Page 84 of Blue Moon

Elene swallowed. “I have it.”

“Great! So, when are you coming to Vegas? We should go see Cirque de La Lune. It’s meant to be spectacular.”

“Cammie, please. We’re just getting to know each other.”

“Sure, I get that, but—” Her phone rang, and when she pulled it out of her purse, Ryder saw Marcel’s name on the screen. “Oh, this is Maddy. I have to take it. Talk soon, okay?”

The blonde disappeared in the direction of the house, the dog trotting along behind her, and Ryder took a deep breath. Her appearance had either built credibility or scared Elene off. He hoped to hell it was the former.

“Sorry about that. My sister has no filter. I bet yours is better behaved, right?”

“She’s…she’s the nicest person I know.”

Ron Hill had described Elene as poised and polished and, in hindsight, calculating. She never said anything without thinking it through. But “Cammie” had put her on the back foot. Ryder would put money on the comment about her sister being genuine.

“Is she older or younger? Cammie’s a year older than me, which is probably why she has that overprotective streak.”

“Mariam’s two years younger.”

If that was true, then Elene would be the protective one, especially if their mom was out of the picture. But who knew if Mariam was fictional? This job was a mind fuck.

Elene pulled herself together first.

“Tell me more about life in Las Vegas,” she said. “Are the casinos truly open all day and all night?”

“They call New York the city that never sleeps, but really that’s Vegas. Okay, so some of the stores close, but if you want to get a burrito at four a.m.? No problem.”

“You like burritos?” Elene’s gaze flicked beyond Ryder to the waterfall. “I thought you’d be more of a… I thought you’d prefer fancier food.”

Dammit, rich jackasses went to high-end restaurants, not Taco Bell. Unless you were talking about Emmy Black, who might have been a bitch rather than a jackass, but she had a ton of money, and she was forever sneaking off to the local diner and coming back with cheeseburgers. And fries, and milkshakes, and on one or two occasions when she was particularly stressed, the odour of nicotine clinging to her clothes.

“You might be surprised. After a few beers, there’s nothing better than a burrito. You have many Mexican joints in Tbilisi?”

“Several. I ate a burrito once.”

“Once? You ate a burrito once?”

Conversation began to flow, and Ryder understood why Hill had grown so enamoured with the woman. If Elene hadn’t been a compulsive liar and Ryder hadn’t been crazy in love with Luna, he might have wanted more too. She seemed to let her guard down, and he had to fight to keep his up. There was one tricky moment when he forgot the name of Snuffles’s predecessor, and so did Mack, it appeared, if her “Dammit” and frantic clicking was a clue. But Marcel stepped in with a glass of water on a tray and a “Will there be anything else, sir?” which gave Mack time to find the answer.

“Yeah, I still miss Jellybean. He was a grumpy little mutt, but when some asshole tried to snatch Cammie’s purse, he bit the guy’s ankle so bad the cops found him in the emergency room three hours later.”

Ryder promised to call Elene again soon, and he also decided to take over the comms from Mack. The story would be easier to remember if he was spinning it himself rather than learning the details from someone else’s notes. He never had liked tests.

“Are you staying for lunch?” Marcel asked. “I’m making spanakopita.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a Greek pie with spinach and feta.”

“I need to get back to Luna.”

“Then I’ll package you up two portions to go. All you have to do is reheat it in the oven.”

“Can’t I microwave it?”

Marcel gasped. “No, you cannot. Are you coming back here to speak to that woman again? She had nice decor.”

“She probably stole it, and yeah, I’ll need to come back. But no more surprises, okay? Who the hell was the blonde?”

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