Page 48 of Tamed Enemy
“It’s okay, Nut,” I say. “I don’t blame you.”
“What are we going to do to make things right?”
We. Despite everything, my shoulders start to relax.
Megan says, “We could set up a three-card monte table on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. There are plenty of tourists stupid enough to drop a few twenties. I’ll let you keep the whole haul.”
I can’t help myself. I laugh.
“Or maybe we can run a poker game at the Four Seasons,” Megan says. “The last time I was there, I made friends with some waiters on the loading dock. One of them can sneak us into a room.”
“Well,thatwould guarantee neither of us is ever allowed past the lobby again,” I say, without any heat.
“I’ve always wanted to do a lottery fraud! How hard can it be to buy off the guys who choose the numbers?”
“For you?” I ask. “Not hard at all. You’re the best who’s ever played the game.”
“Aw, shucks,” she says in a fake drawl. Then, “Seriously, Cole. I’m sorry. This never should have happened to you.”
I make a noise that sounds like a shrug.
“And when you’re ready to go after the son-of-a-bitch who released that indictment, I’ll help you can his ass.”
They’re brave words, coming from a woman who is never certain where her next meal is coming from. “Thank you,” I say.
“So what do you think about my coming over? I can stay in one of your guest rooms for a couple of weeks. Keep an eye on that Finnish Lapphund you keep in the gardening shed.”
“Nilsson is Swedish.” As she knows very well. “And he’s my chief of staff, not my gardener. And no.” Despite my sister doing her best to cheer me out of my despair, there is no way in hell I’m letting her past the gate. The journalists camped outside would have a field day if they discovered one hundredth of the cons Megan has pulled.
“One week?” she asks.
“No.”
“Tonight?”
“No, Megan.”
“Thank God,” she says, with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “If you’d given in, I would have known they really broke you.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Really?”
“Thanks for calling, Nutmeg.”
“You called me.”
“Thanks for reaching out.”
“Is Kate there?” Megan asks, surprising me.
“She’s upstairs. Asleep.”
“Then you should go upstairs too. Wake her up. Don’t ride this out alone.”
Megan is my little sister. She’s a thief and a con artist and a wild force of chaos. And just this once, she’s right.
“Goodnight, Nutmeg.”
