As soon as I was outside the back room I texted James. “On my way.”

  Danny’s apartment wasn’t far, only a few blocks back into the Tenderloin district—my neighborhood.

  My pal Danny was a world-class hacker and drone expert. He’d become emancipated at seventeen—with my help—because of a fucked-up home life. He’d saved my butt more times than I could count. I’d introduced James to him, and the two of them could bore me for hours with video game talk.

  But I was secretly happy. I didn’t think Danny had very many friends. Danny wasn’t really overweight as much as he was just oversized. I think this made him self-conscious. Everything about him was huge. Gigantic face. Massive hands. Too tall for most doorways. He also had long red hair with floppy bangs. He was a little socially awkward unless he was talking about tech stuff. He was a rock-solid, good guy with a heart of gold. I’d probably take a bullet for him.

  Inside his apartment, I found James and Danny poring over some printouts on his dining room table.

  “This dude has really covered his tracks,” Danny said when I walked in.

  “Yeah?” I pulled out a chair. “Like what?”

  Danny wrinkled his nose. “Before he joined the French Legion he was living in some white supremacist Nazi commune in Idaho.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Let me guess? The same one that King grew up in.”

  “Bingo,” James said and leaned over to kiss my cheek.

  Danny’s face grew red, but he kept talking. “They were both there for the same time period.” He pointed down at some printouts. “See?”

  “Good work, my friend.”

  “It’s really hidden, too. I don’t think anyone in the U.S. government wanted it known that the San Francisco Police Chief grew up there. That makes me think they have political aspirations for him.”

  My eyes grew wide. “My God, you’re right.”

  It explained a lot. He wasn’t just trying to protect his position as chief by having James taken out—he was trying to protect his relationship with King who’d had the money and power to make the chief governor, a senator, or even president.

  “How did King’s death affect all of this?”

  James spoke up. “I’m not sure it did. From what we can tell, they were in business together. They both have offshore accounts. The day King died there was a massive transfer of funds into the chief’s account and a withdrawal from King’s.”

  I sat back to think about it. Who was backing the chief now?

  “This isn’t something we can just go to the D.A. with, is it?” I said.

  James shook his head. “We need to build a stronger case and then we’re going right to the top with it. The attorney general.”

  “Let’s do it. What can I do?”

  “For now, I think the best thing to do is bring Dante in on it. See who he knows on a federal level.”

  “That makes sense.” Dante had political connections in Washington, D.C. His husband, Matt, had been a senator. After Matt was murdered on their wedding day by a Sicilian mobster coming after me, Dante had cemented those relationships even more with frequent visits to the nation’s capital in an effort to continue Matt’s crusade for justice for all people.

  I dialed Dante. “Hey buddy, you busy?” I glanced at the clock. His restaurants wouldn’t be totally packed quite yet.

  “What’s up? Did you get my emails?” he asked. I cringed. I’d been ignoring them the past few days. Dante and I were both on the board of directors for Ethel’s Place and my father’s corporation.

  “I haven’t,” I said. “I’ll look at them soon. This is about the project James is working on.”

  There was a pause. “Let me go to a secure line and call you back.”

  After a few seconds my phone rang and we filled him in about what James had discovered.

  Twenty minutes later we had a tentative plan to figure out who to speak to on a federal level and what other evidence we needed to shut the chief and his plans down.

  “I’ll walk you out,” James said when I stood to leave.

  For a second I froze, but he didn’t flinch at his use of the word “walk” so I tried to act normal.

  We took the elevator down.

  “I need to go grab Rosalie. Meet you back at the loft?”

  “Yeah,” he said. But he paused. I waited. He looked down at the ground and my heart lurched. Something was wrong.

  “James?”

  He sighed before answering, “I had an interesting conversation with Danny.”

  “If it’s about the latest video game, I’m not sure I can take it today.”

  Rather than act irritated, James laughed. One reason I loved him.

  But he quickly grew solemn. “What he told me, well it’s really shitty.”

  I closed my eyes for a second. Danny had never told me what exactly his home life was like before he escaped to his Tenderloin apartment. My stomach roiled as I waited for James to continue.

  “You know how he’s so big?”

  “Yeah?” Now I was on high alert.

  “It’s a disease.”

  My heart sunk. “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. Most people who get it die young.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  James reached out and slung an arm around me, drawing me close. “I’m sorry. I thought you should know.”

  I swallowed back the lump of dread and asked, “How young?”

  James shrugged. “He didn’t say and I didn’t want to ask.”

  I couldn’t deal with that right now. I couldn’t deal with the idea that someone else in my world would die before their time. “I’ve got to go get Rosalie.”

  I turned and walked off before James could see the tears forming in my eyes. I angrily brushed them away.

  Life was so fucking unfair.

  9

  Once I was in my Jeep I dialed Darling. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. We’re just about to start the pedicure.”

  “Be there in twenty.”

  I wanted to swing by the bus station again.

  I couldn’t believe it. The ICE agents were still parked there. I bet they had to pee in a bottle or something like guys on TV did during stakeouts. I pulled up to the passenger side and rolled down my window pointing at them.

  The dark-haired guy rolled down his window.

  “What’s going on boys?” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You seem to like hanging out at the bus station,” he said. “Any reason why?”

  I frowned. “No. You?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Okay. Have a good day.”

  I pulled away. What the hell? I wondered how long they’d stake out the bus station before giving up. They really, really wanted to find Rosalie’s mom. But they didn’t realize she knew they were there and wouldn’t come back until they were gone.

  I picked up Rosalie and some take-out food from my favorite Thai place and headed back to the loft. James had texted that he was going to meet with Sergeant Newton again and share what we’d learned. I was even more worried about his safety after what we’d learned at Danny’s but knew better than to let him know that.

  In the loft, I searched for something interesting to do with Rosalie and finally saw a deck of cards.

  “You know how to play poker?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’ll teach you.”

  As we played cards, I tried not to pay too much attention to the time, but I couldn’t help but think about James meeting with the sergeant. It was probably safe, but then again, they were meeting to discuss a corrupt police chief with God knows how many people in his control. And those people were uniformed officers patrolling every square inch of the city.

  When my phone rang and I saw it was James, I practically fell over reaching for it.

  “Yes?” I said loudly.

  “Uh. Hi?”

  “Sorry. Hi.”

  “I forgot to remind you this morning—don’t forget we have dinner at my mom’s tonight.”

  I swallowed the “ugh” on the tip of my tongue. Rosalie looked at me and pointed toward the bathroom. I nodded.

  “Gia?”

  “Can we cancel? I mean we have Rosalie and finding her mom.” I stared at the closed bathroom door, wondering if she could hear through it. But then I heard water running.

  “Obviously no luck with finding her mom then?” James asked.

  “No.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Playing poker.”

  “Online?”

  “No, I’m not a dick. I’m playing with Rosalie.” Like he thought I’d be on the computer ignoring her.

  Rosalie came out of the bathroom and paused. I smiled and she walked back over.

  “What time is dinner?” I said, waving the white flag.

  “We should leave here at six.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up. I wished I’d asked James about his meeting, but I’d have to wait and hear in person.

  “Why don’t you pick out one of your new dresses,” I said. “We’re going to dinner. We should probably start getting ready. Plus, you can meet a new dog. He belongs to James. He’s a real sweetie. His name is Snuffles.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Like on Sesame street?” The girl asked.

  I shrugged. I guess.

  Her forehead crinkled. “Oh, wait. It’s Snuffleupagus.”

  “Oh.” A vague memory of sitting in front of the TV when I was a child came back. Something about a big orange mammoth or something?

  “Why doesn’t the dog live here?” she said.

  I tried not to cringe. It was a long story. James turned his beloved dog, Snuffles, over to his mom shortly after his accident. He could no longer walk the dog on a regular basis and also spent most of his time away from his apartment—over here. I’m not sure why he still kept his own place. Neither of us had brought it up. He hadn’t slept there for weeks. Maybe it was his “out.”

  Or maybe it was mine.

  I knew I didn’t want the dog. It got along with Django okay. But I couldn’t get past the fact that it had once belonged to a former lover. A lover who’d tried to kill me and instead ended up dying at my hands.

  Damien had ended up being a psycho killer. A mover-and-shaker in Silicon Valley who had grown bored with normal depravity and ventured into torturing and killing bright young women in the tech world. But only after stealing their multi-million dollar ideas. His damn dog had ended up abandoned, and out of pity I’d taken it in. But the dog had fallen in love with James. The feeling was mutual. I sometimes wondered if James missed Snuffles. I knew he felt the dog was better off at his mother’s home in Marin County. She had a giant fenced back yard and was retired so she was home all day to pamper the damn thing. I think it had its own couch.

  My relationship with my boyfriend’s mother had gotten off to an extremely rocky start. She’d told me I was bad news and should stay away from her son. I stood up to her and somehow that enabled us to form a truce. But I was pretty sure she basically hated my guts. I wasn’t sure if those feelings had changed. But the invite was a sure sign she was trying. There was no way I could skip tonight. It would be a sign of treason in her book.

  I wondered if I still had the bottle of Xanax I’d poached from her medicine cabinet the last time I’d visited. I could sure use one tonight. She wouldn’t have missed it. When I snatched it, I saw she had three full bottles. I’d looked at the prescriptions and all came from separate doctors, and all were dated around the time James was paralyzed.

  It made me feel sorry for her. But only a little. I also held a begrudging respect for the woman. She’d been the one at the hospital that day who volunteered to tell James about his legs. She was no wimp.

  I put Rosalie in front of my laptop with an online poker game and headed for my closet.

  Even before I opened it, I knew there was nothing suitable to wear to dinner that night.

  My staple “dress-up” item of soft, sleek leather pants? Probably not. She’d think I was a hussy for sure. My worn-in gray jeans and combat boots? No way, no how.

  Finally, I found a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse. That would work. I slipped on black patent leather stilettos and big dangly gold earrings and said it would have to do.

  When James came home, he gave me that slow sexy smile that usually made me melt. But then he opened his mouth and said, “And here I thought you weren’t the type of girl to bring home to mama.”

  “Ha.” I was not amused. “I’ll go change.”

  “No. It’s perfect. Sexy, but demure. She won’t be able to find a thing to complain about. You did good.”

  As soon as he turned his back I undid an extra button on my blouse. Girl next door? Nope.

  When James was in the shower, I took out a bottle of vodka from my freezer and filled up my flask. I tucked it into my bag. I really wanted to drink it right then but I was the driver tonight. I’d sneak into the bathroom when we got to his mother’s place and down it. Just to take the edge off.

  Before we walked out, I looped the chain of my worn-in Chanel bag over my shoulder. It had belonged to my mother. I brought it out for the rare times I needed to dress up.

  The last time I’d unearthed it from its velvet bag was the first night I’d dined with Mrs. Hunt. She’d been polite but distant, addressing most of her conversation to James but occasionally turning to me and asking my opinion about mundane subjects like the weather. Nothing personal. She didn’t want to really get to know me. That might involve growing attached, and the way she figured it, I wasn’t sticking around.

  In the garage, I scanned the cameras pointing to the street outside and hit the garage door opener. Too late, I realized there was a man standing right outside. It had become reflex to scan the screen and automatically hit the opener. As soon as we exited the garage he was in the street in front of us, blocking our way. I slammed on the brakes. In an instant, the man was at my window.

  James swore and had his gun pointing across my chest aimed at the window before I could react.

  The man was small and wiry and seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. He wore tight jeans and cowboy boots and a flannel shirt. He had a thin face dark and creased with wrinkles and a thin handlebar moustache. He looked out of place, like a cowboy lost in the city. He also looked Latino. Mexican maybe. But more likely Guatemalan.

  His eyes shot immediately to my back seat.

  I rolled down the window so he could see the gun pointing in his face.

  I didn’t speak.

  He seemed unfazed by the gun. “The girl.”

  He was too calm. Too sure. Too certain.

  That’s when I heard a small sound in the darkness of the back seat. Pure terror escaping in a small breath out.

  “Over my dead body,” I said.

  He shrugged and turned, walking away. My heart was pounding in my throat. I stared after him, watching his lean frame walk down the sidewalk. My sidewalk. My neighborhood.

  Reaching down to the door panel, I scooped up my knife and slid it in the back of my tight jeans so it rested at the small of my back. I threw open the door of the Jeep and jumped out, slamming the door shut behind me.

  “Gia!” I heard James call, but I was already loping toward the man, the sheathed dagger in my waistband keeping me from running too fast. I didn’t want it to slip out.

  I caught up to the guy, grabbed his arm and yanked him to face me. I remembered what the girl had told me. Her brother, Miguel, had escaped with the coyote, the man who helped them cross the border.

  “Where is the girl’s brother?”

  “They took him,” he said.

  “Immigration?”

  He nodded.

  “You are a coyote?”

  “Si.” His shoulders drew back, and he cocked his chin. “I am the best.”

  James honked, which I thought was sort of funny. If I was in danger, honking wasn’t going to help me. But I wasn’t in danger from this man. At least not right at that moment. He moved slow and seemed at ease. He didn’t seem tense or ready to grab a weapon. The smooth onyx handle of my dagger pressed against the bare skin on my back.

  “What’s your name?” I didn’t really need to know but wanted to push him a little.

  “Coyote Loco.”

  “That’s not a name,” I said, my eyes narrowing.

  He gave me a cool stare. “It is my name, though.”

  “Why do you want the girl?” I glanced over at my Jeep. I could see James watching me, but couldn’t tell if he was angry or not.

  “I have not lost a customer yet.”

  “She’s not lost, and she’s not a customer anymore.”

  “My job is not done.”

  “You got her across the border.”

  “I did not turn her over to the right people. The ones I was paid to turn her over to. I have a reputation to keep.”

  I heard a clanking sound. Damn it. James was getting into his wheelchair. I probably only had a few seconds before this dude clammed up.

  “Who? What people? Isn’t she supposed to be with her mother.”

  He shook his head so slightly I almost thought I imagined it.

  “She is supposed to go somewhere else? To other people? Who?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “You cannot or will not?”

  “Both.” He gave a smile and I saw a flash of silver-capped tooth.

  I heard the sounds of wheels turning. He looked behind me but didn’t seem concerned or even curious. Then James was at my side. I didn’t look over but my peripheral vision caught sight of the gun in his lap.

  “If you tell me where the girl is supposed to go and the people she is supposed to meet, I can get her there. Then we’ll both be happy,” I said.

  “I cannot do that.”

  “Sure, you can.” James said. He scooted his gun over. His badge was also sitting on his lap.

  The coyote’s eyes flickered down but then met James’s eyes. “This is not a police matter.”

  “It could be,” James said.

  “The girl will go to ICE. Neither one of us want that,” the man said.

  “I want the girl back with her mother. That’s what I want.”