“So,” he said, “how are you liking the Family so far?”

“It’s okay.”

“Well, the guards have been quite impressed with you. I’ve heard reports that you’ve beaten all of them in one-on-one combat. What’s your secret?”

“Bacon,” I deadpanned. “And lots of it.”

He laughed, but his chuckles sounded a little forced. He opened his mouth to ask me another question, but I cut in before he could get started. I had zero desire to talk about myself. Besides, this was the first chance I’d had to pump Grant for information about the attack at the pawnshop.

“Have you learned anything else about the attack at the Razzle Dazzle? Who the mystery man was, and why he wanted Devon dead?”

Grant shrugged. “I’m investigating, but nothing concrete has come up yet. If the Itos or another Family were behind the attack, they’ve kept it quiet so far.”

“What about the dead guys? Who were they?”

He shrugged again. “Just some guys who hired themselves out as muscle. Low-level thugs. Nobody important.”

I frowned. The guys were important enough to have provided protection to the accountant I’d robbed, the one that had some Family connections. I’d have to ask Mo which Family the accountant worked for. That might provide some sort of clue about the attack, or at least narrow it down to which Family was really behind it.

“Why are you suddenly so interested in the attempt on Devon’s life?” Grant asked.

“I just want to know what I’m up against.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t have something to do with Devon?”

I couldn’t keep myself from stiffening a tiny bit. “Why would you say that?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Lila,” Grant said. “But I’ve seen this before. It happened with Ashley and another girl before her who was assigned to guard Devon. He treated them as friends, the way he does everyone, but they both got a little too . . . close to him.”

His meaning was clear. The girls had fallen for Devon, and their devotion had cost them—their lives.

“There’s just something about Devon,” Grant mused. “Everyone loves him . . . for some reason.”

He stared through the windshield instead of at me, but the longer I looked at him, the more his blue eyes seemed to darken, like they had at breakfast the other morning. He shook his head, and the illusion vanished.

“Just be careful, okay?” Grant said. “I wouldn’t want to see a nice girl like you get hurt.”

Nice girl? That was the last thing I was.

Or maybe I didn’t want to admit that he was right. That I had way more than just a casual interest in Devon Sinclair.

One that was probably going to get me killed.

Grant dropped me off in front of the square near the Razzle Dazzle. He offered to come back for me after he finished at the bank, but I told him I could take one of the tourist trolleys back up the mountain, so he drove off.

I stepped inside the store, rattling the lochness bones. The pawnshop was empty except for Mo, who was sitting at the back counter, his white straw hat tipped back on his head, flipping through another decorating magazine. He wore his usual Hawaiian shirt, this one a bright green patterned with pink flamingos. My heart squeezed, and I realized how much I missed him.

Mo raised his head, and his face split into a wide smile. I thought about running around the counter and hugging him, but I resisted the urge. Mo wasn’t a hugger any more than I was.

“Why, hello, stranger,” he rumbled. “Welcome to my humble little corner of the world.”

“Nice digs,” I said, playing along. “A girl leaves you alone for a few days, and you go and repaint the whole store again.”

Instead of robin’s egg blue, the walls were now a light green.

Mo held up his magazine. “It’s called seafoam. I read this article about it. The color is supposed to put people in a good mood. And people in a good mood . . .”

“Spend more money,” I said, laughing and finishing the saying he’d quoted to me many, many times.

He shrugged and gave me a good-natured grin. “Something like that. How are you, kid? How’s life with the Sinclairs?”

I propped my elbows on the counter and told Mo everything that had happened. He nodded, absorbing my words, but he was also on the lookout for anyone passing by outside who stopped long enough to peer in the windows. Every time he made eye contact with someone, he grinned a little wider, trying to get them to come into the shop. But everyone ignored Mo’s attempts at charm.

Eventually, he gave up and focused on me again. “You know what, kid? I’m starting to think you’re bad for business.”

“Nah. You just need to up your game. So you can compete with the big boys out on the Midway.”

Mo grumbled at my teasing. “Speaking of the big boys, how are you getting along with the folks in the Family?”

“Fine. There’s one guy, Felix Morales, that I hang out with. He’s okay, for someone who never shuts up.”

“And what about Devon?” Mo asked in a sly voice.

I tensed up the same way I had with Grant in the car. “What about Devon?”

“You’ve been texting me about him a lot.”

“No more so than anyone else.”

“True. But you never really say anything about him,” Mo countered. “Just that he’s there.”