Chapter Five
Suds
Now, this is my kind of day. Because I’m not hired out as a bodyguard, I can fuck my wife from dawn ’til dusk. Before we met, I wondered how a man could make love to the same woman for years. Eventually, the thrill must ease on down but I see no signs of it, not yet.
While I reheat our breakfast, Sam sits with her cell phone glued to her ear. Her pink toes on the table top, she leans back and purses her well-kissed lips as she catches my eye. “I can’t believe they won’t give me back my files. How long does it take to make a copy? Three seconds?”
“You want me to call Andy?” Our lawyer could eat them up in a minute and spit out bone splinters.
She shakes her head, wet pony tail spraying me with drops. “No, no. It’s too soon. Let’s see if we can work it out. I got a weird feeling about this. Something… I can’t quite put my finger on it… is off. Did I tell you I had a dream about a kangaroo?”
Laughing, I spoon some scrambled eggs onto her plate. “And?”
“It gave me a ticket because my new zoom lens pissed him off. He hopped around and said loitering was illegal and would get me killed.”
She takes a bite and points her fork at me, deep in thought. “Then, I went back to City Hall but no one would talk to me except this one woman who…”
“Sugar?” Whenever I see this look, it means troubles a-comin’ and I best load my gun.
Her eyes dim as if miles away. “Oh, nothing, really. Last night, while I was taking pictures of the crime scene, a woman came out of her apartment and warned me not to say anything. She was in my nightmare too.”
“What did she say?”
“Stay clear of kangaroos.”
“Not the imaginary woman, the real one.” A chuckle bursts from my chest and she blushes the cutest shade of red.
Sam chews as she slathers butter onto a wheat toast. “Oh, yeah. Something about keeping my mouth shut but I didn’t think much of it at the time. No one talks to the cops on Columbus Place. That’s why I can’t believe the police claimed they found witnesses who disagreed with me. Even if they did, how would a regular person know if the gun sounded suppressed? It’s just weird, right?”
I’m again reminded of how she should’ve got the fuck out of Dodge after hearing shots fired but don’t want to ruin our day off with a lecture. After buying a few groceries with her, we research some pending cases, make a little more love, and hit the hay.
In the middle of the night, wood cracks and I jump up, battle ready. Wide awake, I squat, cover Sam’s mouth, and point her head at the kitchen door.
Fuck.Not for the first time, I curse my PTSD. If I slept like any normal vet, my weapons would be beside me. Instead, they’re locked in a safe downstairs so I don’t shoot no one during a nightmare.
The idiot thief either doesn’t know there’s a loft upstairs or doesn’t care. He can’t be the sharpest stick in the shed. Who the hell breaks into a private dick’s home office? You think we don’t have alarms? Guns? A fucking brain?
If I’m patient, in about five minutes, Patten’s security guys will arrive, followed by the cops. We just need to stay hidden until they get here.
Sam’s grip on my arm tightens as the man inspects her new camera. I pray she stays put because saving her new lens is not worth her life. I catch her gaze and mine says don’t fucking move.
She nods, her hands loosen, and I chill. Thank God, for once she listened.
Outside, men exit a black SUV, enter our door and climb our squeaky narrow staircase in absolute silence. Sam can’t see from where she sits so with two fingers, I point at my eyes, then the street, and mouth,Patten.
A quick bob of the head signals she understands help has arrived. Gunfire imminent, I push her back to the attic window and cover her with my body.
Seconds later, a grunt, a thunk, and a loud meow indicate we’re probably safe. Our cat skitters up the steps, puts her head through the bannister, and drops a toy mouse below, signaling the all-clear.
“Suds? Sam?” A male voice shouts from the vicinity of our kitchen and I stand, ducking under the loft beams.
“Up here. We’re coming.” Outside my front window, two police cruisers show up late to the party. They screech to a halt as we make our way down the spiral staircase. At the bottom, Catrina crouches, ready to defend us.
Picking her up by the scruff of her neck, I kiss her wet nose and set her down so I can shake hands with the security detail. “I’m Suds and this is my wife, Sam.”
“Wheels.” The younger of the two new guys eyes my woman with appreciation as the other steps forward. “I’m Dicer.”
Covered in a terry robe that’s seen better days, my wife smiles at our rescuers, then frowns at the hog-tied man on the floor. “He doesn’t look retarded.”
