“Did you find everything you needed for the bed?”
“All made up, except for the pillows. You don’t have any extra, but that’s okay. I’ll do without.” She tapped her feet together. “I made some tea. Hope you don’t mind.” Her gaze met his above the rim of her cup. “I didn’t know you were a tea drinker.”
“Those are left over from my mom’s visit.”
“How’s she doing?” April’s tight smile made it clear she didn’t care how his mom was doing.
Mom had made it clear how she felt about April ditching her only son, practically at the altar.
“She’s fine.” His gaze darted to her bare feet propped up on his furniture and back to her face. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
She slid her feet from the table, curled one leg beneath her and then changed her mind, planting both of them on the floor. “In a hurry to get rid of me? Not that I blame you.”
“Not at all.” He waved his arms around the room in a grand gesture. “Stay as long as you want.”
Her eyes widened for a second. “Be careful.”
Pulling back his shoulders, he crossed his arms. He had to get a grip. One side of his mouth curled into a sneer. “Don’t worry. Where you’re concerned, I’m gonna be careful.”
“Good call, Archer.” She stretched her arms over her head and faked a yawn. “This show is boring, and I’m beat from that drive.”
“I—I just asked about tomorrow because I have work in the morning.”
“Whether you’re here or not, I can make my way to my own house.”
“Okay, I’ll leave it to you. Help yourself to breakfast in the morning.” His shoulders dropped as he walked to the kitchen to get some water. He’d go to work tomorrow, and she’d be gone by the time he returned—out of his life once again.
He walked into the living room clutching a glass of water and eyeing April, still ensconced on his couch. “Did you leave anything in the car that you need?”
“No, or just some cash in the cup holder.”
“Not a great idea. Leaving things in plain sight in your car is what lures thieves to break in.”
She tipped her head back against the couch cushion. “Hard to move. Must be the beer, or the six-hour drive.”
“I’ll get it for you.” He pointed at the table to the side of the front door. “Keys to the car?”
“The only keys I have.”
“Who does that?” He shook his head as he stalked toward the door and snatched the keys from the table.
Someone who ran out on two weddings, that’s who.
He crossed the porch, the warm night air enveloping him as he trooped down the driveway, gravel and dirt crunching beneath each slap of his flip-flops. He pressed the remote, surprised this old beater even had one.
He yanked the door handle, and the dome light flickered. That would have to be replaced soon, but the car belonged to her friend, didn’t it?
He shoved his hand in the cup holder, pinching the bills between his fingertips as he pulled them out. His fingers scrabbled in the bottom of the cup holder for any change, tracing the edge of a smooth disc. He grabbed it and pulled it out, cupping it in his palm.
He held his hand beneath the dome light, and his blood froze in his veins.
What the hell was April doing with a calling card from Las Moscas?
Chapter Four
April pushed up from the couch. Clay was sure taking his sweet time out there. He obviously wanted her to leave and probably wanted her in bed before he even came back into the house—just not his bed.
But the way he looked at her with that fire in his hazel eyes gave her the same old thrill. He couldn’t hide his attraction to her because he hadn’t been schooled in the art of deception, as she had. It had served her well. She probably could’ve even faked things with Jimmy after what she’d discovered about him—but she hadn’t wanted to try.
Adam possessed the same skills as she did—learned from the same master. Adam had never given one hint that he knew what Jimmy did for a living. He’d introduced her to Jimmy and built him up to be this great guy...and she’d allowed Jimmy to sweep her off her feet at just the right time in her life.
Clay burst through the front door, his jaw tight, his face suffused with red rage.
April jerked back, digging her fingernails into the cushions of the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“This.” He thrust out his hand, and uncurled his fingers. “Why the hell is this in your car?”
She sagged against the couch. The token—she’d left the token with the fly carved onto it in the cup holder. So, it wasn’t a coincidence that the headless woman had something similar clutched in her hand.
“I found it.”
Clay blinked, and his solid chest heaved. “You found it here? In my driveway?”
That would make the most sense to him. It would get her out of this particular predicament. She found it in his driveway when she drove up and dropped it in the cup holder, not thinking anything about it.
That would wipe the angry look from his face and allow her to squirm away from the truth. Sometimes a girl got tired of squirming.
She folded her hands across her midsection. “No, I didn’t find it in your driveway.”
“In town, then? On the street?” He spit out possibilities for her, his body stiff and coiled.
“I found it in my ex-fiancé’s office.”
The color flooded Clay’s face again, and he squeezed his fist around the wooden disc. “You know what it is, don’t you?”
“It’s the calling card of Las Moscas.”
“What does it mean, April? Who’s your ex-fiancé? What have you gotten yourself into?”
She held up three unsteady fingers. “That’s three questions.”
“And you’re going to answer all three of them.” He strode past her so fast the ends of her hair stirred.
Clay dumped the token on the countertop where
