When I rejoined them, Lou had a glass of rosé in front of her and the bartender was snagging it with a fingertip to sneak a sip.

“On the house,” she offered. “If you’d like to join us.”

Join us. “Thanks,” I said, “but, Lou, I thought we had plans today.” I turned to the bartender and bared my teeth, a smile if you squinted. “Our boss is kind of a demanding bitch.”

Lou ignored the bait. “She’s not drinking,” she answered for me. Not done punishing me yet. “In fact, maybe you’d better go home. It’s probably too tempting for you to be here right now. Mischa can call you a cab.”

“Don’t bother,” I said, and grabbed my purse. At the door, I turned and stared back at the two of them, the dark head and the auburn bent toward each other, a little coven of two. I felt a twinge in my heart as I imagined Lou intertwined with her, whispering sweet Lou nothings into the seashell of her ear. I dug my nails into my hand so sharply I started to draw blood. I couldn’t make her choose me, I thought, and that has to be okay. But then I thought: Bullshit. Bullshit.

The sound of her laughter chased me out onto the street, where I turned the corner to my car, the windshield cluttered with parking tickets.

Chapter 23

It wasn’t easy to wake up the next morning with the ghost drumbeat of gin horses galloping in my head. I wouldn’t be early to the office, but then again, Lou was probably still wrapped around the bartender—Mischa, Jesus, what a name.

Ugh. I sat up in bed, massaging my head. Lou would never have what we had with anyone else, though, I thought, not a bartender, not the Lady. She’d never have Ellen’s bluing body twitching in the back seat of a car with any other woman.

Be human, Jo.

My stomach roiled as I got out of bed, searching for my phone. We had a three-day no-contact rule, ordinarily, when we ran cases. Gave the mark a long enough time to miss the girl, work up some lurid fantasies, but not so long that he’d forget all about her. Well. No time to play games now.

I coughed a few times to clear my throat before I called Carrigan’s office, his direct line. I wanted to sound vulnerable, not hung over.

His voice was brusque, annoyed from the moment he picked up. Not in the mood to be seduced. “Carrigan.”