Page 147 of Things We Hide from the Light

“Lina did most of the dirty work. I came along just in time to help with the cleanup.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” I demanded.

Nolan looked at me. “You come walkin’ out of her apartment this morning half naked with bedhead and you don’t know?”

“Talk. Now,” I snapped.

“Did you unfuck things with her?” Knox asked.

“What happened with Dilton?” I repeated, ignoring my brother.

“He and his buddies were gettin’ a little rowdy at Honky Tonk. They pissed off Max the server, which given the timing of the month was pretty fucking stupid. Then Lina caught his eye,” Nolan explained.

Of course she did. She’d catch any man’s eye.

“What happened?” I reached for my phone. I was going to track Dilton down and kick his ass. Then I’d track Lina down and yell at her for an hour or so for not telling me she’d tangled with my problem.

“Slow your roll, Romeo. Fi said Lina eviscerated the moron with words. Now, back to what you were doin’ sneakin’ out of her place. She didn’t say jack about you this morning when she borrowed my truck,” Knox said.

“Goddammit. Why did she need your truck?”

“Lina was holdin’ her own,” Nolan continued. “But another customer—big guy—stepped in when it looked like Dilton might be too drunk to make good choices. Your manager threatened tocall the cops just as I walked in. So I got to escort the assface outside.”

“What did he say to her?”

“Dunno. She just said he was being a dick,” Nolan said. “After my chat with him, I assumed it was drunken misogyny. Hey, do you guys think I should lose the ’stache?”

“Yes,” Knox said. “It makes me want to punch you in the face.”

“Damn it. It was supposed to be my freedom facial hair. You know, get divorced, grow some hair, magically turn into a new person.”

“I’ve got a barbershop and a straight razor. Just say the word.”

I left the two of them to their facial hair and walked away already dialing.

THIRTY

SURVEILLANCE WITH A SIDE OF DRAMA

Lina

The smell of pizza wafted through the open windows of Knox’s truck. I was camped out in a strip mall parking lot in Arlington. Across the street was a block of row homes that had seen better days.

I was waiting for Wendell Baker, a.k.a. Chubby Goatee Guy. He was beefy, white, balding, and an enforcer for the Hugo family who wore too many gold chains and always had a toothpick in his mouth. According to Tina’s questionable intel, Baker collected a paycheck from Anthony Hugo but was tight enough with Duncan that his loyalties were divided.

Authorities hadn’t been able to tie Baker to the abduction and shootout, which meant he was free to go about his business. And I was free to follow him…hopefully to a pristine 1948 Porsche 356 convertible.

So far, however, Baker had gotten out of bed at 11:00 a.m., grabbed a Grande at Burritos to Go, and then paid his brother’s girlfriend a visit that involved unzipping his fly on the front porch before she even answered the door.

Classy guy.

My phone rang again.

“Seriously, people? When did I get so popular?”

I’d already had calls from my mom about Dad’s birthday gift, Stef wondering if I was planning to sweat with the oldies at the gym this week, and Sloane, who had forced me to volunteer for something called Book or Treat the following night at the library. Not to mention the text from Naomi telling me she’d given my number to Fi and hoped that was okay. That was followed by a group text from Fi, Max, and Silver from Honky Tonk recapping all the best fictional versions of my run-in with Tate Dilton.

Apparently I had broken a bottle over his head, then shoved him backward into a vat of fryer oil. No one was sure where the vat of oil came from but everyone agreed that it was hilarious watching him crawl out of the bar like human escargot.