he looks taken aback. “He didn’t say much,” he admits. “Just that you were in some kind of trouble.”
I suck in a breath to disguise my unease. Just how many lies is Branden spinning about me?
“I tried to check on you at the bookstore,” Liam adds. “Luckily, I happened to see you walk this way. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I try to pull away, but he’s persistent, trailing his thumb beneath my injured eye.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he admits. “I’m not an idiot, Hannah. These days you look like you’re haunted. I’ve been worried about you. If you tell me what’s wrong, I can—”
“I’m fine,” I insist more forcefully this time. “I promise. Thank you for worrying, but you don’t have to. But… Maybe you can help me with something else.”
Rafe’s suspicions keep bouncing around in my head. Now seems like as good a time as any to get some answers.
“What?” Liam asks.
For a second, I toy with the idea of how to spin the question as sneakily as possible. How to lie. Deceive. In the end, I come to the honest truth—there is no other way to put it than bluntly. “What do you know about the Wen murder case?”
His brow furrows as his thumb stills near the corner of my mouth. “Not much,” he admits. “It’s considered high profile due to all the exposure. Most of what I know is just gossip.”
But his eyes flicker away from mine, suddenly evasive.
“I heard there might be other girls who have gone missing,” I say, trying a different tack. “And Faith worked at this club. I think it’s called Stella’s. Do the police know anything about—”
“Stella’s?” His tone is a fraction harder. Definitely more suspicious than shocked. Slowly, he withdraws his hand from my face, letting it fall to his side. “Hannah, what is this about?”
“One of my friends knew Faith,” I say, which isn’t technically a lie, and I allow my real desperation to leech into my voice, strengthening the claim. “I want to give her whatever comfort I can regarding the investigation. Is there anything at all you can tell me? Even something small. Please.”
He sighs and shoots a glance over his shoulder before leaning in toward me.
“Well…I know they have one suspect,” he admits. “I don’t know who exactly. Just that
