Page 18 of Blind Luck

“Well, Rusty desperately needs help, so Ithink he’ll be convincing. Nobody can run twenty-four-seven surveillance alone. I bet you he’s lost the target a bunch of times already.”

“And there’s the sunglasses thing.”

“Exactly. Plus he’s objectively handsome—obviously not as hot as Zach, though—and ten bucks says he’s a pro hockey player. Did you notice his build? His pale complexion? See the way he kept glancing around in the hospital? Every time he goes out, he’s legit panicking in case someone recognises him and makes a fuss.”

“A hockey player? Like, ice hockey?”

Of course, I’d noticed Rusty was built, but that just upped the intimidation factor. Were hockey players big? Sports wasn’t a thing in the Promised Land, either. I used to sneak off to swim in a water hole, and then I’d learned to surf because of my brother, but the whole football-hockey-baseball thing remained a mystery to me.

“Yeah, ice hockey. He said the target’s boyfriend plays for the Richmond Raiders.” Ari nodded at her phone in my lap. “Google Maverick Johansen.”

“You really think— Oh, holy heck.”

“Hockey player?”

“Yup, and he has muscles on his muscles on his… Well, there are pictures of him in his underwear.” And he definitely stuffed something in his boxer briefs. I mean, I might have been a bit backward in my education, but I learned about the birds and the bees as soon as I got married. I knew where that part had to fit. And it wouldn’t. Not a chance. I held the phone up to Ari as she drew to a halt at a stoplight. “See?”

“I think most of them look like that.”

“No way. Do you ever watch hockey?”

“My ex had box seats for the Storm.” She wrinkled her nose, and I understood why. Her daughter’s biological father was a giant pimple on the ass of humanity. “That’sVegas’s team—the Nevada Storm plays in a stadium just off the Strip. Try looking up Rusty.”

Ari pulled away as I typed in “Rusty hockey player” and got a hundred results. The top twenty were all the same face. No shirtless pictures, but there was one of him in jeans, and it was definitely the same guy who’d helped me in the Library.

“His name is Rusty Bolt.”

She digested that for a moment. “RustyBolt? Are you kidding me?”

“That’s his name. He plays for the California Commanders, but he’s from Minnesota.”

“No wonder he’s like a fish out of water in Vegas. I’ll get Alexa to run a background check.” Ari must have noticed the death grip I had on the hem of my shorts because she reached over and squeezed my hand. “If she findsanythingconcerning, you won’t be working with him. We’ll find another way.”

How did lumps just end up in your throat like that? I tried to swallow it down, but it stuck halfway.

“I’ll be okay,” I croaked.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but if Rusty has a dark side, I want to shine a light on it. And I’m not sending you into the shadows.”

Even though Ari was my favourite colleague ever, private investigating wasn’t the funnest job I’d ever had. Surveillance could be kinda boring, and watching married dudes get up to gross stuff with women who weren’t their wife—or sometimes men—made sick come into my mouth. Zach said Ari didn’t have to work, but she wanted to pay her own way, so she contracted part-time for Digby Rennick and took the occasional short-term case in California to help her nana pay rent on the apartment she lived in. And I thought that perhaps she was helping me too. Soon after I turned down my brother’s offer of a job, Ioverheard him, Ari, and Zach talking. Kai was worried I’d take another gnarly job and end up in trouble. That was when Ari said that maybe if she hung out a shingle in California, she could use me as an assistant.

So now here I was. Screwing up basic tasks and cavorting with a hockey player.

“What’s your plan for the Galaxy?” I asked. “We can’t leave the executive suite uncovered, can we?”

“Ask me again in a few hours.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Trust me.”

I did. I did trust her. I just hoped I didn’t let her down.

CHAPTER 6

ARI

“Hi.”

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