**NB. This story is as it comes – straight out of my head and may contain typos**
CHAPTER 14 – WREN
Everything would get back to normal, Blane said. Well, that was a big fat lie, wasn’t it? How could I ever forget what had happened? That a woman was dead, that my best friend was missing, that two men had come to my apartment to kidnap me too, and that now I was holed up in my boss’s luxury penthouse. The tall, dark, and handsome boss that maybe, just maybe, I’d secretly had a crush on for months.
Not an “I hope we match on Tinder” crush, more of an “unattainable and therefore safe” crush, the kind of pointless infatuation usually reserved for movie stars and pop singers. As in, one step up from a book boyfriend but a hundred steps down from an actual dating prospect. A man who might say a few words to you every once in a while, but the only place he’d be getting naked was in your dreams. And perhaps I’d had those dreams once or twice. Okay, once or twice a week, but definitely no more than that.
And now I’d accidentally told him he was hot. Well, not told him, but a picture painted a thousand words, and my cheeks had said them all.
Totally inappropriate.
Caria was missing, Blane was going above and beyond to help me, and even his weird assistant was being helpful. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Joseph Beauregard. I’d seen him around, and he was what Caria called a “little” man. Not in size—he was average height and probably went to the gym a couple of times a week—but in character. A little too slick. A little too watchful. A little too obsequious when it came to Blane. A man who didn’t do anything wrong, per se, but there was something off that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Paola in housekeeping had mentioned he was a lawyer, which might have explained a few things. I’d dated a lawyer once. Big mistake.
Huge.
After the breakup, I’d vowed that my days of messing up were over, that the move to Vegas to be near Kayden would be a fresh start. And until last week, I’d stayed more or less on track. Found a job I didn’t dread going to, earned enough to cover the rent, and made a few good friends. Then life fell apart again. This time, the poor judgment was Caria’s rather than mine, but it didn’t make the fallout any easier to bear.
“You don’t like calzone?” Blane asked.
“Huh?” Sugar honey ice tea, I’d zoned out, and now he was looking at me funny. The calzone was a picked-apart mess on my plate. “No. I mean, yes, I do like calzone, but I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.”
“Understandable, but you should try to eat. Starving would be sub-optimal. Do you want Joseph to run out and pick up something else?”
“Wine?” Beauregard suggested. “Chocolate? Xanax?”
“Xanax isn’t food,” Blane told him.
“Well, Perla eats it like candy, and she says it changed her life.”
Perla, the bartender at Tilt? She knew the ingredients of every cocktail by heart, always wore shoes I’d barely be able to stand in let alone walk in, and—until recently—had spent half of her breaks crying in the bathroom. Boyfriend trouble. Couldn’t live with him, didn’t want to do the time for killing him. When I’d gently suggested there might be another solution, more of a halfway house, she’d given me a condescending look and told me I just didn’t understand.
But apparently Beauregard did, seeing as she’d confided in him about her medical care.
“This isn’t exactly something I can discuss with a physician. What would I say? ‘Oh, hi, doctor. I’m feeling kinda down because my friend got kidnapped by a gangster’?”
“No need. There’s a guy who hangs out in the diner next to the Devil’s Den, and he can get as many pills as you need, no questions asked.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Only if you get caught.”
“Aren’t you an attorney?”
“If everyone followed the rules, I’d be out of a job.”
A reasonable point, but I still wasn’t going to purchase dubiously sourced drugs, and I especially wasn’t going to purchase dubiously sourced drugs from the Lucky 7 Grill.
“There’s no way I’m going near the Devil’s Den.” Although it had closed down almost a year ago, its reputation as Vegas’s seediest casino had been well-deserved, and the whole street was a no-go area. “What were you doing there? Trolling for new clients?”
Blane’s lips quirked in amusement, but he shook his head. “Joseph only works for me now. But I’m interested in buying the Devil’s Den, which means paying a visit or two.”
Was he serious? His expression suggested that he was. “But…but you already own Tilt. And Club Dead. Both of those are real nice places, and the Devil’s Den…”
“Isn’t? Yes, I’m aware of that. But it’s in a good location, and it has potential.”
Well, okay then. I figured he knew what he was doing. The tables at Tilt were always packed with high-rollers, tips were great, and there hadn’t been a single raid on the place since I started working there. Not like at my first job in Vegas. I’d waited tables at Destiny’s Gate—which I always thought sounded more like a cult than a casino—and the staff used to joke that the cops had reserved parking right outside.
“I don’t know much about the business side of casinos, but I hope it works out. And I’ll pass on the Xanax.”
“Suit yourself,” Beauregard said, shrugging.
“How about a cake instead?” Blane asked. “Marianna’s here.”
Where? I glanced around, and ten seconds later, the buzzer sounded. Beauregard got up to open the door. Was Blane psychic or something? How had he known she was outside? My ex used to do spooky stuff like that, and he’d told me we had “a special connection,” which I’d thought was cute until I realised he’d installed tracking software on my phone.
Marianna was a petite Latina carrying an insulated bag in one hand and a small boy on her other hip. A young girl trailed behind her, three or four years old, and she held a small pink bag of her own.
“Hola,” Marianna said, beaming at all of us, even Beauregard. “How are you?”
Beauregard shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
“Oh, he can and frequently does.” Blane returned Marianna’s smile and rose to kiss her on the cheek. “My day just got better now that you’ve arrived.”
Even with her olive skin, Marianna couldn’t hide her blush. “You’d say that about anyone who brought you food.”
“I definitely don’t say it to Joseph. Or the pizza delivery guy. Or Feng from the Chinese place, even when he gives me extra fortune cookies.”
The little girl had seemed shy when she first walked in, trailing behind her mom and staring at her feet, but when she got near to Blane, she suddenly grinned and threw her arms around his legs.
“Hola, Blane. I made cookies.”
“What kind of cookies?” He patted her on the shoulder, then lifted her onto one of the high stools at the counter. “Are they chocolate?”
She nodded solemnly. “They’re the best kind.”
“Are you going to stay and eat one?”
She looked to her mom, who nodded. “You’re our last delivery.”
“Excellent. Coffee?”
“Please, that sounds good.”
“I want coffee,” Lola announced.
“You don’t like coffee, mi cielito,” Marianna told her. “What about juice?”
“I want coffee.”
Blane winked at her. “We’ll make your special coffee, angelito.”
She nodded and giggled, and sheesh, Blane even knew how to charm a toddler. A grown woman stood no chance.
“Can I help?” I asked, not only because I owed Blane a debt of gratitude but because I needed to keep busy. Sitting alone with my thoughts in that motel room had been torture. “I worked as a barista for a while.”
“A woman of many skills. But also a guest, so I don’t expect you to lift a finger.”
“What if I want to?”
He studied me for a moment, and maybe he understood how awkward I felt here in this beautiful apartment. “Then I won’t stop you.” A pause. “Marianna, meet Wren. She’s staying with me while we iron out a few kinks in her personal life.”
Curiosity turned to sympathy. “Man trouble? I know all about that.”
Blane answered for me. “In a manner of speaking. Let’s make those drinks.”
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Go to Chapter 15
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