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He waves it away. “Oh, please. Why wouldn’t he? I’m not blaming the guy. You’re hot in that bitchy nerd-girl sort of way.”
“I’m starting to feel like we’re getting back to normal here. Not having asshole Corbin around was making me feel off-center.”
He chuckles. “Point is, I hate it when talent gets fucked over. And they’re fucking you over big time. Ergo, the nice. That and I wanted to ask you about your apartment.”
I pause on the sidewalk, my arms crossed. “You are not being nice to me because you want a sublet.”
He tilts his head as he shrugs. “Might be. Or you might just be seeing a whole new side of me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you had me going like that,” I say as I continue down the sidewalk. “For a moment there, I thought there might be one decent bone in your body.”
“Oh, I have one,” he says, with the kind of leer in his voice that has me rolling my eyes and fighting a laugh. “But I don’t think Devlin Saint would like me showing it to you.”
“Devlin’s not the only one,” I mutter.
He scoffs, then stops. “Listen, Holmes, I know we’ve had our run-ins, but you’re a solid reporter. For that, I’ll always give you props. Your place is a short walk from work, and mine’s forty-five minutes on the subway. So if you’re moving on, I’d appreciate a good word with your landlord. Even better if I can take over your lease. You told me once what your rent is. Would’ve kicked my ass in Phoenix, but in Manhattan, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”
“I never knew you were from Arizona.”
“Never knew I could be civil, either. It’s a wild and wacky world out there.”
I reach to take the box from him. “That it is.”
“So?”
“It’s yours.” I probably shouldn’t give in so quickly, but weirdly Corbin has been the brightest spot on my last day at The Spall, and that’s something I never would have guessed.
“That means you’ll put in a good word?”
“That means I’ll introduce you to the owner. And I can pretty much guarantee he’ll do as I ask.”
I catch his eye and shrug.
It takes him a second, then he barks out a laugh. “You’re shitting me. Saint owns your building?”
“One of life’s weirder coincidences,” I tell him, because I’m sure as hell not telling him the real truth. “Not the only weird thing, come to that.”
“What do you mean?”
I frown, thinking of Roger. “Sometimes people you count on let you down.” I meet his eyes. “And sometimes other people surprise you.”
His brows rise. “Is that a fact?”
I shrug. “Don’t make a thing of it. And come on. We can finalize this now.”
As advertised, it’s not a long walk, and Corbin takes the box back, now in full gentleman mode.
When we get to the apartment, I open the door and gesture for him to follow. Then I stop dead in front of him, the box banging into my back as Corbin stumbles against me.
I barely notice. All I see is Devlin slowly lowering the phone, his expression tight, his eyes lost.
“Devlin?” I hurry to his side, Corbin forgotten. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Tracy,” Devlin says. “She’s dead.”
Chapter Twelve
Before…
