Amaya said something soft in Spanish.

“Kate’s fans, they are all curious,” Alejandro said with pride. “They call you Mystery Girl. But we have not told anyone anything to put you in danger. Still, they come, hoping to see you again. More and more, all the time. Amaya read about it in the fan feeds.”

“Huh.”

Pilar eyed Loup. “Job offer?”

“Nah. They’d have contacted us by now, don’t you think?”

Alejandro conferred with Amaya in Spanish. “No one knows who you are.” He smiled. “What you are.”

“Sure, they do,” Loup said. “At least their head of security does. What was the guy’s name, Pilar? Clive’s friend?”

“Jones,” Pilar said absently, watching Amaya replay the footage. “Bill Jones. But why’s he gonna tell them? He’s got his own business; he’s not gonna want to cut guys on his payroll.” She fished out her Dataphone. “Amaya, can you send me that link?” She mimed an exchange. “I’ll send it to Magnus in the morning. Maybe it’s a lead worth following.”

“You’re such a groupie,” Loup said, amused.

“Hey.” Pilar gave her a look. “We had a job that actually was babysitting and nearly got killed. And I liked Vincenzo Picco, but I’m not crazy about the whole Mafia wedding connection. Right now, spitting fans are looking pretty good.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Can we hear about the shooting and almost getting killed now?” Nacio asked hopefully.

“Sure.”

A week later, they heard from Magnus.

It was in the late afternoon of another idyllic day. Loup went for one of her long runs along the shoreline while Pilar lounged in the sun and read her magazines. She slowed to a reluctant jog as she neared the beach, watching a tall, well-built tourist flirt with Pilar, then picked her way across the sand.

Pilar brightened. “Hey, baby!”

“Hey, yourself.”

“This is your friend?” the tourist inquired. He pointed. “Perhaps she would like to meet my friend, and we could all be friends together.”

“I don’t think so.” Pilar smiled sweetly at him. “She’s my girlfriend.”

He flushed. “You said—”

“You asked if I had a boyfriend, and I said no. It’s not my fault you made the wrong assumption.”

He went away, grumbling good-naturedly.

Loup dropped onto the sand. “One day you’re gonna do that to the wrong guy, and he’s gonna haul off and belt you.”

“Well, you’ll just have to belt him back.”

“How come I have to do the belting when you’re the one doing the flirting?”

“Because you’re so very good at it, baby. Anyway, it’s good for them. It reminds them not to make assumptions.” Pilar eyed her. “How far did you run? You’ve got this trickle of sweat running down your throat that’s driving me a little crazy.”

“Pretty far. I had to go a long way to get out of sight. You know, there are some cute places for sale along the bays.”

Pilar blinked. “You want to buy a house?”

“Not the way things are now, but maybe someday. If I didn’t have to pretend anymore.” Loup rolled onto her stomach and propped her head on her hands. “I mean, we’re always going to want to come back, right? And we have to have someplace to call home in between jobs.” She paused. “And no, I’m not giving up on Santa Olivia. But I kind of think whatever happens, it’s never going to be home in the same way.”

“No, I know.” She gave her a wondering look. “You and me with a house?”

Loup smiled. “People live in houses, Pilar. You played house with Rory Salamanca for a year.”

“Oh, hush.” She brushed caked sand off Loup’s arm. “That’s exactly what it was, too. His horrible mother took care of everything. This just seems so grown-up.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“This thinking, I like. Do you really think it would be totally safe someday? That you wouldn’t have to pretend anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Loup said honestly. “But God, I hope so.”

Pilar glanced around. “I do like it here. I like it a lot. It feels good, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I like that you have family here.” Her voice softened. “They’d love for you to be more than just a visitor.”

“You too.”

“A house.” Pilar cocked her head. “Could we get one of those cute little motor scooters, too?”

“Yeah, sure.” Loup laughed. “And you can ride it to the market with your shopping bag over the handles and your big movie-star sunglasses and look all cool and sexy, okay?”

Pilar smiled happily. “Okay!”

They went back to the hotel to shower and get ready for dinner.

“Hey!” Pilar waved her Dataphone as Loup emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “News.”

“Miguel?”

She made a face. “Not Miguel, no. Magnus. He followed up on the Kate lead. Turns out I was right. The band’s been dying to find you. They fired that Jones guy for stonewalling them.”

“No kidding?”

“Nope.” Pilar looked smug. “So Global’s in negotiation to take over their contract. And they want us as part of the deal. Well, you—but enough that they’ll take me, too. Magnus is trying to set up an interview for next week.”

Loup toweled her hair. “You want this one, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. Do you hate the idea?”

“Only the spitting.”

“It’s not about that.” Pilar shook her head. “I read a bunch of stuff on the fan feeds. It’s about Kate having this, whaddya call it? This mystique. About having the coolest security guard in the business. That’s you, baby.”

“Big money?” Loup asked.

“Uh-huh.” Pilar tugged experimentally on the edge of her towel. “House money, maybe.” She glanced upward, her face soft and vulnerable. “You’re serious? Serious, serious? You and me and a house?”

“Pilar.” Loup straddled her lap, heedless of her falling towel. She cupped Pilar’s face in her hands, gazing intently into her hazel eyes. “I love you, okay? When the fuck have I ever not been serious with you?”

“Umm… never?”

She kissed her. “That’s exactly right.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

A week later, they were in London.

The interview took place in the band’s hotel suite. On the flight to London, Pilar prepared for it by alternately reading celebrity tabloids, fan feeds, and Global’s official dossier. Loup prepared for it by listening to Pilar.

“Ooh, check it out. Charlie’s got a thing for schoolgirls. There’s a piece in the dossier about how they hushed up a story in Japan about him visiting a place where all the hookers dress like schoolgirls.”

“Ew. Which one’s Charlie again?”

“The bass player.” Pilar studied his photo. “He looks really sweet. You’d never know he was a pervert.”

“Nice. You think their fans would care?”

“I think their fans would put on schoolgirl costumes if they knew.” Pilar glanced over. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just wondering if you’re getting ideas.”

“Loup!”

She laughed. “Well, you’re acting pretty fangirly.”

“Okay, okay.” Pilar rolled her eyes. “I’m excited, that’s all. Anyway, you don’t have anything to worry about. There’s you and not-you, and believe me, after you, not-you just isn’t the same.”

“That almost made sense.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She turned serious. “Loup, don’t tease me about cheating on you, okay? Because I still feel like shit about it. I can still picture the look on your face the day you found out about Rory and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

“I’m sorry,” Loup said softly. “I do understand why you did it, you know. And it wasn’t all your fault. I drove you to it.”

“I know.” Pilar raked a restless hand through her hair. “But it was a shitty, cowardly thing to do. I felt sick about it then, and I still do.” She smiled wryly. “I actually threw up the first time I slept with Rory.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Not on him or anything,” she added hastily. “Afterward in the bathroom. He never knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Loup repeated. “I didn’t mean to be mean.”

“You weren’t.” Pilar glanced at the screen of her Dataphone. “I’m acting like an idiot. I deserve to be teased. But I’m asking you not to, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t, I promise.”

“Thanks, baby.”

Magnus and Sabine met them in London. Over dinner, Magnus filled them in on the details of the arrangement.

“There’s good news and bad news,” he said philosophically. “The bad news is that they’ve had a change of heart and rehired Bill Jones’ outfit. They’re leaving in ten days for a monthlong tour of Australia and Japan, and Jones’ team already has the details down. I suspect firing him was all a ploy. The good news is that they still want you on the tour.”

“How bad?” Loup asked.

Magnus smiled smoothly. “Quite badly. They didn’t blink at two hundred thousand plus expenses.”

“Not bad.” Loup attempted to calculate in her head. “So our cut would be—”

“Twenty-five thousand apiece,” Sabine said impatiently.

“Not bad for a month’s work,” Pilar said. “Hey, Magnus? This is all a big PR stunt, right?”

“Fair to say, yes.”