Page 88 of Knife For Hire

Olive accepts the change, cocking her head, her hair bouncing along. “Well that depends, Cinnamon, are you happy?”

“Always asking the tough questions,” I grumble back.

My seat is facing the girl who continues to upheave her guts over the rail.

“Well, how about this? How is the money?” Olive raises a brow.

“They sent me three bitcoins? I don’t even know what to do with it.”

Her glass slips from her fingers, her mouth opens in surprise. “Three?!” stutters out.

The glass lands perfectly on the table without shattering.

“Uh, yeah?”

Olive gets up, stares me down. “Cinnamon, that’s like $180,000. Maybe even more?!”

It’s time for me to jump to my feet, my chair falls out from me. “You’re kidding?!”

The girl on the rail jerks up and glares at us for a single beat, her dark eyes glassy, before falling back over the rail.

“Girl, I don’t know why they’re paying you in Bitcoin—that’s sus as fuck. Are you cooking meals for the mob?” Olive cracks a smile, but I can see there is genuine concern.

“No?” I offer with a casual shrug. “A few of the clients were jerks, but the last one was literally me dropping off food in a suburban upscale neighborhood. I think they’re just super rich and private.”

Olive’s lips press in a tight line. “Cin, you know I love you but…” She leans forward. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she whispers into my ear. “Not again. Not like…”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. And thankfully, she doesn’t.

Olive and Sherry are the only two people who know exactly how hurt I can be.

They were there when my bad luck struck in the most disastrous of ways.

“I—I’ll ask him. I don’t understand crypto, maybe I have the wrong amount? Come on, let’s dance?” I swap up, trying to change the subject.

It has to be an accident.

She takes the escape, offering one last heavy look before pulling the door open to take us back into the club.