His lids lower and his eyes narrow. “And you said no, right?”
Grimacing, I brace for his wrath. “Not quite.”
“Saaaammm….”
“If I don’t do it, he’ll find someone else, someone less discerning.”
“Fuck, Sam. Out with it.” When he gets real mad, the tips of his ears turn red and his jaw muscles tick.
Before he loses it completely, I blurt out what I agreed to. “Frankie asked me to investigate certain abusive men, now quarantined with their wives.”
He slaps a hand to his forehead. “No way.”
“But honey, these women are in danger.” I grab his huge bicep with both hands as he shakes his head back and forth.
“Then call the cops.”
“I tried. They’re all busy with COVID. And honestly, there’s only one woman I’m really worried about. Her ex broke her clavicle last week and even though she’s filed a restraining order, he’s moved back in with her.”
“Frankie will kill him. You okay with that?” Brown laser beams bore a hole into my forehead which I deflect by sending my own.
“No. I’d rather have him arrested but I don’t see how. It’s a moral dilemma, I know. I even called Saint Mia.”
“What did she say?”
“Don’t ask.” I roll my eyes.
“We can’t be a party to murder.”
“I’m not. I’m simply providing intel to a private citizen who has asked for our services.”
“A hitman.” His frown deepens.
“We don’t know he’s a hired gun, not for sure. Besides, if he is, I don’t think we should tell him no.”
“You’re proving my point.”
“I know. That’s why I convinced Frankie to scare the shit out the monster. If the husband comes near his wife or kids, so be it. I did my best.”
Suds still isn’t persuaded so I show him my spreadsheet. “Business is booming. I paid the rent and saved lives.”
“You are something else.” He pulls my hair, drags me to his mouth, and kisses me until my toes curl.
I’m about to suggest we take it upstairs when the smoke alarm sounds.
“Shit. I left bacon on the stove.”
Chapter Fourteen
Suds
After I scrub the blackened pan, I call around and locate a good deal on a treadmill rental. I hire a delivery van and while I’m at it, purchase a bench with weights. It may be a tight fit in the little foyer but if I’m going to be holed up for weeks, I need something to do.
They say we shouldn’t meander around outside. In China, they hosed down the streets with disinfectant and I wonder why New York City can’t do the same. At least that way, I could go jogging.
Done with my order, I run the spiral staircase, do a few pullups with my fingertips curled on the loft floor and, at exactly 10AM, stand in front of the refrigerator with the door open.
Sam glances up from her computer. “Bored?”
