19. Rusty
CHAPTER 19
RUSTY
“ T ired?”
Erin yawned as she walked in, and she was carrying a takeout coffee cup the size of her head.
“Uh-huh.”
“Mav’s coffee machine isn’t good enough?”
“This is almost finished. Make me an espresso?” She used her free hand to rub her eyes. “Please?”
Over the days they’d known each other, she’d grown in confidence. She used to hesitate at the threshold, but now she marched right on in. Rusty realised he liked that. He liked that she was happy in his home. Well, Mav’s home. Rusty didn’t truly feel at home anywhere anymore.
“Is it good to drink so much caffeine?”
“No?”
“Did you consider trying sleep instead?”
“I didn’t like being so close to the elevator, so I swapped rooms with Ari, and the people on the other side were doing things I don’t want to think about all night.” She smiled as if to apologise for the way she felt, but her lips quivered. “I think maybe I’ll swap back. ”
“The offer of a room here is still open, for Ari too, if she wants to come. The only person doing unmentionable things is Sin, and they’re not those unmentionable things.”
“What kind of unmentionable things is she doing?”
“Honestly, I don’t want to ask. Did you know she carries a gun?”
“Not for sure, but I figured she would.”
Rusty had a rifle at home in Minnesota, but even there, he hadn’t schlepped it around with him. Did private investigators need a weapon? Erin wasn’t armed—he’d spent enough time studying her to know that much. She usually wore tight jeans or shorts or sometimes a colourful dress, so she had nowhere to hide a package of gum, let alone a pistol. And it wasn’t in her cavernous purse—yesterday, she’d told him to help himself to one of her emergency cookies when he got hungry, and he’d had to rummage through the rest of the supplies to find them. Keys, a billfold, pepper spray, jewellery, a novel, a bottle of hot sauce, handcuffs—not the fun kind—an apple, a tube of superglue, tissues in a ziplock bag, a first-aid kit, a can of surfboard wax, a multi-tool, a bag of peanuts, a phone charger, a yellow plastic duck, mints, several AA batteries, a measuring tape, a crochet hook with a ball of yarn, gloves, a whistle, socks, a deck of playing cards, a seashell, a padlock, a flashlight, assorted bobby pins, a bottle of Tylenol… The list went on. He was surprised she didn’t spend half her life in the chiropractor’s clinic.
“Tell me she doesn’t shoot at living targets?” Rusty said.
“Who knows? Probably. Did you get more chocolate sprinkles?”
“Not yet. We can swing by the grocery store if you want.”
“Don’t we need to go to the Neptune?”
“Kelsey does the same thing nearly every weekday—she goes to the gym, then she eats breakfast, then she goes to the office. What’s the point of sitting outside all day? She gets lunch alone, or she goes with Chris and Amber.”
And was she really having an affair at work? The only candidate for a sidepiece so far was the guy from the Galaxy. Erin was convinced he was a creep, and from the snippets she’d divulged about her past, she was doubtless in a good position to recognise one.
“So you want to…not go to the café today?” she asked.
“Thanks to your friend, we can track Kelsey’s phone”—a development Rusty still wasn’t entirely comfortable with, but it was less intrusive than following her in person—“so why don’t we back off a little? If she goes anywhere but work or the Neptune, we can catch up with her and take a look.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“I think it’s a smart idea.”
“You do?”
Off the ice, Rusty couldn’t recall anyone saying those words to him before. His parents had their own way of doing things. And Florence would always tilt her head to the side and say, “Well, it might work. But why don’t we do it this way?” He’d never minded that because she took over the purchasing or the organising or the decorating and he didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Sure, sometimes things didn’t turn out the way he hoped, like the time he needed to get a birthday gift for the team physio, and Florence said she’d handle it. The physio’s name was Nikky, and Florence had a friend named Nikki, so Rusty told Florence it was “Nikki with a y.” The cake showed up, and it said “Yikki.” Mav said Florence had done it on purpose because she didn’t care for Nikky, but why would she dislike Nikky? The two women had never even met.
“Of course it’s a smart idea—even if Kelsey is having an affair, she won’t be hooking up in the office. Although I guess someone could visit her in the hotel.”
“So you think we should wait for her when she comes out of work and follow her in the evening?”
“I mean, it makes sense.” Erin yawned again.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I can watch the app for an hour, and if Kelsey goes anywhere but the office, I’ll wake you.”
The phone would buzz if Kelsey moved outside one of the designated safe areas—the Neptune or the building where Miller, Sigmund, and Pace was located.
“Is Sin still here?”
“She left an hour ago with the dog, but if you’re worried about me murdering you while you sleep, you can lock the door.”
Erin looked faintly horrified. “That’s not what I meant. I think…I think you’re okay. For a man, anyway.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I wasn’t sure Sin would keep sleeping here. A big part of the other investigation moved online.”
“Online? You mean there’s a cyber scammer?”
“Not a scammer. Uh, some poker-loving nutjob is hiring thugs on the dark web and sending them after people who work at the Galaxy.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yup, unfortunately.”
Rusty raked a hand through his hair. He should have been happy that she trusted him enough to spill the details, but Erin was staying at the fucking Galaxy.
“We’ll drive over and get your stuff. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”
“What? I’ll be fine.”
“And what if some whack job shows up and opens fire, huh? ”
“I only go from the lobby to my room, and I’m not even eating in the restaurant because I’m eating with you.”
“Lobbies aren’t safe. I’ve been mauled in a hotel lobby before.”
“Mauled by what? A bear?”
“Thirty-seven rabid women. They tore off my fucking shirt.”
“Thirty-seven? That’s a very precise number.”
“My agent made them line up so I could sign autographs.”
Worse, one of them wanted him to sign her ass, and the resulting photo had led to an uncomfortable conversation with Florence. Signing body parts wasn’t something Rusty made a habit of, but he’d figured it was the fastest way to make the girl go away.
“Yikes. Well, I doubt thirty-seven women will ask for my autograph, so I’ll be peachy.”
“Erin…”
“What? Ari’s there. I’m not leaving her on her own.”
“Then she can stay here too.”
“What if she doesn’t want to? And why do you even care?”
“Because…because…” Why did he care? Why did he hate the thought of Erin getting hurt so much that he was ready to kidnap her from the Galaxy? The answer was unexpected. He liked her. She was cute and clever and fun, and if he hadn’t been so hung up on Florence and Erin hadn’t been so hung up on her past, maybe he’d have asked her out on a date. “Because you’ve already made one trip to the hospital, and I don’t like the idea of you making another.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“No, I can’t. But…”
“But what? ”
Before he managed to think things through, Rusty took her hand in both of his and pulled her a step closer.
“But I really, really hate the idea of you getting hurt, okay? I hate it.”
Their gazes locked, and Erin swallowed hard, but she didn’t snatch her hand away. A long moment passed before she nodded.
“Okay.” The word came out croaky, and she tried again. “Okay, we’ll get my stuff. I’ll talk to Ari.”
Thank fuck.
“That’s the right answer.”