Page 48 of Blue Moon

“So people won’t talk about us.”

Ryder didn’t like leaving Luna alone, but she promised not to open the door or answer the intercom until he got back, and they needed groceries. Plus Mack had called while Luna was teaching the mutt to lie down on cue, and she’d come up with a couple of interesting snippets of information. Firstly, the Barbie BMW was still registered in Luna’s name, and secondly, Amethyst Puckett was at a spa in Los Angeles having her face peeled. Luna had mentioned that Jubilee never missed her Monday evening aerial yoga class when she was in Vegas, which meant Ryder had a side trip to make before he went to the grocery store.

He arrived back at the apartment building at the same time as a delivery driver from Sauge et Sel. The guy swerved to the side of the road while Ryder carried on into the parking garage that occupied the first floor of the building, and he knew, he just fucking knew, that the food was for Luna. He took the stairs two at a time and made it to the front door as the guy reached for the intercom.

“Delivery for 502 Cromer Place?” Ryder asked, keeping his head down because there was a ghoul with a camera leaning on a wall across the street.

The delivery guy checked the ticket. “That’s right.”

“Thought I wouldn’t make it home in time.”

“Your name is Luna Antony?”

Luna Antony? That weird-ass motherfucker.

“She’s my girlfriend. Feel free to call upstairs, but if she’s in the shower, don’t expect a tip.”

Ryder pulled a twenty from his wallet and held it out. The man took half a second to make his decision. A moment later, Ryder was left with a portion of coq au vin, a chocolate eclair, and another love note.

My Dearest Cleopatra,

On this beautiful evening, I couldn’t resist treating you to a feast fit for a queen. Every lady deserves a break, and what better way to celebrate your day off than by eating a delightful dinner prepared with love? May this meal be a small tribute to the majestic spirit I see in you. Enjoy every bite, my beloved.

Yours always,

Mark A

The guy was out of his mind. But not stupid. The notes were well written with no spelling or grammatical errors, and the phone number he put on the orders was Luna’s, not his own. Another security breach. If Mack managed to track down his order data, Ryder would put money on Mark A having used a preloaded credit card, a burner email address, and a VPN.

He went back to his car to collect the groceries and an overnight bag, then jogged up the stairs, calling Luna on the way so she wouldn’t be alarmed when he knocked.

She was waiting in the doorway when he reached the fifth floor.

“You promised you’d stay inside.”

“You’re right here. Is that French food?”

“Tonight’s offering from your stalker.”

“Urgh. What did I get?”

“Coq au vin and a chocolate eclair. No, you’re not eating it. If you need something sweet, I bought a cake at the store.”

“How did I ever think I could live without you?” She grabbed one of the grocery bags and began rooting through it. “Okay, so you really were a jerk, but…wow, are those Peanut Butter Cups?”

“Is that what you’re having for dinner?”

“Maybe? What else is there?”

“Pasta.”

“Like, from a restaurant?”

“From a package.”

“You think that’s a good idea? I already smoked out one microwave.”

“I’m not asking you to cook.” Ryder picked her up, carried her over to the kitchen area, and deposited her on the counter. “You can just sit here and look pretty.”

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