Under the Stars

All of my police training tells me this is a bad idea. I’m alone, and I’m not wearing Kevlar. No one knows I’m here—well, one person knows I’m here, and I promised her I’d be back in three hours…

My boots thud on the wooden porch as I step through the doorway into a nicely furnished living area. A brown, distressed leather couch is in the center of the room, and a leather chair with large brass studs and tweed-covered cushions is beside a round table holding a blue and white Asian-style lamp. It casts a soft yellow glow, and pictures in frames are arranged at its base.

“Nice place,” I say, stepping to the center of a Persian rug. “Should I sit?”

“Don’t get comfortable.”

A scotch sits on the end table near a chair. Landry is wearing jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He looks like he’s been out playing cards or possibly on a job?

“So I was in the Quarter hanging out at one of the bars, and I thought about all the shit we used to do. We made good money.”

“I’ve retired from strippers.”

“Still, there’s other business in the city. Maybe you know someone who needs a guy?”

“I don’t recommend people I haven’t vetted.”

Landry hasn’t changed. His dark hair is slicked away from his pockmarked face. He’s still short and stocky with suspicious black eyes, and he picks up the scotch with short, meaty fingers.

Losing the veneer of cool, I lower my brow. Sometimes these guys only respond to their own kind, and I’m ready to step into that role.

“How do I get vetted?” Glancing around his house, I start suggesting. “When Gavin was here, I oversaw cargo deliveries to container ships. I know my way around the docks.”

He goes to the small table and tops off his drink. “What have you been doing for the past six years? When you were supposed to be dead.”

When you thought you?

??d killed me is more like it.

“Alaska, Canada. It’s good country up there, wild and remote. Perfect for entrepreneurs.”

Black eyes lock onto mine. “I heard you’re a cop.”

Now the way he’s acting makes sense.

This asshole knows everything.

Still, I’m not losing after coming this far. Sustaining my act, I shift my approach in an attempt to make us allies, to put myself on his level.

It turns my stomach.

“You know as well as I do, being a cop is an asset around here.” Pointing to his glass, I nod. “Mind if I have one of those?”

“Help yourself.” He steps to the side and smiles. It feels more threatening than his glower.

Taking the crystal stopper out of the decanter, I pour two fingers of what I thought was scotch. The scent tells me it’s bourbon.

“Cheers.” I clink my glass against his and take a sip. My lips curl, and I hiss at the burn all the way down.

“You were pretty young when you left here,” he says. “You’re still young.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You tell me.” He takes a sip from his glass. “Young people get wild ideas, think they’re invincible. Do you think you’re invincible, Mark Fitzhugh?”

“I remember being told once heroes don’t last long around here.”

“Did you internalize that message?”