Gathering Dark Candice Fox (e reader TXT) 📖

anybody could come find it was a mistake,” John said. “But I was pressed for time.”

“Uh-huh,” Jessica said again.

“Maybe if I’d needed to hide a second stash, I’d have found a way to make sure I could control who got the money, if it couldn’t be me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I’d make sure I could choose my beneficiary.”

“You know what I think”—Jessica leaned on the table—“I think you’re trying to pull me in now. Trying to make me believe there really is more money. Or maybe you’re trying to goad me into thinking Trelles had a partner who’s still out there, and that I have unfinished business. Let me guess: he’ll only talk to me through you. You want to give me a reason to visit you. To keep visiting. Eventually you’ll have me pressing my tits up against the glass for a few years until we can get into the cage together and you can have your grabby-grabby.”

John laughed, a hard, unexpected laugh that broke into coughs. “Now there’s a great idea!”

“A good plan,” she said. “I guess all you’ve got to do in there all day is plan things. But, like your career as a thief, it’s doomed to fail. I’m pretty revolted by you, as I am by most of the men I’ve met in your position. And if there is money, and you did try to pass it on to Dayly, that plan hasn’t worked either. In fact, it might just be the thing that’s got her killed.”

John sat quietly, a little of the bluster and bravado gone from his posture. Jessica waved and walked away, turning toward the guard station at the end of the room.

BLAIR

The night air carried smells up the side of the canyon: Mexican food trucks, fresh paint from the studios, downtown traffic. Ventura was searing with red and yellow lights, and the silver tips of the mountains sliced through the orange sky, an eternal lightning strike dividing land and air. I sat on the hood of my car at a lookout on Mulholland, playing with my phone, biding time to indulge my addiction while a night tour bus was reloaded with tourists who had been taking shots of Universal. There were red lights and puffing smoke now and then from the Harry Potter castle. Voldemort’s birthday or something, maybe. I wondered if Sasha had read my son those books, how many hours it had taken at his bedside, Jamie fighting sleep against the pillow. I wondered if she’d done the voices. I would have. As the tour bus roared away I closed my eyes and dialed.

“Station Twenty-Two,” a man answered. “Burke here.”

“Oh, hi. My name’s Blair. I’m just calling to speak to someone.”

“Someone who?”

“Just anyone. You know. I just need a minute with someone.”

“Ma’am, are you suicidal right now?”

“I … No. No! Sorry, what kind of station is this?” I asked.

“This is Station Twenty-Two of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Montebello.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t want to tie up the line. I’ll go.”

“You’re not tying up the line. You’ve called the mess room on the accommodation floor. But I can’t understand what you want.”

“Well, I—”

“She sounds hot!” came a muffled voice. “Put her on speaker!”

“Yeah, put her on speaker, Burkey.”

“How many people are there?” I asked, smiling.

“We’ve got me, Betts, Carlisle, Jonesy, and Fitz,” Burke said. “And we’re trying to play a poker game here, so if you wouldn’t mi—”

“I’ll talk to her.” A new voice, a rattle as the receiver was snatched. “This is Johnny Carlisle. I’m six five, blond, big hands, nice square jaw. Stubble. I can bench one-twenty. Think Daniel Craig, only taller and not fucking British. What’s your name, girl?”

“If you’re six five, I’ve got a baseball bat for a dick,” someone said.

“Six five my ass.”

“It’s Blair,” I laughed.

“Blair, sweetheart, that’s a good name. I like that name. You know, most people call here looking for someone to come put out a fire,” Carlisle said. “But I got a feeling you want someone to start one for you. I can hear it in your voice.”

A low moan of appreciation from the crowd.

“Smooth, Carlisle.”

“Where you at, baby?”

“Can we get back to the game, please? Jesus Christ. I got a good hand here!”

Lights fell over me. I hung up, tossed the phone into the front seat of the Gangstermobile. As the enormous Escalade pulled to the side of the road, I realized how lonely I had been as I drove from Brentwood to the Hills after my visit with Sasha and Jamie. Living on the outside meant times of loneliness. It meant uncertainty, trouble, unexpected events, people breaking up and getting together, people moving to Wyoming. I’d known as I turned off Cahuenga that I was going to do something dangerous. The time between dangerous acts was shortening. Alejandro stepped from the car and adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt, a strangely embarrassed downward glance. This was not a man who started casual liaisons with ex-cons who worked in gas stations. This was a man who had models and aspiring actresses dripping all over him in expensive nightclubs downtown. I’d been surprised that he answered my call, even more surprised when he said he’d come to the lookout.

“I did not expect to hear from you again,” he said, mirroring my thoughts.

“You left your number.” I shrugged.

“I’m strangely optimistic sometimes.” He pushed me against the Gangstermobile and kissed me hard, grabbed my ass in both hands and dragged me against his hips. With every car that came around the bend, I expected an eruption of blue lights, the blip of a police siren. I was dancing on the edge again, tempting life to take me away from the hurt and panic over Jamie’s custody, Sneak’s grief, the endless years of ordinary life ahead filled with unpredictability and danger. I held Alejandro’s shoulders and looked out over Los Angeles and thought about my prison bed, and how close it really was.

JESSICA

Jessica had taken a quick, half-hearted tour