And one of Coop Graham . . .

“Ladies . . .” He tapped two of the outliers on their shoulders, at the same time giving Piper the signal to close back in on Logan. “I’m getting lonely here.”

The women moved in for the bigger prize.

Logan, in the meantime, lost his balance. Whether someone pushed him or he was too drunk to stand, Piper couldn’t tell, but he staggered, then fell to the dance floor. His sunglasses flew off and crunched under one of the dancers’ feet.

A couple of his drunken bodyguards rushed in, pushing everyone who stood in their way, and knocking over two of the male guests. One of them landed on Logan, but that didn’t stop his security from trying to charge through a cluster of women who were blocking their path. Piper spun on them both. “Back off! Now!”

Miraculously, they stopped. Coop helped the male guests up, patting them on the back and inviting them to VIP for a drink. The three shark women pushed their way through the dancers, trying to return to their pop idol herring. Coop stepped in front of them, ready to pile on the charm, even though all the jostling had to be hurting him. Logan’s bodyguards began to shove into the crowd again as Piper got Logan to his feet.

“Tell your posse to back off,” she shouted into his ear, “and I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”

He gave her a drunken leer. “For real?”

“A one-way ticket to paradise.”

As he complied, she grabbed his arm, pulled him to the edge of the floor, and steered him into the kitchen.

A massive tray of bourbon brownies nested in square paper liners sat on the counter. She’d barely eaten all day, and she grabbed a couple of them, warm and oozing chocolate. “Private party,” she told Logan.

Using a combination of strength and stealth, she managed to maneuver him up the stairs and into her apartment. “Wha’s this,” he slurred.

“The Garden of Eden,” she said dryly.

He gave her a lopsided grin. His eyes without his sunglasses were small, brown, and unremarkable. “Whadda you got to drink?” he asked as he tried to prop himself against the counter that divided the living area and kitchen.

All she had were a couple of juice boxes and some beer. She kicked off her shoes and held up the two squished bourbon brownies. “I’ve got something even better.”

“Pot brownies!” He would have grabbed them both if she hadn’t sequestered one at the end of the counter for herself.

A knock sounded at her apartment door. She padded barefoot across the room. “Who is it?”

“Cops. Open up before I break down the door.”

“Very funny.” She opened the door and gave Eric a weary smile.

“I just got off duty,” he said, letting himself in. “I saw your light on.”

Something he could only have observed if he’d driven down the alley.

He sank into the couch, as if he intended to stay for a while. Logan, in the meantime, saw only a uniformed police officer and began stuffing both brownies in his mouth as fast as he could. As he supported himself on the edge of the counter, he held up his empty, chocolate-smeared hands and spoke to Eric through the globs. “Chuz bwahnee, mon. Noshin een ’em,” which she interpreted as, “Just brownies, man. Nothing in them.”

Eric looked at her. She shrugged. The door opened, and Coop came in without knocking.

He took in the scene—Office Hottie looking right at home on her couch, herself barefoot in a designer dress, and a drunken, ninety-million-dollar tween idol with chocolate on his face.

A vaguely bemused expression crossed his face. “I pay you for this, right?”

“Not enough.”

“Coop! Great to see you, man.” Eric hopped up for a backslap that had to be painful.

Coop slapped him back a little harder than necessary. “You, too.”

With all the backslapping going on, none of them noticed that Logan had slipped out into the hallway. Not until they heard a shuffle, followed by the loud voice of a teenage girl.

“You’re dead!”

And here they went again . . .

14

Eric drew his gun as Coop charged ahead into the hallway. Piper followed and peered over Coop’s shoulder to see Logan curled on the floor, eyes closed, not moving. Jada stood in her apartment doorway, hair tangled, one leg of her checked pajamas hung up on her calf, and an orange-and-blue Nerf gun at her side.

“I killed him.” She moaned.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway below, and Tony shouted up from the bottom of the stairs. “Coop! Can you get down here? Somebody called immigration. They’ve herded the staff in the kitchen to check green cards.”

Coop threw up his big hands. “Great. This is just great! Can you deal with boy singer while I take care of INS?” He shot a quick glance between Eric and Piper, then looked back at Eric. “You want to come with me? I might need a character witness.”

“Great idea,” Piper said. With a uniformed cop at his side, nobody would mess with Coop. She was doubly glad that Tony checked green cards before he hired, but that made her wonder: exactly who had called INS?

Eric holstered his gun, bent down to pick up a Nerf bullet, and looked over at Jada. “I’d better run this through ballistics.”

Jada’s eyes widened in horror. He grinned and tossed her the bullet. Piper smiled. Maybe she would sleep with him.

As Coop and Eric disappeared downstairs, Logan stirred and looked up at Piper. “You wanna go fer a ride in mah plane?”

“Sorry, flyboy, I have to work.”

“Tha’s okay.” He dropped his head back to the floor and closed his eyes.

“Ohmygod,” Jada squealed. “That’s Logan Stray!”

“If only you’d figured that out before you fired,” Piper said. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“Something woke me up, and the Pius Assassins are very resourceful.” She went to her knees on the floor beside Logan. “Ohmygod, I can’t believe it’s Logan Stray. I, like, used to love him.”

Her mother appeared in the doorway. Glossy, sleep-tousled hair tumbled around her shoulders, and the unfastened top buttons of her pajamas revealed a column of warm caramel skin. Karah, with her scrubbed face and womanly body, looked more alluring than a dozen overly made-up hair-swingers. Piper was glad Coop had gone downstairs.