“She’s my ex-sister-in-law.” She bursts into tears. “She was. She was my—” She sobs and runs from the room, bumping into the chef as he returns.

He blinks and looks confused. “What happened?”

Kane appears by my side and simply looks at me, a question in his dark eyes. “The victim last night was her ex-sister-in-law,” I inform him. “I suggest we don’t eat any more of the food.”

And since my gut says Naomi will run, I step around Kane and start running toward the door.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I reach the open front door and exit the house just as Naomi’s car is moving toward the gate. The gate that opens automatically when a car approaches. I curse as Andrew appears by my side. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get your team looking for Naomi Wells,” I order, “and get us an address. We’re going to her house. She’s the ex-sister-in-law to Emma.”

My brother, Mr. America, forgets all manners and curses, but he spurs into action, yanking his phone from his pocket. I turn to find Kane in the doorway. “Any chance you have men guarding the house tonight?”

“I have my own personal FBI agent,” he replies dryly. “And she hates when people watch over us. I gave them all the day off.”

Like Kane needs anyone to protect him, but we do seem to have a pattern. I’m the one who gets stabby. He’s the one who hides the evidence. I’d say it works for us but then we did just have a potentially crazy person, maybe even Emma Wells’ killer, cook for us. “How well do you know the chef?” I ask, contemplating the small possibility that we’ve already been poisoned.

“I used a high-end chef service and they came up with a few options. Chef Roswell’s name stood out. I remember his food from an event we attended several years back. You liked his food. The charity museum event with the horse statue, remember?”

Of course, he knows I remember that night. How could I not? I was still with the NYPD, gaining attention for my profiling skills. Kane had invited me to the event and I’d happily accepted. To my surprise, and Kane’s, my father, still the police chief then, had been in attendance. So had Pocher, though at the time I knew little of him. I certainly didn’t know he and my father were already in a political bed together.

Kane had stepped away to take a call, leaving me at the bar momentarily, and that was where my father, and his disdain for Kane, had found me. “Kane Mendez, Lilah? I sure as hell hope the plan is to use your assets to put him in jail. I’m exploring career options that cannot tolerate you making poor decisions.”