I enter one of the many tourist stores in the city and while they won’t have string, and I don’t have time to go across town to someplace that will, they do have a jewelry section. Sure enough, I find cheap “I Love New York” necklaces dangling on long red strings. I buy four of them and a pair of scissors, ignoring Enrique’s weird looks. Once I’m back in the car I dial Kane. “I forgot to give you something. I’ll meet you in front of your building.”
“Hurry, beautiful. I have a meeting.”
“We’ll be fast,” I say motioning to Team Lilah to get moving.
Kane and I disconnect and I open my bag and do some cutting. Soon I’ve converted the four necklaces into five red string bracelets. I put one on my arm and then grab one for Kit and Kane. And just in time. Jay pulls us to the front of Kane’s building and he meets me at his door. “Give me your hand,” I order.
His brows dip and I slide the bracelet on his arm and tighten it a bit. “Protection from the Evil Eye.” I hand him the extra. “For Kit.” I hold up my wrist. “And I have one, too. Compliments of your mother.”
He smiles and then cups my head and kisses me. “You’re crazy, woman.”
“A little, right?”
“Whatever works right now. Call me.” He backs away, and I slide back into the vehicle.
I hand Jay and Enrique their bracelets. “My mother used to make me wear one of these,” Enrique says. “Protection from Mal de Ojo. And that witch, Marilyn.”
“Yeah, and we all know Jay needs all the help he can get,” I say.
Jay grimaces over his shoulder at me, but he doesn’t take off the bracelet. None of us do. I guess we all have a little superstition in us here and there.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I text Murphy while the mechanic checks out the chopper: You’re invited to the wedding.
He replies with: Then I guess I’m forgiven?
No, I reply. But you’re still invited. New Year’s Eve in Boston. I’ll make your hotel reservations. More later, I have a killer to catch before I can get married.
Next, I text Tic Tac: You’re formally invited to the wedding of the dangerous and scary Kane Mendez and the super badass FBI Agent Lilah Love. New Year’s Eve. Be there or be square. Should you choose to accept this mission, a plane and hotel room will be provided. No plus one. Too many people want to kill the bride and groom to make it safe. Oh, and bodyguards will be provided.
The mechanic waves us forward to board.
Tic Tac replies with: Really?
Of course, I answer. More later. Getting on a chopper now.
I hurry onto the runway and discover that the pilot is now apparently our full-time personal pilot, banked on Kane’s payroll. Talk about taking being more careful seriously.
Me, Jay, and Enrique load up and we’re off.
The trip is under an hour and a half and I sleep. It’s the easiest way to not think about crashing and I need to be fresh when I get on the ground. Not that I have a real plan, but I’m hoping someone gets me a lead by the time I’m on the ground.
They don’t.
We land and I have only one text message. From Kane: In meeting but are you on the ground?
He’s more rattled by that crash than I think I really realized, and I thought he was pretty rattled. Just landed, I say. I’m safe. Call me when you head to the airport.
After that exchange, my phone is silent. I got nothing. Not even a text message. I went from everyone wanting to talk to me to no one wanting to talk to me because they can’t give me what I want. A real clue.
Once we’re on the road, Jay connects with the two men watching Marilyn. After a short call, he says, “Roberto said she’s gardening.”
I snort. “Maybe she’s growing herbs for witch’s brew.”
Gardening, my ass, I add silently. She’s so full of shit. I’m not wrong about her. Not even a little wrong.
“To the hotel?” Jay asks as we load our bags into yet another SUV.
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s drop off our bags and let me connect with everyone I need to connect with.”
I start making calls, checking in with everyone and anyone, and getting small updates. With Marco, it’s the warrant for a second hotel and details on running down all the names of people who stayed there during any of Rip’s event nights. With Houston, an update of communication with potential victims. With Andrew, it’s the hell of his press conference and a name I can contact at the Boston PD.
I call Detective Wallace, and he agrees to meet me in the hotel restaurant in an hour.
My next call is to Lucas, who is high on caffeine and no sleep and talking so fast about everything at once that it sounds like tongues. I decide I much prefer Tic Tac’s lectures to this.