Page 39 of The Love Bandits

He looks interested for half a second before his face lifts in a self-deprecating smile. “My mother would never agree to that. She’d sooner kill me.”

“You’re right,” Elaine agrees, tugging my hand away like it’s a snail that’s left a trail of slime on her shirt. “So you’d have to act like it’s something else. Why not invite her over for tea? She loves her high tea.”

I don’t know what the fuck a high tea entails, but I’ve befriended Joy at the apartment complex, so maybe she can tell me.

“There’s an idea,” he says, brightening again. His gaze shifts between the two of us. “Did you two just meet tonight?”

I smile at Elaine. “Yeah, blame it on the hide and seek and the power failure. It set a certain…atmosphere.”

He laughs and runs his hand over his jaw again. Is that a nervous tic? And, if so, is it because he’s worried we’ll guess he cut the power, or because he has the real Heart of the Mountain tucked into his pocket?

I watch him to see if his gaze strays to the display case. It’s possible he came in here to make a big show of finding it empty, because the person who sends out the alert is less likely to be accused of having committed the crime. But he doesn’t seem to take notice of the display case or care about what’s inside.

“At least my mother’s games did something for somebody.” He nods, and this time his gaze does stray to the case. I watch for any surprise or suspicion, but there’s none on his face. Of course, it’s dark in here, and he may have better acting skills than I’ve realized.

Sighing, Anthony says, “Well, I have to go find the other stragglers.”

“I’ll come with you,” I say, stepping forward. It seems like a good plan to re-establish our rapport, especially since I failed to do the one thing he asked of me tonight, but Elaine grabs my hand.

“You offered to see me home,honey,” she says pointedly.

I give Anthony anaw shucksgrin. “Sorry,” I say. “I did. I’ll talk to you soon, man, and we’ll get that tea set up.”

He smiles back at me. “Thank you. I think my mother’s already taken to you. She asked you all about your—” He waves a hand as if he can’t think of the word cleanse or maybe just doesn’t want to say it.

His mother definitely didn’t ask because she was interested, but if he’s an unsuspicious person, all the better.

“I think it’s gonna work out just fine,” I say—and then watch his back as he leaves the room. My gaze finds Elaine. I’m jumpy to leave now. She saved my ass, and I’m grateful, but I need to regroup. Learn some radio therapy so I can pull off this group session and hopefully score a solo invite to Anthony’s house, too.

“You lose your car or something?” I ask her. “Because you don’t seem like the kind of woman who needs help getting home. I feel sorry for the person who tries to carjack you.”

She gives me an unamused look. “Well, make sure it’s not yourself you have to feel sorry for, then. No one likes someone who always feels sorry for themselves. And this should be obvious, but I’m not letting you go off by yourself to cause trouble. You’re coming with me. My friends will decide what to do with you.”

“What, that blonde woman?”

“No, she already told me she’ll have to be here late. Mrs. Rosings asked her and the other staff to stay to clean.”

“You have more than one friend?”

She gives me a withering look as she pulls out her phone and sends a couple of texts. Truth is, humor has always been my coping mechanism, and I definitely feel the need for it now. Because however much I’d like to believe she’s talking about the cat, or a group of women wearing bikinis who want to tickle me with feather dusters, something tells me she’s not.

With my luck, she probably lives with seven bikers.

“You’ll see,” she says with a small smile.

I guess I will, because I’m good and stuck.

I don’t have the necklace, and she knows my game, so my choice is to either work with her or give up and run. Knocking her out wouldn’t help, not that I’d try.

“If you’re good enough, you’ll never have to hurt anyone,”Roark said to me years ago, and he was right.

Today, I wasn’t good enough.

But I’d never hurt her, and I can’t give up on Ryan either.

So I follow her like I’m that damn cat.

When we get to the front room, Mrs. Rosings is sitting in a high-backed chair, watching by candlelight as the guests leave. There’s a platter of individually wrapped cookies on the table beside her, the candlelight just strong enough for me to read the Eat Me scrawled beneath the likeness of Anthony and Nina.

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