“Yes, we do,” Dad said, brightening, because the fastest way to my dad’s heart was through his wallet.
“Good. I’d love to stay…” He glanced at me. “Close by.”
“Come by first thing tomorrow,” Mom said. “We’ll have a room ready for you.”
I slept poorly that night, tossing and turning on the stiff Airstream bed, unsettling dreams popping up in the night of shadowy figures pursuing me down narrow alleyways. I woke to sunlight filtering in through the shades of the Airstream, a foot hanging off the stiff, thin mattress. I sat up in bed and stretched. Then I remembered Russo.
I wondered if he planned to stay in his own room, or just move himself into my trailer.
I remembered the kiss and touched my lips. It had been a long time since I’d been so overwhelmed by a kiss. Mateo was younger than me, and his boyish enthusiasm was contagious, but it never felt like he was the one taking charge. Russo was another animal altogether: serious and deliberate with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. The two weren’t even in the same league.
My phone pinged with an incoming text, and I reached over to the other side of the bed, where I’d left it somewhere in the covers. I dug it out to see Oscar had texted.
Did you assault the mayor last night?
Dammit.
Maybe.
I could practically hear Oscar’s sigh all the way across town.
He started it, I felt the need to add.Not my fault he’s a glutton for punishment.
Seconds later, a knock came on my trailer door. I reluctantly pulled myself from bed and padded down the short hallway in bare feet to the door.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Olivia sang as she swept in with her small basket of laundry. “I got the stain out. You’re welcome.”
She nodded to Russo’s freshly cleaned Chicago PD hoodie folded on top of the pile.
“You actually did my laundry?” I glanced around the Airstream, at my mostly empty duffel on the ground, and realized that at some point, Olivia had snuck in here and kidnapped all my dirty clothes. Maybe I never needed to find a mate. Maybe I could just live with Olivia and she could do my laundry and make my bed every day of my life.
“You were never going to do it,” Olivia said. “You’d still be wearing the stained sweatshirt if I hadn’t intervened.”
“True. Thank you,” I said. “And since he’s here, he’ll be wanting it back.”
“Will he?” Olivia challenged. “I saw you two from my upstairs window. I don’t think it’s the sweatshirt he wants.”
I felt my face flush hot.
“Next subject, please,” I said. Talking about Russo felt like biting into cold ice cream.
“Are we talking about the hot detective?” Mom asked as she also swept into my trailer, with full makeup on and wearing stilettos at seven in the morning—because she’s Mom. “If you hadn’t already called dibs, I might want to take that hunk for a spin.”
“Mom! You’re married!” Olivia exclaimed. “To Dad.”
“I’m married, not dead,” Mom said, straight-faced. “But he’s smitten with you, Ophelia. Really smitten. I’ll bet you twenty dollars that man is here with his luggage before noon, asking to move into your Airstream.”
“Wait—he’s going to stay here?” Olivia asked.
“I’m pretty sure your father could charge him the high season rate and he’d pay it,” Mom offered.
“Don’t give Dad any ideas,” I chided.
I agreed to help Olivia clean a few of the rooms inside Koi so that Russo would have his pick when he came by. Olivia insisted on washing sheets that were already clean, because she said they smelled “musty”—whatever that meant. I took out a heavy bag of trash from the kitchen and noticed that a chill had settled into the October morning air, a hint of the snow and ice to come. I went back into my own trailer to get a heavier fleece, blowing on my hands that felt raw and trying not to think of the fact that my days could be numbered.
What would I do if the Canceled Killer came for me? He was sneaky. He was diabolical. He made sure you never saw him coming.
I felt terror clawing my throat, and I swallowed it back down. Panicking wouldn’t help. But all I wanted to do was panic.
