She shot me a dirty look.
“You should get a tetanus shot,” Alfonso said. “Can’t do that here. But drink this.”
Her eyes narrowed on the shot glass he was holding. “What is it?”
“Vodka. It’ll take the edge off.”
“I don’t drink.”
I took the glass from Alfonso and held it in front of her. “It’s gonna hurt when he cleans it. This will help.”
She considered it, then grabbed the glass and chugged. She immediately started coughing. “That’s disgusting! Why did you make me drink that?”
I tried not to laugh.
Alfonso began to clean the wound, digging at it with a cloth.
Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “Ow.”
I held up the empty glass, silently asking if she wanted another. She nodded.
When Alfonso was done, he left the room, taking his supplies with him.
“I don’t think the vodka worked. That still hurt,” Maggie said as I helped her to stand. “Except that I’m all warm inside. Warm and fuzzy. Like a teddy bear. Wait, am I drunk?”
“Probably not.” Although she let me lead her outside by the hand, so maybe she was after all. We climbed into the truck. “Where do you live?”
“Crampton Oasis.”
I pulled out of the driveway.
“But I don’t want to go home.”
I glanced at her in surprise.
“Actually, I do. No, I don’t.” She let out a frustrated growl. “I don’t know what I want.”
My fingers tapped the steering wheel as I drove out of Alfonso’s neighborhood. At a stop sign, I turned to look at her. She was staring at me.
“What about seeing the sights?”
“I see the sights.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
She really didn’t drink if two shots of vodka had affected her this much. My truck idled at the stop sign. “I promised I would show you the great parts of Vegas. Remember?”
“I already found the park. I don’t think there’s anything else.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have much to learn, my young grasshopper.”
She pointed to herself. “Maggie. My name is Maggie.”
I drove. “We’ll start with the strip, Maggie.”
We didn’t get out of the car, but there was always traffic on the strip, giving Maggie enough time to look. We drove past the Wynn, the Venetian, and Treasure Island. She caught a glimpse of the fountain show in front of the Bellagio, then whipped her head around to look at the fake Eiffel Tower on the other side of the street.
“I can’t believe I haven’t come down here before now,” she said, her eyes wide as she tried to take in everything. “It’s all so…shiny.”
The streets were full of tourists despite the hour. Bass pumped from a car nearby. Maggie rolled down the window and nodded her head to the beat.
“You’ll have to walk it one day, when it’s not too hot out,” I said.
“I will.”
“Just don’t take anything people are handing out to you.”
She glanced at me. “Why not?”
“Trust me.” She was so churchy, she’d be horrified at the ads for the seedier side of Vegas.
At the Mandalay Bay, I turned around and we drove it again. Then I took her to Fremont Street, where the neon lights were so bright, it was like daytime. We idled outside the Springs Preserve, and the Neon Museum.
“What’s this place?” she asked as I pulled in front of a large, pale brick building.
“It’s the Mob Museum.” I switched radio stations to something a little softer.
“It’s no wonder you like it,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s fascinating.”
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised.
“No, really, it is.” I hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but her comment bugged me.
“Is Al Capone your hero or something?”
I frowned. “I don’t kill people, Maggie.”
“At least there’s that.” She continued to stare at me. “That, and you’re hot.”
I blinked, surprised. And then my lips spread into a smile.
She closed her eyes. “Pretend I didn’t say that out loud.”
“Nope. You don’t get to take that from me.” She’d defended me tonight, plus she thought I was hot. Progress.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said. I smirked. “Can you take me home now?”
Maggie rested her head on the window while I drove to her apartment, my phone telling me the way. She’d fallen asleep and I didn’t want to wake her. I parked, then lifted her from the truck.
“I can walk, you know,” she mumbled, but I didn’t put her down.
“Just tell me which apartment it is.”
“Fifteen.” She nuzzled into my neck, her breath hot on my skin. Her fingers played with the ends of my hair; she probably didn’t realize it.
I knocked on number fifteen but there was no answer. “Where’s your key?”
“Bag.”
I cursed. I didn’t have Maggie’s bag. We probably left it at the gym. Hopefully not on the sidewalk. “You’re going to have to stand.” I put her down and she slumped against the wall.
Sometimes, when helping Simon get what he needed to put a bad guy away, a little B&E was required. But smashing a window or kicking in a door only leads to more questions and loose ends, so Simon had one of the cons who owed him one teach me how to pick a lock. Given my size it probably looked comical to see me fiddle with tiny torsion wrenches on a tiny lock, but it turned out I had a knack for it. I always kept the wrenches in a hidden part of my wallet, in case of just such an emergency.
It took only a couple of minutes to pick the lock, then I swung Maggie into my arms again and carried her inside. She didn’t object.
There were two rooms, but it was easy to tell which was hers—it smelled like her, fresh and fruity, like an orchard. I laid her on the bed, and she fell asleep instantly. I pulled off her shoes and covered her with the sunny yellow blanket, bright, like she was. Her face was smooth and peaceful as she slept, no trace of the anger or the superiority that always seemed to be there when she looked at me.
Tonight had been different. She’d stepped in front of me with no fear of Rafael and his thugs. She might have even saved my life. That had to mean something.
Did I mean something to her? It was impossible, but why else would she have done it? Why not let me fend for myself? She’d made it clear she despised my way of life, my job, my boss. So why put herself in harm’s way for me? She’d said she trusted me. She’d actually wanted to spend time with me.
I wanted to believe she felt something. Believe it would be okay if I climbed in bed beside her, stretched my body against hers, breathe in her scent until I fell asleep. I wanted to wake up next to her, feel her skin and her lips against mine.
But mostly, right then, I wanted to thank her. For doing what no one else in my life would have, except maybe McCrary. Not even Simon would’ve stepped in front of a gun for me. If I was ever going to be the right kind of man for Maggie, I had to go straight. Leave Simon behind for good.
After I left, shutting the door quietly behind me, I pulled out my phone and looked up LVMPD’s Internal Affairs department. There he was on the contacts page. Hopkins. It was time to give him a call.
Chapter 23
MAGGIE
I woke in my bed. My eyelids felt weighted down, my head throbbed. I still wore last night’s dance clothes. I couldn’t remember going to sleep.
Then it all came back. Jay Thornton. The fight. Five against one. Stepping in front of him. The gun. The pain. The heat. Jay’s arms around me.
I looked down. A thick white bandage circled my upper arm, the whole thing felt stiff. A strange sound came out of my nose, half gasp, half snort.
I’d been shot. For Jay Thornton, of all people. It’s not like I’d stepped into the line of fire or deliberately blocked him, bu
t still. They hadn’t been aiming at me. I’d been shot by accident instead of someone who probably deserved it.
Shamed, I leaned my head against my pillow. No one deserved that, not even Jay. Not five against one, not one against one.
“You’re awake!” Frasier popped into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a cell phone in the other. Bags rested under his eyes, even heavier than before, but he was smiling.
He noticed my bandaged arm and his smile faded. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Jay had taken me to some house. He’d stroked my hair, held my hand before some big Mexican used a cloth as a torture device. Then we’d driven around Vegas, I couldn’t remember where. All I remembered were neon lights, the warmth of his truck, and the feeling that Vegas was a lot prettier than I had come to think. It must have been the vodka. Only alcohol could make Vegas seem pretty after what I’d seen.
“Maggie?”
My brother’s voice brought me back to the present. “It was outside the gym,” I said. “Five against one—a guy I know. I couldn’t just… They weren’t aiming at me.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Fraze yelled.
“I didn’t ask to get shot! Besides, it’s just a graze.” I grimaced. Now I sounded like Jay.
“Oh, swell. That makes it so much better. Seriously, Mags, I never knew how messed in the head you were.”
I pursed my lips.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “You could have been killed. And for what? Some guy who probably had it coming? Who is he anyway?”
“Nobody,” I said in a small voice. He had a point. What had I been thinking? I hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. I just acted, and things could’ve turned out much worse. They were already bad enough. Some sketchy guy had fixed me up. Would my arm heal properly? When would I be able to dance again?
“It’s not the first time, either.” Fraze took a swig from his coffee cup. “Bronwyn told me how you broke up the fight between Nico and the loan shark’s enforcer.”
Probably best not to point out that the enforcer was the same guy I’d just defended.
“You’re not in Hillstone anymore, Mags. You keep forgetting that.”
Bronwyn busted into the room, her face pale. “Are you okay? Jay Thornton was here, he brought this.” She tossed my bag on the floor. “He told me what happened.”
Jay had been here? “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, right,” she replied. “And your boss called, by the way.”
I groaned. I couldn’t possibly go into work today. I called the diner while Fraze and Bronwyn whispered to each other.
I didn’t tell Craig what happened—how could I explain why I hadn’t gone to the cops?—only that I was injured. He was allowing me this one sick day but he wasn’t happy about it.
“Do you think you’re Wolverine or something?” Bronwyn asked, her arms crossed.
“Who’s Wolverine?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hugh Jackman. X-Men. Fast healing?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “Never mind. I guess I know what movie we’re watching next.”
“Well, I’ve got the day off.” A day where I’d rather be doing anything other than thinking about the stupid stunt I’d pulled.
“Sorry, I don’t.” She had on her spandex shorts and a bright yellow bike shirt. “Duty calls.”
“Maybe later?”
Bronwyn nodded. “I’m almost afraid to let you out of my sight. I mean, what’s next? Throw yourself in front of a bus to save a pigeon?”
I never used to get in trouble in Hillstone, but I refrained from pointing that out.
Chapter 24
JAY
When I called Lieutenant Hopkins, I made sure to do it from the gym phone. Stupid to use my cell when Simon got the bill.
Hopkins didn’t answer, which was just as well. I left him a message: “This is Jay Thornton, calling from Eastside Boxing. I’m calling to confirm your beginner adult Muay Thai class this Thursday at eight-thirty pm. Gloves and headgear will be provided for you.” Hopkins would be smart enough to come.
He showed, five minutes early, wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt that strained over his gut. Captain Internal Affairs obviously needed to get away from the desk more often. That became increasingly clear when he barely made it through the warm-up. Even McCrary could’ve run circles around this guy.
“Split into pairs,” I called out, after we’d done some technique exercises. I caught Hopkins’s eye. “You, with me.” He stood in front of me and I lifted my gloves. He did the same.
“What am I doing here?” he asked in a low voice, after ducking my jab.
“Sparring.”
He shot an uppercut to my chin but I blocked it. I moved in close and adjusted his hands. “Simon has a lot of connections. It was safer to meet here.”
I stepped back.
“You’re going to help me then?” He swung. I swung. Our feet shuffled against the mats.
“Depends on what you want.” Louder, I said, “Right, left, right, uppercut.”
He did what I said. “I know how to box, you know.”
I dodged easily. “Looks like it’s been awhile.”
I turned away and called a switch-up of partners. We didn’t speak again until class had ended. As the other students filtered out, Hopkins approached me at the desk.
“Enjoy the class?” I asked as one of my regulars passed, nodding a goodbye.
“Verdict’s still out,” Hopkins replied. He took a drawn-out swig from his water bottle, no doubt waiting for the place to clear out.
I pulled out an information sheet and pushed it across the desk to him.
He bent over it, speaking low. “I want to hear about Ting, not beginner Muay Thai. What is your relationship with him?”
“It’s complicated.” Talking about it meant dredging up my past, my old foster family, the charges against me, and I had no interest in going there.
“Look, you called me,” Hopkins said. “Which means you want something.”
I wanted freedom. And the only way to get that was by putting Simon behind bars. But selling him out wasn’t so easy. Loyalty was a hard thing to shed.
“Officer Ting is a good cop. He’s put more than his fair share of criminals behind bars.” Hopkins pointed to a place on the sheet, showing me.
This ruse might have been unnecessary but I didn’t want to risk it. I took the paper from him. “Then why are you investigating him?”
“I’ve had my eye on him for a while. His arrests are too clean. Not to mention that mansion of his outside the city. Apparently, it was inherited, but something seems off. And then I came across this.”
He put his gym bag on top of the desk, rummaging around inside before slipping out a picture and laying it on the desk by the bag so that anyone outside wouldn’t be able to see. The picture was of Simon getting into a sedan, the windows tinted.
I gave him a questioning look.
“That car belongs to Rance Aguda.” He paused. I said nothing. “Why would Officer Ting get into a car with Rance Aguda?”
“Is Aguda in the car?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
Hopkins quickly shoved the picture back in his bag. “I’m not lead on Aguda’s case. Organized Crime Bureau is handling that. I got this photo surveilling Ting.”
Hopkins stumbled onto something bigger than he expected.
“They met,” I said. “But I don’t know why or what for.” Which was the truth.
“Can you find out?”
I hesitated.
“Listen, if I nail Ting and Rance Aguda, it’ll be my chance to get out of Internal Affairs.” He leaned toward me. “But I’ll get fried if I go anywhere near Aguda. Simon’s the key, and I know you work for him. What exactly does he have you doing?”
I pressed my lips together. He wouldn’t leave that question alone.
Hopkins shrugged on a sweatshirt.
He kept his face pleasant as he spoke. “I’ve got evidence of Simon meeting with a number of known criminals. What’s he got going on the side? Drugs?”
“No. No drugs.”
“What then?”
I didn’t answer.
“I know Aguda is the big fish here, but there’s something off about Simon Ting. I don’t like dirty cops. I don’t respect them. And it looks to me like he’s been rolling around in the mud. But I need evidence.”
I handed him the Muay Thai info sheet. “I’ll think about it.”
Frustration crossed his face, but I wasn’t about to pledge myself right then and there. When I had something to share, something I knew wouldn’t get traced back to me, then I’d take it to Hopkins. For now, all he needed to know was that I was considering his offer.
“Thanks for the class,” Hopkins said. “If I come again, maybe you’ll have a bit more for me.”
I shrugged. “Come again and we’ll see.”
Chapter 25
MAGGIE
My arm ached. When I changed the bandage, it didn’t look too bad. I got the tetanus shot, anyway, and I didn’t go into work for a few days. Craig yelled at me over the phone. Even though he didn’t fire me, I figured I’d better get off my butt. The wound had pretty much healed aside from a scab, and I had a job to get back to and a dance routine to choreograph.
After an exhausting day of work, my arm only stinging a bit, I decided to head to the gym. Even if I couldn’t push myself, I could still stretch and work on a few more bars for my audition piece. It was only October, I had months until my audition, but I wouldn’t blow it this time.
Nico gave me a quick hello before he disappeared, mumbling something about mopping. I went upstairs and shrugged off my hoodie. Bronwyn had a small speaker shaped like a pig that she let me borrow, so I brought that along, plugging in my phone and turning on the music. I stretched for about fifteen minutes, being careful with my arm, then I got to my feet, switched the music to “Song of the Caged Bird” and got to work.
I’d already choreographed the first sixteen bars, and I went through them a couple of times, but I wasn’t happy with it. I replayed the music and paced, lost in my choreography. What I had was too sterile, emotionless. I closed my eyes and marked it again, tweaking a few steps. I was scared of moving my arm too much, so I kept it down by my side at first. Then it came to me, how to use that in the choreography, at least for a few bars.
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