Page 58 of Blue Moon

I thought we’d do the usual thing and fly over the Grand Canyon, but after thirty minutes, we began descending, and there were no rocky vistas in sight, just miles and miles of empty desert and…was that an airstrip? It looked deserted. Several derelict hangars sat to the side, and that was where we headed. A road led back toward Vegas, winding its way between scrubby trees and sprawling cacti.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a?—”

“Surprise,” I finished. “Tell me you’re not the serial killer? Nobody would ever find my body out here.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

The helicopter settled between two of the hangars, and the rotors slowed. I wasn’t certain I liked this place, and it sure wasn’t what I’d had in mind when I got dressed this morning.

“I get that we wanted to spend some time alone, but this is ridiculous.”

“We’re not alone.”

Ryder nodded toward the nearest hangar, and I looked around to see an older man in a Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, and flip-flops ambling toward us. Only a blind person could have put that outfit together. The combination of pineapples on the shirt and flamingos on the shorts would have made any self-respecting stylist weep. A stunning redhead ten inches taller than me followed several steps behind.

“You know these people?” I asked.

“One of them.”

Ryder climbed out of the helicopter and said a few words to Hawaiian Shirt Guy, and they shook hands. The redhead offered a hand and a smile too, and I fumbled with the seat-belt buckle, freeing myself just as Ryder opened the door.

“This is weird,” I whispered.

“Welcome to my world,” he whispered back.

His world?

The guy nodded to me. “Morning. You can call me Priest.”

Priest? He wasn’t wearing one of those collar thingies. “I’m Luna.”

“That’s common knowledge,” the redhead said.

“And you can call her Tulsa.”

Tulsa? Was that a real name or a nickname? It didn’t matter either way because she turned and walked away, back into the derelict hangar. Which turned out to be not so derelict. The exterior looked old and poorly maintained, but when we got closer, I realised the rust patches had been painted on and the dents were nothing but careful shading. This was bizarre. Inside, a black car sat beside a small plane, and the rest of the building was empty.

Tulsa tossed something at me, and I tried to catch it, missed, and batted it in Ryder’s direction. He, of course, snatched it out of the air with one hand.

“Here you go.”

I found myself holding a car key. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s time for your first driving lesson.”

“In this car?”

“You said you liked it.”

“I’ve never seen it before in my life.”

“Take a closer look.”

The doors were unlocked, and I peered inside. It did look vaguely familiar, like a face you’d seen before but couldn’t quite place. Then I spotted the pink dials on the dash. Oh my freaking gosh.

“This is my car! You painted it?”

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