Page 25 of Four Cards Exposed

It hadn’t made any sense to her that she should find him attractive. She’d always been attracted to bad boys—and James had always seemed to her the exact opposite of a bad boy.

She’d always known he was good-looking, of course, with his dark hair and bright blue eyes, and his chiseled everything. But it was one thing to know something intellectually, and another thing altogether to be slammed to the ground by the knowledge.

Seeing him now, with his three-day beard, his dark hair long enough that she could tangle her fingers in it during sex ... And thinking of him the way he’d been the night before, his chest bare, his face bloody from the fight… He was beauty and power rolled into one, and much more of a bad boy than she could have imagined.

There was something darker inside him, something that was only just coming out, but that explained why she’d always found him irresistible.

Focus on the case.

Not on James.

Susan wasn’t stupid. What he’d said made sense. If they pretended to like each other, they’d have an excuse to spend time together, and they’d both be safer. But she couldn’t lose sight of the fact that they were pretending. Their objective was clear—find enough evidence to put the Mendoza Cartel out of business. And get out alive.

When she ran out of bread, she walked back to the flat. One of the waitresses she shared the flat with, Pia, was awake. Even though it was close to eleven, she seemed to be making breakfast.

“Where were you? I woke up at ten and you were gone,” Pia asked suspiciously, as if anybody who got up before ten wasn’t to be trusted.

Susan shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. Too much noise.” That excuse at least might make sense to Pia. Ambulance traffic was a constant on the street outside, and even with the window closed, it was impossible not to hear them as if they were in the flat with them. And then there were the kids, who seemed to live their days out on their end of the cul-de-sac, shouting and playing all day and sometimes long into the night. Teens, of course, but also younger children who, in other areas of town, wouldn’t be allowed to even leave the house alone yet.

“I hear you.”

“I went to the park for a walk, fed the ducks some bread.”

Pia shook her head. “What a waste of bread. I’m making scrambled eggs. Would you like some?”

Susan wasn’t about to take the woman’s food. In the little time she’d been here, she’d already seen how carefully Pia budgeted. “No, thank you, I don’t usually eat anything until lunch,” she lied. She brought out the small paper bag in her handbag. “I did splurge on a few croissants, one for each of us,” she said.

Pia’s face lit up, and she reached excitedly into the bag for her pastry.

Finally, I’ve done something right.

“Thank you! I love croissants,” she said, biting off one corner. “Ummm… butter might be the best thing in life.”

Susan laughed. “Along with whipped cream.”

Pia pondered this for a moment. “Whipped cream’s alright. Butter’s better.” She placed the croissant carefully on a napkin in front of her and started beating the eggs she’d just cracked.

“I wish I had your problem,” Pia said.

“My problem?” Susan asked cautiously.

“You know, not being able to sleep. I’m always tired. If I woke up earlier, I’d have more time to—” She cut off, suddenly. The fork in her hand sped up.

“More time to what?” Susan asked curiously.

Pia didn’t answer, but her eyes shifted towards a notebook lying on the kitchen table.

“May I?” Susan asked, walking towards it.

Pia shrugged, her eyes cautious once again.

Not a notebook.

A sketchbook.

Susan opened the sketchbook and opened it on the last page. It was a charcoal still of a woman in an evening dress, a chandelier hanging behind her. On the previous page, two men in evening wear sitting at a poker table. The strokes were light, the detail and shadows incredible.

“These are from last night. Did you draw these?”