Page 22 of Glamour and Grit

“What does he do for them?”

“I don’t know for sure. He probably fixes things for them. Cleans up income from shady sources, helps move funds around to avoid paying taxes or making too many reports. That sort of thing.”

“Thanks, Bastian. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“Hey,” says Harlowe, “Is that my brother? Let me talk to him. Hey, Dane.”

“Hey yourself, Sis. Sorry to intrude.”

“Oh, you’re fine. We’re on a snack break anyway.”

I try to ignore that she even said that.

“How can you help me?”

“I can hack into the property management systems of the major hotel chains in the area and look for the name William Petty. If he’s involved with whatever Moreno has planned, he’s probably come to LA.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow. For now, I assume you have Selene somewhere safe?”

“I do.”

“Good. Don’t screw this up. I vouched for you, you know. So did Bastian.”

“I know. I won’t let you guys down.”

I end the call and find it’s grown late. Stretching out on the sofa, I can’t help but think about Selene sleeping in the other room.

I have to find her brother, and spare her the pain of losing him. If I have to lean on this William Petty to do it, so be it.

I’ll do whatever it takes to protect that woman. Mind, body, and soul.

7

SELENE

Gravel shoots up from the driveway as Justin skids to a halt. His face is panicked, covered in a sheen of sweat. He quickly tosses my keys to me.

“Justin? What the Hell is going on?” I gasp and point at my front bumper. “Is this a dent? Where did this come from?”

“Selene, you’ve got to help me out,” he mewls, looking over his shoulder down the road. “If anyone comes up here, tell them you were driving your car, not me.”

“Did you have an accident?”

“Yes! And I have a suspended license so they’ll arrest me. But you’ll just get a ticket and a slap on the wrist.”

“And a mark on my permanent record. I don’t know about this, Justin…”

“Please? I’ll pay you double whatever your fine is.”

A police car is suddenly just there, parked in the backyard. I don’t even remember seeing or hearing it approach.

“Is this your car?” the cops demand as they shove me against the hood.

“Ow! Yes, it is, what’s wrong?”

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