Page 18 of The Love Bandits

The kind of man who’d adopt a kitten and leave her behind in his apartment because she was too much work.

My mind flashes to Jake Jeffries, who’d gone up and down his apartment hallway asking for a tampon for me. Even though he’s a bad apple, too, I can’t help but smile at the thought. Todd would never have done that.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Mrs. Rosings asks, jolting me to awareness, and then I gasp, my mouth falling open. The large blue, heart-shaped gem is surrounded by a starburst of white gold spikes embedded with diamonds, the chain an intricate and unusual pattern of white and yellow gold I’ve only seen once before.

The necklace she pulled out of her husband’s empty urn is the exact replica of the one I retrieved from Jake Jeffries’s room.

Or, I’m guessing, the necklace I stole from him is an exact replica of this one.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LAINEY

“Yup,” Nicole says, leaning back in her chair in our makeshift Love Fixers office. I’m sitting next to her, and the necklace I took from Jake is spread out on the surface of the desk in front of us, the jewel glittering in the overhead light. The desk is parked several feet away from the wall, with our chairs behind it and two guest chairs in front of it. Above us is a window that beams in light from the outside world. “It’s a fake. A good fake, mind you—the Mona Lisa of fakes—but a fake nonetheless.”

I sigh and bury my face in my hands. “You already went to the pawn shop?”

“Didn’t need to. Damien knows what to look for.”

Damien being her husband. They own their private investigator business together, and the Love Fixers is a side project for her. One she probably won’t be willing to spend much more time on, all things considered. This was my first big gig beyond fun but petty revenge pranks, and I blew it in a dozen different ways.

“This is…”

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. Professor X, who’s been lovingly stalking me since I got home, mews loudly andleaps up into my lap. I carefully pet her, avoiding the glue trap spot, because I don’t want to bring out her Mr. Hyde.

Sighing, I admit, “It’s all my…”

Nicole’s gaze meets mine in a no-bullshit kind of way. “This just becamewaymore interesting. Before, it was about some boo-hoo boy toy stealing his woman’s necklace out of spite. I mean, sucks for her, and she deserves it back, but who really cares, in the scheme of things? Now, though…”

A knock lands on the front door, but it’s much too early for Cleo, and seconds later it opens without anyone getting up to unlock it. So it’s either someone we know or the kind of home invader who knocks.

Claire steps into the room a few seconds later, holding a paper bag that smells delicious and beaming at us—and just like that something in my chest loosens. She’s one of the only people I can completely be myself around. Nicole, I want to impress; Mrs. Rosings, I have the strange urge to piss off. With Claire, I can be myself. Mostly. Because I still need her to love me.

“What’d I miss?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Nicole says. “Just the moment when everything became interesting.”

Claire sits down in the chair that will be occupied by Cleo in twenty minutes. Fifteen, if she’s five minutes early like she was for our first meeting. “More interesting than Rosie telling a bunch of bros who came in that we eat Bronuts like them for breakfast?”

Nicole smiles for half a second before saying, “Yes.”

“Can I get a recap?”

“The necklace I took is fake,” I say woodenly, stroking the cat. Claire already knows about the disaster that unfolded in Jake’s apartment—and has met the cat formerly known as Trixie.

Nicole strokes her chin like she’s a kingpin. “There are hundreds of replicas available online, although this one’s betterthan most. Maybe Clover figured it was real and decided to send Lainey in to snatch it. All the risk would be on Lainey’s side.” Nicole grabs a Bronut from the bag, then rocks back in her chair. “Why she thought a therapist who lives in a shitty apartment building in North Asheville would have a multimillion dollar necklace lying around is anyone’s guess. I’m thinking Clover’s probably not the sharpest crayon in the box.”

“You know that’s not her name,” Claire says. “You always remember when it’s a client.”

Nicole lets a smile flicker across her face. “This woman intentionally lied to Lainey. We can’t do her the honor of remembering her name.” She takes a bite of her Bronut and releases a satisfied hum under her breath. That’s the power of Claire’s baking, so good it makes even Nicole go soft for half a second. Professor X pads to the edge my lap, watching Nicole’s food with predatory interest.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, and the cat, possibly recognizing a fellow apex predator, sits.

Lifting her gaze to me, Nicole adds, “The more interesting question is why the dude had it hidden inside that book.”

“Maybe he planned on giving it to Cleo, and she jumped the gun,” I say. “Or it could have been a gift for his mother or something.” I did a background search on Jake Jeffries, too, and nothing interesting popped. Two parent home, check. College degree, check. Professional website, check.

She grunts and nods.

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