A couple of his drunken bodyguards rushed in, pushing everyone who stood in their way, and knocking over two of the male guests. One of them landed on Logan, but that didn’t stop his security from trying to charge through a cluster of women who were blocking their path. Piper spun on them both. “Back off! Now!”

Miraculously, they stopped. Coop helped the male guests up, patting them on the back and inviting them to VIP for a drink. The three shark women pushed their way through the dancers, trying to return to their pop idol herring. Coop stepped in front of them, ready to pile on the charm, even though all the jostling had to be hurting him. Logan’s bodyguards began to shove into the crowd again as Piper got Logan to his feet.

“Tell your posse to back off,” she shouted into his ear, “and I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”

He gave her a drunken leer. “For real?”

“A one-way ticket to paradise.”

As he complied, she grabbed his arm, pulled him to the edge of the floor, and steered him into the kitchen.

A massive tray of bourbon brownies nested in square paper liners sat on the counter. She’d barely eaten all day, and she grabbed a couple of them, warm and oozing chocolate. “Private party,” she told Logan.

Using a combination of strength and stealth, she managed to maneuver him up the stairs and into her apartment. “Wha’s this,” he slurred.

“The Garden of Eden,” she said dryly.

He gave her a lopsided grin. His eyes without his sunglasses were small, brown, and unremarkable. “Whadda you got to drink?” he asked as he tried to prop himself against the counter that divided the living area and kitchen.

All she had were a couple of juice boxes and some beer. She kicked off her shoes and held up the two squished bourbon brownies. “I’ve got something even better.”

“Pot brownies!” He would have grabbed them both if she hadn’t sequestered one at the end of the counter for herself.

A knock sounded at her apartment door. She padded barefoot across the room. “Who is it?”

“Cops. Open up before I break down the door.”

“Very funny.” She opened the door and gave Eric a weary smile.

“I just got off duty,” he said, letting himself in. “I saw your light on.”

Something he could only have observed if he’d driven down the alley.

He sank into the couch, as if he intended to stay for a while. Logan, in the meantime, saw only a uniformed police officer and began stuffing both brownies in his mouth as fast as he could. As he supported himself on the edge of the counter, he held up his empty, chocolate-smeared hands and spoke to Eric through the globs. “Chuz bwahnee, mon. Noshin een ’em,” which she interpreted as, “Just brownies, man. Nothing in them.”