The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (ebook reader for surface pro TXT) 📗

Thank fuck we had a lot to do in the days that followed, because Boone’s transformation was so instant it nearly gave me whiplash. He was cracking jokes again. His batteries were charged. He smiled more. And he was determined that we’d “find our way back to each other.” His words.

I also caught him studying me sometimes, and I didn’t like it. It felt like the obvious question was on the tip of his tongue. The one where he asked if I still harbored those feelings for him.

So far, he’d steered clear of any topics that might be sensitive, probably because he knew that if he prodded, I would do the same, and he didn’t wanna discuss the day that’d ended with him kissing me.

To be honest, neither did I. We’d finally found a common ground where we could work and hang out together without hostility in the air, and I wanted to savor that.

“Hey, Mac.”

“You again,” he chuckled.

I smirked and planted my laptop on the top counter he sat behind, day in and day out. Well, when he wasn’t out in the trailer park playing handyman.

“You know the drill,” he said.

I nodded and connected my laptop to his printer via Bluetooth, and I hit print on all seventeen pages. Then I fished out my wallet and did advanced math in my head. One quarter for each printout.

I slapped a five on the counter. “You got any single-wides for sale these days?”

He looked up from his computer. “’Fraid not. Just two doubles. Why, you not happy with your lot?”

“It’s for my brother. He’s looking for a place.” Or he would be, once this job had paid off.

I wouldn’t mind having him close. It’d make shit a lot easier for Ace too.

“I’ll let you know as soon as something opens up,” Mac replied, giving me my change.

“Thanks, man.” I closed my laptop again and walked over to the printer on the side of the front desk. After collecting the printouts and quickly clearing the printer history, I walked out of the office again and checked the time on my phone.

We had a couple hours left before Boone was picking up Ace from school, and then we had some special plans we hoped would make our girl’s day.

I jogged up the steps to my newly painted porch and noticed Boone had stowed away the seat cushions to the chairs while I was at the front office.

“Yo,” I said, entering the trailer. “I’m ready to lay the puzzle.”

Boone emerged from the kitchen with two beers and a bag of pretzels. “I put the tape on the TV.”

Great. Together, we started attaching the printouts to the wall next to the TV. It helped to have the bigger picture right in front of us, literally. Twelve pages made up the floor plan of the room block the Langes had reserved for their stay. Twenty-eight suites on the forty-fifth floor of the Palazzo tower.

The remaining printouts were of the junior ballroom they’d booked.

I took a step back, folded my arms over my chest, and chewed on my thumbnail.

Something wasn’t adding up.

“What’s wrong?” Boone asked.

“This can’t be all of it,” I replied.

“Because the ballroom seats more guests than they’ve booked rooms for?” he guessed. “They’re probably only springing for suites for the closest.”

No, that part made sense. “It’s not that. Look at the suites. They’re all the same.” It was their standard luxury suite. “No matter how much I love Mom, she’d be in a regular room while I grabbed the honeymoon suite if I ever got married.”

Boone frowned. “No one’s getting married, Case. It’s a birthday celebration.”

I waved that off as semantics. “Same principle. Alfred Lange is supposedly the head of this huge crime organization, and it’s his birthday. I can’t imagine him staying in the same kind of suite as the rest of the inner circle. Either we’re missing something—maybe there’s a penthouse suite booked under a different name, I don’t know—or Alfred and his wife aren’t staying at the hotel at all.”

Boone furrowed his brow at the floor plan and mirrored my stance.

Hopefully, we’d get some answers tonight. We were meeting up with Laney for dinner at the Venetian at eight, and she was bringing a friend—namely, the woman who’d been assigned to assist the Langes with their party planning.

I needed clues.

According to Laney, the woman had a thing for tatted, mysterious bad boys, so I guessed I was gonna pretend to be straight tonight. And mysterious. And bad.

I should clue Boone in on that. “By the way, we’re doing some role-play tonight,” I said, keeping my stare fixed on the floor plan. “I gotta be available to that woman Laney’s bringing. She’s into elusive bad boys.”

“Who’re gay?” he asked without missing a beat.

I chuckled and clapped him on the back. “I won’t be gay tonight.” I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with the response, which led me to believe he was wondering why I didn’t just tell him to do the role-play. And I didn’t want him to think it had anything to do with jealousy, because it seriously didn’t. “I would’ve told you to do it if it wasn’t for the fact that you can’t act elusive to save your life. You may look like a bad boy, but we all know you’re the family teddy bear who’s nicer than Santa.”

“Santa ain’t fuckin’ nice. He spies on people, keeps lists, and denies kids presents if they’re not livin’ up to his standards.”

I grinned at him and shook my head. “Only a nice guy like you would point that out, so case closed.”

He huffed, then muttered under his breath. “I can be elusive.”

Sure, sure.

“So what’re we telling Ace?” he asked.

I shrugged and scratched my arm. “I don’t think we have to tell her a whole lot. We’ll just let her know that I’ll be trying to catch that woman’s interest in order to get information.”

If there was one thing Ace loved,