Page 49 of Fighting for Control

“Oh, shit.” Carmen reached for her bag to pull out her phone.

“What?” Lola snapped like she’d been jarred out of a hazy moment too.

She scanned the message from her firm’s investigator, eyes widening. “Holy shit. We have Fortune’s real identity.”

“Shut up.” Lola leaned over to look at her screen, her perfume making it hard for Carmen’s thumbs to navigate toward her email. “Who the hell is she?”

Carmen shifted so that Lola could read her phone at the same time. “Says here her birth name is Susan Miller.”

“I knew that couldn’t be her real name.”

“She grew up in Redpine, California.” Carmen continued reading. “She still owns some kind of spiritual retreat up there called the Institute of the Open Mind.”

Lola made a sound of disgust. “Sounds like a fucking cult.”

“It gets worse. Listen to this description. Secluded compound. Communal living. And her followers refer to her as Enlightened Mother?” Carmen shook her head. “This has to be how we get her. Expose her whole game.”

“We need to get up there. Get eyes on that place.” Lola was already plotting, fierce enthusiasm lighting up her face.

Testing out the contours of that idea, Carmen nodded slowly. They needed to gather information. To investigate their case. How else than by going to the apparent source of it all?

After they’d finished the cake that was absolutely worth a $250,000 prize, it was obvious that a bill wasn’t coming out for their incredible meal. While Lola was still learning about Redpine, Carmen stood out on a ledge so far from safety it was like tightroping off the Empire State Building.

“You should give me your number,” Carmen said, her voice the vocal equivalent of ripping off a bandage. A really sticky one plastered to a particularly hairy arm.

Lola’s gaze floated up from her screen and landed on Carmen in open question. “Why—”

“If we’re going to work on this, we’re obviously going to need to speak to each other. It’s ridiculous that I don’t already have it.” Carmen straightened, confidence lengthening her spine. “Childish, really.”

Lola’s mouth didn’t move, but her eyes scanned her relentlessly. Could she really still be looking for some kind of ploy? How many white flags did she want Carmen to wave?

CHAPTER30

Sure she would regretit when it backfired on her in some unseen way, Lola gave Carmen her number. The strangeness of the exchange, given that they’d already exchanged significantly more precious things, was obliterated by the waterfall of shame that hit her on the way out of Leonie’s restaurant.

Still full despite the late hour, they passed dozens of tables when they walked from the rooftop bar back into the dining room that would lead them to the elevator down to the parking garage. Until then Lola had been something close to relaxed. Sharing a meal with Carmen hadn’t been as excruciating as she’d expected. With a knife to her throat, she’d have to admit it was sort of nice to spend time with her without arguing.

And then she’d seen it. First, at a table for two. A pair dipping their fingers into little bowls to clean them. She’d almost laughed. Thought they’d misunderstood the hot water’s purpose. And then she saw another table and another.

The memory flashed in her mind like lightning. It was a numbing in her hands. A prickly heat rushed down her back, making her skin cold and too sensitive. The cotton of her clothes felt like steel wool cutting into her.

Like a fucking untrained mule, she’d drunk the water instead of using it to clean her hands after the food they’d eaten with their fingers. Shame was a fiery sword plunged into her chest, making her want to puke.

And then the image of Carmen drinking out of the little dish Lola misinterpreted as something to prime their palate was reconfigured. Carmen had worn the confusion on her face for only half a breath, but it had been there.

There was no doubt in Lola’s mind that Carmen had grown up fancy as fuck. She’d known what the stupid bowl was for, and Lola would bet her life on it. And instead of telling Lola she’d acted like a rube, of making fun of her for it, she’d drunk the damn water too.

Shame and embarrassment swirled around Lola like a stench. She wanted desperately to crawl out of her skin. But if that wasn’t possible, she needed to be away from Carmen. Away from the eyes that were probably judging her. Laughing at her or finding her pathetic.

“I’m just going to get a ride-share home,” Lola announced, looking at her phone and avoiding eye contact with Carmen.

“I can take you—”

“No,” Lola snapped, attention glued to her screen.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Carmen’s hand on her arm was too soft. Her voice was too gentle. Too close to pitying.

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