Evie Ever After. Beth Ciotta

of console gadgets that looked like something out of a James Bond car. “It’s just that, this looks really expensive.”

      He shrugged as if to say not so much, which probably meant a small fortune. Again I wondered who he’d scammed in the past, how much he’d scored, and if he’d invested the money or stashed it in foreign bank accounts. He had to be rolling in dough because he lived and traveled in style. Not to mention, he’d bought a flipping Scottish Barony. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much that had cost.

      I felt bad for envying his wealth. Mostly because he hadn’t earned it honestly. Then again, for all I knew, maybe he’d inherited a fortune from his family…although they hadn’t earned an honest living, either.

      Crimany.

      Arch backed out of my apartment complex’s parking lot and swung on to Brigantine Boulevard. “Where am I going?”

      “Fannie’s Flowers. It’s on Baltic and—”

      “I know where it is and if I didnae…” He tapped one of the fancy gadgets.

      I buckled up and squinted at the screen. “Is that one of those GPS thingees?”

      He shoved on his own dark sunglasses and smiled. My vocabulary was a constant source of amusement to the man. “It’s a navigation system with a few perks.”

      He listed the perks and my eyes glazed over. I’d never been good with anything technical. I didn’t even know how to text with my cell phone.

      “What’s going on with your mate Jayne?” he asked as he zipped over the bridge leading to the mainland.

      His timing was great. Instead of looking at the upcoming casinos, I shifted and focused on him. In a long-winded ramble, I shared Nic’s concerns about Jayne and Madame Helene, including some background history on the area’s up-and-coming psychic. “Do you think we’re overreacting?”

      “Last year Chameleon took down a fortune-teller who fleeced marks out of hundreds of thousands of dollars by convincing them that the money—whether a result of investments or inheritance—was evil. She conned some of them into believing that the ‘tainted’ money was the cause of their personal or professional trials, you know?”

      “Wow.”

      “Others were warned of impending doom should they not allow her to perform a ritual cleansing. The ritual, of course, involved the mark handing over the money.” He glanced over. “Follow?”

      “Unfortunately.” I’d been reading up on various short and long cons. I thought I’d read it all. Boy, was I wrong.

      “One woman alone handed over three-hundred grand. It all started with a ten-dollar tarot card reading. Using tricks of the trade, the fortune-teller gave a semi-accurate reading. The mark was hooked and started attending regular readings.”

      My arms prickled with goose bumps. “Sounds eerily familiar.”

      “The more the mark revealed aboot her life, the deeper the grifter’s hooks. By earning her trust and manipulating her fears, over time the so-called fortune-teller was able to con the woman oot of a hefty inheritance. So, no,” Arch said. “I dinnae think you’re overreacting.”

      I shook my head. “Why does it seem like everyone in my life is being scammed in some way or another?”

      “Because grifting is easier and more lucrative than ever, Sunshine.”

      A troubling statement on several levels.

      “Dinnae worry aboot Madame Helene, love. I’ll look into it. Just do what you have to do for your mate now and then we’ll proceed, yeah?”

      And just like that I felt better. Arch had an amazing knack of staying calm no matter the situation, a quality that impressed and irked me at the same time. Just now I appreciated his nonchalance. By the time he parked alongside Fannie’s Flowers, I was even-keeled and ready to tackle Jayne’s gig. Whatever it was. How bad could it be?

      Arch slid his glasses on top of his head, revealing those hypnotic eyes. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

      “No, that’s okay. I just have to run in and pick up the costume and assignment.” I scrunched my brow. “I think. I mean, I’ve never done one of these things.”

      “Singing telegram, yeah?”

      “Yeah.”

      “With your background, lass, how hard could it be?”

      “That’s what I’m thinking. I just hope I don’t have to wear anything too skimpy. I don’t do sexy well.”

      “Sure you do.”

      Okay, that was sweet. That was…hot. “I’m hoping for a nerd or a Dame Edna or a dancing box of chocolates. You know, something goofy.”

      He leaned in, green eyes twinkling with mischief and…uh-oh. I knew that look. He winked. “I’m hoping for a belly dancer.”

      My inner thighs tingled and racy thoughts undulated through my brain. “Time’s ticking,” I squeaked while grappling for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

      “I’ll be right here,” he said, stealing a kiss before I stole away. “Thinking aboot what I’m going to do to you later. Naked.”

      Zing. Zap.

      I thought about the costumes in my closet and grinned. “How do you feel about French maids?”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      NIC HADN’T BEEN KIDDING when she said Fannie’s Flowers was in a snit. Just my luck, or Jayne’s luck, it was the boss herself.

      A cashier showed me to a back room of the bustling store where Fannie labored over a gargantuan flower arrangement. Her work was lovely, her manner was not.

      “Great,” she snapped. “A substitute.”

      She paused and I fidgeted. She maneuvered random buds and I swallowed a lump of dread. She looked ticked and harried and I anticipated getting bounced from a job that wasn’t even mine.

      She glanced at her watch, me. “What’d you say your name is?”

      “Evie.”

      “Listen, Evie, if you screw this up—”

      “I won’t.”

      “—Jayne’s fired.”

      No pressure there.

      “I’m thinking of letting her go anyway.”

      “Please don’t.” I tucked my hair behind my ears, wet my lips. I told the truth. Sort of. “She’s been going through a rough time, but she’s coming around and—”

      “Yeah, yeah. Life’s a bitch.”

      I wondered if Fannie was always this brisk or if she was just having a bad day. I thought about my normally carefree, wacky friend and wondered if this job was worth saving. Except it did help pay the bills.

      It also funded her Madame Helene habit.

      One problem at a time, Evie.

      Right.

      Fannie jerked her head. “Follow me.”

      Instead of showing me to the door, she led me deeper into the storage room. Mostly it was filled with flowers and vases and baskets—florist stuff. But beyond a case of ribbons and cards, I spied two racks of costumes—entertainer stuff.

      “Ever done anything like this before?” Fannie asked.

      “Lots of times.” Not a bald-face lie, just a spin on the truth. No, I’d never walked into a commercial office or a private home, singing birthday or anniversary greetings, dressed as a clown or some such stuff. But I’d appeared at plenty of parties or special events dressed as a clown or some such stuff. Sometimes