Lover Undercover by Samanthe Beck Read Free Book Online Page A

him.
    “I’m not,” she shot back, voice quavering. “I’m so far from tough it’s frightening.”
    “Stacy, we can keep you safe—”
    “You don’t understand. I can’t tell you anything more because I don’t know anything. I don’t know who killed Carlton Long or the other one…Alex Montenegro—”
    “Impressive memory for someone who claims to be terrible with names,” he pointed out softly.
    Her expression froze, then shuttered. She pulled away and stood. “I’m leaving now.”
    “Fine. We’ll continue this discussion tonight at Deuces.”
    That stopped her at the door. She swung around and stared at him. “Detective, I’ve answered your questions. The whole point of coming here this afternoon was so you wouldn’t come to the club tonight.”
    “I know.” He smiled as he said it, showing her he wasn’t particularly concerned with her lack of enthusiasm for his company. “I also know you’re our only link between two unsolved murders. So unless and until something else breaks, I’m your new best customer. Better get used to me.”
    …
    “You’re stoned if you think I’m going to the cops,” Stacy declared with a humorless laugh. “I might as well lock myself up and throw away the key.”
    Kylie stopped pacing a threadbare path over the worn rug covering the scarred hardwood of their living room floor and stared at her sister, who sat on the sofa with her cast-encased leg propped on their dinged Ikea coffee table. Having just recapped a high-volume account of the last twelve hours of her life, her twin’s flat-out refusal to come clean to the police about their switcheroo threw her for a loop.
    “Stacy, this is not like me taking your place for one of Mrs. Higgins’s algebra exams. It’s a murder investigation, and I don’t know the right answers. I told them I didn’t recognize Carlton Long’s name, but it looks like a big, fat lie, given he was one of your best clients. The good news is, despite all the holes in my statement, they don’t think you’re knowingly involved in the murders.”
    “Good. We’re home free, Ky. Why mess things up now?”
    So Trevor doesn’t come to Deuces every night and watch me dance, she wanted to scream, but bit the words back and offered up a more rational explanation. “Because it’s illegal to lie to the police? Because you might know something important you don’t even realize, or maybe have some detail tucked away in your memory that will unlock the case for them? Do you want me to keep going? This is nonnegotiable, Stacy. We’ve got to call Detective McCade, explain what we did, and talk to him. Don’t be afraid. You’re not a suspect.”
    Stacy’s face lost every bit of color. Even her lips went pale at Kylie’s words. “No, Kylie, you’re not a suspect. You come across as innocent and trustworthy. They could have found you standing over both dead guys, bloody brass knuckles in hand, and somehow, they’d still believe you had nothing to do with it. I’m different. My whole life, all I had to do was breathe and I’d be accused of doing something wrong. If we come forward now and tell these detectives about our little fraud, I’m screwed.”
    And there it was, the crux of her sister’s refusal. “This isn’t Two Trout. These detectives don’t operate on preconceived notions. They look for the truth and back it up with facts. And the fact is, you didn’t commit these murders. But they happened, and you can’t afford to hide your head and pretend otherwise.”
    “Please, Ky, keep being me,” Stacy begged. “I’m no good with police. I don’t trust them. Remember how it was in Two Trout? The second anything bad happened, the cops always showed up at our door, wanting to question me. And I always said something wrong, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
    Kylie wanted to deny the assertion, but she couldn’t. Their whole lives, her sister had always been guilty until proven innocent. Over the years, run-ins with