Page 27 of Say My Name

“Rough how?” Finn asks.

“Nothing like that. I’m still a cocktail server, but this guy was getting too handsy, and Devereaux stopped it. Pulled him off me. He was angry. Furious. Almost beat the living shit out of him.” A part of me doesn’t want to tell him about Devereaux practically beating the man up.

But this is my job.

“I know it doesn’t mean he’s a killer.”

Finn blinks at me. “Doesn’t make him not one either.” He sets his hand on my arm. “Chloe, get yourself promoted—fast—so we can get some real information.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

Easier said than done, but I nod. “Will do.” I hop out of his car and back into mine.

I need to get promoted, and quickly, but how? I’m doing a phenomenal job at serving cocktails, but Adele hasn’t mentioned giving me any additional responsibilities. The girls at work told me to be patient, but they aren’t there to catch a killer.

Finn drives away, and I head to my mother’s house, pondering ways I can speed up the promotion process. When I pull into the driveway of the two-story colonial, Ashley is already here and walking toward the wide front porch. She stops and waits for me to get out of the car.

“Hey,” I say once I’m heading up the driveway.

“Good morning.” She holds out a donut box. “I brought breakfast.”

“Thank you, I’m starved.”

We make our way up the brick steps that lead to my mother’s front porch.

The door swings open before we can even knock. “My babies,” my mother says, holding out her arms to embrace us both.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, letting her wrap her arms around me.

Ashley hugs my mother, carefully maneuvering the box of donuts in her hands so they don’t fall.

As soon as we’re in the house, we head into the kitchen.

Ashley whirls around, dropping the pink box onto the island’s granite countertop. “Chloe, tell me everything.”

My mother raises a brow. “Everything what?”

I cringe. “As you know, I can’t say much, but I can say this…” I slip onto one of the bar stools at the counter. “How can I be sexier?”

Ashley sits on a stool next to me. “Sexier?”

“What are you two girls talking about?” my mother asks, parking both hands on her hips, not liking the fact she’s being ignored.

“Sorry, Mom. Ashley’s asking about my new assignment.”

“Assignment?”

“Yeah, she’s on her first undercover assignment,” Ashley says.

“Mom”—I point at her—“you can’t tell anyone anything, ok?” I can’t have my mother going to her weekly bridge game chatting about how I’m undercover at Club Greed. I shoot Ashley a look to keep the details quiet.

My mother appears shocked, like she’d never tell people anything, but I know my mother. She’s a regular Chatty Cathy.

“Is it dangerous?” my mother asks, opening the box of donuts.

“No, it’s fine.” I hate worrying my mother.

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