20. Ryder

20

Being with Luna Maara was like climbing Mount Denali—beautiful at times, really fucking difficult at others. Today, they'd already been through the whole gamut of emotions, and it was only ten a.m.

The morning had started on a high. Now that Luna had been introduced to the wonderful world of orgasms, she couldn't get enough of them, which meant Ryder had been up half the night making her happy. But they'd soon plummeted to the Challenger Deep when, in an endorphin-fuelled haze, she'd asked him to slide a finger inside to see how it went. And stupidly, he'd gone with it. Her muscles had spasmed, she'd cried out in pain, and he'd spent the next half hour holding her while she sobbed that she was broken. She hadn't smiled again until they picked up the dog. Now she was sitting with him in the back seat, laughing as he licked her face. Rocky deserved a damn medal.

At Cromer Place, Ryder parked in one of the half-dozen short-term spaces at the front of the building, scanned the area for threats, and then opened the door so the press could get their first good look at Luna's new pet. Yeah, yeah, technically she was only fostering him, but that mutt wasn't going anywhere.

Luna held him on a short leash, which was pink, as were his new harness and collar. Luckily, Shani had assured them that dogs had dichromatic vision, so they could only see yellow and blue. Rocky didn't know that his accessories matched Luna's car.

"If you scare my dog, I'll give an exclusive to your fiercest rival," she warned her least-favourite photographer when he got too close.

"What's his name?"

"Rocky."

"Like Rocky Balboa?"

"Yup, except cuter."

"Is he competition for DJ Sykik?"

That was Kory's alter ego. Ryder had tried listening to a couple of the douche's tracks, and they weren't as bad as he'd imagined they would be.

"Not really? I mean, Rocky will always win."

The guy laughed. "How about Romeo Serafini?"

"Rocky still has the edge."

"Is there any truth to the rumour that you had a mental health crisis last Monday?"

That blindsided Luna. She froze, and it took her a moment to collect herself. "No truth whatsoever. Where did you hear that?"

"From a source."

"Then you need to get new sources."

The asshole smirked. "That particular source has proven reliable in the past."

"Well, they're not reliable anymore."

"Then why did you disappear in a helicopter?"

She smiled sweetly. "Because you assholes can't fly."

That's my girl. Ryder held open the front door, and Luna walked inside with Rocky trotting along behind. He wanted to kiss her, but he waited until they got into the elevator, although the dog wanted in on the action too and jumped up on both of them.

"Don't be jealous, little guy," Ryder told him. "We can share her."

Luna leaned against the mirrored wall. "I can't believe how much my life has changed."

"You and me both."

"I wish I had more time today."

Luna had a session with her vocal coach after lunch, and then she was scheduled to get a spray tan at the Nile Palace's spa. After that, she'd have her hair and make-up done, then warm up with her dancers. Those trolls on the internet who thought she did nothing all day had no idea. She worked just as hard as anyone, and she did it in the glare of the public spotlight.

She was exactly the type of girl Ryder should have avoided at all costs.

And the one woman he'd never get enough of.

The elevator doors opened on the fifth floor, and Rocky yipped excitedly. Considering how badly people had treated him in the past, it was amazing he didn't bear the mother of all grudges against the human race. Luna started out of the elevator, but Ryder put a hand on her shoulder.

"Behind me."

"Don't you think that's overkill? We're inside?—"

She saw the bag hanging from her door handle a second after he did. A pale pink gift bag with ribbon frothing around the handles.

"W-w-what's that?"

"Stay there."

The hallway was silent. Ryder stole forward, every sense on high alert, and noticed the faint aroma of chocolate. Brownies. The bag contained chocolate brownies. Chocolate brownies and a note.

Luna,

Hope you enjoy my new recipe!

Love, Marcel

What the actual fuck?

"It's okay." Ryder beckoned her forward.

"Is it him? Is it Mark Antony?"

"It's Marcel."

Although… Mark, Marcel. Was it possible…?

Ryder got Luna and the dog inside, locked the door, and called Shani. Marcel bringing random gifts to Luna's door was not okay.

"It's Ryder. How well do you know Marcel?"

"Uh… Not that well? But he's harmless."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why? What happened?"

"He left a bag of brownies at Luna's door with a note."

"Ooh, lucky her. He makes excellent brownies."

"A fruitcake named Mark has been sending Luna food for weeks, and now Marcel leaves dessert?"

"Oh, the stalker…right. That's definitely not Marcel."

"How can you be sure of that? And how the hell did he get her address?"

"One of the Cats probably found it for him."

"The cats?"

"Dusk, Tulsa, Jezebel, Barbie, Spider, Dice, Sin, Storm, Echo… The Cats. That's what we call them because they live in Casa del Gato. The Cathouse."

"He needs to be checked out."

"I'll make some calls, okay?"

When Ryder hung up, Rocky was sniffing his way around the apartment, and Luna was staring at the brownies.

"Can I eat those?" she asked. "Marcel's hardly gonna have signed his name on the note if he poisoned them."

Hand on heart, Ryder didn't think Marcel was the culprit. He was more concerned that the man had managed to get right to Luna's door. The concierge desk was manned at this time of day, so why hadn't Marcel been stopped?

"You can eat them. Stay here and keep the door locked."

"Where are you going?"

"To speak with the concierge."

Who denied there had been any visitors for apartment 502 until Ryder pointed out that they had evidence in the form of brownies, and when the man tried to claim it was no big deal, Ryder stood over him until he agreed to check the camera in the lobby. They watched Marcel enter the building through the unlocked front door and wait at the desk for a minute or two, scrolling on his phone. When nobody materialised, he stood on tiptoes and peered right over the counter, then shrugged and headed for the stairs. Fine, Marcel was in the clear, although Ryder was still far from happy about him showing up at Luna's address uninvited. And the concierge needed re-education. Ryder put the fear of God into him before heading back upstairs.

To find Tulsa leaning against the wall beside Luna's door.

"I knocked, but she wouldn't open the door."

Good.

"How did you get inside the building? I've been standing by the front desk for a half hour."

"Through the parking garage. I'm not walking past those jackals with the cameras."

"New question: why are you here?"

"Shani called in a tizzy and said you thought Marcel was stalking Luna, and I've come to set you straight. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's our pain in the ass, and he's not a stalker. So get that shit outta your head."

Her tone left no room for argument, but Ryder stood his ground.

"You've had a wasted trip. The concierge left his post and didn't lock the front door, so I know now that Marcel got sick of waiting and meandered upstairs. But he did overstep by coming to Luna's home. How did he get the address?"

"At a guess? From Sin or Echo. He only wanted to bring Luna food. He brings everyone food."

"You need to stop him from doing it again."

"No!" Luna shouted, her voice muffled. The locks clicked, and the door flew open. "These brownies are amazing. He can bring them any time."

"He's making medovik tomorrow. It'll take him all day."

"What's medovik?"

"Russian honey cake, although the version Marcel makes is more like thin cookies sandwiched with sour cream. You want some?"

"I'd love some."

"I'll tell him."

Give me strength. "If he's bringing packages here, he needs to leave them at the desk."

"Are you just being cautious, or is there a legitimate threat?"

"I have a stalker who sends me takeout," Luna said before Ryder could come up with a response.

"Saves cooking, I guess."

Not helping.

"Ryder won't let me eat any of it."

"Because the guy's a nutjob. He thinks Luna is the reincarnation of Cleopatra, and he's Mark Antony."

Tulsa studied Luna with a critical eye. "No, I'm not seeing it. Did you know that in Ancient Rome, prostitutes were required to wear blonde wigs as a mark of their profession?"

Luna narrowed her eyes. "I was starting to like you, but now I've changed my mind."

"Let me give you a tip—don't be too likeable. People try to take advantage." Tulsa was definitely taking her own advice. She wasn't the friendly type. "You have a name for this guy? A real name?"

If only. "Not yet. He's careful. He places the orders anonymously, and we haven't yet worked out how he's getting gifts to Luna at the theatre. One showed up at reception, and another appeared in her dressing room."

"Oh!" Luna bounced on her toes. "I forgot to tell you, I found out who has the earrings. You know Tiana, who looks after my costumes?"

Ryder shook his head.

"Well, anyway, she took them for her niece to play dress-up, but her niece lost them. She says if they show up again, she'll bring them back."

That was one mystery solved, even if the outcome wasn't ideal.

"I assume Blackwood is looking into this?" Tulsa asked.

"That's right."

"One of you needs to give me your number, and I'll get Marcel to warn you before he shows up."

Ryder handed over a card. "Call me."

Tulsa batted her lashes, all fake Southern charm. "Sure will, sugar."

And then she was gone.

Ryder sat on the weight bench in Blackwood's gym and groaned.

"You must be joking."

Good news, Mack had said. Elene was definitely interested in Ryder's alter ego. Tripp Carrington had been exchanging messages with the bitch who'd stolen Luna's money for the past week, but she was careful. She'd masked her location, although she claimed to be in Tbilisi still.

The bad news? She was pushing for a video call.

"Wouldn't you be careful too if your hobby was conning dumb-ass men out of their fortunes?" Mack asked.

"Yeah, I would."

"So, all you have to do is flirt with Elene while I try to trace her electronically."

"What if you can't?"

"Then we resort to plan B."

"Which is?"

"We try to geolocate her using clues from her calls."

"Calls, plural?"

"If it comes to that. C'mon, when you joined the Special Projects team, you knew you had to be ready for anything."

That was true, but hitting on another woman now that he was with Luna felt wrong, even when it was all a pretence.

"Why didn't you use Slater for this? Hooking up with random women of dubious character is right up his street."

"Because Emmy needed Slater for a job in Venezuela, and I figured you'd want to be involved seeing as Luna's your girlfriend and you're a bit of a control freak. The two of you are dating, right?"

"Yeah."

"And have you?—"

"Don't mention the fuckin' pool," he growled. Apparently, folks in the office were betting on an engagement date now.

"I have the Fourth of July, so if you could just hold out for a couple more weeks…"

It would be a lot longer than that. No way was Ryder gonna push Luna into anything she wasn't comfortable with. Enough people had done that already.

"Can we stick with the case? Try to get Elene to agree to a call in the morning. Afternoons and evenings, I'm on bodyguard duty."

"That should be doable. She claims she's working in an office, so she'll be free in the evenings, Tbilisi time. We just need to find an appropriate backdrop for a trust-fund jackass, ideally a mansion with a waterfall in the swimming pool. Does Luna have a waterfall in her pool?"

"I have no idea, and there's no chance of using it anyway. Her mom's a psycho. Why a waterfall?"

"I might have gotten a little carried away with describing Tripp's home, and now we need something similar to build credibility."

"Where the hell am I meant to find a mansion?"

"Ask Shani? She knows plenty of people. And try to get a place with a great kitchen because you love to cook."

For fuck's sake. "Anything else?"

"You have a dog."

Finally, a request that wasn't impossible. "Luna just adopted a dog. I can probably borrow him."

"Is he small, white, and fluffy?"

"Are you kidding? How many men own small white fluffy dogs?"

"Tripp's taking care of it for his sister, Cammie, who travels the world in her job as an art buyer. It's called Snuffles, by the way."

"You really went to town on this, didn't you?"

"All part of the service. You're also unlucky in love, and you weren't looking to date again until your good buddy Hunter gifted you a subscription to Illumina, where you saw Elene's picture and realised she was something special. I'll send you transcripts of the chats so you can study before you speak with her. The goal is to get her to agree to an in-person meeting, and once she appears, we can get her to return Luna's money."

And that meant Ryder would have to return to Georgia. He didn't much like the idea of leaving Luna, but hopefully, they'd unmask Mark Antony before the date of departure arrived. And Luna deserved to be reunited with her money. She'd worked damn hard for it.

"What kind of woman steals ten million bucks and then goes back for more?"

"A greedy one who thinks she won't get caught. Be careful."

Ryder went to find Shani.

Three hours later, Ryder was getting twitchy, even though Luna said she was fine and working on a new song while Rocky chewed on one of the seven new bones she'd bought for him. Mack had messaged with an update on the cuff Luna had received—it had come from the gift shop at the Who Were the Ptolemies? exhibition. Which wasn't a static collection—it had moved from London to Berlin to Barcelona to New York to Vancouver—so they couldn't even say for sure which city Mark Antony had visited.

"Okay, so Miguel's brother-in-law's cousin has a bona fide mansion," Shani said. "And he's eighty percent sure we could borrow it."

"Does it have a waterfall?"

"No, but it has a fountain. Maybe we could do something with camera angles?"

"Can't risk it. Elene or Irina or whatever her name is, she's smart. I found another option—where's Mercer Hills?"

"It's a new development in the north-west—think golf courses, multimillion-dollar homes, and guards to keep the riffraff out. It's meant to rival the Summit Club and Southern Highlands."

"There's a property there with a waterfall, and it's available for short-term rent on Airbnb."

"Are you trying to bankrupt yourself?"

In an ideal world, no. But if Ryder could convince Elene to reveal her location, renting the ridiculously opulent property would be the best investment he ever made.

"I only get one shot at this."

"Who are you shooting?" Marcel asked from behind them, and Ryder spun the chair to see him holding three cake boxes stacked on top of each other. He dipped to put them on the desk. "Since you're here, you can take Luna's honey cake. She can't eat it today, though. The filling needs to infuse. Does she really have a stalker? I guess it's not totally surprising because if I was straight and had homicidal tendencies, I'd follow her around too." He leaned in closer and peered at the screen. "If you're trying to find a place for a dirty weekend, I wouldn't go there. The owner is a real busybody. Always in everyone else's business."

"Are you sure?" Shani asked. "The reviews don't mention that."

"She probably stands over the guests until they give her five stars. Her husband ran off with his therapist, and the only way she can afford to keep that house is to rent it to tourists for two weeks out of every four. But she just moves into the pool pavilion and spends the whole time spying."

"How do you know?"

"She lives near us, and Sin told me. I think she got lucky, though—the busybody, not Sin—because her ex-husband lost most of his money when the crypto market crashed, and now he lives in a walk-up apartment in New Jersey." Why would a person even know that? "If you want to get away for a few days, my friend Jeremy owns a lovely little cabin near Lake Tahoe. It's kind of rustic, but if reporters come sniffing around, there are plenty of places to hide a body."

Ryder looked for a sign that he was joking, but Marcel didn't crack a smile.

Shani laughed, though. "Ryder isn't taking a vacation. It's kind of a long story, but we need a mansion with a waterfall in the yard for an undercover job."

"Ooh, I love stories." Marcel wheeled over an empty chair from the next desk and dropped into it. "Do tell."

"It's confidential—" Ryder started, but Shani gave him a look.

"Ryder's acting as bait for a swindler. A female swindler."

"And he needs to meet her somewhere fancy?"

"Not in person. She's overseas, and the team has only spoken with her online so far."

"Let me guess, let me guess… Someone got carried away describing a property, and now you have to find one to match?"

"That's about the size of it," Ryder admitted. "We were hoping this would be over already."

"Do you know anywhere private with a waterfall?" Shani asked.

"It would only be Ryder there?"

"Yes."

"I'll ask Priest. If you keep the camera angle tight, he might let you use our pool."

"You have a waterfall?"

"Sure. Plus a swim-up bar and a water slide."

A water slide? Again, the man seemed dead serious. Didn't he share a house with Tulsa? Ryder couldn't imagine her splashing around in the pool on the weekends. Shani seemed to be going through the same thought process.

"A…water slide?"

"The house used to belong to Dick Steele, better known as the Prince of Porn. When Priest moved in, there was a thirty-foot-wide bed in the master, and the whole ceiling above it was covered in mirrors."

"Is that why it's called Casa del Gato? The Cathouse?"

"Oh, no, that was Jez's idea of a joke, and it stuck. I'll speak with Priest and call you later." He gave a chirpy wave. "Toodle-oo."