Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks

passion here, Lily thought. That didn’t surprise her. The sense of balance and harmony did.
    She wasn’t sure Rachel had heard her. The young woman stood near the couch, hugging her elbows to her body and frowning around at the room as if the sofa or table could tell her what she was supposed to do. How do you treat the detective investigating your husband’s death?
    Lily tried to help. “Your sister isn’t here?”
    “She had to work.”
    “Would you rather do this when she can be with you?”
    “I want to get it over with. And there are some things . . . it will be easier to talk about it without her. She’s protective.” Rachel shrugged. “My big sister, you know?”
    “I’ve got one of those. She’s okay, but she never forgets that she’s the big sister. Can’t quite get it that I know how to tie my own shoes these days.”
    A glimmer of humor appeared in Rachel’s dark eyes. “Sounds familiar. Della, she wants to help, but she didn’t think much of Carlos. And she really hated Rule—oh, not him, exactly, but that I was involved with him. It’s hard to be around her right now.”
    “Your parents don’t live here, I understand.”
    “No. Mama moved back to Tucson after Daddy left, and none of us knows where he is. She . . .” Her grimace held pain and guilt. “She’s praying over me. I hate that. I hate it that she thinks I’m some sort of adulteress. It wasn’t like that.”
    “What was it like?”
    Rachel gave her a long, hard look, but Lily saw her throat work when she swallowed. “I guess I have to tell you. I want you to catch him. I want him punished, whoever it was. Carlos . . . he was a mess.” She gave a short, harsh laugh. “More of a mess than me, believe it or not. But he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to have all his chances taken away.”
    “No, he didn’t. Maybe we could sit down, and you can tell me about it.”
    “Oh. Sure.” She dropped onto the couch. “I should have . . . I’m not thinking right.”
    The chair opposite Rachel was striped in yellow and lime green. Lily moved a newspaper to the floor and sat down. “You won’t be, for awhile.”
    “I guess not.” A long strand had worked loose from the knot. Rachel shoved it behind her ear and leaned forward, her hands gripping each other between her spread knees. “You want to know who did it, who killed him. I can’t tell you that, but it wasn’t Rule.”
    “You sound pretty sure.”
    “He didn’t . . . he couldn’t . . .” She had to stop and swallow. “I could tell you that he couldn’t have sat there with me at the club and talked and smiled if he’d just killed my husband, but that’s just my opinion, isn’t it? And you’re thinking that of course I’d say that. Otherwise Carlos’s death would be my fault. But it is anyway, isn’t it?”
    Lily’s throat ached with pity. “Why do you say that?”
    “It was a lupus who killed him.” She shot to her feet and began pacing. “It wasn’t Rule, but it was a lupus, so it has to have something to do with Rule, or with the club. Something to do with me. Only I can’t figure out what it could be.”
    “I’d say you’re thinking pretty clearly.”
    Rachel paused, shot Lily a bitter look. “And maybe that’s not a compliment. Maybe I should be falling apart.”
    “We all deal with grief differently.” And there was no doubt in Lily’s mind this woman was grieving. “Did your husband own a gun, Ms. Fuentes?”
    “Yeah, he . . .” She rubbed her forehead. “Did you say something about that last night?”
    “I did.” But Rachel had been incoherent then. “We found a gun nearby. We’re running the serial number, but it would help if you could tell me what kind of gun your husband had.”
    “It’s a pistol. A twenty-two.”
    “Did he often carry it with him?”
    “No, but when we went to Club Hell, he did. It’s not a safe neighborhood.”
    Lily’s eyebrows rose. “He went to the club with you?”
    “Not . . . not