“What?” I get to my feet, not sure what he’s talking about.

“It’s not going to cost you a penny. It’s a perk.”

“A perk? A perk for what?”

“Anybody who works for Bourbon Street Boys Security gets a home security system as part of the deal.”

“Wow. That’s . . . generous. I guess.” I don’t remember telling anyone I was going to work for them, although I guess I did argue pretty forcefully in favor of my qualifications. Why in the heck did I do that?

“Nope, not generous. Smart. In our line of work, you can never be too careful.”

My face falls. “That’s really not the best way to sell me on the idea of working with you guys, you know.”

He scratches his head. “Probably not. But hey, taking pictures? That’s nothing. It’s practically no risk. None of the people we’re dealing with will ever even see you. You’ll be like the invisible man.”

“Invisible man . . .” I’m thinking about how much risk there might be for the invisible man when Thibault interrupts my thoughts.

“The job pays three hundred bucks an hour, plus expenses. Most jobs have a minimum of five hours of surveillance, give or take, and we do an average of five jobs a month. At least that’s what Lucky tells me.”

My eyeballs almost fall out of my head. I’m still stuck on the first part of his explanation. Surely I’ve heard that pay rate wrong. “Say what?”

He grins. “Three hundred bucks plus expenses.”

“And I’m supposed to believe there’s no risk?” My blood pressure is spiking. I could really use three hundred bucks an hour, even if it’s just one hour a month, but not if I’m going to get killed doing it.

“Not for the surveillance team. But their role is critical. Without them, we’re going into situations blind and deaf. We charge a lot when surveillance is part of the job.” He starts walking toward the door. “You should come see the equipment we have. See if you need to order anything else.”

“Order? What do you mean?”

“If you’re going to be doing the job, you need the right equipment, right?”

“I have cameras.”

“Ozzie wants all the equipment to be owned by the company, so if he doesn’t already have what you need, he’ll buy it.”

I stand at the front door as Thibault goes down the steps toward his SUV. “Is he expecting me to call him or something?”

“Maybe.” Thibault opens up his back door and pulls out a big case. A second one follows in his other hand. He puts them on the ground and then reaches inside the car once more, taking out a large cardboard box.

I run out to help him.

“What’s all this?” I ask, hefting one of the very heavy duffle bags over my shoulder.

“The stuff I need to install your system.”

“But I haven’t even agreed to take the job yet.”

“You will. Trust me. No one says no to Ozzie.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A text makes my phone beep. I’m standing at the alarm panel near my front door, trying to remember all the instructions Thibault gave me an hour ago. If someone comes in the door and insists I turn off the alarm so he can rob or murder me, I’m supposed to type in what four numbers?

Ozzie: Mind if I stop by around seven?

I guess he plans to make me that offer I can’t refuse tonight. I’ve already decided, though. I’m not going to work with them. I’m not a spy girl; I’m just a photographer with a special talent for catching a moment on film. Plus I’m not all that excited about being in danger. One night of being followed and sleeping in a warehouse is enough for me.

Me: If u want. I don’t want u to waste ur time though.

Ozzie: See you at 7.

He didn’t take the hint. Sigh. I look around the room and decide if he’s going to come over, I might as well pick up a few things. Like the socks I left on the floor by my desk, for one. I should probably also get a bottle of wine. Not that we’re going to wine and dine or whatever, but it would be rude not to have beverages, right? I walk quickly to the door, slide my feet into my sandals, and grab my purse from the floor in the foyer.

The door beeps, reminding me I have to set the alarm. I close the door again and stare at the keypad. Thibault used his own birthday as my code so I wouldn’t forget either one. It’s only a week away, he said.

I push in the four numbers I think I remember and leave the house, locking the door behind me. Waiting a few seconds, I hear nothing, so I assume it’s safe to leave.

The corner store doesn’t have the best wine selection in the world, but it’s all I have time for. The big store will be too busy to allow me to get me in and out in less than fifteen minutes.

I start with one bottle of merlot and then decide I should buy two, just in case. Just in case what? I have no idea. Just in case he brings a friend, maybe. Not that I expect him to stay for two bottles. That would suggest I’m thinking about getting tipsy and possibly a little handsy. And I’m not doing that, of course. No way. Just the idea makes me feel antsy in a sexy kind of way.

I pull my car into the garage and enter the house through the inside door. The alarm starts beeping immediately. I know I have a few seconds to turn it off, but does that stop me from panicking? No. I feel like I’ve broken and entered my own home.

“What was that code?” I mumble, staring at the keypad. The loud beeping is too distracting. I can’t remember! I yank my phone out of my purse, pressing on the calendar button. “When is your birthday, Thibault?!” I stare at the days of the week, but I can’t recall if it’s on Saturday or Sunday. I take a wild guess and press in the numbers.

Sirens start going off.

“Dammit!”

Felix comes running around the corner, barking his head off. Better late than never, I guess.

A voice comes out over a loudspeaker somewhere. “BSB Security. Please enter your pass code.”

“I don’t remember my pass code!” I yell.

My phone rings.

“Hello!” I’m yelling to be heard over the sirens.

“Hello, this is Amy from Bourbon Street Boys Security Home Monitoring Service. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is May. I’m May. I’m the owner of this house.” I press in a few more buttons on the keypad, trying the other date, but nothing happens. My eardrums are aching from the sirens and Felix’s freak-out.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I just can’t remember the stupid code to put in this thing, dammit!”

“Do you remember your secret password to tell me over the phone?”

My mind races. Thibault told me not to use the dog’s name. Too easy to guess, he said. A former pet was okay and a friend’s name was fine too. A Disney character was a popular choice. Which one did I choose? I thought of so many options when he was here, but I can’t remember which one I finally settled on . . .

“Sahara!” I shout. “Sahara is the secret code!”

“Great. I’m going to shut the siren off and cancel the call that went out to law enforcement.”

The siren goes silent and I lean on the wall for support.

“Is there anything else you need?” Amy asks.

“Yes. A shot of tequila.”

She laughs. “Maybe some tea might be a better choice.”

“If you say so. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Have a great night.”

“You too. Bye.” I hang up and slide my phone into my purse before bending over to get Felix and calm him down. He’s vibrating with energy.