“So help me, God, if you make a kissy noise, Owen, I will shoot you.”
Owen relaxed his lips obediently.
But they only wavered and curled up again into a grin.
Eli made an irritated noise and a little chopping gesture with his hand. “Bye,Deputy.”
“Have a safe trip, Eli. Give my best to Devlin. Be safe out there.” Owen’s voice was still suffused with amusement.
Eli grunted and stalked out to his cruiser, hurled his packed overnight bag into the backseat.
He sat for a moment. Butwhyhad Glory called? Had she come to some kind of conclusion? To say good-bye? To say I’m coming over, please be naked when I get there? To say Franco proposed and it’s on YouTube?
He backed out of the parking lot a little too emphatically, maybe, then took a breath and forcibly steadied himself, because he was the law, not a stroppy teenager, and he could manage this without acting out.
He took in a deep breath. Whatever she had to say, he would hear it. As long as she was okay, he could wait.
It was that tender hour of the morning when pale gold light was just creeping up over the mountain, and Main Street was still metaphorically yawning and stretching. A few awnings were being unfurled, blinds on storefronts cast upward, flowers and fruit set out in front of their markets.
“Hey, Eli?” Owen’s voice came over the radio suddenly.
Eli gritted his teeth and seized the radio. “Yeah, Owen?”
“Got a call that the burglar alarm at the Misty Cat was tripped. Little early for them to be open, isn’t it?”
He was relieved not to be teased. “Yeah. It’s probably nothing, but I’ll check it out.”
He reached the foot of Main, where the Misty Cat sat (it had been built at the foot of the hill right above the original mining camp, so inebriated miners could stumble out the door and roll right back down into camp, or so legend had it). He pulled to the curb and cut the engine. He knew this beat, the Harwoods, and the Misty Cat so well, and not once since Eli had worked in Hellcat Canyon had they forgotten to disarm the alarm when they did open.
There was a first time for everything, he supposed. It could be a malfunction.
Still, he put his hand on his gun as he approached the window to peer in.
Two men he’d never seen before were sitting at a table near the stage. His senses went on high alert.
But none of the other chairs had been pulled down from the tables yet, and they formed an obscuring forest of chair backs. He couldn’t get a clear look at them.
He pushed the door gently; it was unlocked. He slowly, slowly pushed it open to try to avoid jangling the bells, slipped inside, and moved toward them quietly.
They turned toward him, faces expectant but not surprised. And then they both went taut with a sort of irritation.
Oh yeah. These two were definitely not burglars.
One was older and slim and fit in that sleek, yoga-and-personal-trainer Los Angeles way. His clothes, his skin, everything about him had that polished look that a particular sort of wealthy person had, the kind who mostly moved between air-conditioned limos and planes and air-conditioned buildings and mansions and ate only wheatgrass and chickens who ranged free and the like. And he had an air of detached absorption and the sort of charisma conferred by power and utter certainty.
Eli knew a few powerful people. That particular air was cumulative, something that developed over time, and it was earned.
Across from him sat a younger Asian guy, just as wiry slim and fit but a little taller, wearing what Eli thought of as a groovy Franco Francone–esque shirt. He had an expensive-looking haircut and an array of electronics—a phone, an iPad, and so forth were spread out on the table in front of him.
“Good morning, Officer,” the older guy drawled, not sounding the least surprised. He didn’t move or rise. “You don’t look like Glory Greenleaf.”
Eli frowned, bemused. And then with a blast of clarity he knew who this guy was.
Hoooooooly shit.
“Good morning. The alarm was triggered and I stopped in to investigate. You two planning to rob the place?”
“No crime occurring here,” the old man informed him. “Unless you want to arrest MissGreenleaf for the crime of wasting my time.”
