“But?”

   “But the second I got the deed, I started calling around, making sure that it was legit. The lawyer who did Deirdre’s will assured me that it was and put me in touch with the resort manager.”

   “And?”

   Finn hesitated. “And fishy or not, I thought that we could go down there this weekend and check it out for ourselves. The resort manager wants to meet me, the new owner, and make sure that I’m happy with how things are being run.”

   “You mean the manager wants to suck up and kiss your ass so he can keep his cushy job.”

   “Actually, it’s a she, but something like that.” Finn flashed me a faint smile, a rare occurrence these days. “But, hey, I’m not one to turn down a little free, enthusiastic ass-kissing.”

   “Those words sound so wrong coming out of your mouth.”

   “What’s the matter, Gin? Don’t like double entendres?”

   I huffed. “Those are not double entendres, and you certainly are no James Bond.”

   Finn straightened his tie. “Of course not. I’m much better looking than that limey bloke.”

   “You certainly have a much bigger ego.”

   He winked at me. “That’s not the only thing that’s bigger on me.”

   I groaned and shook my head. “It always amazes me how the ego of Finnegan Lane cannot be contained by a mere mortal like myself. It just oozes everywhere, infecting everything it touches.”

   “Infecting it with awesomeness,” he shot right back at me.

   My eyes narrowed, but Finn grinned even wider, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the table, knowing that he’d won our verbal sparring match. In that moment, he seemed more like his old self than he had in weeks, since everything with Deirdre had gone down. I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble with more suspicions and worries right now, so I looked at the hotel brochure again.

   “You really want to drive down there this weekend?” I asked. “Don’t you need to stay here and help Mosley? I thought you guys still had some more safety-deposit boxes to sort through and make sure that the contents were returned to their rightful owners.”

   “We finished up with the last of the boxes a few nights ago.” Finn paused. “Mosley’s gone through all of them and double-checked everything. Apparently, he has a master list of every single item in every single box, right down to the last uncut diamond and gold coin.”

   “And how did he manage that? I thought the safety-deposit boxes and their contents were supposed to be completely confidential.”

   Finn shrugged. “I didn’t ask, and frankly, I don’t want to know. I’m just glad that everything’s back in its proper place. All Mosley is doing now is hiring and vetting new guards and poring over new security procedures and protocols. Believe me, he’s briefed me on those quite thoroughly.”

   Finn muttered the last few words, and his cheery expression vanished. This time, I winced for him. Anyone would have fallen for Deirdre’s deceptive charm and gotten ensnared in her elaborate plan to rob First Trust. But like it or not, Finn was the one who’d given Deirdre, Rodrigo Santos, and their crew of thieves access to the bank, even if it had been at gunpoint, and several of the bank’s guards had died as a result.

   Naturally, Stuart Mosley had come down hard on Finn. Oh, the dwarf didn’t yell or scream or threaten him. Mosley didn’t even say a single word about firing him. He just made sure that Finn was involved in every single aspect of getting the bank back up and running again, from reviewing the new security procedures, to assuring customers that their valuables were still safe, to attending the funerals of all the guards who’d died.

   Finn would have done all of those things anyway, but that last one had been particularly hard on him, since he’d worked at the bank for years and had been friendly with all the people who’d been killed. He didn’t say anything to me, but he’d come to the Pork Pit after a few of the funerals, his eyes dark, his face gray with grief, his entire being radiating sick misery. I knew that it tore him up inside that his coworkers were dead and that their families were suffering their devastating losses. Finn blamed himself for all of it, and the guilt was like a lead weight yoked to his shoulders. I knew that he wasn’t eating like he should, and Bria had told me that he was barely sleeping as well.

   Finn absolutely loved his job, so the robbery and every­thing that Deirdre had done to him had been punishment enough, but Mosley made him suffer a little more, just because. Something else that had added to Finn’s misery the last few weeks, although he hadn’t complained about his boss’s tactics. Not even once. Finn thought that he deserved to be punished, and nothing that I, Bria, or anyone else said convinced him otherwise.

   “Besides,” Finn continued, “I think that we could all use a break after everything that’s happened the last few weeks, and where better to get your mojo back than at a fancy hotel? A seaweed wrap will do wonders for the skin, and frankly, my dear, you could use some cucumber slices on your eyes. Get rid of those dark circles and worry lines, and turn your perpetual frown upside down.”

   “Frowning makes me look more intimidating, and the only cucumbers I’m interested in are the ones in the Pork Pit’s salads.”

   He rolled his eyes. “You are so wrong about so many things in life, I don’t even know where to start.”

   I grinned at him, and he sighed, knowing that I’d won round two. But Finnegan Lane was never down for long.

   “Come on, Gin,” he wheedled. “You, me, Bria, Owen. We’ll road-trip down there, spend the weekend playing cowboys and getting pampered, and be back in time for you to open up the restaurant on Monday morning. It’ll be fun. A vacation from everyone and everything in Ashland.”

   “Vacation?” I scoffed, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you remember what happened the last time we went on vacation?”