Black is My Heart (Humorous Thriller, Completed)

Chapter 2

Tick, tick, tick...

The Kerrane girls were tough nuts to crack. In an ideal world, I'd play the long game, but three days had passed, and time was running out. With help from Mack and Dan, I'd identified four likely candidates I could push for information, then narrowed it down to the one most likely to give me what I wanted. A sweet college graduate in her late twenties named Celina, who told acquaintances a trust fund paid for her three-bedroom townhouse when she'd grown up in a trailer park in Illinois. Better still, Celina had a prescription drug habit that needed feeding, and she also happened to be roommates with Clements's "social-media consultant." Girls liked to talk, to each other at least. Look at yours truly—I did enough illegal shit to get locked up for eternity if the wrong people ever caught me, but I always bitched about it over cocktails with Dan and Mack because a problem shared is a problem thirded. If the shit hit the fan, they'd be my cellmates anyway. So, the day before yesterday, I'd joined the same gym as Celina, and when I accidentally-on-purpose ended up on the treadmill next to her, she'd raved about this afternoon's hot yoga class. Guess what I was doing later?

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to lean into my husband's touch as he loomed over me. Most people didn't have that problem—since he stood at six feet seven of pure muscle and generally looked a bit threatening, mere mortals tended to take a couple of paces back and swallow hard.

"Coffee, Diamond?"

"We've been married for eleven years and you still have to ask that?"

He moved to the espresso machine on the far side of the kitchen and added freshly ground beans while I took a bite out of the English muffin our housekeeper had set in front of me. Wholemeal, of course. My nutritionist had banned refined grains this week because his one joy in life was making me miserable.

"What are your plans for today?" my husband asked. "Do you need a ride to the office?"

"I have a torture session in half an hour." Otherwise known as part two of a gym date with Alex, my personal trainer. "Then I'm gonna fit in some target practice, and this afternoon, I get to strip half-naked and twist myself into a pretzel."

He raised one dark eyebrow. "Tell me more."

"I'm researching the Kerrane Agency."

"Dare I ask why?"

"I'm considering a career change."

Now I earned an eye roll, which was about as expressive as he got. "You're not compliant enough for that."

"I can do compliant if it means I don't have to get up at six to have the shit kicked out of me."

"If it's any consolation, Alex was limping on his way to the steam room." That did make me feel a tiny bit better. "Tell me about Kerrane."

"Divorce case. We need to catch a politician with his pants down."

"Tricky. How long do you have?"

"Six days. Which is why I'm going to yoga with a blonde named Celina."

"Forget it. She won't talk."

"I'm desperate, okay?"

"So the rumours are true?"

"Shut up. Bad enough that—" Wait, wait, wait... "Hey, how do you know that Celina won't talk?"

He gave a tiny, one-shouldered shrug and stepped backwards. Out of range.

"Because I'm a good judge of character."

A chill ran through me. I knew he had to get his kicks somehow, but we'd never discussed the logistics, and I'd always kind of figured he did the same as Dan and picked up strangers in the nightclub I owned.