Twisted Palace by Erin Watt Page A

finding out who those enemies are.”
    I rise up on my elbows. “So you’re, what, Lois Lane now? You’re going to solve this case on your own?”
    “Do you have a better idea?” she counters.
    I sigh. “Dad’s got investigators. They found you, remember?”
    Ella’s hand pauses over the mouse, but her hesitation lasts only for a second before she clicks on what appears to be Brooke’s Facebook page. While the page loads, she throws me a thoughtful glance.
    “The funeral,” she announces.
    “What about it?” I ask cautiously. I don’t like where she’s going with this.
    “I think I should go.”
    I sit up in a rush. “No way. Grier said we couldn’t go.”
    “No, he said you couldn’t go.” Her gaze returns to the screen. “Hey, did you know Brooke had a BA from North Carolina State?”
    I ignore the useless tidbit. “You’re not going to that funeral, Ella,” I growl.
    “Why not? It’s the best way to get an idea of who was close to Brooke. I can see who shows up and—” She gasps. “What if the killer shows up?”
    Closing my eyes, I try to will up some much-needed patience. “Babe.” I open my eyes. “Do you really think whoever killed Brooke is going to waltz up and say, ‘Hey guys! I’m a murderer!’”
    Indignation flashes in her blue eyes. “Of course not. But haven’t you ever watched those crime documentaries on TV? Those FBI commentators always talk about how killers will return to the scene of the crime or attend the victim’s funeral as a way to taunt the police.”
    I stare at her in disbelief, but she’s already focused on the laptop again.
    “I don’t want you going to the funeral,” I grind out.
    Ella doesn’t even look my way as she says, “Too fucking bad.”

11
Ella
    “ W hat nun did you kill for that outfit?” Easton asks when I climb into his pickup early Saturday morning.
    I slap the dashboard. “Shut up and drive.”
    He obediently puts the truck in gear and peels down the driveway toward the massive steel gates that block the mansion from the main road. “Why? Who’s after us? Is it Steve?”
    Even though Steve is now living with Dinah in their suite of hotel rooms at the Hallow Oaks, he’s still lurking around the mansion all the time. He puts Callum in a good mood, but I feel awkward around him and try to avoid spending time with him. I guess that hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice.
    “It’s Reed,” I reply. “He didn’t want me to go today.”
    “Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled about me going, either.”
    I glance out the back window to make sure Reed isn’t running after the truck or anything. He was unhappy when I left, but like I told him the other night, too bad. I plan on scoping out every single person who attends Brooke’s service today.
    Besides, someone needs to be there with Callum today while his fiancée is being buried. I can’t let him do that alone, and since Reed is out of the question and the twins refused, that leaves me and Easton. Callum went on ahead of us with his driver, Durand, because he has business in the city after the service.
    “So what’d you do? Sex him into submission? Is he passed out in orgasmic bliss?”
    “Shut up.” I find my girl power mix on my phone and plug the music in.
    But that doesn’t silence Easton. Instead, he just shouts over the lyrics. “Are you still not putting out? Poor guy’s balls are probably purple by now.”
    “I’m not talking about my sex life with you,” I inform him, and turn the music up even higher.
    Easton spends the next five miles laughing.
    The sad truth is, Reed’s the one who’s torturing us. For the last three nights, he’s slept in my bed again and we’ve fooled around a ton. He’s fine with me touching him everywhere. He loves it when I go down on him and he’s equally generous in return. Heck, he’d spend hours with his head between my legs if I let him. But the final deed? That’s off the table until “this Brooke thing,” as he calls it, isn’t