Page 56 of Hard Luck (Blackstone House)

20 mins.

Echo

Adding the camera feed to the chat.

Dusk

On my way, traffic’s shit. 25 mins.

So far, the attackers had mostly stayed out of the limelight. After Jimmy’s initial visits, they’d chosen a private house and a quiet parking garage to make their moves. I was eighty percent sure they wouldn’t open fire ina crowded restaurant. No, they’d get us in the parking lot or tail us somewhere else.

At least, that was their plan.

Too bad the tables were about to be turned.

If the dude behind us kept following, I’d take him to a nice secluded spot and ask a few questions. Okay, so I’d feel guilty when I had to drug Cole again, but needs must.

Sin

Back booth reserved. Deana’s leaving dirty plates on the table next to it, and we’ll take that one when we arrive.

I just had to hold out for ten minutes. No biggie. The danger zone was the parking lot, but I had a plan for that.

“Could you park in the spot next to the door?” I asked Cole when we arrived. “My leg aches this morning.”

“The handicap spot?”

“I know I don’t have a permit, but I do have crutches.”

“You definitely qualify. I’m just surprised you don’t want to limp all the way across the parking lot the way you usually do.”

“I forgot to take my painkillers, okay?”

The Escape pulled in as we climbed out of the car, and I kept a surreptitious eye on the driver, ready to yell at Cole to hit the deck if the barrel of a gun appeared. The man looked across at me, and his gaze held for a little too long. I pretended not to notice.

“Want me to take your purse?” Cole asked.

Absolutely not. “I’ve got it, but I wouldn’t say no if you opened the door.”

He jogged ahead, and the Escape carried on to the far corner of the lot. Phase one: complete. Damn, I needed fries.

Unlike Rosa, Deana never went over the top with her greetings. She met us at the host’s stand with menus and aquiet, “Good to see you, Bella,” then led us to the table Sin had requested.

“Do you know every host in every restaurant in Vegas?” Cole asked.

“I like eating. Sue me.”

“That isn’t a complaint.”

I pretended to study the menu as the Escape’s driver pushed open the door and glanced around. He was big, really fucking big, but he was no knuckle-dragger. No, his arms looked oddly short. Those horizontal stripes on his shirtsleeves were a definite fashion faux pas. In my head, I christened him T-Rex, and when he turned his attention to Deana for a second, I snapped a picture and sent it to the group chat.

Me

Meet T-Rex. His vehicle is in the lot.

Dice

Should I disable it?

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