“It’s too big,” Luke said. His eyes flooded with emotion and his shoulders trembled. “I’ve lost everything, Kitty. My wife, my friends, my career, my reputation . . . everything I know and love, gone. And if there’s a chance I can get even some of it back, you’d better believe I’m going to take it.”

“Damn right,” Kitty said.

“I’m going to Nueva Vida, and I’m going to find that bat-faced son of a bitch.” He dragged his hands through his hair, lifting it into wild tufts. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” Kitty said.

“Listen, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but you can chill here, if you want. There’s plenty of food in the fridge, and you can—”

“To hell with that,” Kitty said. “I’m coming with you.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“After what I’ve been through, I am not staying in this house by myself, jumping at every shadow.” She wagged her finger. “No way, son. Not happening.”

“I hear you,” Luke said. “But this is my shit to deal with. Why would you want to get involved?”

“The same reason you got involved with my shit.” Kitty patted her chest and blinked. “You said you lost all your friends, but you didn’t. You have me. And this is what friends do.”

Luke smiled in a way that was both heartbreaking and uplifting, although he also looked like he was about to cry.

“No arguments,” Kitty said. “I’m coming with you.”

“Good,” Luke said, and covered his eyes.

Kitty caught maybe an hour’s sleep, in total. She got out of bed a little after five a.m. and sat in the kitchen drinking coffee. Luke joined her a short time later, having not slept, either. They barely spoke. But that was fine. They didn’t need to.

By six forty-five, they were on their way to Nueva Vida. The westbound 210 was already getting busy with commuter traffic, but it was open road in their direction. Nothing between them and the new day.

15
The Hungry Wolf

The ability to concoct on-the-spot, believable bullshit was one of Xander Cray’s (few) talents. He had told the detective investigating Kitty’s murder that Johan wasn’t home because he was filming for his YouTube channel. Not true, of course. Johan had, in fact, spent the day personally distributing two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of free canary samples, reassuring his wealthy customers that his product was back to its former quality. Damage control was expensive and exhausting, but it needed to be done.

He’d been in Barrett Lorne’s trailer, on the set of Crisis Alert, the first time Xander called.

“My rule: You fuck me over, we’re done,” Barrett had said, not taking his eyes off the baggie of yellow powder that Johan had just handed him. “I don’t believe in second chances.”