Page 144 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

Storm was the most sensible member of the team, but honestly, that wasn’t saying much. She probably wouldn’t die of alcohol poisoning, but flying with a hangover wasn’t a great idea. Not if we had to listen to her bitching for four thousand miles.

“You think she’d mind?”

“I’ll call her.”

“Hell, have they come to arrest us?” Cole muttered.

Whoever was outside hammered on the door again. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and checked for missed calls.

“No.”

If there were a legal problem, Demelza would have warned me.

“Are you sure?”

“You have to stop asking that. If there was uncertainty, I’d make it clear.”

I’d slept in one of his T-shirts, so I jogged out the door while he was fishing around for his boxer briefs. Tulsa fell into step behind and followed me down the stairs.

“Expecting anyone?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Do you have a gun?”

“Of course. You don’t?”

“I decided speed was more important than underwear, and I knew you’d have my back.”

Tulsa stood out of sight as I cracked the door open, then pulled it wide. Storm looked like shit. She’d teamed shorts with a bikini top, and her pale blonde hair was pulled away from her face in a lopsided bun. Fifty bucks said her eyes were bloodshot under the Ray-Bans. As for Frankie, she was way too perky for this time in the morning. She took Storm by the hand and tugged her past me.

“Where’s Cole? How did the research trip go?”

“Cole’s upstairs. There were some interesting finds.”

She kissed Storm on the lips and grinned. “I’ll make coffee. You look as if you need caffeine.”

Oh, man. When Cole asked Frankie to pick up Storm last night, had he explained exactly what he meant?

“Did you two…?” I asked Storm when Frankie was out of earshot.

Storm shrugged and took off her sunglasses to reveal red eyes. Called it.

“She has a girlfriend,” I whispered. Storm hadsomemorals.

“They broke up. Relax, it’s just rebound sex. It doesn’t mean anything.” She yawned. “I need Tylenol.”

“I’ll get it,” Tulsa offered. “You look like death.”

“First you live, and then you die. Is that a couch? I need a couch.” Storm looked over my shoulder. “Hey, hot dude.”

“Hey, hangover lady. How was the limbo dancing?”

“I have regrets.”

“Next time, get Frankie to take you to Navies.”

“Why? Is the music quieter?”

“No, but they water down the drinks so you won’t get so much of a headache. Should I get you a pillow?”

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