Long Island. Come be the only other normal person there with me?
I smiled. Jane de Vries, still listed as Lefferts in my phone, was a good friend from way back. We hadn’t talked much since the terrible night her husband had shot John Carson point blank in the middle of their apartment—while the guy was holding Jane hostage. Yeah, I probably wouldn’t want to talk to anyone either if that had happened to me. It was pretty damn impressive that she was feeling good enough these days to host a party.
Me: How very Great Gatsby of you. Are you dressing up like Daisy?
Her reply chimed almost immediately.
Jane Lefferts: Ha ha. Only if Daisy has a bunch of magenta streaks in her hair.
I chuckled. Jane would never fit in with the ice cream cones that inhabited the Hamptons, but that was part of why I liked her. She walked to the beat of her own drum, just like I did.
Before I could answer, she texted again.
Jane Lefferts: Seriously, tho. Last year’s white party was such a damn disaster. Now Eric’s entertaining investor peeps, and I’ll go insane without one normal friend there.
I hovered my thumb over my screen. I shouldn’t ask. I had to ask. No, I shouldn’t.
Fuck you, you big pussy. Just ask.
After all, it was my job. Wasn’t it?
Me: Are the Gardners going to be there?
The three little dots appeared on the screen and seemed to hover indefinitely. Then:
Jane Lefferts: Nina maybe? But prob not Calvin. Eric still isn’t feeling the most forgiving toward him.
I smirked. Yeah, if I suspected a family member of landing me in jail, I wouldn’t be too welcoming either.
I could go. I had a reason, and if Calvin wasn’t around, I wasn’t technically breaking any rules. The line to the confessional shuffled forward, like it was reminding me to walk toward absolution instead of the Long Island beach and a leggy blonde who would probably look fuckin’ incredible sunbathing at a pool party.
Shit. Nina.
Just her name was a punch to the gut.
The fact was, I missed her. The logical side of my brain wondered how I could miss someone I had barely spent any time with, but here I was, two months through a long, very dry spell with no end in sight. Summer was usually a time when women around the city let their hair down a little. They prowled the streets like cats in heat, and I was more than happy to take advantage. This year, however, going home with a new girl every weekend had about as much appeal as a weekly dentistry visit.
The problem with trying the best chocolate in the world is that everything else tastes like shit after.
And for a short time, I hadn’t just had a taste. I’d been consumed. Nina de Vries had ruined me for life.
With a sigh, I punched in a quick response.
Me: I don’t think so. I have a lot of work coming up. Probably not the best time to leave.
Jane Lefferts: No worries. If you change your mind, the offer stands. All jokes aside, it should be nice.
I sighed. Yeah, I bet it would be nice. The salty sea air, a cocktail in my hand, and Nina in a bikini? That didn’t sound nice. It sounded like paradise.
Before I could contemplate and talk myself into it all over again, my phone buzzed, this time with a message from another number.
Derek: Call me. We finally got a name change for Pantheon.
I didn’t waste any time. On top of fighting with my conscience for the last two months, I’d also been fighting an uphill battle on the Gardner investigation. Everywhere we turned, there were roadblocks. It wasn’t just that we were running out of time to find witnesses to the trafficking we suspected him of doing. It was bureaucratic. Every record we requested on the guy, every paper trail we tried to follow, all of them were stymied again and again. Too often for there not to be some kind of motivating factor.
The Delaware Chamber of Commerce had been the worst so far. Three times, I’d sent in requests for the name change associated with Pantheon. Two had been “lost,” and the other had only been done with the threat of a federal subpoena (they didn’t need to know we didn’t yet have any Feds willing to take the case). But even they couldn’t skirt us forever. We needed a breakthrough. Bad. I was really fuckin’ hoping this was it.
“Yo,” Derek answered on the