Tucker’s reply was a decidedly noncommittal “Mmm.”

Rivera poured himself a third Scotch and moved away from the bar. He staggered across the office and flung himself down onto one of the brown leather couches, making it creak under his weight.

“So, Hugh,” Rivera said, his voice slurring just a bit. “What was so important that I had to leave my dinner and my lovely lady and rush back to meet you?”

Instead of answering, Tucker headed over to the fireplace, moving down the line of photos and staring at each one in turn, just as I had done. His nostrils flared with disgust as he eyed all of Rivera’s glamour shots, but he quickly moved past those, stopping at that picture of Richard and Maria Rivera standing with their son. Tucker’s nostrils flared again, as though something about the photo greatly displeased him, and he nudged the frame with his index finger, so that it was crooked and out of line with the others.

“You know exactly why I’m here.” Tucker crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Rivera. “It’s the same problem that I brought to your attention several weeks ago. One that you have done absolutely nothing to correct.”

Rivera shrugged. “That’s because I don’t see it as a problem.”

“Well, you should,” Tucker snapped. “Since it is entirely your fault.”

Rivera leaned back against the couch, settling himself even deeper into the plush leather. He toed off his black wing tips and propped his socked feet on an overstuffed ottoman that matched the couch.

“So what if it’s my fault? No one knows about it, which means that no one’s going to do anything about it. That means that it’s not really a problem at all.”

Tucker’s eyes narrowed at Rivera’s breezy tone, but the other man was too boozed up to notice the vampire’s clenched jaw and how his index finger tapped impatiently against his opposite elbow. I got the impression that Hugh Tucker was one more cavalier dismissal away from crossing the office, snatching Damian Rivera up off the couch, and snapping his neck.

Well, that would have been fine and dandy with me. I didn’t much care exactly how the members of the Circle died, only that their reign of terror ended and that they finally paid for ordering my mother’s murder. For once, I actually found myself rooting for Tucker, hoping that he would give in to his anger and take care of Rivera once and for all.

But of course that didn’t happen.

Tucker uncrossed his arms and smoothed his gray tie and matching suit jacket, using the motions to help get his anger and annoyance under control. His voice was as cold as the winter wind tangling my hair when he spoke again. “Well, I know about it, which means that he knows about it. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t like complications, and he certainly doesn’t need them, especially not now.”

My eyes narrowed. He? Tucker had to be talking about his boss, the mysterious leader of the Circle who pulled the rest of the group’s evil strings. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a complete bust after all.

Come on, Tuck. Say his name. That’s all I need you to do. Say his name, say his name, say his name . . .

Rivera snorted. “Really? He doesn’t want complications? You mean like all the ones you’ve caused by not killing Gin Blanco yet?”

Tucker stiffened at the insult.

Rivera gave him a smug smile, knowing that he’d scored a direct hit. “You know how our little group loves to gossip. I heard all about it. How you thought that you’d forced Blanco into finding and handing over those jewels from Deirdre’s tourist-trap theme park. But Blanco hoodwinked you instead, didn’t she? Gave you a bag full of fakes, and you were too stupid to know the difference. Why, the way I heard it, you proudly handed those fake jewels over to our fearless leader, and he was so angry that he crushed them all with his bare hands right in front of you, then made you clean up the mess.”

Tucker’s lips pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t say anything.

“Face it, Hugh.” Rivera’s voice took on a sneering, mocking tone. “You might work for him, but you’ll never be one of us. Not really. Never again. Not only did your father squander your family’s wealth, but he also ruined your position in the group. You’ll never get back that standing, that respect, no matter how hard you try.”

Tucker’s face remained flat and expressionless, but he couldn’t hide the faint red blush creeping up his neck, almost as if he was embarrassed by Rivera’s revelations.

I frowned. I’d thought that Hugh Tucker was second-in-command of the Circle, right below the mysterious he. But Rivera was making Tucker sound like some castoff, some poor country cousin who had fallen on hard times. Some servant the members of the Circle charitably let do their dirty work in exchange for the privilege of hovering in their highfalutin orbit. It almost made me feel sorry for the vampire.

Almost.

“And then, of course, there was your unfortunate choice of a woman back then, which only compounds all your many mistakes with Blanco now.” Rivera’s lips curved up into a cruel smile. “Tell me, Hugh, are you still carrying a torch for Eira Snow after all these years?”

I gasped, shock jolting through my body like a lightning bolt. I lurched back from the window, causing one of my feet to slip out from under me. My other foot went flying, and my ass hit the roof a second later.

Thud.

For a moment, I just sat there, eyes wide, mouth gaping open, arms and legs splayed out at awkward angles, knife dangling from my fingertips, as though someone had just shot me in the heart and let my body drop wherever it might. My mind struggled to process Rivera’s words, as if I were trying to translate some foreign language that I’d never heard before.

Hugh Tucker and my mother?

No—no, no, no, no, no.

As soon as the horrible thought formed in my mind, I forced it away. There was no way that Tucker had loved my mother. Not when he’d stood by and let Mab Monroe kill her. But my mind kept churning, and another equally horrible thought popped into my head.