Slamming on my brakes, my car came to a screeching halt.

Kicking the door open, I stepped out and stormed into the publishing house with my keys still in the ignition.

Eyes were on me the moment the cool air-conditioned breeze hit my face. I thought how Parker could be anywhere by now.

More heads lifted as I worked my way deeper into the bowels of Hollywood Reporter. The breaking story was Tonya Craig, but only yesterday it was how billionaire Timothy Parker was fighting to take down criminal defense lawyer, Kelly Black.

There was only one person who might know more than me—and that was Sylvia Neil.

I needed to see her reaction, know for sure that my suspicions about Parker having it in him to kill Tonya were real. Tonya would be a story she would want … unless she, too, was somehow involved in her sudden death.

Turning down a straight and narrow hallway, I was still pissed at Sylvia for manipulating me into believing Nash Brooks was the one to have killed Maria Greer.

I smiled and nodded as a young woman approached. She grinned, hugging the manila folders she was carrying tighter to her chest. As soon as we passed, I could feel her stop, turn her head, and watch me from behind.

I found Sylvia in her office with her back turned. Hiding my hands inside my pants pockets, I stood there for a moment watching her read something she was holding in her right hand. Rubbing her temples, I could practically feel the distress in the audible sigh she let out.

Suddenly, and without warning, my cell beeped with a text.

Sylvia spun in her chair, her brows shooting high on her head, surprised to see me.

Ignoring the message, it didn’t take her long to shake off whatever it was that had her upset before she realized I was there. “Kelly.” She leaned forward and folded her hands on top of her desk. “What brings you around?”

Stepping into her office, we kept our gazes locked.

Standing she said, “No. Let me guess. You’re here about that article I told you I had to write.”

I held my ground, eyeing the empty chair facing her desk, deciding to wait and hear what came out of her mouth before making my next move.

“Well, good news. I already heard.” She smiled.

I arched a brow.

“Parker. He dropped the charges.”

Dropping my chin to my chest, I chuckled. With everything that had transpired since, I doubted that the article she was “forced” to write was even real. Her credibility was shot, and I had to assume that she was lying about that, too.

“You’ve already heard?” Her eyes sparkled.

Turning on a heel, I shut the door to her office and said, “Cut the crap.”

Her lips parted as her head jerked back.

“You played me.” I moved to the empty chair and fell into it.

“Kelly, remind me.” She licked her lips and brought her hands into her lap. “What game were we playing?”

I remained calm despite my desire to punch a wall. “Nash had Alex at Mint.”

“Oh. I see.” She quickly cast her gaze down to her hands.

“Just like you said.” My lips pinched. “Except Nash isn’t guilty like you made me believe.”

“Please, enlighten me, Kelly, because I can assure you that those bruises from the night I was with Nash didn’t come from me.”

“You told him what to do and how to do it.”

Sylvia barked out a short huff of disbelief.

“You manipulated me in an attempt to throw me off the case.”

Sylvia stood and paced to the window. Then she spun around with fire in her eye. “You broke your promise to me.”

I tipped my head back and narrowed my gaze.

“Kelly, you promised me.” She crossed her arms and rocked back and forth on her heels. “You promised never to share the photos of what Nash did to me. But you did.” She shook her head. “You showed Nash. Of all people, you showed him.” Her voice cracked as her chest caved in.

I wasn’t going to fall for her teenage tendencies to manipulate me into shifting the conversation away from its original intention. “Who is Angelina Davis?”

Sylvia first blinked, then her brow furrowed. “You know who she is.”

“Who is she to you?” My voice was calm, soft.

“She’s nobody. A socialite who dated the district attorney.”

“Not an escort?”

“Why are you asking me?” Her face flushed. “You should be asking Madam.”

“Because you’re the investigative reporter.” I smoothed out my cuffs. “And it would be in your best interest to tell me everything you know.”

The silence that filled the room only added to the suspense. She looked away, then turned back to fix her eyes on mine. “I told you everything I know.”

Clucking my tongue, I chuckled.

Sylvia’s cheeks ripened and turned red.

Shaking my head, I smiled. “Then it shouldn’t be difficult for you to tell me why she filled in for you the night of Blake Stone’s movie premier.”

Her fingers curled and dug deeper into her arm. Unable to look me in the eye, she angled her body away from me, incapable of facing the truth head-on.

It was the night Maria Greer died. The night that changed the lives of not only Maria’s, but that of Mario Jimenez, too. And now with Mario making a plea deal with the district attorney office, I was determined to expose the truth of who was behind the death of a promising intern, sure to have made waves in a very competitive film industry—if she hadn’t died so young.

Sylvia eyed the exit, then she turned her back and moved to the wall, choosing to stay away from the window. It was impossible to look at her and not sniff out the guilt she was sweating off. Anger consumed me, and in that moment I promised myself that I wouldn’t let her get away with what she did. The world would learn the truth.

“What’s wrong, Sylvia? Am I getting close?” Uncrossing my legs, I stood and dropped my shoulders. “You’re guilty of Maria’s murder.”

Her chest rose as she held her breath.

“Nash refused you and you couldn’t handle it.” My head tilted on its shoulders as I was beginning to have some fun.

“Stop, Kelly!” she snapped. “You have blood on your hands, too.”

A tingling in my chest swirled around my heart, full of regrets.

“Especially now that Tonya Craig was murdered,” Sylvia cried.

Glancing down at her desk, I spun her notes around and began to read them. But before I could get too far down the page, she stole them back, hiding them against her chest.

“What are you doing? These are personal,” she protested. “You can’t just read whatever you want.”

“You’re back on Maria’s story?” My neck bent forward. Even through the scribble, I knew what I’d seen. Maria Greer’s murder was the original story she was working when she first brought the news of her death to my attention—to Madam’s attention. The story that she was working when receiving death threats of her own.

She held my gaze as my heart pounded in my chest wondering if this was yet another attempt to throw me off the case or if, in fact, she was back on the story, unsatisfied with the way Mario confessed to something we all knew he didn’t do.

Falling into her chair, Sylvia’s wet eyes rounded. “Kelly, I’m in trouble.”

She looked to me to say something, but I couldn’t. Not with how she’d lost my trust.

“Mario isn’t the one who murdered her. Everyone knows it.” She lowered the notes away from her tight clench and placed them on the desk. Then she looked up at me. “Even you know Mario is innocent.”

“What about you? Are you innocent?”

Her eyelids hooded over as her tongue circled her lips. She looked exhausted, and I wondered how much longer she could keep this up before finally giving in. “Kelly, whoever is responsible for Maria’s death knows the story,” she held up her notes, “isn’t finished.”

“What are you saying?”

“They know you’re on to them, know that we’re both on to them.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “And I can feel that Tonya’s murder might not be the last.”