“That’s you, Mr. Suds.” She gives me a toothy grin. Apparently, I have a noodle smile and spaghetti hair.
“Thank you, darlin’.”
After slamming her door, I do a three-hundred and sixty degree check of my surroundings. Then, I dash around the front of the bulletproof SUV, plop behind the wheel, and glance in the rearview mirror.
“Can we stop for ice cream?” Never still, she bounces up and down as her heels bang on the hard plastic.
Chuckling, I pull out into traffic. “Not today. Your father is waiting.”
She moans so I give her a hint of what he has planned. “But he says you’re doing something special.”
“Aren’t you coming, too?” Her impish green eyes catch mine and I wink.
“Of course, I’m your chauffeur.” Her dad and I both agree she’s too young to understand she needs a bodyguard.
“Excellent.” She brightens as I stop at the next red-light and text my wife.
Me: Check in, plz. Your family is driving me nuts.
A few blocks later, my phone pings and I heave a sigh of relief but it’s not Sam.
Joey: Where the fuck is my cuz?
How the hell do I know?Maybe she took her new camera to trail some cheating spouses and turned off her phone. I call Sam’s saintly cousin Mia, the one most likely to tell me the truth.
“Hey darlin’, it’s me, Sebastian. Did my wife mention working this afternoon?”
“She did but get this. Aunt Marion said Mr. McCreary saw her get into a black sedan. He said it looked off.”
“Off how?” God save me from the Bingo crowd, Sam’s terminology, not mine.
“He didn’t say.”
“Okay. Please get ahold of everyone and tell them to calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.”
My wife’s huge family needs to chill the fuck out. I’m on the job and until I get my little charge home, there’s not much I can do. However, at the next stop, I text my longtime friend and boss.
Me: Can you find my wife?
Slate: Lost her again?
Me: Shut up.
Stacy’s billionaire father waits by the curb. Parking, I rush out and open the door for him to sit next to his little girl. I have no idea where the mother is at, but he seems like a doting dad. It’s really none of my business. My job is to drive them around the city for a couple more days and collect my paycheck.
It does get me to thinking. This guy must be loaded or very worried about his kid. Patten bodyguards don’t come cheap so it’s probably both. Right now, however, he doesn’t seem overly concerned as he texts me the address of a famous costume store in SoHo.
“We need to get myrybkaan outfit. Apparently, dis holiday is some big deal, no?”
“I’m not a little fishy, daddy. I’m a witch.”
Smiling into the backseat, I nod at my client and wink at Stacy. “Yes sir. The kids here take Halloween pretty seriously.”
Her dad pales. “You could be a princess?”
“No, a witch, a witch.”
I double park in front of the store, and jump out to open their door. “Text me when you’re ready.”
