You Know Who I Am (The Drusilla Thorne Mysteries Book 2) by Diane Patterson Page B

“You don’t have much choice in the matter. We’re going to get you squared away here in Los Angeles, and then you come home to New York.”
    “Whether I want to or not.”
    “Yes, even if you don’t want to.”
    After eleven years of hiding away and making sure Stevie was safe, it was all over. And no one was going to look out for my little sister the way I had. Which meant if I were physically separated from her and her location could be found, it was going to be open season on her, as a way to take revenge on me.
    I probably shouldn’t have murdered that guy when I was sixteen, but trust me, I had a very good reason at the time.

C HAPTER E IGHT

    I WAS SO lost in my own thoughts that I don’t even remember the walk to the valet stand. The first thing I was aware of was the handsome man standing there. No, handsome was an insult to this man. He was the sort of gorgeous that made you want to say, “Knock me down and fuck me right now.” I was sure I knew him from some movie, some TV show. If Stevie were with me, she’d be able to spout his entire career, including visits to chat shows and charity work. Thick black hair, tan skin, big brown eyes framed by long eyelashes any woman would kill for. And a body with a flat stomach and tight arse. He smiled at me and I thought, He asks me back to his room, I’m going. After the day I’d had, a quick one with someone who looked like a Greek god was exactly what I needed.
    “Your ticket, ma’am?” he asked with a slight Mexican accent.
    At which point I realized he was the valet.
    Are all LA valets better-looking than most movie stars? I wondered. I handed him my parking voucher. Holy Zeus, at this rate I was never going to leave LA, because there were a whole lot of men here I needed to meet, and in a hurry.
    If I’d taken Roberto up on his offer of a villa, I’d have had a room handy I could use with my new friend here for fifteen minutes or so, but oh well. This wasn’t my lucky day. Yet, at any rate.
    The valet took my parking tag from me. A nasally voice said from somewhere behind me, “She don’t need the car yet.” And I knew it definitely wasn’t my lucky day.
    Hermes Trismegistus, Vin Behar was an ugly man. He grabbed the parking tag from the valet’s hand. He crushed it in his fist and had it in his pocket in seconds, and I wasn’t getting it back because there was no chance in hell I was putting my hands anywhere near his trousers. He gripped me on the upper arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. “The lady’s staying for a drink.”
    “Take your hand off me or lose it.”
    He knew I could back that up and took his hand away. But in a quiet voice to match my own, he said, “We talk, or I tell the cops about your trip to visit this guy here.”
    I wanted to get far, far away from him. But for the moment it was more important to find out what he knew. There were a lot of people staying at the Peninsula. “Who?”
    Behar pulled out a tape recorder, and then glanced at the valet. “You wanna do this here?”
    The valet took the hint and moved away.
    “I don’t want to do anything with you anywhere.”
    “Your husband dies, and you come here to see Roberto Montesinos. Think the cops might be interested?”
    Dammit. Behar knew Roberto’s name. That was bad. “The cops are already interested in what you were doing outside Colin’s apartment last night.”
    Behar grinned, an ugly sight even on the best of days. “I was in Vegas last night. With lots of witnesses.”
    Of course he was.
    His meaty thumb with peeling cuticles pushed the Play button, and my voice said, “Yes, Roberto, nine sharp.” The thumb lifted, and the player clicked off.
    I looked at the player, rather than at Behar. “Where did you get that?”
    “Cellular ain’t secure. And here you are, at Montesinos’ hotel, right after your husband got shut up. Come on. We’re going to have us a talk.”
    “This should be amusing. Or some definition of amusing. Not the one I