“I’ll talk to you later, man.” I didn’t bother to wait for his reply before I hung up.

I couldn’t give a fuck less about Kitty right now. I wanted to turn around and go back to Eden’s new place and shake the truth out of her. Shit wasn’t adding up. Was that innocence she wore like her pink fucking sweaters just a front? Was she running some kind of con?

I hadn’t been played in years, and I couldn’t believe some naive girl had done it.

Why would she bail on the hotel bill but shell out money for rent? None of it added up, but you’d better believe I was going to get to the truth somehow.

I checked the time. If I didn’t have an appointment in ten minutes, I’d be back beating down her door for some answers.

She couldn’t be that good of an actress. I could smell a con a mile away, thanks to my younger years, and Eden didn’t give off a hint of that vibe.

I turned it over and over in my mind all the way back to the shop, and through my whole appointment. Fuck it . . . I’d be going back tonight.

I WANDERED AROUND MY TINY new apartment, which took all of approximately ninety seconds. There was a small bedroom, a minuscule bathroom, and an open area that served as a living room and eat-in kitchen. But the small size didn’t bother me. My apartment in New York, one that I’d fought for the right to live in for years before Dom had allowed it, was at least quadruple the size, but I’d never used every room. I hoped this place would feel more like home than that one did.

Harriet had left a bottle of wine on the counter, and I debated opening it, still wary of alcohol.

Leaving it where it sat, I unpacked my suitcase and hung up my limited wardrobe before pulling out the envelope of cash I’d stashed in the lining of my bag. I might not have learned a lot of the how to be a gangster rules from the mobsters around me, but at the end of the day, it seemed like there was only one that truly mattered—cash is king.

For the last several months, every week when my paycheck was deposited into my account, I’d go to the bank and withdraw cash. If someone had asked me at the time, I would have said it was rainy-day money, or some kind of response like that. In all reality, it was because my bank account had been frozen once before when Dom was investigated by the FBI. I couldn’t even buy myself lunch because I’d always relied on plastic and never carried cash.

As soon as the accounts had been unfrozen, I’d started my stash in case it ever happened again.

I pulled out the burner phone and checked the Internet browser for news. There’d been nothing new the last five times I’d checked today, and I wasn’t holding my breath now. The only article I could find was the same one that had been there this morning.

I’d love to think no news was good news.

Once I’d put the money in the safe in the bedroom closet and organized the rest of my few belongings, I sat down on the small sofa. The TV didn’t work, and none of the five books I started could hold my attention. Restlessness wasn’t a familiar feeling for me, but tonight I had it in spades.

I looked out the window to the fairy lights hanging in the trees and the blue water of the pool that looked almost tropical with the lights coming from beneath the surface.

Is it heated? I hadn’t thought to ask Harriet because it wasn’t like I’d packed a bathing suit when I was rushing out of my apartment to leave the city.

Deciding to find out for myself, I opened the door and padded down the wrought-iron spiral staircase to the path that led to the pool. It was a magical little courtyard, and I could see why Charlie had called it her garden oasis. I kicked off one shoe and dipped a toe in the water.

Perfect.

Harriet said she was leaving. The pool couldn’t be seen from the gate . . . did I dare take a dip sans suit?

I’d never skinny-dipped in my life, but I was turning over a whole new leaf in New Orleans. Daring filled me. Why not? I stripped out of my jeans, cardigan, and cami before pausing to decide if I really wanted to go all the way. I could just jump in with my bra and underwear on . . .

Screw it. For once in my life, I was exercising the go big or go home mentality. I shoved my panties down my legs and unhooked my bra before stepping into the pool and slipping my entire body into the water. Definitely heated. From water level, I could see the small tendrils of steam rising into the cooler night air. It was so peaceful. Everything about this night seemed perfect.

A new beginning. Maybe a new place to belong. I was filled with hope, and every day that burner phone didn’t make another sound, I convinced myself a little more that maybe they’d forgotten me.

My quiet reverie didn’t last long, however. The iron gate clanged with someone’s entry, and I slapped a hand over my lips to hold in the shriek that threatened to escape.

Harriet? Charlie? Who?

I sank lower into the water, wanting to be completely covered, but sucked in a breath when a tall, broad form entered the courtyard.

No way.

Bishop started up the stairs but paused when the spiral caused him to face the pool. He couldn’t miss me.

“What the hell are you doing?” His deep voice carried across the courtyard as he came back down the stairs and toward me.

I slipped to the front edge of the pool, pressing my body against the cement wall. I reached out, intent on grabbing my cami or my sweater, but both were just out of reach.

Bishop stopped a few feet away from the pile of my clothes, and I stared at the thick black soles of his boots. If he came another step closer, there was no way he could miss how well-lit my naked body was by the pool lights.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” The words were uttered low and hoarse, as if he weren’t talking to me at all.

“Please toss me my shirt,” I whispered.

The last thing I expected Bishop to do was shake his head. “Nah. I don’t think I will. Because this way, I’ve got a captive audience and you’re going to answer my questions.”

Goose bumps rose along my shoulders, and I slipped further beneath the surface so that my chin touched the edge.

“What are you talking about?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my heart hammered harder with every beat.

“You bailed on the hotel. Stiffed them on the bill for what you said you’d cover. Why?”

Oh shit. I knew that was going to come out sooner or later, but I’d naively hoped for later. Of course his friend would tell him as soon as possible. And of course I didn’t have a story to give Bishop . . . yet.