by Lily Gardner
“Fold,” she said.
Jerry’s gaze rose from his cards and fastened on her. “You never fold on two cards.”
“She’s still recovering,” Ham said.
A cracked rib, bruised kidneys. A whole lot of bruising.
“I’m fine,” Lennox said in a voice that would go toe-to-toe with anyone who said otherwise.
Ham threw in two ten dollar red chips and Jerry dealt the next card up.
Sarge peeked at his down cards and leaned forward. “So the Altar Boys jacked Dan’s car to run over the blackmailer.”
“Father Mac knew if Scott got caught, he’d give it up in a heartbeat,” Lennox said. “Which he did. Framing Dan was Plan B.”
“Rumor has it,” Jerry said. “Dame Pike-Engstrom has hired some sleazebag to recapture her son and Mac’s inheritance once they’re convicted.”
“Sarge,” Ham said looking frustrated. “In or out?”
“Fold.”
“Too bad about Dan, though,” Fulin said. “Civilians don’t get us.”
“Did I ever tell you I dated a shoplifter?” Jerry said.
“Yeah, I heard that,” Lennox said. Maybe some day she’d even laugh about it. No, she wouldn’t. Not ever. But given time, some bit of wisdom would make itself known.
“She’ll find somebody better,” Fish said.
The game stopped cold. Everyone at the table laid their cards down and stared at Fish with their mouths open.
“What?” Fish said.
“Jeez, Fish,” Lennox said. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you liked me.”
Fish blinked. “I’m just saying—” He blinked again.
“That’s okay,” Lennox said. “Don’t strain yourself.”
“Maybe you need to date other cops,” Jerry said. “Or attorneys. What do you say, Lennox?”
Fulin jabbed him with an elbow. “She doesn’t want an old man. If she goes out with anyone, it should be me.”
“What happened to your girlfriend?” Jerry said. “She get tired of you wearing her clothes?”
“I’m sincere,” Fulin said.
She adored Fulin, but some mistakes you can see before they break your heart.
Lennox’s cell phone vibrated against the front pocket of her sweater. She looked at the screen then up at the guys. “It’s Aurora.”
The room got quiet. Fish took a pull off his beer, his eyes watching her over the rim of his glass.
Ham laid his hand over her arm.
But Jerry was the one said, “Don’t answer it!”
Acknowledgements
My deepest gratitude to Susan Whitcher and the rest of the Fat Friday gang: Caroline Kurtz, Martha Raglund, Diane Ponti and Jan Baross; to the best teachers in the world: Carolyn Altman and Jim Frey; for the advice and encouragement from Martha Miller and all the folks in FWOF; to Liz Kracht for finding me a home; to all the folks at Diversion Books; and you, Michael, without you there would be no book.
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Table of Contents
A Bitch Called Hope
Copyright
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Acknowledgements
Connect with Diversion Books