Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Opportunistic?" I murmured.

"—who I know I shouldn't risk my career to protect, who I know I shouldn't trust, but for some unfathomable reason I do. A lot more than I should."

Her warm umber eyes held my gaze for that extra second and I could see she meant it.

"Ladies?" Greg's voice rang with condescending irritation. "Is there a problem?" Desirae pulled away from me and continued down the sidewalk to catch up to him.

"Just you, my dude." As I ignored the glare from Greg, I caught another from the cop along the tape. Ferrante. He was definitely one of Pino's guys and probably not the only one on the force. The Cassini's likely had people on the forensics team as well. Hugging my elbow to my side, I started to feel eyes all over me as we walked to the center of the courtyard.

"The museum's security guard," Greg began to say, "Kyle—"

"Carl," we both corrected in unison.

"Whatever. He found the body this afternoon."

I exchanged a brief glance with Desirae, remembering Carl had disappeared last night sometime before we found Gabriel.

"Where is Carl now?" Desirae asked.

"Talking to one of the detectives."

"Wasn't the museum closed after last night?" I butted in. "What was he doing here today?"

"His job?" he scoffed. "Some people actually care about art and keeping it safe from criminals like you."

"Well, a criminal like me knows he works the night shift. So you and the local boys in blue just let him poke around the crime scene while he was off-duty and he suddenly stumbles upon another one?"

Greg abruptly stopped and turned to me. "You know, you're awfully mouthy for someone whose fingerprints are all over this case." Desirae tried to hold him back, but he pushed past her and yanked me to the side. Stale coffee breath invaded my space as he whispered through a grin. "If I find out you're covering for your fucked up girlfriend again—or worse, I will personally put you away for good."

His spiked blonde hair didn't bend against the breeze, stiff and over-gelled like his personality. I didn't know what the hell I'd done to trigger this guy or why he thought Artie could have anything to do with this, but I was so over being threatened by straight white cis men. If he wanted to waste his time trying to take me down with my dead ex-girlfriend, so be it. Squeezing his shoulder, I gave him my best fake smile. "Good luck with that."

He swatted my hand away and adjusted his shoulders, beady eyes darting around the courtyard to make sure no one was looking. He huffed away to the group of navy polos up ahead.

Beneath a replica of the Venus de Milo, Desirae stood off to the side, arms folded around herself. "What did he say to you?"

"I uh, wasn't really listening. Too distracted by his 90s boy-band, frosted tips. Reminded me of a girl I dated back in high—"

"Kirby," Desirae sighed. "You don't want to fuck around with him."

"Right, I'll leave that to you," I muttered under my breath, but she definitely heard me.

"He's my boss."

I cringed with a shaky laugh. "Well, I hope you're getting what you need out of it. Promotion, maybe?"

"I'm here. On this case," she said quietly, but with full seriousness. "That's all that matters." Her tone softened as she stepped out of the shadows of the Venus. "I'm just saying, he'll make your life hell if you give him a reason to. He has the means. And he's done it before."