Page 175 of Filthy Lies

Ollie: Anyone ever tell you you’re grumpy, Cin? Anyway, why is Temperance sniffing around him?

Me: Because she thinks I have a crush on him.

Ollie: Do you?

Me: No.

Ollie: So what’s the problem?

Me: What’s his number, you pain in the ass?

Ollie: Charming.

When he gave it to me, I saved it to my contacts then replied:

Me: Thank you. How’s Alistair?

Ollie: Wonderful as always.

Me: Any jobs for me?

Ollie: Nope. Your calendar is pretty quiet for the moment.

Me: Might not be a bad thing. I’m out of the country.

Ollie: Where are you?

Me: Croatia.

Ollie: Why? AND why am I only hearing this now?

Me: Long story. I’ll tell you all about it when I come to visit.

Ollie: You’d better. Keep your ass alive, Cin, or I will be pissed.

Me: Love you too, dick.

Ollie: Bye, bitch.

Lips curving, I tossed my cell down on the bed and picked Muñoz’s up again. Spying an unread message from a contact with no name, only a number, I read the text with interest.

Need you in London tomorrow. Will provide address when…

The message preview cut the text off at that point. When I tapped on it, oddly enough, it opened that non-native calculator app again.

Bizarre.

But that was a dead end and I couldn’t see anything in the message inbox either.

Yawning, I checked my cell, saw Star had sent me an address in someplace called Uvala Lapad, and I replied to her with a thumbs-up, then found Goldstein had messaged me too.

God, Interpol agents were always such a drag, but he was the worst.

Goldstein: McClure’s dead?!

Me: What did you think was going to happen when you reported he had a sex slave in his fucking basement?

Goldstein: The whole point of me infiltrating his office was to gather evidence, for fuck’s sake.

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