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I slide off the stool slowly and give a small wave to the bartender, who’s coming our way. On unsteady legs, I keep my face forward and make it past Walker’s table without a hitch. Then I turn left at the hallway, knowing there’s an exit to the rear parking lot.

By the time I slide in the dark car, I’m shaking. Panic sets in when Maren hasn’t come out fifteen minutes later. I think about going back inside when I finally see her exiting the back door.

“You are not going to believe this shit!” She jumps in, excitement rolling off her. “It was a raid!”

“What?”

“An illegal gambling ring. They travel around the south, booking out hotel rooms and conducting the games upstairs. Right after you left, I paid and actually had to go to the restroom. I heard it all go down. Walker and Oliver were not alone. The place swarmed with police.”

“Oh my God!”

“I know! But we do have some good news.”

“We know R. Dell’s husband isn’t a cheat. He may be a gambler, but he wasn’t cheating.” I finish her thought.

She nods and backs out of the space, taking us through the delivery exit to the main road. Blue and red lights flash brightly in front of the hotel when we pass. Even though I know I’m not visible, I slink down in my seat.

Realization washes over me; my job as a Trixster just became a lot more complicated.

Chapter 7

Walker

“What the hell are you doing?” I stop in front of Marcus, who’s leaning against the door of my truck.

“Waiting on you.”

“Why didn’t you come into the station?”

“Just got here. Thought I’d take you out for a drink to celebrate. Heard about the raid last night.”

“Doing my job.”

“Okay, well, if we’re not celebrating you, let’s celebrate me.”

“What’s going on with you?” My curiosity gets the best of me because I don’t consider his line of work very celebratory.

“Angels are watching over me. I’ve landed two of the easiest divorce cases of my career, both women set to gain millions.”

“Huh?”

“Get this, I got a call Sunday afternoon from a lucrative socialite rattling shit about drawing up divorce papers and having evidence that would sink her cheating husband. Soon after, another call came in, much the same. This morning, these women walked in together, smiling like hyenas, and presen

ted me with the most damning evidence I’ve ever seen. Prenups totally voided. I’m riding a high and want to have a drink.”

“That’s unusual, isn’t it? You sure the evidence is legit?” Even I know that sounds too good to be true.

“Yep, had a specialist review it this afternoon. It’s completely unfabricated. Some nasty shit, too. These couples were not only friends; the husbands were sharing fuckbuddies… together.”

I flinch at the thought. Sharing has never been my thing. “Local PI do the work?”

“Nope, the women were tight-lipped about their sources.”

“Interesting.” My detective brain starts turning. “This going to get ugly?”

“Not if the men are smart. I’m telling you, they fight this, they lose everything.”

“Sounds like you’ve hit an ace, but I’ve got plans tonight.”