Coming Soon. Jo Leigh

away today, not even for lunch, which meant she’d missed her opportunity to sneak down to Exhibit A, the nightclub in Hush’s basement, and watch the filming. But the movie company would be here for the rest of the month. In fact tonight her friends Carlane, an assistant concierge at the Helmsley and Jenna, a concierge at the Algonquin, were coming to meet her for dinner, followed by drinks at Erotique, the Hush bar.

      It wasn’t kosher to spend much time there, at least for her, but they were dying to see Danny Austen, the star of the film. In all likelihood they’d get their chance. He was something of a lush and a major flirt, but he was sweet and he hadn’t been too, too demanding.

      A ruckus at the restaurant had her leaning over her desk to see, but it was only the paparazzi. Or one paparazzo. Gerry Geiger. Trying yet again to gain access to the hotel. Piper had hired extra security to deal with the photographers and for the most part it had gone well. Except for Gerry. He was the trickiest son-of-a-gun of them all. The new security guys were on the spot, and with a minimum of fuss, things were back to normal. Well, as normal as Hush hotel ever got.

      Back online she grinned when she read a plea from the Vegas Hard Rock Hotel concierge, hoping someone knew how to get six bat hearts. Bat hearts had to be available somewhere, and she was going to do her best to find them. Find them first.

      It was exactly the type of game she liked best. When most people thought of a concierge, they thought of service. But for Mia, it was all about the hunt. The more impossible the request, the more she was in her element.

      She sighed happily as she set to the task. It was yet another day in paradise.

      DETECTIVE BAX MILLIGAN was in hell.

      Not just because his regular partner was in the hospital with a broken pelvis, but the mook had hurt himself washing his car, and he’d managed to do it before he’d done any of the paperwork on the Fitzgerald murder.

      Bax took another sip of coffee, sighed miserably, then got back to it. Page after page of cop speak about a case that wasn’t getting solved anytime soon. Damn it to hell, too many cases weren’t getting solved and that was the only part of the damn job he liked.

      He kept writing words no regular human would ever say, careful not to miss a comma because nowadays it was more about procedure and protocol than catching the bad guys.

      Well, he’d had it. Three months from now, marked with bold Xs on his desk calendar, he was outta here. He was moving to Colorado—Boulder to be precise. At the ripe old age of thirty-six, he was going back to school to finish his master’s, and maybe get his Ph. D. The long-term plan was to teach and write, the emphasis on writing. He’d find himself a nice little college and talk about books, all kinds, read until he couldn’t turn another page. In Boulder, he’d have friends who didn’t give him shit about his books. Who didn’t think he was a pussy for talking about Dickens. Three more months filled with death and gangs and god-damned paperwork.

      He’d even lined up a part-time job at the university library. Not a lot of money, but he’d been socking away his pennies for a hell of a long time, just waiting.

      He could barely remember the impetus that had led him to join the NYPD. Probably reading too many Robert B. Parker novels. As he turned to the next page and began filling in the little boxes, he had to stop himself from reciting the old litany of his failures: Failure to recognize from the start that being a cop, let alone a homicide detective, was not for him. Failure to see that New York, which he’d loved the moment he’d arrived, had fallen from grace as he’d come to truly know the city. Failure to get the hell out at the first signs of disillusion.

      He lifted his mug, but the coffee was gone. Seeking any escape he could from the forms on his desk, he headed to the coffeepot, past the rows of desks and all the chatter, past the men who loved the job, or at least tolerated the bullshit better. If Miguel had been here, at least he could have bitched to someone, but Miguel was a klutz and therefore out of commission basking in the attention of his wife and two kids.

      Paula from vice was in the break room looking sharp as always. She was a tough kid, ambitious, and she’d never made any bones about the fact that she didn’t give a damn about his predilection for books. Truthfully, he doubted she would have cared if his passion had been spiders or balloon animals. All Paula was interested in was a good time with no strings attached. Unfortunately, along with his deepening malaise about the job, he’d lost his old spark with women. Not that he didn’t like them, he just wanted someone who could talk to him after. And not, for God’s sake, about the job.

      As for meeting other women, civilians, he always meant to get on top of that. Go to some lectures or book signings. But he never knew when he was going to get a call, and when he did finally make it home, he’d bury himself in a book, or, as was happening a lot lately, sleep.

      “Bax, baby. How’s it hangin’?”

      “It’s hangin’ just fine.”

      She poured herself a cup of joe, then put the pot back on the burner. “I heard about what happened to Miguel. Bad luck.”

      “Clumsiness,” he said, getting the pot back out to pour himself a cup.

      “So, who you gonna partner with?” She leaned against one of the lockers, making sure her impressive breasts were given their due.

      “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

      “That’s right. You’re leaving soon. Shame.”

      “Why a shame?”

      Her red lips curled in a smile that had the subtlety of a wrecking ball. “Ah, come on, Bax. You know I’ve always thought you were a hell of a cop.”

      “Of course you have,” he said, not believing her for a second. Not that he wasn’t a good cop—he’d never compromised on the job no matter what. He wouldn’t start now, either. He might be leaving the force, but he’d go out with pride.

      “Not to mention you’ve got the best damn ass in the precinct.”

      He sipped the coffee, surprised that it tasted pretty good. “My ass and I thank you for the kind words. But now we have to go back to our desk and get to work.”

      She sighed dramatically. “It just breaks my poor heart. Such a fine-looking man. Such a waste.”

      “You could have any man you wanted, and you know it.”

      “Not any man.” The lips turned to a pout. “Not you.”

      “You’re not missing a thing,” he said, meaning it. “Not a thing.”

      IT WAS JUST PAST TWO in the morning and Danny Austen was a no-show.

      Jenna, Carlane and Mia had been hiding in the far corner at the big black circular bar at Erotique for over an hour sipping watermelon martinis and checking the door every five seconds. Before Erotique, they’d had a long, lingering dinner at Amuse Bouche, then they’d gone outside and hung out by the movie trailers. No luck finding Danny Austen anywhere.

      “Can’t you find out what he’s doing?” Carlane asked. “Call room service. Maybe he’s upstairs.”

      “We didn’t see him go by and that’s hard to miss with all the uproar he causes. He’s probably working,” Mia said. “These movie people have such bizarre hours.”

      “I don’t want to go home without meeting him.” Jenna checked the door again. “I don’t have another night off until next week.”

      “The movie’s not leaving any time soon,” Mia said. “We’ll catch him later.”

      “You don’t get it.” Jenna, who was in her early forties and one of the best concierges in the business, gave her a look. “I need to meet him now so he has time to fall completely in love with me before the shoot is over. Jeez.”

      “Oh, that’s right. Sorry.” Mia grinned. “I have to say, he’s so much better-looking in person. So tall. And he’s got these really wide shoulders and those little