Page 38 of Fool Me Twice

“Okay,” he said sharply, narrowing his eyes and breathing heavily. “This…whatever it is, isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about?” Cane asked, playing dumb.

Hart pointed at him. “I am here on a business assignment. One you will be paying me handsomely for, I might add.”

“I don’t get a friends and family discount?” Cane asked, turning to mirror Hart’s position, their knees brushing between them. He laid his arm across the back of the couch, his hand falling near Hart’s head. The urge to grab him was a tough one to fight.

“Cursebreakers don’t have families,” Hart said, being obtuse by trying to skirt between the lines.

Hart didn’t have a biological family, but he had a family. No other word could describe that fucking madhouse he was a part of. But Cane wasn’t going to bother engaging in a fight about the semantics of family with a guy who worked on relationship curses for a living.

“You do have friends,” Cane said. “And I’d like to think I fall into that category.”

“You can work out your discounts with Ash, in that case. I expect to be compensated in full for my work.”

Cane pulled from his cigarette. “Oh, I can compensate—”

“Absolutely not!” Hart interrupted, waving another gust of smoke away. “No innuendos, no smirks, no casual touches, none of it. I’m here to work.”

“All work and no play—”

“No.” Hart cut him off, inching away and lifting his notebook as a guard. “All I need from you is a list of names.”

Cane sighed. Riling Hart up was fun, but it wasn’t actually helping him with the problems he was having. He reached toward the ashtray on the table and flicked the cigarette over it, sending a flurry of ash into it, then he leaned back and ran his other hand over his face.

“Like I said, the list might get long,” Cane said.

“Okay.” Hart accepted the silently offered truce. “Try to narrow it down.”

Cane thought about who could be behind it.

“I recently discovered Gloria Santos is trying to make a move on my business,” Cane said. “It was the first hint of this being a curse. Jones leaked intel, acted like he had no idea about it, all that jazz. I put an end to it, but she stands to lose a fuckload of money.”

“Language,” Hart said again, like a reflex, noting the name down.

“It’s foul, just like always, sweetheart.” Cane winked. He knew Hart didn’t actually mind his language. “You know me.”

“Next.” Hart didn’t even look up from his journal, tapping the pen on it impatiently.

“I had a few distributors who tried to overcharge me for their services when I first started out,” Cane said. “Weren’t too impressed when I called them out on their bullshit.”

“Names?” Hart demanded and Cane recited them for Hart to jot down. “Anyone closer to you? Everything that’s happened so far has looked to be coming from inside the house.”

“Because of this fucking curse.”

“So you’ve had no issues with any of them in the past? Nothing that would cause one of them to try and get revenge on you?” Hart asked.

“I don’t make a habit of hiring people who have it in for me. Or who would be quick to turn on me,” Cane said. “I learned that lesson already.”

Hart narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like a lead.”

“More like a dead end. It’s buried. History.”

“By buried, you don’t actually mean…” Hart said carefully.

Cane took another pull from his cigarette and let it out slowly, his jaw tensing. “Best for you not to know.”

Hart was silent for a moment after that. Nothing like implied murder to kill the mood. But Cane had never pretended to be anything he wasn’t, and he wasn’t about to justify the specifics of that can of worms right now.