CHAPTER THIRTEEN ONE OF US, ONE OF US
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ONE OF US, ONE OF US
LUNA
The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, and I nearly wept. I needed a pick-me-up after an anxious night on an awful mattress.
“So how can we help?” Piper asked, and it took me a moment to realize she wasn’t talking about my exhaustion.
“I just need a few pictures.” I looked between the three women.
Women who were happy. Who had people who loved them.
Having photos with people from Rhys’s circle might’ve helped show my immersion into the group so my appearance didn’t look so sudden, but it could hurt them.
Not willing to put a target on any of them, I amended my plan on the fly.
“But not with any of you fully in them. An arm. A side. Something that makes it look genuine.”
“Totally doable. Unless you’re implying we’re not cute enough to be in your pictures, in which case, Rhys gets your stash of dessert.”
I laughed as I shook my head. “It’s definitely not that. I’m just being cautious.”
“We all are,” she said with a look of understanding. “Hence why Hollywood is here.”
I blinked, not knowing what to say since I had no clue what that string of words meant. Even my mouth was internally shrugging, unable to come up with a feeble response.
“The biker,” the brunette woman explained, reading my confusion.
“Oh, sorry. He was talking to you like you’d already met.” Piper poured a big ol’ mug of coffee and handed it to me. “It’s been a wild day, and my brain is operating with about a million tabs open.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip before risking scalding my mouth by taking a bigger gulp. “Wow.”
“I know,” Harlow said as she poured half the pot in her thermos. “The coffee is the only reason I agree to the free labor.”
“Is it really free if I pay you in coffee and friendship?” Piper shot back.
“True.”
“Also, I’m Joss,” the other woman said as she fixed her own very small coffee.
Piper looked aghast. “My God, I am failing at this hospitality thing. It’s a wonder that my mother hasn’t popped out of nowhere to remind me of my manners. Joss is my occasional employee when I’m way behind, and my always friend.” She nodded to the other side. “And this is Harlow.”
“Am I not your occasional free labor and always friend?” the gorgeous redhead pouted at her simple introduction.
“Ride or die, babe. You know that.”
“We’ve met,” I said.
“Oh. Right.” Piper gestured to her head. “Told you. A million tabs, and none of them loading.”
“It’s totally fine. I’m the one invading your time and space. I promise this is a one-time thing.”
Okay, no. Right then, she looked truly aghast. Beyond aghast. “No way. If you’re with Rhys, you’re pretty much with all of us. It’s inevitable. The best thing to do is just accept it.”
“Like slowly freezing to death,” Harlow muttered, earning a whack from Piper.
“I’m only working with Rhys temporarily. Could be a week, could be just the weekend.”
“Then for that week or weekend, you’re one of us,” Piper declared.
As much as I loved her loyalty and acceptance, I was still a detective. Protect. Serve. All the things. Which was why I cautioned, “I appreciate you being willing to help with my… situation, but you should be careful.”
“You can speak freely in here.” She spun her finger around. “Hollywood is part of MayCo, and he already cleared my side. The security is secure, and the bugs are bugless. Thankfully. I don’t want a video of me badly singing to go mega viral.”
“Or the other thing you and Jake do when you’re alone,” Harlow said.
“Or that.”
That was a relief, but it didn’t change my apprehensions. “It might still be best to distance yourselves as much as possible.”
“No can do,” Piper said.
“Mrs. Hyde—” I started, busting out my cop-voice.
And getting exactly nowhere.
She held up a hand. “I appreciate your concern. And, trust me, none of us are planning any trips to dark alleys, clandestine meetings in dingy underground garages, or secret middle-of-the-night investigations in the dark, forbidden woods. But we’re at Rye all the time.
Harlow still works there on occasion. Rhys is at parties, get-togethers, and whatever else when he can slip away from the bar for a few hours.
If he’s on a radar, then so are we. Distancing ourselves right now won’t do anything but make it easier for whoever to target all of us due to a lack of communication. ”
She had a good point. I hated to admit that because I would rather the target list stay at me and Rhys with question marks by both of our names since we weren’t even sure it wasn’t all random. Still, she was correct.
“Has there been anything suspicious with your bakery or the garage?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“My husband’s business has had some issues,” Joss said.
I had no clue who her husband was or what his business was, but that didn’t stop me from asking, “What’s been happening?”
She tilted her head, her high ponytail bobbing with the movement. “Fake complaints, code violations, anonymous tips called into the police with bogus claims, delivery issues.”
Other than that last one, the list sounds familiar…
“Does he own a bar?” I asked, something scratching at the back of my brain.
That itch that set me on alert and kicked my curiosity up to a twenty.
If they were both bar owners getting messed with, it would help narrow down the suspect pool to overlapping enemies.
Or maybe just a fellow bar owner looking to take out some competition.
“Kind of,” she said. “Strip club.”
“I—oh.” I wasn’t sure why I was thrown by that. I knew better than most not to judge a person by their appearance. And it wasn’t like there was anything inherently wrong with strip clubs. Some of them, for sure, but not every last one.
But in her cute outfit and hot pink Converse, Joss didn’t look like the wife of a nudie bar owner. She looked like the epitome of a wholesome girl-next-door. Someone I would’ve watched my mouth around for fear of offending her—or getting chided like I was a kid.
“Does he have any suspects?” I asked.
“Not really. Rival club owners, flaky dancers, rowdy customers who’ve gotten their face on the banned wall.”
Again, that sounded familiar.
“I figured I’d tell you since there are already police reports,” she added.
Huh.
Something about her phrasing made me wonder if she would have shared otherwise.
And I got the feeling it was a no.
Loyalty seemed to be a foundation of that group.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” I muttered.
It could’ve been nothing, but…
I just didn’t know. There were so many variables and questions with that case.
A case that I still wasn’t even sure was actually a case and not an inconvenient prank coincidentally timed with a random attack.
“Anything else you can think of?” When Joss shook her head, I turned my attention to Harlow. “What about you?”
She hooked a thumb near the doorway. “My husband works over there, and his biggest problem is a clogged airbrush blower thingy. I work in a newsroom, so all I do is research and notes.”
That’s it. News Nine.
Oh no.
Even after Rhys had told me the redhead behind Rye’s bar was Piper’s friend, I hadn’t been able to shake that odd sense that I knew her. Which I did, hence why it’d been so odd that there was this unknown familiarity needling at me. But with her answer, I knew exactly why else she looked familiar.
She’d been on the news a few times doing more than compiling research and notes.
She’d been reporting.
And what would make a hell of a scoop?
My first undercover mission is now my last undercover mission.
There is no damage control I could run to fix this.
One of my strengths—even noted by Rhys—was my poker face.
My dad had made sure that all his kids had one.
Too much could be given away with a darting glance or a lip twitch.
Things that might impact cases, sure, but also things that could easily put people in danger.
Beyond that, the stoic ability helped appear professional, somber, and respectful.
Not to mention, some douchebags were enraged and insulted by my ability to remain unfazed and silent in the face of their tiny-dick-energy intimidation. Making them feel the embarrassment they deserved was always a plus in my book.
Despite all that carefully curated blankness, Harlow was somehow able to see the anxiety I knew I wasn’t showing.
Her hand shot out as she crossed them back and forth on top of each other. “No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking, but no. I am not saying a word about any of this at work.”
I wished I could trust her. Rhys did—with his life, he’d asserted.
But I wasn’t Rhys. I didn’t know any of them. I liked them fine enough, but I didn’t trust any of them.
I’d seen enough about newsrooms—okay, I’d watched enough Murphy Brown reruns with my dad—to know how competitive they were. The better your pitches and story hooks, the more screen time you got.
She could set herself up with some primetime coverage with our story.
“I think it’s best if I go,” I said as I grudgingly set my mug down. I would have to walk away from the coffee, treats, and Rhys.
And shockingly, I wasn’t sure which was more devastating. The desserts should’ve had the easy win, but I found the idea of not working with Rhys surprisingly disappointing.
“Wait, don’t,” Harlow said, her tone and expression earnest. “I know we don’t know each other, but I would never take this story to the station.”
“Bet it could get you a coveted desk spot.”
“I don’t want a desk spot.”
If my control over my emotions wasn’t so solid, I would’ve rolled my eyes. It didn’t matter if it was a bakery, a newsroom, or a police station rather than something corporate. Everyone wanted to climb the ladder. Outdo. Surpass. Be the best of the best and make it look easy.
Not giving them my back, I stepped away as I smiled. “Thank you anyway. Congrats on the bakery.”
I was nearly to the door that led to the storefront when Harlow blurted, “Fluff pieces.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
Mostly because I had no clue what it meant.
“I want to do fluff pieces. Happy stories. Exciting news. Like the video game launch.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, giving away how hard she was studying me before haltingly tacking on, “That you were working at.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway, even though it wasn’t the complete truth.
And I internally jolted when she rapidly brought her fist down.
“Yesss. I knew that was you. It’s been driving me crazy.
” She waved her hand. “Anyway, back to what I was saying. I know this may be hard to believe since you’re this take-charge, give ’em hell, intimidating badass, but those feel-good pieces are what I want to do.
But even if I had the highest of aspirations to report on the grittiest of crimes, I wouldn’t risk my friends, their safety, or their trust. Plus, I literally work at Rye.
Okay, I visit to drink and end up working through the crush, but still.
I’m there. Why would I broadcast the story to the city and undermine you trying to keep everyone safe? ”
The tension that’d infused my body loosened at that. If she spilled, and I got pulled, she could be in danger every time she worked a shift behind the bar or visited it as a patron on the other side.
It would be stupid.
I was already back on team Girl’s Girls before Piper added her endorsement.
“Rhys told us what happened, and we just want to help. The group… Well, more the boys than us, but whatever. We might be gossipy, but it’s only within the circle.
And even then, we can keep secrets when needed.
We didn’t tell anyone when Joss was pregnant. ”
Harlow held up a finger, and I hoped my relief didn’t dissipate as quickly as it’d formed. But when she interjected, it was to say, “Technically I did tell someone, but it was Joss, so I think it’s fine.”
My brows lowered as I looked between her and Joss, trying to make sense of that.
“We made taking pregnancy tests a group activity. I was the one to see hers was positive.”
I might not have a voracious social life, but I still knew that was a weird as hell group activity.
It didn’t change the fact that their point was made, and I was confident my cover was safe.
Nonchalantly moving back to pick up my poor, abandoned coffee, I admitted, “I like the fluff.”
Harlow smiled. “There’s enough bad news in the world.”
“Trust me, I know.”