And it’s not like I’d never noticed her before.
Who wouldn’t notice a curvy redhead who’s always smiling? Especially one who wasn’t as subtle as she thought she was about taking my picture anytime I’ve seen her in Shipwreck lately.
That pretend boyfriend thing?
Wasn’t my first guess as to what she was doing, but it was on the list. And it was a short list.
“That her?” Vanessa says so softly I almost don’t hear it.
Shit.
I’m wearing my puppy dog eyes.
I scowl at my sister.
She takes that for theyesthat it is. “And how long have you had a crush on her?”
“I do not have a crush on her.”
“Then what are the moon eyes all about?”
“She told me once she hated me because she finally got tickets to see one of our shows, but the band broke up before her ticket date. I feel guilty.”
Predictably, Vanessa snorts again. “You’re not even trying to lie effectively now.”
“It’s the truth. She was tipsy at a bar and challenged me to a game of darts. I don’t know if she even remembers. Tillie Jean told me she’d had a bad day. Got yelled at a bunch at work by people who were too ungrateful or something.”
Vanessa sucks in another breath and her eyes narrow. “No.”
“Everyone has a bad day now and—oh, fuck.”
She’s not objecting to my explanation.
She’s objecting to what’s happening in the alley.
And as soon as I see it too, I’m in motion.
Sloane isn’t alone.
And it’s unlikely that she knows she’s not alone.
I know she’s not alone.
Vanessa knows she’s not alone.
We both know who’s trailing Sloane in the shadows.
And while I’m flying out of the SUV as Sloane slips inside the back entrance of the museum, my sister’s staying put.
Because she doesn’t want Patrick Dixon to see her?
Or because she doesn’t want to be seen in general?
Motherfucker.
Is Vanessa working a Thorny Rock case? Is she here because the CIA wants Thorny Rock’s treasure and she knows something about what Dixon’s up to?
Problem for later.
