Thibault smiles. “Don’t apologize. He got what he had coming to him. Next time he’ll think twice about lifting a stick to you.”

“I’m hoping there won’t be a next time.”

“Oh, there will be—you can trust me on that.” He walks away to climb the stairs.

What the hell? He’s going to try to hit me again? I’m going to need my Taser back. I wonder if the cartridges are a legitimate business expense. I don’t think I should have to pay out of my paycheck for protection against nutty colleagues.

Ozzie and I are left on the ground floor together, standing a few feet apart.

“I guess this is where I welcome you to Bourbon Street Boys and tell you where to hang your coat.”

I laugh a little. “And I think this is where I’m supposed to say I’m glad to be here and can’t wait to get started.”

He smiles. “How about we start over and do this thing the right way this time?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He points to the exercise machines. “You can hang your coat anywhere over there you can find a hook. Welcome to Bourbon Street Boys. Follow me. We have a meeting in five.”

I walk behind him, my face on fire. He’s being nice, and he’s not mad I tazed his employee. Maybe today won’t suck after all.

“I’m really glad to be here. Can’t wait to get started.”

He chuckles but says nothing in response. We climb the stairs together and enter the room full of ninja swords.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Everyone has a spot around the table where we had soup the other night. There are a few folders in front of each person and a pitcher with ice water in the center of it all. My glass is already full, courtesy of Dev.

“Peace offering,” he says, placing it in front of me and giving me a wink.

“Peace offering accepted,” I say, taking a sip and winking back. My stress level drops down a few notches. Maybe he’s not going to hold a grudge against me after all.

“Okay, so let’s take a look at the Harley file,” Ozzie says, turning the cover back on the folder in front of him.

I open my copy and see a memo there. A quick scan of the paper tells me that the New Orleans Police Department has retained these consultants—the Bourbon Street Boys Security firm—to help them infiltrate a local gang and try to gather data that might lead to some arrests. The operation is termed the Harley Op because that was Ozzie’s nickname when he wore the beard and leather.

I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling. That beard was so awful. I steal a quick glance at him to see if I can picture him wearing it again, but I can’t. He’s too cute now to be that ugly man who saved my life last week.

“As you all know, due to unforeseen circumstances”—everyone but Ozzie looks at me—“we had to take me out of the picture. Thibault and I were talking about pulling out entirely, but we decided that might not need to happen.” He looks up. “If we can save this project, I’d like to do that. We have a lot invested.”

I make a mental note to ask someone exactly how it was that I screwed things up. Just by me being in that bar everything went south? I doubt it. It was probably that beard. Even criminals know something that ugly can’t be right.

Lucky speaks up. “We’ve got nobody on the inside, though. How are we going to get any info at all?”

Ozzie closes the folder and looks up at me, putting his hands down flat on the table in front of him. “I was hoping we could try again to gather some info via surveillance. I know the detectives on the case tried before, but I think we should budget some of our own work in on this one.”

Oh, poo. I think this is where I come in. Is this going to be my penance for screwing up his silly beard costume? I squirm in my chair, with all the attention on me.

“It’s possible,” Lucky says. “What’d you have in mind?”

“The night you were supposed to show up and be my backup,”—Ozzie glares at Dev—“I learned the location of one of their big runners. It’s over off Burgundy. I swung by this weekend. It has possibilities.”

“You thinking stills or video?” Thibault asks.

“Both. And maybe some ears too. We’ll see. I need Toni’s opinion.”

She nods. “You got it. When?”

“You and Bo Peep can head over there today if you can manage it.” He’s looking at Toni, not me.

I raise my hand.

Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy.

“You have something you want to add?” Ozzie asks.

“Actually, I have a question. And feel free to call me May, by the way.” I smile. “I’m just wondering, if I were to go with Toni today, what exactly would we be doing?” I draw an invisible letter M on the table in front of me, trying to act as cool as possible. If it requires that I carry a weapon, I’m not doing this thing he’s talking about, whatever it is.

“Just a quick drive-by,” Toni says. “It’s no big deal. It’s just to get the lay of the land, see what kind of property it is, best places to set up to watch things going down, stuff like that.”

“And by going down, you mean . . .?” I draw an invisible A and a Y on the tabletop to complete my little distraction. I will not freak out. I will not let my face burn bright red.

She shrugs. “Whatever. If they have people stopping by, business going on, birthday parties—whatever.”

I nod, wondering if she’s purposely glossing over the more dangerous situations or if there just aren’t any. It sounds innocent enough. Driving by. What would that take? Five seconds?

“I can probably manage that,” I say, nodding with confidence.

Ozzie slides a second folder out from under the first. “Good. Moving on. We got a new project, this one from a private party. It’s the Blue Marine Operation folder there in front of you. Lucky, I’m going to put you on it for now. Let me know if we need to hire outsiders.”

“Outsiders?” I ask.

“People who have skills we don’t,” Thibault explains.

“Like what?”

“Mainly computer experts,” Lucky says. “I can manage the financials, but when it comes to . . . getting inside things . . .”—he wiggles his eyebrows—“I’m still at basic level.”

I nod. My sister is a computer guru, but she’s so busy at work, she never has time for side jobs. She’s always threatening to quit and go freelance, but I know she never will because she’s too afraid of not making enough money to support the kids. Her ex can’t always be counted on for his part of the bills. Not because he’s not in town, but because he’s a lowlife asshole who’d rather spend the money on his new girlfriend than his old ex wife and kids.

“What’s the job?” Dev asks.

“Corporate embezzlement. Marine accessories company. Not a lot of money involved from the initial look of things, but you never know.”

They all nod, like there’s some inside story that goes with that comment.

“Anything else?” Thibault asks, pushing out his chair.

“Just Bo Peep. You all know who she is. She’s on a ninety-day probationary period, so make sure you do what you can as soon as possible to get her up to speed.”

“I’ll show her the equipment,” Toni says, nodding at me.

I nod back, leaving the Bo Peep comment on the table for later. I think I like May “the Meatball” Wexler better. It’s less insulting. Kind of.

Everyone stands. I quickly follow suit.

Ozzie speaks again. “May, stay behind for a minute.”

“Okay. Sure thing.” No, I’m not freaking out about being alone with him up here while everyone else leaves and goes downstairs.

I act like it’s critically important that my folders are lined up on all four sides while the team files out. Thibault is the last one to leave, and he closes the kitchen door behind him.

Ozzie clears his throat, so I look up.