Page 10 of All Bets are Off
“Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
I hang up, a now-familiar, melancholy yearning settling over me. Before the stupid bets got things physical, I’d never allowed myself to be attracted to West. I shouldn’t have gone along with his bet, but the temptation had hit me hard. Now I’m left struggling to get back to that place where West is just my friend, and it fucking sucks.
With a sigh, I turn on the television and settle in to watch a documentary on outer space, thinking, if only I could, I’d blast myself out there and free-float into oblivion.
CHAPTER FIVE
West
“Logan just called. He’s flying back tonight.”
I look up from my computer at Jase standing in the doorway of the office I’ve taken over for my video game duties. He’s leaning against the door frame, one booted foot crossed over the other, dark skin-tone complemented by the burgundy shirt he’s wearing.
“Yeah? What time? I’ll pick him up,” I say.
“Flight’s due at ten-forty tonight. You’ve been up since three this morning. I can get him.”
As much as I want to be the one to pick up Logan, I have to admit I’m going to be running on fumes by that time, having been out late on a last-minute security detail.
“Okay.” I tap at the keys, rearranging the food in my virtual store.
“How’re things going?” Jase asks.
“A few players talk about being high a lot. They seem kind of old to be on this game every day. Believe me, it isn’t that engaging.”
Moving to stand behind me, Jase leans over my shoulder to look at the screen. “What do their profiles look like?”
“Pretty generic.” I click on one.
“His avatar’s Jigglypuff,” he says.
“Kind of out-dated.”
“Hey, Pokemon is never outdated. What about the other guy?”
I switch to another profile with a picture of an anime character for an avatar.
“That doesn’t tell us much.”
Clicking back to the main screen, I check my stats and shout, “What the hell? They’re recalling my shipment of onions! It took me three days to get enough currency for those.” Sagging in my chair, I push the mouse away from me in disgust.
When Jase laughs, I knuckle him in the stomach.
“Ow!” He starts to leave, then pauses at the door. “Hey, I didn’t get to ask Logan when he called. How’s his mom? I assume it must be good news if he’s coming back tonight.”
Logan’s been giving me regular updates. “Her doctor thinks it’s the onset of dementia. He doesn’t believe it’s Alzheimer’s, which is good news. He’s put her on a medication—some kind of inhibitor—that already seems to be helping. Logan’s asked a few neighbors to keep an eye on her and call him if she seems off in any way.”
Logan’s been gone a week longer than he originally planned, and I’ll be relieved to have him back where I can keep an eye on him. I admit, though, that I might have gone a little overboard in trying to protect him before he left.
“I spoke to Detective Williams this morning. He favors the theory that the shooter was here for my uncle,” Jase says.
Slade Falcon, Jase’s uncle, was already a well-known billionaire with his fingers in multiple pies and his face continually plastered on the cover ofForbesmagazine,GQ, and various celebrity rags when he met and married ex-NFL quarterback Derrick Richmond. Their good looks and high profiles, charitable contributions, and the fact they’ve adopted several hard-to-place foster kids over the years have kept their names and faces in the media; however, some of Slade’s earlier dealings have earned him some enemies, and someone who hasn’t done their research might not know Slade leaves the running of his security firm to Jase, Logan, and me, depending mostly on video calls to check in. This uninformed person could easily have hired a hitman who mistook tall, brunette Logan for Slade.
“That or a warning to the firm in general,” Jase continues. “But recently I was thinking about the case that went wrong in January with Colt and Sean.”
I frown. “The hotel VIP?” The guy had gotten shot in the kneecap, leaving him with a considerable limp. It happened because he slipped out of his room without his bodyguards—Falcon Security was in no way at fault.