At the mention of the prostitution ring, Killian’s gut turned to ice. He set down his fork and took a sip of water, hoping the glass didn’t shake noticeably in his hand. When they continued on, making disparaging remarks about other sports—in a good-natured way—he let go of a shaky breath and tried another bite of his chicken.
It went down like glass shards.
“Whatever happened with that whole thing?” Michael asked.
Killian kept his eyes on his plate, fighting in his mind for a way to change the subject that sounded better than “How about that local sports team?” Since, you know, they were the local sports team.
“That was years ago,” Trey said, shrugging. “God, I was probably only a few years into the league when they busted that up.”
“We all were,” Michael said. “Too young to be caught up in that shit.”
Killian managed to swallow a dry laugh.
“I think they cut a deal with the ring’s madam,” Josiah said, scratching at his jaw in thought. “Most of the women just disappeared. Vaporized. We’d see some of them, remember? We knew their call names, or whatever they used when they were working. I haven’t seen any of them around recently, so my guess is they beat a hasty retreat.”
“Probably found a new type of clientele to utilize,” was Trey’s guess. “Stock brokers or surgeons or something. My guess is it’s same trick, different city.”
Different city was right, Killian though. New trick.
Real estate, this time. And single motherhood.
“Hey, you okay little man?” Michael thumped him on the back once. Killian coughed in response. “You’re looking pale.”
“I’m good,” he managed to choke out. “But I think you just made me swallow my fork.”
Michael laughed at that, and they moved on to a new topic, one he wasn’t capable of following. All he could think of was Charlie, and exactly why he needed to get a better grip on his . . . whatever with the freckled journalist.
Chapter Eighteen
Aileen sat in her car, making notes. While the rest of the spectators and journalists slowly exited, she held back. If Sybil was going to do its favorite cough-and-die trick, Aileen would prefer it be in private, with as few witnesses as possible. So under the guise of making notes and being too busy talking on her phone—to nobody—she sat with the car off and waited, doodling in her notepad, drawing footballs and—sadly—the number seven over and over again. As soon as most people had cleared out of the parking lot, she’d give it a go.
A knock on her window had her shrieking and throwing up her hands. The pen and pad scattered to the floorboards and her elbow crashed into the horn, making it honk once. People turned to stare as she did her best to right herself.
So much for going unnoticed.
She looked out the window and found Cassandra Wainwright smiling and waving for her to roll down the window. Since the window didn’t actually do that, she opened the door instead. “Hey.”
“Hi.” With a bubbly smile, Cassie waved in the car. “Sorry about that, I didn’t realize you were concentrating so hard. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I have a highly developed startle reflex,” Aileen joked, picking up the pen and pad. “What’s up?”
“I got ditched for lunch. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”
She blinked. “Um, sure. Yeah, that’d be great. Let me just . . .” She stared at the key in the ignition, then back at Cassie. “Where to?”
“Come with me. I’ll drive, then drop you back off.” Cassie hooked an arm through Aileen’s, then pulled until Aileen stood. “Thank you. You’ve saved me. I’m still desperate for female companionship. My sisters are great, but they’re teenagers. And my dad is . . . well, my dad.” She grinned. “I have my best girlfriend back home, but there’s something to be said for sharing a brownie in the flesh with another female, you know?”
Aileen didn’t, actually. Most of her friends were more acquaintances, or males she worked with. But she nodded as if everything Cassie said were old news.
“Great. There’s a deli not too far from here, and a bakery beyond that with the most awesome pastries.”
Mentally blessing her decision to wear loose cargo pants that morning, she settled into the SUV Cassie pointed at and reveled in the idea of getting into a car without having to do a prayer and virginal sacrifice to get it started.
Cassie chatted the entire way to the deli, barely pausing for breath. It was nice, since that meant Aileen simply got to absorb the idea of female companionship. It was new and took some getting used to. The cadence of Cassie’s conversation was vastly different than that of a man’s. But after awhile, she got into the rhythm and was able to contribute to the conversation more than just I’m listening sounds.