Chapter 6

Six

T wo minutes later, Hattie and I were down on our hands and knees, crawling along the sticky, dirty boards of the tavern, using the rows of tables to stay out of Griselda and Devlin's line of sight. Lucy was staying behind at our table to make sure Charles didn't reappear.

As I crawled along the floor between the tables, looking at all the different boots that had chosen the Ugly Man for their social activities, while clutching a purring cat to my chest, I couldn't help but grin.

This was like my childhood, sneaking through crowds.

It was just plain fun. I looked back at Hattie, and she gave me a thumbs-up, a big grin on her face.

This was why we were friends. Because we were both a little crazy.

I scurried along the floor, checking between pairs of legs to make sure I was heading toward the back room. We were almost there when a boot landed in front of me and didn't move.

Crap.

I looked up to see the tree trunk of a man, Diesel Dalton, standing in front of me. His beefy arms were folded across his chest, and he was staring down at me with a mixture of irritation and fascination.

I waved up at the owner of the Ugly Man and sat back on my heels, still staying low. "Hi, there." I'd had a few situations with Diesel. Not all of them had gone well. I zipped my sweatshirt up a little bit higher just to make sure King Tut stayed hidden.

"Hey, Diesel," Hattie said, crawling up beside me. "What's going on?"

He stared down at us. "Why?"

A man of great eloquence.

"Mia's dating two men at the bar, and she doesn't want to have some testosterone-induced, male-dominance fight to ruin her night, your night, and maybe wreck your bar," Hattie said cheerfully.

I poked my foot into Hattie's calf to protest, but she kicked me back even harder.

Diesel's gaze went to the bar. "Which ones?"

"Officer Hunt and his FBI pal," Hattie said.

Diesel's gaze narrowed. "I bet that gets complicated in a hurry."

"It does, but Mia's resourceful," Hattie said cheerfully. "We were just going to zip back to the ladies room."

King Tut began to squirm inside my sweatshirt, and I clutched him, trying to keep him quiet. "Where do you get your pies, Diesel?"

His eyes narrowed. "My pies?"

"Oh, yes." Hattie sat back on her heels, both of us acting like it was completely normal to be sitting on a tavern floor talking with the owner about pies.

"Diamond Pie Baking Company," he said. "Why?"

Hattie beamed at him. "They're delicious. I might have to order some for my café. How do I get in touch with them?"

He shrugged. "I usually go through Emmeline, but Charles and Beckwith Barnes are around here tonight. They own it."

"Emmeline?" Hattie stiffened. "Emmeline Wilson?"

The tone in her voice got my attention. Who was this Emmeline person?

"I don't know her last name." He turned his head. "Hey," he shouted. "No fights." He spun away from us and headed to the other side of the tavern.

Hattie looked at me. "Emmeline used to work for me at my café. She was a sassy little thing, but a good kid."

"Would she betray you for money?"

She raised her brows. "Doesn't everyone have a price, Mia?"

"I don't," I said without hesitation. I'd give up my life to do what was right. I already had, actually, and I was trying to rebuild.

Hattie cocked her head. "Your ex would probably say you betrayed him when you told the feds he was a drug kingpin."

"Well, yeah." His mom had agreed with that assessment and hired an assassin to try to kill me. "But since doing it eviscerated me and caused me permanent trauma, it's more of me being a hero than betraying him."

"Or maybe your price to betray your friends is your strong moral code."

I blinked. "I wouldn't betray you, Hattie."

"You can say that because you know I have a heart of gold. But we both know that if I didn't, you would be willing to make the tough choice."

"No, I?—"

Hattie grinned and put her arm around my shoulder. "Baby cakes, your moral code is one of the reasons I love you. I'm not worried. I'm a fantastic human being, and if I ever became a serial killer, I'd count on you to get me off the streets. Every gal needs a friend who will hold them accountable." She kissed my cheek. "Speaking of killers, let's go find one, shall we?"

Without waiting for me, she crawled away, her fuchsia hair like a beacon of joy in the dim light of the tavern. King Tut pushed his head out from the neck of my sweatshirt and growled, a low, aggressive sound that said exactly how amused he was by being stuffed in my jacket.

I'd stolen him from my nasty neighbor to save him. Was that a betrayal of my neighbor and my moral fortitude, or heroic to my cat? Maybe both.

I looked down at my cat. "You're fine with it, right?"

He fastened his yellow gaze on me, then snuck a paw out and tapped my chin with it. I was calling that a love pat, even though there had been a little bit of claw.

Lucy suddenly knelt beside me. "Griselda's coming this way," she whispered. "Devlin's heading into the back, to the restroom I'm guessing."

Crud. Men were so inconvenient.

We both froze as we saw Griselda walk past the end of the aisle. All he had to do was turn his head, and he'd see me and Lucy on the floor.

He was great at his job. We had only a split second before his subconscious would register we were there.