Page 7 of The Eleventh Hour

“Sorry.” I feel off my game here, on the back foot. I give her my trademark smile. It does nothing. I’m stunned for the first time in my adult life. A woman isn’t noticing me at all, and I really, really want this woman to notice me.

“No problem. We all hate being here. It is what it is, though.”

“I’m just passing through. Hurricane has a certain…charm.” I try for friendly, sidling up closer to her so our arms brush. She spins away, putting distance between us. I can’t tell if it’s accidental or intentional.

She gives me a slow up and down look that makes me stand to attention. “That is the kindest description I’ve ever heard. Want some free advice?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Get out before it sucks the soul out of you.”

I chuckle, but she’s not even paying me attention. She’s looking away from me. Into the shadows down the hall.

“Unfortunately, I have some business. Maybe before the city sucks out my soul, we could meet up for a drink?” What the hell did I just ask that for? Where is my brain?

“I don’t think so.”

The rejection cuts deep. It shouldn’t. Why am I upset she said no?

She stops in front of a door and smiles again. “This is me. Enjoy your night, Dane.”

I glance up at the number, already formulating how I’m going to come back and apologise properly tomorrow.

2B.

I swallow hard, and all thoughts of getting laid in this shitty town vanish. Bile races up my throat.

“I have to ask you a question, if you don’t mind.” Damn, my voice sounds cold, and judging by the sharp look she gives me, she hears it, too.

She shrugs and puts the key in the door but doesn’t open it.

“I’m looking for Jackie Blackwell. Do you know where I can find her?”

Her body stiffens. She turns the door handle and slips inside and starts swinging the door closed.

“Hey, wait.” I put my hand on the door to stop its swing.

“Asking about people here is never a good thing, Mr Galbraith. You’re either a cop or you want her for something else. I’m not stupid. And I’m not going to help you.”

“I’m not a cop, and I just need to ask her some questions about a friend of ours.”

“I’ve never met or heard of a Jackie Blackwell. Your information is wrong. I’ve been living here for five years.” She shrugs like it’s unimportant.

“But-”

“I have to go.”

“Listen, just a few questions. Do you know where I can find-”

She looks over her shoulder. “Hey, babe, nah, just getting rid of him.” I hear something slam in a room behind her.

Fuck. Of course, she’s with someone. I step back and watch as she promptly shuts the door in my face. I stare at the peeling paint of 2B and feel my stomach turn hollow. It was our last good lead. Our last lead. It’s over.

I barely remember how I got to the car. I just slip behind the wheel and lay my head on it.

“What happened?”

“I just tanked so hard. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“With the investigation, idiot,” Rafael snaps irritably.

“Jax Shade says she’s never heard of Jackie Blackwell, and she’s been living there for five years. 2B is a bust.”

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