Page 118 of Kill Your Darlings

“Lucky him.”

“I’m not even sure he can read.”

“It doesn’t matter.If they both stick to their stories, they might get away with it.Either way, it has nothing to do with you.”Finn put a hand on my arm, stopping me.“Do you want to grab an early dinner?Or did you want to go upstairs and…”

“Nap?”I suggested innocently.“I haven’t had much sleep recently, that’s true.”

He grinned.

A sharp shrill whistle cut across the cool silence of the lobby; a sound mostly heard by Border Collies herding stray sheep—or felons fleeing English bobbies through foggy London back alleys.

We looked around in surprise.

“Yo!”

The preemptory shout seemed to be coming from the lobby bar.

I stared into the gloomy, empty interior, stared harder, and sure enough, over by the far windows, a couple of comfy chairs and another table had been dragged together to create a larger seating arrangement.Several gentlemen—well, authors—seemed to be trying to get our attention.

“Ohno,” Finn said.He didn’t bother to lower his voice.

“Keiran!Finn!”Adrien English, Christopher Holmes, J.X.Moriarity, and Kyle Bari beckoned to us.

“Have they been drinking all day?”Finn asked.

I shook my head.“Shall we?”

Finn sighed, rested his hand on the small of back.“We may as well get it over with.Now that they know you’re here, there’s no escape.”

I chuckled and we headed into the bar.

As we reached them, Adrien said, “We decided to have the cocktail party anyway.Unfortunately, only we were able to attend.”

“Where have you two been for the last twenty-four hours?”Christopher demanded, as room was made around the tables for us.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

Adrien said, “We want to hear it.”

Introductions were made.The tall, slender man with dark, curly hair was Adam, Kyle’s partner.

“I didn’t realize you were attending the conference,” I said as we shook hands.

“I wasn’t.But Kyle called on Friday.”

“He’s attending me,” Kyle joked, but the look he gave Adam was pretty much adoring.And it seemed to be mutual, given the way Adam smiled and linked hands with him.

The tall, blond man with eyes the shade of a tiger’s and a muscular arm around Adrien English’s shoulders, turned out to be the notorious former-cop-turned-PI Jake Riordan.

We shook hands.“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I said.

His grin was sardonic.“Likewise.Especially over the last forty-eight hours.”

“What’s everyone drinking?”Finn questioned, moving toward the bar.

That they were—and had been—drinking for most of the afternoon was no longer in question.

“The Red Herring!”