Page 52 of Blue Moon

“You handled that nicely,” he murmured so only Luna could hear.

“I’ve had a lot of practice. Thanks for not punching him. I saw you ball up your fists.”

“You did the same.”

“I did?”

Venus and Aisha appeared from the left, and Ryder lost Luna to her backup dancers. The show went almost without a hitch. When a woman near the front fainted, Luna insisted on pausing until someone brought her water, and Ryder knew that it wouldn’t be her compassion that got reported tomorrow, it would be the fact that she yelled at the band to “Stop, just stop!” And when someone muttered in her earpiece, she told them to screw the schedule. Loudly. The audience had cheered. Watching her tonight solved a mystery that had bugged Ryder in San Gallicano. If Luna was such a bitch, how come she had so many fans? The answer was clear now. The fans who saw her live, who saw her caring side, loved her. But those who only saw her online persona, who read what others wrote and lapped up the scandals, they thought she was a spoiled brat.

In what was becoming a nightly ritual, Ryder drove Luna home, raced to Blackwood, switched the SUV for a Honda compact, pulled a ball cap low over his eyes, and made his way back to Cromer Place. Luna called him on the way to say Mark A’s food delivery had arrived. Mexican this time. Ryder spotted a trash can on the street and dumped the bag in it.

The neighbourhood was quiet, and it seemed the paparazzi were following the routine too. They’d learned that once Luna arrived home after a show, she was there for the night, so why stick around for no reason? Ryder filed that piece of information away for future reference and paused on the landing before he went back inside, pretending to check his phone. He didn’t feel any eyes watching, and operators tended to develop a sixth sense when it came to surveillance. He’d collected the food two nights running, not Luna, and Mark A hadn’t said a word about it—tonight’s note was the usual drivel—which led Ryder to believe that he wasn’t watching the building personally twenty-four-seven.

Ryder was about to head back inside when his phone rang. His stomach lurched when he saw the name on the screen.

As usual, Ana didn’t waste words. “We have a lead on Irina. Who is now called Elene.”

He took one last look around and stepped back into the empty lobby.

“What kind of lead? You know where she is?”

“Not yet. But it seems that all Luna’s money wasn’t enough because Mack found her online, trolling for a new victim on Illumina. It’s a dating website catering to high-net-worth individuals.”

“Can Mack trace her?”

“Elene is hiding her location, so we’re taking a different approach.”

“Which is…?”

“She’s currently chatting with a twenty-eight-year-old trust fund baby named Tripp Carrington, who has more money than sense.”

“Tripp?”

“A clerk was rude to Mack in the grocery store yesterday, and he was wearing a name badge.”

“You’re catfishing her?”

“No, you’re catfishing her.”

“Huh?”

“Mack’s using your picture, pretty boy. We’ll keep you updated.”

Ana hung up, and Ryder leaned against the wall and groaned. Then he fired off a text to Mack.

Ryder

Tripp? Seriously?

The answer came right away. Like Ana, Mack rarely slept, although for a different reason. Ana was part vampire; Mack was merely a workaholic.

Mack

You’re welcome :)

Ryder pushed off the wall and headed for the stairs. Luna was waiting, and he needed to spend time with his girl.

15

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