Croix scoffed. “Good luck with that, old lady.”
“Did you find anything in Mason’s room.”
“No. A scalpel. In his bag.”
“A scalpel?” Shee scowled. “He’s a surgeon?”
“I don’t know. He’s your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my...” Shee took a deep breath and wiped away a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek. “Where’d Angelina go?”
“I dunno.”
“Where’s Mason now?”
The girl shrugged. “Whoring. Said something about you being an old hag and left.”
“He take the dog?”
“Yep. Threesome.”
Shee sighed. She didn’t have the energy to war with Croix. She needed to restart their relationship before she ended up arrested for child abuse.
“Look, we got off on the wrong foot—”
Croix grunted without looking up from her phone. Shee continued.
“I want Mick back as much as you do.”
That caught the girl’s attention. She glanced up.
“Sweat much?” she asked.
Shee wiped her brow again. She wasn’t surprised to see more anger coming from the girl, but there, before she changed the subject, she saw clear evidence of pain in the kid’s eyes.
Mick’s the key. We both love Mick.
Shee swallowed her irritation and tried a new approach, one she liked to call the We’re in this Together.
“Please, Croix, tell me what he was working on. I want to help.”
The girl seemed thrown off-guard by her softened tone. It lasted four seconds. Then her expression clouded. “Oh now you want to help—”
“Yes, I do.”
Croix’s lip curled. “You know, he never even talked about you. Except—”
She looked away.
“Except what?”
The girl ran her tongue over her front teeth, stalling. When she spoke again, her voice felt softer, although still caustic. “Sometimes he’d get this far off look in his eye and kinda laugh in this sad way.” She met Shee’s gaze. “That when I knew that he was thinking about you. The daughter who broke his heart.”
Shee sucked in a breath as Croix’s words slid like a blade between her third and fourth rib to pierce her heart.
She fought to keep her composure, speaking low and measured. “Just tell me anything that could be a lead. Angelina said he was helping people?”
Croix stared, clearly hoping she’d earn more of a reaction. Deprived, she huffed. “Yeah.”
“What was he working on, specifically?”
“About a week before he went to Minnesota, he broke up a local massage parlor full of prostitutes.”
Shee’s eyes popped wide. Thanks to some of the high-profile johns involved, she’d seen a report about that bust on the national news—she’d taken it as one of the omens calling her home.
“That was Mick?”
Croix nodded. “Afterwards, somebody sent suits, asking Mick to scuttle evidence.”
“Which he refused?”
“Duh.”
“Do you know who sent them?”
“No. One of the rich dirtballs, I assume. Mick might’ve known.”
“But all that’s trapped in his head,” mumbled Shee. Now she had two things to look into, Viggo and the massage parlor bust. “Thank you. That’s a lead. See what we can accomplish when we work together?”
Croix returned her attention to her phone. “Whatever.”
Shee plucked at the shirt sticking to her chest. Even the hotel’s relentless air conditioning couldn’t make a dent in her body’s need to purge liquid.
“I have to go change before I melt.”
Croix nodded. “Thanks for the update.”
Shee rode the elevator to her room, took the world’s quickest shower and then caught herself spending extra time on her makeup. She pulled back from her hunched position in front of the mirror.
What am I doing?
Staring at her image, she tried to remember what she’d looked like during her delirious summer with Mason so many years ago.
Younger.
She leaned in again.
Ah, what the heck. A little extra blush to hide that sun damage...
She grabbed a pair of shorts but eyed the cute skort she’d purchased on her way to Florida. Skirt said flirty, but the sewn-in tights beneath said all business.
Perfect.
She donned the skirt and a v-neck tee before heading to her father’s room. Upon knocking on the door, Martisha let her in with a smile.
“Miss Shee?”
“I’m just stopping by to say hi.”
The woman motioned to the bedroom and then returned to her seat on the sofa.
Shee entered to stand beside the hospital bed. She rubbed the top of her father’s head.
“Your hair’s getting awfully long,” she teased. “Another week and you’ll look like a hippie.”
She smiled.
If that doesn’t get him moving, I don’t know what will.
“So Mason’s here. Weird, huh? I’ll bring him up to see you. I guess. I suppose he’s still here. I sort of freaked out and left for a while...” She ran her fingers along the smooth chrome guard bar, imagining her father’s side of the conversation.
She nodded. “Yeah. I know. I will. Don’t worry about me. You worry about getting better. I want you up and at ’em by...”
What seemed like a reasonable request?
She saw green. Wednesday. Today was yellow.
“...tomorrow, or I’m going to get an Admiral in here to order you to your feet, Captain.”
She leaned to attempt a hug.
“Okay. Good talk. See you in a bit.”
Shee turned away, waved goodbye to Martisha and headed back to the lobby. She needed to make arrangements to go to Minneapolis, find out who sent men to threaten her father, and deal with Mason—at least a little.
Keep it light. No need to—
The doors opened and Shee saw the ladies in their positions, including Harley, curled in her bed. Both Angelina and Croix glanced her way, but neither acknowledged her.
She expected snubs from Croix but Angelina?
Something’s up.
Angelina caught her eye and bounced her own orbs to the left. Shee followed the motion.
Someone in the sitting room?
She took another step forward, and, with her new
