Page 53 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

She started snort-laughing, and I kicked her in the shin. Then regretted it because although the cast made a niceclonk, my leg wasn’t quite as far along in the healing process as I wanted it to be, and it hurt like hell.

“Shut up, it’s kinda sorta true. And it’s a good fake career. I can work from home, and client confidentiality is important so I don’t splash the details across LinkedIn. If I told him I worked at the Sunrise Diner, he’d swing by to get breakfast because that’s the kind of guy he is.”

Supportive. A good tipper. Not clingy, exactly, but healways asked if I was coming over, although that was probably because our relationship had an expiry date and he wanted to fit in as many orgasms as possible. Quite understandable.

“Awww,” Dusk said.

“I have to quit seeing him. That’s a given. Which means we need to get to the bottom of the hit squad mystery before he comes back to Vegas because disentangling myself from this situation will be ten times more difficult if we don’t.”

“Anything from Ari?” Dusk asked.

“Nothing that’s borne fruit yet. She has a contact with the Diamondback Devils, and they claim that the attack on Lucy McCall was nothing to do with them. What’s more, they seem to like her, and they’ve sent a guy to watch her hospital room.”

“Did she give a description of the driver who tried to run her down?”

“He was wearing a mask. Not a balaclava or a surgical mask—she said he looked like Michael Myers, if Michael Myers was made out of plastic. The car had stolen plates. There was a camera at the exit of the parking garage, and it recorded a silver Ford Escape, but the plates belonged to a red Honda Civic. The owner lives in Reno, and she didn’t even notice the plates were missing.”

Ari had warned me that not every case could be solved in a week or even a month, and I understood that, but reality didn’t make the circumstances any less frustrating. And it didn’t help that Erin had managed to get into an altercation with a trio of social media influencers while working surveillance in the Galaxy last week. Which part of “keep a low profile” did she not understand?

“Any other leads?”

“Nothing promising at the moment. Echo ferreted out the Galaxy’s accounting records, and if Mike genuinelyborrowed a stack of money, the details should be in there somewhere.”

“Don’t you need a forensic accountant for that type of thing?”

“Ari’s part-time boss is a math genius, and he’s helping out.”

Ari said Digby Rennick was a bit strange, but he did run a successful sportsbook in Vegas and therefore knew something about both numbers and business, and more importantly, she trusted him.

“We’re all here for you,” Dice said, and Tulsa and Dusk echoed her. “You know we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“You and Dusk can be miserable together,” Tulsa added, and it was my turn to throw fruit. She caught the satsuma and began peeling it.

At least my thing with Cole had lasted less than a month. When Dusk joined the Army, she’d gone long-distance with her teenage sweetheart, only to get headhunted for Point Team Bravo while Marc hit the big time in Hollywood. Their new lives were about as incompatible as they could get. Like me, she lived in the shadows, while he basked in the flash of cameras whenever he stepped out the front door.

But she still loved him.

No, she wasn’t celibate, but every time she slept with a man, she regretted it afterward.

She also turned off the TV whenever Marc appeared on-screen with yet another beautiful woman on his arm.

They’d been in love.

I was in lust.

That was totally different.

So why did my chest ache at the thought of never seeing Cole again?

CHAPTER 18

COLE

If Cole’s bank account weren’t in the red, he might have considered cancelling the contract with Dr. William Blaylock. Passed it on to another operator, if one could be found. Blaylock captaining a boat himself wasn’t an option—San Gallicano had strict rules about that.

But with the Nebula Holdings balance sheet firmly negative, Cole couldn’t afford to take money from the business, which meant he had to earn cash elsewhere if he wanted to eat. Dr. Blaylock had never quibbled over his rates, and the three-week charter would pay Cole’s bills for half a year if he was careful.

And while he was in San Gallicano, he could prep his home for rental on Airbnb. Give the place a good clean and pack up his belongings to store in Yolanda’s garage. It didn’t look as if he’d be leaving the Galaxy any time soon. Perry was nervous enough about running the place for a month while Cole was away; anything more permanent would drive the man to Xanax. No joke. Nancy said he’d been popping pills like candy after Uncle Mike died.

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