Chapter Thirty-One

Victoria Wolfe’s silhouette darkened the doorway, the details of her police/vamp costume suddenly ironic. Officer of the law. Right. “Well, well, well,” she said, all breathy and harsh. “Guess the party’s moved down here.”

“Seriously?” Jack hissed in my ear.

I nodded as Larry whipped around at the sound of her voice.

“Victoria,” he said, low and menacing, as if he were challenging a bull with a taunting, “¡Andele, toro!”

“Larry.” She tsked, then drew the gun from her thigh holster. I peered at it in the dark. It wasn’t a prop for her costume. Hijo de su madre. It was a freaking semiautomatic.

Damn, she’d waltzed right into the party with a loaded weapon. The woman had huevos.

“You should have left well enough alone,” she said to Larry.

His fists bunched the fabric of his matador cape. “You killed her. I loved her, and you killed her.”

Victoria stood tall, staring him down. “She had a choice, Larry. We had a good system; you know we did.”

“She would have kept your secrets—”

Victoria shook her head and let out a low, contemptuous laugh. “She didn’t, you fool. You’re here. That means she told you.”

A shiver danced over my spine. Victoria hadn’t known for sure that Larry knew until this moment.

“Why’d you hire me?” I asked, stepping forward as if I could protect Larry.

“My husband,” she answered, adding with a snicker, “marriage is about compromise. He was insistent. I knew Manny Camacho was good, but I thought you,” she said, pointing her finger at me, “might be too green to actually figure things out. Now I have to clean up another mess.”

I’d been listening to everything she’d said, but my brain suddenly hiccupped. Victoria had wiggled her fingers in a flirty, familiar wave to the gladiator. Number 11 from the Royals. Christof. She knew him. Like really knew him.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. Victoria did break her own rules by fraternizing with the players!

The facts were still muddy in my head, but slowly, they were coming into focus. The apartment in Natomas didn’t look lived in because it wasn’t lived in. Not by Jennifer, anyway, who had her cottage here at Cuerpo y Alma. But it had been used. By Victoria.

“Those pictures and the jerseys at the Natomas apartment,” I said. “They weren’t Jennifer’s, were they?”

“Of course they weren’t,” Larry snapped. “She owned that place for the tax write-off, but she never used it.”

Of course! “They were yours,” I said to Victoria. “Your love nest?”

“We had a deal,” Victoria said. “She helped me. I helped her. She had loans to pay off. It was a good arrangement until she went and fell in love. Pft.” She held her gun steady. Impressive, especially given her three-inch high heels.

I might not have a gun, but I’d shot plenty. Target practice was one of Manny’s steadfast rules. Knowing everything about being a P.I. was one of mine. Getting a better look at Victoria’s gun, I saw that it was probably a Ruger 380.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Not again. Jack and I had been in this situation before, only it had been at a marina and he’d been shot. Now, his smoky blue eyes narrowed as he listened to the story unfold. I wouldn’t let him get hurt again.

“Who else is involved?” I asked, stalling for time. Had it been Steve we’d seen hauling boxes out of the building? I’d thought it was Craig, but maybe I was wrong. If it was Steve, and he came back, surely he’d help us. Larry was his brother, after all.

“I’m not a fool, Lola. Why do you think I showed up when I did that day you were snooping around the training room? Not coincidence, I assure you. I’ve had a close eye on you since day one. I’m certainly not going to tell you anything that could incriminate me—”

“So you’re not going to kill us?” Relief flowed out of Larry.

“Of course I’m going to kill you. Like I said, I’m no fool. I’m cautious. That was Jennifer’s problem. She couldn’t help getting involved with you, Larry. Couldn’t help bringing you here even though I told her not to.”

I felt the brush of Jack’s fingers against mine. I snuck a glance at him but couldn’t read his face. He clenched his jaw, his lips drawn tight. He was either ready to go down with me in a blaze of glory, or he was thinking, not for the first time, that getting involved with me was muy bad for his health.

If only we had telepathy so I knew what he was thinking and he knew about my plan.

Which at the moment didn’t actually exist.

Not that kicking Victoria in the sternum, thereby dislodging the gun from her grip and sending her teeth chattering, was much of a plan. But it was the best I could come up with. I had some experience attacking people with guns, and it was never pretty. I was a kung fu fighter, but a strong high kick was no match for a shooting bullet. Didn’t matter. I had to try.

A shadow moving outside the window caught my eye. Victoria was ranting at Larry and didn’t seem to notice the slight notch of my chin. But Jack did. His gaze flickered, just barely, and I knew he’d seen it, too. Victoria’s accomplice, come back to get more of the goods?

“Manny will figure this out,” I said, hoping my plan would prevent the worst from happening until he did.

Victoria just threw back her head and laughed. “Not after I’m done with him, he won’t. A little role-play during sex goes a long way.” She gave me a good once-over, then scrutinized cowboy Jack. “You two won’t have a chance to experience that firsthand, I’m sorry to say.”

Oh no. Somos amantes, I thought. We were lovers—one time counted, ¿de veras? Heat rose from my heart to behind my eyes. I wanted to role-play with Jack. I wanted to do everything with him. I flipped my ponytails back, pushed my fake glasses up my nose, and squared my shoulders.

Victoria Wolfe was going down. Punto.

“Trust me,” she said. “Manny Camacho will be eating out of the palm of my hand before the night is through.”

I shook my head. I didn’t believe Manny could fall that easily. He was an honorable man. I couldn’t imagine he’d compromise a case or the truth…even for a good lay.

I moved forward. “Not another step,” Victoria snapped.

Manny’s rules echoed in my mind. The first rule of private investigation is self-preservation. You can’t help anyone if you’re injured, arrested, or dead.

I’d decided that the second rule was to preserve the lives of the ones you loved. Namely, Jack Callaghan. I had a feeling that Sarah, the escape artist, would continue to be a thorn in our sides, but I wasn’t going to let her ruin another minute of my potential life with the man I sort of…almost…might very soon…love. I had to trust him—just like I wanted him to trust me.

I thought back to my first meeting with Victoria. Did she know about my black belt? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember, but I didn’t think it had been mentioned. There’d been a lot of talk about my curves and physique, but not much about my skill set as a detective.

I stood even with Larry. He was frozen, his mouth open, his eyes glistening. I had a feeling that Victoria’s words had hit home with him. He’d never get to role-play—or do anything—with Jennifer again. The idea had taken hold. He trembled, ready to go into a tailspin.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Larry?”

Victoria heaved out a put-upon sigh, as if Larry’s anguish was seriously cramping her style. “Please,” she said. “It’s not like you would have lived happily ever after. I know you couldn’t stand this place, but it was where Jennifer belonged.”

“I-I was learning to like it,” he said, his lower lip quivering.

She quirked a sardonic smile at his matador getup. “Is that why you came tonight? To fit into her world? Since you can’t have her anymore?”

Dios mío, did the woman have no shame? ¡Qué bruja!

Larry’s entire body suddenly trembled. I stared at him as his pasty skin took on a tinged red hue, creeping up his legs, his torso, his neck, and concentrating on his cheeks.

“Okay there, Larry, just relax,” Victoria said, patting the air with her empty hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But Larry was too far gone. I took a step to the left as his foot scraped against the ground. Ay caramba. He wasn’t the matador after all. He was the bull.

Before I could high-kick the gun out of Victoria’s hand, he charged.