“Just so you know, two or three vultures have already landed. Aaron is keeping ’em busy at the bar, promising photo ops when we’re done eating, but only if they give us space to enjoy our ‘date.’ But he’s not quite as cool about it … I think he’s trying to videotape us.” When Duke pointed directly at Frank, who was trying to hide behind a post, the club owner pretended to answer a call and trotted away. The ballplayer’s lips lifted in amusement, but then the look faded as he spoke.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me get in to see Collins today. My manager doesn’t believe I’m feeling okay, so he’s making me pitch in front of him tomorrow, at the stadium. The problem is, I’m having trouble walking straight, so there’s no chance I can stand on a mound and pitch more than once or twice before it’s obvious I’m favoring my ankle.”

His hand was gripping the armrest between them; she laid her hand sympathetically on his. Friends could touch friends, right? “I’m afraid to ask, but what did you have the doctor do?”

“He gave me medication to dull the pain in my ankle for tomorrow.”

She removed her hand. “You’re not serious? You’re going to end up hurting yourself permanently! Not to mention, you’ll have to keep this crazy facade going. Duke, you need to tell your manager the truth.”

“There’s more to this than just my ego.” He handed her the drink menu. “It gets complicated. You’re going to want a drink.”

“I don’t need the menu, I’ve got it memorized. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I want a drink first.”

“I think you should try club soda for once. Sounds like you need to stay on top of things right now.”

Duke’s face drained of emotion. He scanned the people at the bar. “Where’s Aaron? Maybe we get pics now and get out of here.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I didn’t mean to sound judgy.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and motioned for one of the servers to take their order. That done, Angel said, “What’s so complicated?”

Over the next five minutes, Duke blew her mind. She’d thought her future looked bleak.

As he spoke, she scooted her chair closer and closer, moving in to hear him better over the club’s music. His words came low and quick, his eyes glued on his drink. Sometimes his voice would break, just for a second, as he explained how Regina claimed to have a recording of him shooting Mark and that she’d blackmailed his father for millions, to keep him quiet.

I guess I can relax about those letters on Willis’s table, she thought, but she didn’t feel any more settled than before.